#the bottom two could go in either order but they really strike me as people who cannot cook

[karmicpunishment]

ranking hunting dogs by how well i think they can cook

tachihara. this might be a controversial rating but I do think the boy can cook. i mean with his ability he could multi-task a lot of the process at once. i don't think he's like a gourmet chef or anything but he's got a decent amount of recipes under his belt, and let's be honest, he totally had to learn to fend for himself cooking-wise. it was either learn or starve. whenever he spends time in the hunting dog base after a long time away he makes everyone a meal.

jouno. if he's in a kitchen that has the proper accessibility aides he's an even better cook than tachihara, but he struggles in unfamiliar spaces (understandably). he enjoys a lot of the technical processes of cooking and cares a lot about what goes into his food.

tecchou. okay hear me out here. tecchou is a perfectly fine chef in terms of the actual cooking. he can make rice and cook meat and chop vegetables, etc. he just has absolute dogshit taste in pairings and seasonings (as seen in canon). makes the most diabolical pairings.

fukuchi. this guy got shipped out to war at 18 and hasn't looked back since. too worried about the end of the world to learn how to cook rice. and he keeps accidentally chopping cutting boards into pieces with his ability.

teruko. love her to death, absolutely cannot cook to save her life. girl has never lived a life outside of being a soldier. she never saw the point in learning how to cook. tachihara offers to teach her a little and she nearly burns down their command center (she's secretly a little glad, she wants to keep eating his cooking). she is limited to only microwave use.

[trashpandato]

Vigilante

“This is the third Cadmus associate this month,” Alex says, frowning as she looks at the screen in front of her.

“I know.”

Kara is standing next to her sister. They’re reading the police report that Maggie sent over. It’s the third time someone has handcuffed a known member of Cadmus to a police cruiser while the patrol officers were inside a coffee shop on their break. The first two had already been on the DEO’s radar, but the third person’s connection to the terrorist group was unclear until Winn did some more digging and found a financial link.

“Clearly, someone has better intel than we do.”

Alex is unhappy about it. Sure, it’s good to get these guys off the streets, and without using any DEO resources to boot, but Kara knows her sister doesn’t like being in the dark about who might be behind these citizen arrests.

Kara bumps her shoulder against Alex. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

Alex nods but doesn’t look convinced.

The tension at the DEO spikes a couple of weeks later when not one but two people are found, this time handcuffed to NCPD’s front doors. Winn tries to find footage of the moment it happened from nearby security cameras, but he has to tell Alex that the cameras were not only disabled but any view of the front door area would have been obscured by a cloaking device he retrieved from a small ledge on the building itself.

“Clearly, whoever is doing this is not only way ahead of us, but they know their way around technology the DEO hasn’t even heard of yet.”

Alex is frustrated, and J’onn is concerned.

“We don’t know what Cadmus will do now that someone is picking off their members one by one,” he says. “It’s a provocation. They could retaliate.”

Kara agrees. Whoever is doing this is playing with fire. She’s worried about the city, worried that Cadmus might unleash one of their signature large-scale attacks in order to scare off this vigilante. She knows what Cadmus is capable of. Kara shudders as she remembers her last encounter with them, when she was kidnapped and forced by Lillian Luthor to blow out her powers and then had her blood drawn against her will.

She’s also worried about Lena.

Kara knows from past interactions that anytime Cadmus strikes, Lena is usually in the crosshairs somehow. Either as bait, or as a human shield, or simply because Lena is nearby, trying to foil her mother’s latest plans to do harm. She decides to pay Lena a visit to warn her.

When she lands on Lena’s balcony at L-Corp, she finds her hunched over at her desk. Kara can see the tense set to her shoulders, and when Lena turns around to greet her, it’s clear that she’s tired, like she hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

“Supergirl, to what do I owe the visit?”

Kara wants to ask how she’s doing, why she’s still at the office this late, wants to drag her home, cook her a real meal and force her to sleep. But she’s here on official business, not as a friend.

“I’m here to give you a heads up that Cadmus might be planning something.”

Lena tilts her head to the side, eyebrow raised. “Oh really? And what might that be?”

“We don’t know for sure. We just know that someone has been undermining the organization for weeks, making sure members have been arrested. We think Cadmus is going to retaliate soon.”

“I see,” Lena says, but she turns around and walks over to the small bar in her office and pours herself a drink. “And why are you telling me this, Supergirl? Do you think I know what my mother might be up to? That I’m involved somehow?”

When Lena turns around to face her, her gaze is hard and piercing.

“No,” Kara holds up her hands, palms out. “Not at all. I just, I’m worried. They’re dangerous and you’ve been hurt by them before.”

Lena’s features soften. “So have you.”

“I know, but I’m, well, I can take care of myself. I just wanted to tell you to be careful.”

Lena nods, but turns back to her desk. “I’ll take that under advisement. Is that all?”

Kara swallows. “Yes. That’s all.”

“Alright. Thank you for the heads up, Supergirl.”

The visit leaves a bad taste in Kara’s mouth. Something about how closed off Lena seemed doesn’t sit right. Over the next few days, she decides to keep an eye on her, and it’s during one of those unscheduled patrols when she hones in on Lena’s heartbeat. It’s too fast, too full of panic. Kara follows the sound in a flash and finds her in an empty warehouse near the port. Or at least Kara thinks it’s Lena, because the figure in front of her looks nothing like the Lena Luthor she knows. She’s clad black tactical gear, a mask obscuring her face, and she’s currently engaged in honest-to-god hand-to-hand combat with none other than Lillian Luthor.

Kara lands in the warehouse and her arrival throws Lena off. She turns toward the noise and Lillian takes advantage: she grabs a metal pipe from a nearby table and swings it at Lena’s head. The hit sends Lena stumbling backwards, and that’s when Kara puts an end to the scene playing out in front of her. Using her super speed, she incapacitates Lillian and calls Alex for backup.

Then she rushes over to Lena, who has taken off her mask and is hunched over and a little unsteady. Kara holds her up with a firm hand against Lena’s elbow and forearm.

“You. It’s been you all along.”

Lena doesn’t respond, just presses the sleeve of her shirt against her temple to stop the flow of blood from a cut on her head.

“Why?”

Finally, Lena looks up. “Because I was the only one with the inside information to bring them down.”

“You could have come to us. To me. We would have helped.”

But Lena shakes her head and freezes Kara in place with a firm look. “I couldn’t let her hurt you again.”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the telltale signs of DEO vans approaching. She gives Lena’s arm a quick squeeze.

“Are you okay to get out of here? The cavalry is going to be here any second now. It’s probably better if they don’t find you here.”

Lena draws her eyebrows together in a confused frown, and Kara squeezes her arm one more time.

“You protect me, I protect you. I’ll take care of this,” Kara turns to nod at where Lillian is sitting slumped over in a chair. “No one needs to know it was you. Go and take care of your head, okay?”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Lena nods and scrambles towards the back entrance to the warehouse, out of sight just in time before the first DEO agents come barging in. Kara vows to swing by Lena’s place later with some ice cream and several of her patented Kara Danvers hugs to make sure Lena knows she’s not alone, that she’ll always have her back. Just like Lena always has hers.

[ven10]

For the ten characters ask game: Quigley Quagmire, Isadora Quagmire, Duncan Quagmire, Olivia Caliban (preferably book canon), Lemony Snicket, Beatrice Baudelaire, Esme Squalor, Fiona Widdershins, Monty, Klaus Baudelaire!! Always love your responses to ask games :)

Hey cygninae! Thanks for the ask!! :)

(Btw for the romantic ones I’m interpreting all of them as if me+the character are the same age)

I would

Marry: Isadora! :) She is one of my favourite characters and marriage would enable us to talk+spend time together a lot! (Also, I’ll admit I find people with goth/emo/that sort of vibe quite attractive) (Although I rarely think of Isadora that way, I just like her character) Plus, I like organising bookshelves and she would have a lot of poetry books to organise so that’d work out!

Drink tea with: Monty;he strikes me as the kind of guy who would have a billion different kinds of tea in his house+have really exciting stories regarding how he got each one! That being said I usually just drink black tea (with sugar+milk) but still, the stories would be fun! Also, in order to drink tea with Monty (Spoilers for The Reptile Room) Monty would need to be alive meaning that either he is revived or I drink tea with him before his death meaning that I can warn him about Olaf!

Or: Beatrice! I feel like she’d be fun to spend time with. We’d probably drink it on top of a roof or something!

Side-note; under no circumstances would I choose Lemony for this one. Tea that is “as bitter as wormwood and as sharp as a two-edged sword” sounds disgusting. Ik it’s a VFD proverb so there’s a risk Monty would also drink tea like that however it’s been CONFIRMED (via Kit in TPP) that Lemony conforms to this vile standard of drink so yeah, I wouldn’t trust him to make drinkable tea…🤢

Party with: Quigley! 100%, you just know it’d be fun party if Quigley was involved! Quigley would challenge everyone to Just Dance battles with a bizarre amount of confidence then proceed to lose every round without fail. Would invent a really intense version of capture the flag to play (no matter what kind of party it was) where there is a flag for every country in the world.

Kiss: gonna be real, I don’t really see the appeal of kissing. Ig if it meant we were close in an emotional or romantic sense then one of the Quagmires? Probably Isadora or Duncan? 🤔

Go out on a date with: Duncan Quagmire; he’s sweet+interesting. A date would mean we could spend a lot of time together and I could get the chance to know more about him. Also he’d probably choose the setting of a library or a café for it and those are both good options!

At the same time, I feel like it’d be pretty nice to be loved as deeply as Lemony loves Beatrice so maybe him? 🤔 Plus he has a lot of intriguing stories to share.

Push down the stairs: Beatrice. I mean, she’s already dead so what harm can it do..?

Slap: Olivia (Book Canon) however I slap her whilst she is standing on the edge of a staircase so she falls down those too. Then,when nobody was looking, I put polish on the wooden floor at the bottom of those stairs so that when she tries to get up after falling she slips again. As this is happening, the ‘freaks’ she manipulated into working unpaid at the carnival watch, pointing and laughing much like how the audience at the carnival treated them.

Invade the dreams of: Fiona bc I feel like her dreams would involve a lot of adventures so that’d be exciting! On the other hand, she has most definitely dreamt up at least a few really bizarre species of fish on a few occasions bc of how much time she spends underwater which may be mildly terrifying.

Take a nap with: Klaus Baudelaire. This guy needs the rest :’)

Rob: Esmé! 6th most important financial advisor, you say? Yet you can’t even keep your own finances safe?

Thanks for the ask cygninae!! :)

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: The Early Days 4

Welcome to the last pre-caverns episode, sorry I've been dragging my ass on that!!! Sorry about the slow update in general, I was busy all day. It will either disappoint or relieve you to know that I didn't think about kobbles at all until after I got home and took a nap.

I could kill them. You definitely shouldn't think things like that. But I could pull the lever and just crunch them up. The wagon, the guards, the buffalo, just take it all to fucking crunch city. Shut Toastsdrip and Rarsa Tightnesstrusses would be smashed in an instant ok nah because I am not physically capable of doing violence to a guy named "Shut Toastsdrip" that just ain't in me!!!! That's one guy I don't want to even entertain the thought of killing!! But I still do. But I won't do it if you were wondering. I have all sorts of intrusive thoughts because of severe OCD that I have never actually acted on, besides maybe within the safe confines of a virtual space like Counter-Strike: Global Offensive where I can throw a flashbang right at my team's spawn at the start of the round or ping my squadmate in the head just as he settles in to the perfect camping position, get kicked from the server, and go on about my day. I've been getting Instagram ads telling me that people would like to pay me to do some experimental medicinal treatment that's supposed to make the intrusive thoughts go away, but despite the fact that I spent my 20s taking any drug I was ever offered with wild abandon and that includes freebasing bath salts I have grown into the kind of guy who is not actually enthusiastic about the prospect of testing weird new drugs. But this series isn't about me it's about Dwarf Fortress the greatest simulation game of all time.

Oh shit I didn't know Ace Steel was in my fort. Actually I'm literally going to rename this guy "Ace Steel" because that's funny to me.

This is going to confuse the fuck out of me in 4 hours when I've completely forgot about it and just see his job title pop up somewhere. Well anyway let's talk about traps shall we? Not the music genre unfortunately (though if you have a girlfriend I highly recommend putting on this classic of the prototypical genre or maybe this one to frighten her) I mean the serrated iron disc kind.

Across 5 Z-levels, this is the general layout of traps. Let's start from the bottom because that's where invaders will hopefully think it is a good idea to enter the fortress from, via an unassuming little ramp down into the ground while thinking "those idiots really left their back door open!" So just to start things off we have the old faithful, cage traps - they don't always work, but when they do work, they always work. It alternates in rows with sets of sawblade traps, which I've never actually used in a fortress before, and the first two levels are just that. The third level is where things get interesting - stonefall traps are, for the most part, completely fucking useless unless you use them in tandem with environmental hazards. For some reason they are incredibly easy to dodge, but the successful dodging of our literal rat-bastard invaders is exactly what is being banked on, in order to plunge them into deep, deadly little puddles of water. You can kill real rats kind of like that using a bucket that they fall into to drown them, but you shouldn't. If you're going to kill any kind of creature drowning is obscene and cruel. And also remember that when you die and go to purgatory you will be killed just the same way as everything you have killed, down to the last little bug, so if you ever must kill anything be absolutely sure to make it quick, merciful, and painless. The rats in Dwarf Fortress aren't real though and they also like to kill my cute innocent little kobbles so I feel fine about finding the humor in them barely staggering through four rows of sawblade traps just to fall off a tiny precipice and drown. Anyway after that there's a little "reprieve room" for the bastards who survived to regroup - I might add more traps later, but everyone having to haul around the big iron mechanisms and boulders was really cutting into productivity, so we'll see about that. Finally there's the piece de resistance - still being constructed because the coal is very far away and heavy, but either way it is exactly what I said it was, a paved road made out of bituminous coal that will (hopefully!) be ignited by pockets of magma when the floodgates are opened by an unassuming little lever posted over by the tavern. At the end are doors which will bait the invaders as long as they remain unsealed, which works for now, though ideally something more reliable like a retractable bridge over a big-ass hole would make a far better final bulwark than just some literally glass doors. But I'm choosing to believe this stuff is all glass in the "Morrowind glass armor" sense not the "Headshop guy dropping a perfectly good bong on the tile floor to try and prove a vaguely Sinophobic point" sense. But why go through all this trouble anyway? Let's answer this by digging into the minds of some more kobbles, we haven't done that for a while - I think we'd do well to start with our glorious leader Acl Controlledown.

We see him working on the same drudgery as any given peasant must, intricately engraving every single tile of the three-space apartments.

He draws monkeys (I highly approve) trees and plants all over the bedroom of a random archer as selflessly as any kobble with 1/10th of his stature. He performs religious rites and makes friends and gets scared thinking about dead bodies. Anyone should be proud to toil under such leadership as would literally carve a drawing of a monkey into their bedroom wall just to make them a bit happier! When's the last time you saw a politician in the real world do any actual work? They hardly even make phone calls for themselves. They don't even drive their own cars! And whose bedroom does he do this for?

A mother who left both her lovers and her child behind to strike the earth here, who likes poetry and music and pangolins and turkeys for their snood!!!!! and will gladly fight for peace, will gladly kill for Rushsly, has already killed for Rushsly, might one day die for Rushsly.

A few stories up Kody Inkblighted comes under a fey mood, and begins weaving away an artifact of sheep wool, bristle cloth, and... jet blocks?

Its artifact is completed just as the fire-road is, just as the winter ends, just as a brand new year begins. The year 253, our fourth year in the fortress - a good enough fortress to be certain, not a great or terrible fortress - but good enough is never really enough. As anyone who's spent a little too long with an opiate habit can tell you the only such thing as "enough" is too much. And so with above-ground defenses mostly taken care of (though we could admittedly use some more bird towers) it's time to break into the cavern layers.

The plan for now is to just keep digging down the main 3x3 stairway, starting at -10 and cutting out "vents" every 5 floors. I'd very much like to not accidentally dig out onto the ground level, since that way we should be more-or-less protected from any forgotten beast that can't fly, but in Dwarf Fortress you don't really choose what happens. The simulation ultimately doesn't care about you or what you want and in a world of overwrought games where characters yell out the solution to puzzles before you're even finished looking them over that kind of agnosticism is refreshing. Even RimWorld, a very similar game to DF (and quite a good one, greetz fly out to all the RimWorld fans 🤝) there is an AI narrator system in place that tries to algorithmically tool the experience to a satisfying, demanding but fair level of challenge. Dwarf Fortress has no such pretense, things just happen and YOU have to be the one that adapts. But it's historically been quite easy for me to play this game by just ignoring my kobbles entirely, barely spending a second on the Personality tabs and just treating the game as a purely mechanical exercise. I guess that's the point of this whole blog, to rediscover the fun over 250 hours into the Steam release by letting the game and I write a story together instead of just being just a game. I also like to dot this story with absurd and far-too-long asides and anecdotes because I am an insane person, and there is a certain kind of catharsis in randomly telling strangers on the internet stuff like "I was haunted by a vision of straight-up biting a guy on the bus for sitting in this weird sideways manner right in front of me that made me have to keep making awkward glancing eye contact with him" though I do apologize if you were just here looking for normal Dwarf Fortress content. I am not a normal person and have no interest in making normal things. I would recommend "Kruggsmash" and "hoodie hair" on YouTube if that's what you were looking for because I find their videos to be particularly high quality, though I can't imagine anyone who wants to get off this fucked-up ride is actually still here, especially not at the end of this fucking barely-relevant run-on nightmare of a paragraph.

Well that was fucking easy, didn't even have to deviate from the staircase at all. However, we can barely actually fucking see any of it - the height of this cavern layer is -15 but the little bit of floor we can see is at -71. Jeez

We're going to carefully dig down to -60 without exposing ourselves, then punch out just a small hole to get a better look.

Zhag Gillpoker forges fearlessly ahead into the great unknown - not just fearlessly but all-around emotionlessly, actually. Provided nothing fucked up happens to him in the immediate future he's definitely getting transfered over to the military - breaching the caverns should get at least some kind of reaction, even from an admittedly "cheerless" kobble. Oh well, down we go!

Up on the surface, bunys arrive with a wagon, and I think about how I really need to move the trade depot a couple tiles over so that I'll stop being so tempted to smush whoever's sitting on it, or more likely, won't accidentally smush whoever's inevitably on it when the next invasion occurs.

The metal/glass production floor got all cleaned up just in time for the mold to start showing up :\

Kobbles have started doing my least favorite thing, leaving piles of meat/meals on the floor even though there's tons of empty barrels. I think they'll stop if I dig out more space and make the stockpile bigger, and I had the good sense after like 10 forts whose denizens inevitably started doing this to start making sure my kitchen/butcher/raw food stockpiles are walled off, but it never gets any less annoying. I mean look at the empty pots and barrels right fucking there, mere steps away! Do not come crying to me when it starts giving off miasma, this is your own fault!! I think I get so instinctively mad at this because it reminds me of roommates leaving dishes in the sink so long they got moldy or started to stink, then acting like I was somehow contributing to the problem when I literally only owned one pan, one pot, one bowl, one plate, one fork, one spoon, one butter knife and one chef's knife and washed them every single time I used them and also had to hide them in my room because I didn't want them being used and left in the fucking sink with the expectation that I would clean up after their lazy bum bachelor asses like I was their mom!!!!

The problem is mitigated, at least in part, by gifting a frankly astoundingly valuable pile of prepared food to the bunys, because they are cute and I like them so I want them to have a nice little lunch on their way home. We relieve them of all their cheese, all their leather, and most of their cloth. A couple lucky kobbles will also be receiving new socks and shoes.

A diplomat meets with Acl to tell us all about the latest developments in buny civilization and I'm so smitten with how adorable these guards are. Look at those cute little wooden spears!!!

The diplomat, amusingly known as Minefield, checks out our temples approvingly, particularly enjoying the doors, before heading off on his way. I love these guys. I want all bunnies to be happy.

Making more room for the stockpile only made things worse. If those meals in the tavern start rotting I'm about to flip the fuck out

Way down below, we've finally got a good view into the cavern, and have found... absolutely no beasties at all, to our pleasant surprise.

Up on the surface we've QUADRUPLED our peacock numbers!!! You can't see because the screenshot isn't animated but a couple of those tiles hold TWO lil homies. In addition to that we also bought a live goose off the bunys, so we are in absolute bird business. Just as an extra bulwark we're also going to put up some random statues as a secondary alarm system. If you're not in the know, you get a notification when a building is toppled, and rampaging bastards like were-beasts and raiders love to destroy statues. This means that you can get a general "radar"-like sense of where enemies that haven't been revealed yet are, because the game will show you where a statue was felled, even if it's not allowed to show you who felled it yet. Since green glass is basically just free to us at this point we may as well dot the entire edge of the map with statues. This is kind of a lot of work just to weasel out of having a squad patrol outside but I just don't want to take that risk!!

A single migrant arrives, and with him, the realization that we have no siege weaponry. He should make a good fit for the military at least, though I fear I have already begun thinking about ballistae and catapults and the kinds of fun that can be had with them...

But I'll have to figure that out tomorrow because it's 4 in the morning and my computer has been on too long so it's starting to lag. I'm considering this "the end of the first arc" even though it doesn't seem like things will be all that different from this point on. Forgotten beasts can show up from the caverns now but they could always show up on the surface too, I think this world might just generally be chiller than what I'm used to. Hey wow this might be the first entire update I went without almost talking about David Cage

[certifiedskywalker]

How to Make the Right Decision in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

On the daily, people are thrust into situations that force them to make a choice, sometimes a series of choices. Since meeting each other, you and Bucky have struggled to decide when to speak up, when to tell your truths to the other.

WARNINGS: implied sexual intimacy

PART ONE: How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps

I. Identify your end goal.

“Alright, James,” you drawled as you walked towards your home. The streets were no longer as busy, bathed in an orange sunset glow. “Tell me-”

“Not James.”

“Not James?”

Bucky shook his head, but you saw the barely-there hints of a smile on his lips. It made him look softer, as did the golden hour light. “My full name...it makes me feel...old.”

“Old!? You’re what, one hundred and ten?”

“One hundred and six,” he corrected, his blue eyes meeting your gaze for only a moment before he focused back on the path you both walked. “Plus, it’s what Raynor calls me.”

“Not Mr. Barnes?”

As you asked, teasingly bumping your shoulder into his. Though, you quickly found that to be a mistake as your right arm collided with his left. Immovable and metal, the impact knocked you to the side. Before you could even yelp in fear of falling, Bucky’s hand shot out, fingers gleaming with their dark alloy, and held you in place. When you found your footing and a degree of stability, you looked up into Bucky’s blue eyes.

They were wide with concern as he asked, “are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, just,” you warily glanced to his gloved left hand, “I forgot.”

“Oh,” he pulled his hand away, “already?”

“It’s not every day a handsome man reveals he has a Vibratium arm.”

“Vibranium.”

“I was close,” you sighed, holding out your hand. Bucky’s brow furrowed at your waiting, open palm. As if to convey a secret message, you waggled your fingers at him.

“What is it?”

“Give me your hand,” you said sheepishly, as warmth spread across your cheeks. His face lifted with the clarity you supplied, yet he hesitated to give you his left hand. It remained fixed at his side until you pressed. “So I don’t forget, again.”

Wordlessly, Bucky nodded and relented. His gloved hand reached out to your bare one and, now knowing the limb was metal, you were not surprised by the strength of his grip. Though, as if he could sense your thoughts, Bucky’s hand went lax in yours, almost limp. That was until you gripped it tighter and pulled him along to walk again.

“So, Mr. Barnes, what-”

“Not that either,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of seconds.

“You’re no fun,” you teased before you felt a pang of regret strike in your chest like a shock. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be joking, after all you’ve told me.”

“No, I...I’m not...who I told you about, that’s who I was but he wasn’t even really me. The Winter Soldier,” Bucky’s voice dropped as he said the name and he eyed distracted passersby, “is...he’s my history. I’m trying to make up for that.”

“Reparations. The court ordered therapy.”

“It’s a start,” Bucky agreed.

His tone was serious, lined with a cold edge that made you frown. Only when you glanced up at him did you feel your worry ebb. You caught his side profile perfectly as sunlight shone between two skyscrapers. His visage was cast so wonderfully, he looked nearly ethereal. Then, as you continued to walk side by side, the light was blocked behind more grey buildings. Their shadows fell across your shoulders and the sidewalk. In that same moment, Bucky looked down at you.

“And I like that you joke, that you forgot,” he said as your breath caught. Even in the shade of the city, Bucky looked lighter. Perhaps it was the lingering bits of a smile that played on his lips. You weren’t sure. “But, uh, sorry. I keep cutting you off.”

“Oh! It’s alright,” you swallowed hard, “now I just gotta figure out what to call you.”

“By my name? Bucky?”

“I mean like a nickname,” you clarified, but Bucky’s brows were knitted once more.

“It’s kinda already my nickname.”

“But my nickname, for you,” you stressed, instinctively squeezing the hand of his that you held. You frowned when you realized he might not have felt it.

“Why do you need a special one?”

“You know, now since we’re,” you paused then, as you felt your tongue may trip on the next word and because you weren’t sure if it was even the right word. “Friends.”

A moment of silence passed between you and it took all you had to tear your eyes from Buckys. When you did, your gaze fell upon a nearby building facade that looked familiar. At the sight, your heart sank. Mid-stride you stopped and turned to face Bucky, ready to give him the news. Though, before you could, he spoke up.

“Friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” you echoed, though, in your head, your words sounded more like a question. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, only adding to your hesitation.

“Friends,” he repeated slowly as if testing the word out.

His lips curved into what you could only describe as a forced half-smile as the other half of his mouth remained fixed in a frown. It was almost as if he could not decide how he felt about the word, its power in defining whatever your joined hands and the way you looked at each other meant. You couldn’t decide either. Now that you knew Bucky, you wanted to know more, to know why he let you hold his hand and why he looked at you with such softness that you stomach fluttered so. You wanted him, or did you want the idea of him that you had in your head, the idea of Bucky that you created when you met in the waiting room?

But rather than face that indecision, you glanced to the apartment complex doors that stood still to your right. “Um, well, this is me.”

“Oh,” immediately, his hand dropped from yours. “Alright.”

You lingered a moment on the bottom step leading up to the porch. Bucky’s eyes were trained on you as if waiting for something, longing for something. Though, Bucky was too much of a gentleman to ask, to feed it. You felt it too, heard it whispered in a little voice in your head. Invite him upstairs, you fool!

“I’ll see you, same time next week?” There was a teasing tilt in his voice as he asked like he knew how much it sounded like Dr. Raynor or Dr. Briam. You, now broken out of your thoughts, smiled.

“I’ll mark the appointment in my calendar,” you said, playing along. “Or, you could text me. You do have my number, after all.”

“Maybe. I still don’t know how I feel about smartphones.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re proving that ‘old dog, new tricks’ saying right when you say that, you know.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” Bucky said, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned as he turned around to walk back the way you came.

You watched him go before you climbed up the stairs to your apartment building door. As you fiddled in your pocket for the keys, you looked back in his direction. You swore that your mind was playing tricks on you. You swore that this day was long and emotionally taxing and it must have been your brain’s way of telling you it was time to rest.

But you could not shake the sight, the look in his face when you saw that Bucky Barnes had looked back too.

II. Gather information to best weigh your options.

“What’s that?”

Bucky looked up from the small notebook in his hands as you sat in the seat, your chair, beside his. “Good afternoon to you too.”

“Is it your diary?” You feigned a dramatic gasp and pressed a hand to your chest. “Are you writing about me?”

A small, breathy laugh, almost true, fell from his lips. “I wish.”

Then, it was your turn to chuckle. “I think the proper response is ‘you wish’.”

“No,” he held your gaze and you felt that Bucky was seeing through you. No, not through you but into you, into your heart and soul. “I meant I wish.”

“Well then,” you took a quick breath to replace the one Bucky’s words knocked from your lungs. “What are you writing about, Buckaroo?”

“No.”

You grinned. “What?”

“No to ‘Buckaroo’ or whatever the Hell you just said. That can’t be my nickname.”

“Worth a shot,” you sighed as you leaned back in the chair. Bucky let out an amused huff and you savored the lightness of the sound. Comfortable that the almost new nickname diffused the tension, you let your body curl into your seat. Though, your eyes quickly landed on his hands, how they rested in his lap and held tight to the small notebook. Bucky let out a trembling breath and looked back at you.

Your eyes snapped to his and you saw only a heavy glaze of seriousness in the blue. “It’s my...it’s how I’m making amends.”

“Dr. Raynor has you journaling?”

“It’s more of a list.”

“A list,” you leaned towards him, intrigued. “Of good deeds?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back again. It was a momentary slip of his gaze, but it did not ease the trembling of your next breath.

“No,” he replied, letting his attention fall to his notebook. “A list of names...”

He trailed off and raised his head, fixing his eyes on the too-high windows of the waiting room. And, just like that, Bucky was out of your reach again. His mind was towards the glass a dozen feet above from where you both sat, lost in some fogged memory. The other day, when he told you his name, his past, and about the Winter Soldier, you asked him if he remembered what he did in his ‘living weapon’ state.

All of them, he told you; though, in that moment, you weren’t sure to who or what ‘them’ referred to. Now, you had a sinking heaviness in your gut. You did not want it to be true. You did not want this heft of knowing more if it hurt Bucky. Them, the victims. His victims.

“People that you-no, not you. People that he hurt in the past when-”

Before you could finish, Bucky looked at you. Sadness carved lines in his face like scars, all around his mouth and eyes. He suddenly appeared older and your resolve broke. You had a feeling that knowing more about the real Bucky would melt your heart, but this felt more like an ache. It was clear he felt the same pain.

“Hey,” you reached your hand out and wrapped your fingers around his forearm. “You can’t change the past, only the now. And you’re trying to do that, right?”

“I’m trying, but...it’s not...better.”

“The guilt?”

Bucky only nodded in reply, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“I mean, I don’t know what Raynor is having you do but, if this way,” you tipped your head towards his notebook, “if it isn’t working, maybe it’s time to try something else. Try to make them feel better than you do.”

“How?” You frowned at the croaking desperation in his voice. Instinctively, hoping to comfort and console, your grip tightened around Bucky’s metal wrist.

“Give closure if you can, hope to others,” you shrugged, “just be there.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly as he looked at you. “I would have never thought you’d be so wise.”

A forced laugh spilled from your lips. “It’s the therapy and the trauma.”

“We both have baggage,” Bucky sighed, letting his eyes fall to the carpeted floor of the waiting room. You let your gaze follow his and saw how near you two were to each other. Your foot was close to his and smaller in comparison.

“It’s what makes us human, right?” You nudged his foot with yours as you asked and, when you looked back at Bucky’s face, you saw his eyes on you.

“Right.”

For a moment, you saw him as you did last week: walking away from your apartment building, eyes fixed on you as he looked over his shoulder. Was he thinking of that same second glance back? Was he too overcome by the desire to know more about you as you were about him? Or was he thinking that you knew too much, that it was only a matter of time before he scared you away for good?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to know. The way he was looked at you was tortuous. Yet, all that you managed to get out was: “you didn’t text me.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to pull them back in. Bucky’s face fell and his brow furrowed, and you wanted to scream. Or cry, or both. Both would do the trick.

“I didn’t mean to-” you began but stopped when Bucky started to speak.

“I was going to but I thought-”

“James.”

In turn, you and Bucky shifted your attention to Dr. Raynor. The woman poked her head out from behind the door of her office. Her displeased expression only grew more pointed when her dark eyes fell on your hand on Bucky’s wrist. Immediately, you pulled your fingers away, as if her sharp gaze stung your skin.

“I’m ready for you,” she grumbled, before retreating into the dark of her room. You glanced back at Bucky, whose eyes remained fixed on the now open door.

“You should go,” you murmured, and your voice proved to be enough to coax Bucky’s attention towards you. “Best not to keep the Grinch waiting.”

“I wanted to, I,” Bucky let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “I will text you.”

“Sure you will,” you said, hoping that your teasing tone outshone the hurt that lingered in your chest. “I’m sure you will, Buckaroo.”

“Still no.” Bucky stood up and looked down at you. “And I will. I’ll…”

You waved a hand at him. “Just go. I was kidding anyway.”

Bucky frowned but didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he started towards the door to Raynor’s office and, this time, as he walked away, he didn’t look back.

III. Consider the consequences.

“Can I walk you home again?”

At the sound of his voice, you jumped as you walked out of Raynor and Briam’s offices. With eyes wide and mouth agape, you stared at Bucky, who you hadn’t seen in weeks. At your shocked expression, he reached up and scratched the back of his head. He was nervous.

And he should be. “Bucky?! What...where have you been?!”

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. You eyed him, unwilling to let him talk his way out of his sudden, frightening absence. It was difficult to do: Bucky was still as handsome as ever. His hair looked softer in the light of day, outside of the grey of the waiting room, and his blue eyes were brighter than the last time you saw him.

“Well, I’ve got time for you to tell it,” you said, breaking from the trance his features put you in. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to stay stern.

“Y/N, it was a matter of national importance,” Bucky assured, a small quirk pulling up at the corner of his mouth. Though, you were unamused.

“I’ve been waiting alone...I was worried. You just...disappeared. Without a word!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry.” Bucky nodded and a bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“You didn’t text me,” you whimpered, your sternness melting under the heated pain of missing him. “And I’m not kidding this time.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes falling to the sidewalk before he continued. “I know and I want to explain.”

A long, strained pause fell over you both as you loitered before the doorway, staring at each other. Before you could speak up or try to tear your eyes from Bucky’s, a man, a new client of Dr. Raynor, started up the steps. To avoid being bumped into, you stepped forwards and nearly collided with Bucky. His hand reflexively reached out, shining under the sun, and held you still, secure.

“Sorry,” you murmured, as the new client disappeared inside the office. Your eyes flicked from Buckys to his hand that lingered on your upper arm. A shock of surprise rushed through you when you fully realized he was without his gloves. You turned your gaze back to Bucky’s and studied his somber expression. “No gloves?”

“Like I said, I want to explain.”

“You wanna tell me your long story in the doorway like it’s small talk?”

“No,” Bucky soothed, sensing your anger, “I want to walk you home if you’ll let me.”

You took a long, debating breath and glanced over Bucky’s face. There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You had not seen them so clear before. No longer were they as fogged and distant as the windows in the waiting room. Originally, you thought learning more about him would make Bucky feel less far away, but then he left. Now that he was back, he was closer than ever.

You weren’t about to push him away.

“Okay. Tell me your story, Jimmy.”

Bucky scoffed, “Jimmy?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. “James, Jimmy. It works, sort of. You being away threw me off my game.” You started down the stonework stairs and Bucky followed suit. As you both began to walk in the direction of your apartment, you felt as if everything was back as it should be again.

“I missed you too.”

At his words, you pressed you lips together to keep from smiling too broadly. Heat spread along your cheeks as you snuck a glance up to Bucky. His eyes were fixed on you still, watching, reading, and smiling. Really, truly smiling.

You swallowed hard and turned your eyes back to the sidewalk. “As much as I would love to hear about how much you missed me, you have a story?”

He sighed, “yes, and I have this friend…”

“Sam?” You asked, hoping you remembered the man’s name from when Bucky told you about the Falcon so long ago.

“Yeah, Sam.”

Then, he told you everything. He told you about John Walker, the shield, and the serum. He told you about a baron named Zemo and Wakanda’s Dora Milaje. He told you about the Flag Smashers and fighting for what’s right. He told you about the Wilson’s boat in Louisiana. He told you about how he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.

“That’s why I didn’t text you,” he explained, “the Flag Smashers were using an app and their phones. They called Sarah, Sam’s sister, threatened her and her kids.”

“But they’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bucky said with a fond glint in his eyes. “Played with the kids at the party.”

“Party?” You asked, a grin spreading along your lips. “I see how it is. You didn’t text me because I wasn’t invited to the after-party, huh?”

“No, actually, Sam wanted to fly you out.”

“What?!” You glanced at Bucky and stopped mid-stride. “He knows about me?”

“Of course. I told him about you,” Bucky smiled softly as he stopped. His hands were shoved in his jacket pockets, shoulders back and relaxed. He looked so wonderfully put together, more confident than before. “How could I not?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, bashfully flicking your eyes around the sidewalk. It was only then you realized you were outside your apartment building. It felt too soon.

“Well, I did.” Bucky stepped towards you, hands slipping out from his pockets. You eyed the hand that was his flesh, the rough skin of his palm before you met his gaze.

“Then, why didn’t you ask me? Fly me out?”

“Would you have wanted to come?”

“I…”

At your hesitance, Bucky leaned in closer. You could smell the leather of his jacket and notes of smoke. His blue eyes were searching your face and you felt another rush of warmth rise up and spread like gentle fires across your skin. The feeling stole your breath away, dulled your every thought until only Bucky remained.

“Would you have come?”

His second ask conjured an image in your mind: one of smiles and his arm around your waist, holding you to his side as party-goers danced. You saw kids and Bucky smiling as they threw fake punches at him and laughed when he played along. Then you saw his hands, both flesh and metal, cupping your face at the end of the evening. An evening like the one that surrounded you both.

In the soft light, you saw only Bucky, what you knew and didn’t know about him; but not a single regret. Not a single consequence.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “I would’ve.”

You were so close that you felt Bucky’s gentle sigh of relief against your skin. “Then I should’ve asked. Should’ve texted.”

“You said that you would,” you pointed out.

“You’re right. So, I guess I owe you one.”

“One text?” You smiled and Bucky shook his head.

“One text, one invitation,” Bucky’s eyes flicked to your lips then back up to meet your gaze. A lump formed in your throat at the sight. You glanced to the door of your apartment complex and then back to Bucky.

“So, if I invite you up, you’re obliged to accept?”

IV. Make your decision.

You made the choice to invite Bucky Barnes up to your apartment, but you did not remember how you led him to the door. Adrenaline dulled the proposal in your memory. For that, you were glad because, otherwise, you would have panicked as you and Bucky rode up to your floor in the elevator. Tension would have swallowed you whole, drowned you.

Before you knew it, you were inside your apartment.

“It’s nice in here,” Bucky mused, glancing around your small studio.

You mirrored his movements, eyed the exposed brick walls and scattered posters. What furniture you had was older and a small TV was precariously sat on a coffee table with a mess of wires behind it. Your kitchenette was untouched, but your garbage can nearly overflowed with trash from prepackaged meals.

“It’s not much to look at.”

“It’s cozier than my place,” Bucky said, turning to look at you from over his shoulder, “it looks like the guys’ apartment from that one show. Amigos?”

“Amigos?” You raised a brow at him as you shed your coat and draped it over the back of your favorite chair. “Never heard of it.”

“No, that’s not the name,” Bucky snapped his fingers, trying to magically summon the proper title. “It’s about friends, in New York. They live across the hall and go to some coffee shop all the time. And they’re all white.”

You laughed, “you mean F.R.I.E.N.D.S?”

“That’s it,” Bucky groaned, “it was on Steve’s list.”

“Steve’s list?” You walked into your small living room as you asked, settling on your couch. With practiced ease, the cushions gave in to your weight and you felt a rush of comfort soothe over your slight nervousness.

“That notebook, the one I used for my amends. It was Steve’s before,” Bucky wandered further into your apartment until he stood in your living room, stood before where you sat on the couch. “He made a list of all the things he missed. Movies, types of food, music, and TV shows. A lot of pop-culture things that I still don’t know.”

“Clearly,” you teased. Your light tone caught Bucky’s attention back to you. His blue eyes were darker in the limited sunset light that shone through your windows.

“I’d like to know more,” he pressed, “more about you.”

Your mouth went dry at his words but you managed to squeak out: “then ask.”

Bucky nodded and took a seat on the couch cushion beside you. You turned to face him, waiting for his questions and found yourself dumbstruck by the softness in his face.

“How would you describe yourself?”

A laugh slipped past your lips. It was laced with the sweet memory of the second time you and Bucky Barnes ever spoke to each other. That stupid magazine quiz. When you managed to collect yourself, you saw that Bucky wore a closed-lipped smile.

“In lifestyle quiz terms or in my own terms?”

“Up to you,” Bucky replied, throwing his left arm over the back of your couch.

“Hmm, I don’t know...maybe like a well-read owl?”

Bucky let out an amused huff. “You like to you read?”

“Sometimes. There are a few books I like,” you gestured to the somewhat sparse bookcase in the corner, “but it’s mostly just stuff online now.”

“Ever read The Hobbit?”

“That’s an oddly specific title,” you observed, unable to help the slight grin that pulled at your lips. “Why The Hobbit?”

“I know there are movies out now, a few years ago. But I read it,” Bucky took a breath, “when it first came out.”

“Wow,” you exclaimed, “that’s very hipster of you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“There really is so much you don’t know,” you jested at his question.

“You mock me, but at least I’m not addicted to my phone.”

“Careful, you’re showing your age,” you laughed. When he failed to return your expression, your chest tightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Does that...does that make you nervous?”

“Your age? No,” you shook your head. “How good you look at a century old? Yes.”

Bucky smiled and his cheeks pinked, but his eyes fell to his lap. “But everything I told you, about me, my past, you’re not nervous? You’re not...scared?”

“No,” you replied quickly, “no, Buck, I’m not scared of you.”

Bucky didn’t respond and, for a moment, you feared that he hated that nickname too. Yet, rather than say so, he stared into your eyes with his lips slightly parted, waiting. At the sight, you felt a wonderful twisting in your gut as Bucky leaned in.

V. Assess the outcome(s).

You made the choice to invite Bucky Barnes up to your apartment, but you had no choice to make when it came to wanting him. You were stupid in believing there was any choice before. There was no decision to make. Not when Bucky already felt right.

Not when his hand, when the rough skin of his palm pressed ever-so-gently against your cheek. His thumb traced across the apple of your cheek as his fingers moved to hold your jaw. Just as they did so many tantalizing times before, Bucky’s eyes danced along your lips before he met your gaze once more. It was a silent question.

“Bucky,” you murmured, tone dripping with want.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The one word is all he needed to hear. Bucky leaned in further, tilted your face up with his thumb and forefinger, and pressed his lips to yours. It was a careful kiss. As if he is scared that you lied, that you were scared and would pull away swiftly. When you lingered, Bucky tipped his lips away from yours and took a breath. You did the same and smiled.

“Was that your first kiss since before World War two?”

Bucky blinked and lifted his slightly hooded eyes to meet your gaze. His pupils were blown and his breathing incredibly slow as he drank in your pleased expression. He had lovely eyelashes, you noticed. They framed the lightness of his eyes so perfectly.

“Any complaints?” His voice was low and sent a shivering shudder down your spine.

“No,” you replied in a desperate breath.

Bucky smiled and leaned in again, captured your lips with his. His hand remained against your jaw with his fingertips kissing your neck. Your own hands traveled up along his broad chest to his neck. His skin was deliciously warm, a sharp contrast to the cool metal of his left hand when it found rest on your waist.

A gasp slipped out of your mouth at the sudden cold, but Bucky was quick to swallow the sound. He trailed searing, no longer careful kisses from your lips to your jaw to your neck. You were a wire made live by his touch. To keep the current, you moved your hands from his neck to his soft, short brown hair. You tugged on the strands, eliciting a muffled moan from his lips.

“Buck,” you mewled as he dragged both of his hands down to your hips and pulled you into his lap. At the sound of the nickname, his wandering touch paused and he let his lips brush along your skin. A barely-there touch.

You looked down at him, saw his kiss-swollen lips, and met his want-filled eyes. Despite the clear desire in his expression and the lust that pooled in your stomach, he seemed suddenly restrained. Worried that maybe he felt this was all too much too fast, you let your hands fall to his shoulders. He did not seem distant but his silence made you wary to continue.

“What is it?”

“I should’ve texted you sooner, doll,” he whispered, pressing his thumbs into your hips. “Wanted to the day I got your number but…”

He trailed off and, to keep him in the moment, to keep his eyes on you, you moved a hand up to Bucky’s face. “Stay out of your head and I’ll stay out of mine. Just be with me now, okay?”

He stayed quiet, watching you as you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. As you did, Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips and pulled you flush against him. You didn’t moan then, but when his fingers, both of metal and flesh, slipped under the hem of your shirt, an involuntary whine escaped you. Bucky smiled into the kiss before you trailed more down his jaw.

“Okay,” he murmured, far too smug for your liking. You pulled your lips from his skin and eyed him vexedly.

Before you could tease or provoke, Bucky craned his neck and kissed you hard. You felt his thighs shift beneath your own and, in a flash, your back was laid against the couch cushions. Bucky’s weight slightly rested on you, pressing against your body marvelously. Heat lingered in the paths of his hands as they explored still covered tracks of your skin. His lips followed suit and you melted completely into bliss.

VI. Daybreak.

Light slipped through the window and cast your bedroom in an orange sunrise glow. You weren’t entirely sure how you and Bucky ended up in your bed. Well, you did, but you were still lost in the haze that surrounded the actions of the night before. Parts of your body still tingled, electrified by Bucky’s lingering touch.

You could feel it still, a tickling that emanated from where Bucky’s skin remained pressed against yours. His arm was slung around your bare waist, warm and snug. With your head on the pillow, you turned to study Bucky’s face. Sleep looked good on him.

His eyelashes fanned out against the peaks of his cheeks, which made him look angelic. You tried to remember if you had ever seen him so at peace before. Images of the waiting room danced before your eyes. You could only recall the relief that flashed across his face when he told you about his nightmares. Though, compared to the relaxed brow and softness laid before you, that expression was far from peaceful.

Unable to help yourself, you trailed your fingertips along the length of Bucky’s forearm that was wrapped around you. Under your touch, you saw the muscles beneath the skin flex and his hold on you tightened. When you glanced back at Bucky’s face, you were met with a pair of sleepy blue eyes.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, his voice gravelly from disuse.

“Morning. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.” As he spoke, his arm around your waist squeezed once more. Now, your side was pressed to his chest and the scruff on Bucky’s chin prickled against your skin.

“You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he beamed, lifting his head from your pillow. “Better than okay.”

You smiled right back at him. “No nightmares or anything?”

“Not last night,” he said lowly as he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Didn’t have a chance to.”

You reached a hand up to his hair as Bucky trailed gentle pecks along your jaw. A hum of contentment rose up your throat as he moved against you. You trailed your fingers through his messed hair and sighed. Bucky pulled away at the sound and peered down at you.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, gently brushing your hair back with his left hand. The coolness of the Vibranium woke you up fully and you reached a hand out to grab his wrist.

“And you’re intolerable, James Buchanan Barnes.” You intertwined your fingers with his metal ones and grinned. He returned the expression as he pinned your hand against the space beside your head.

“No jokes, no teasing,” he persisted, “you’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to the column of your throat and you sighed a thank you.

“You are too.” Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “I mean, why else do you think I talked to you in the waiting room?”

A laugh rumbled up in Bucky’s chest and you felt the vibration of the sound against your own. “I thought it was because I was new.”

“Well yeah, and handsome,” you grinned. Bucky’s eyes drank in your expression and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to that first meeting. “You looked lonely.”

“Until you,” he murmured, echoing your words from long ago.

You nodded under his softening gaze. “Until you.”

[wadebramwilson]

Ed + Frenchie BFFs

Sorry guys I have so many more thoughts on this and I would like to hear all of your thoughts on this too please. Spoilers for Ep5, Ep10.

Ed invited Frenchie to the boat party like they were buddies!

“What’re you doing tonight?” “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “Nah.” “Let’s do it.” I LOVE Frenchie. He strikes that balance where he absolutely can bullshit his way into the aristocracy (to a point). Like, he is bluffing like hell but he knows what to say to get him where he wants to be. He genuinely seems like he doesn’t really care what those people think of him. In his and Olu’s conversation with Siegfried he smiles and nods in the face of all that racism, because Frenchie is laughing at this guy. He knows he’s coming out on top at the end of the night. He is PLAYING these people every step of the way.

Ed has got to envy that.

Episode 5 sees the the social/power hierarchy flip from how it is on the ship. Ed goes from top dog to the bottom of the rung where his only success is in his being seen as a novelty. He’s out of his depth and relies on Steed as his social crutch. Frenchie, who is pretty well at the bottom of the power rung on the ship, has the upper hand in this episode more than anyone else from the very start.

Frenchie gets to see Ed in a really vulnerable moment: “I think I want to go now.” And his response is compassionate and comforting. “You alright mate? What’d they do to you man?” “They are such dicks about spoons!”

He just understands what Ed is going through on a level that Stede cannot, what with both of them having experience with what it’s like to be in the service class (Ed’s mum and Frenchie’s backstory). Maybe sometimes you can touch it but you can’t keep it, “We just ain’t that kind of people”. And no matter how hard they work at it, how much money or success they have, how well they bluff, it’s not going to happen for them. That idea is presented as out of Ed’s control, divine even, “It’s up to God”. Ed’s initial success is minstrel-like. 

This response in contrast to Stede’s “Why would you?”

(On one hand I love that Stede’s response tells us that he knows that Ed knows what he should have done. Ed named all the utensils correctly in his retelling. Never let it be said that he isn’t an extremely smart and attentive guy towards things he cares to learn. Stede knows this and never doubted that Ed wouldn’t excel at it without him.) But Frenchie is on Ed’s level with it.

I mean, Frenchie (and Abshir) are the real heroes of this episode. Stede wouldn’t have that information without them.

But Frenchie couldn’t have delivered the passive aggression in the same way as Stede could because even with all his bluff and all his cleverness in knowing how to manipulate these people, they still see him as other. He doesn’t fit in here, except as a novelty.

Which brings me to episode 10, where Ed chooses to keep Frenchie on the crew.

The Kraken doesn’t have friends, he has tools.So maybe Ed is telling himself that he’s keeping Frenchie for a purpose, but let’s be honest guys, this man is not a strong sewer. No way.

Ed likes him and wants to keep him but can’t justify it any other way.

In order to become fully realised as The Kraken, Ed needed to get rid of everything that reminded him of Stede, as well as anyone who has seen his vulnerable side (Lucius). But he didn’t get rid of Frenchie. 

I really think that Frenchie is going to fill Lucius’ counselor shoes in season two (probably reluctantly). I think Ed is stuck in this all or nothing mentality where he thinks he can only be either this bloodthirsty, brutal, detached version of himself OR the distilled, entertainer version of himself. Neither bring him happiness and bother are performative characters that are engineered to benefit others (and to protect himself). He needs to be able to find the parts of himself that he wants to keep and what to throw away and FRENCHIE CAN SHOW HIM HOW.

[heniareth]

I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

---

And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

[sfb123]

I just read your drunk Liam fic and I just HAD to send you some prompts!!! From the prompt list you hyperlinked 9, 16, and 17 maybe? (Preferably liamxriley) pretty plz?* insert puppy dog eyes🥺*

Well… since you inserted puppy dog eyes…

I wanted to try to incorporate all three of these into one story, which actually worked out really well. Then, the issue came of how to make that apply to Liam and Riley. Luckily, my current binge obsession is the 90′s sitcom Mad About You, and there was an episode the other night that set a lightbulb off in my head, so this fic is loosely based on that episode. 

Prompts:

“We should grab coffee together sometime.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“You need a lift?”

(Prompt pulled from this list. Feel free to send me more!)

Word Count: 1,431

Warnings: Adult language, mild innuendo

A/N: Thank you @phoenixrising308 for pre-reading. Your kindness and support are unparalleled, and I love you dearly. 

Also a thank you to @txemrn​ for dealing with my unnecessary back and forth about this moodboard. I ended up going with it, even though we were both so wishy washy about it. 

A/N 2: This is my third prompt story this week, I’m going to take a break and quietly write by myself for a while. I’ll continue to work on the asks I have received, and please please feel free to send more. I’m having so much fun! I just don’t want to bombard you all, so I’m going to start pacing my posting. When I finish a piece, I just get so excited when I finish something that I want to show you all so badly! 

***

Liam and Riley sat across from each other at the table, sharing the piece of cake that sat between them. They were in New York visiting Riley’s family for a few days, and her mother had insisted that Eleanor spend the night, so the royal couple was taking full advantage of their child-free night, wrapping up the evening with dinner at one of Riley’s favorite restaurants. 

“Hey, check that out.” Riley tipped her head toward the bar, where a man was approaching a woman who was sitting alone at the bar. “He’s going to shoot his shot and try to pick her up.”

“How do you know?” Liam asked, watching as the woman nodded, the man immediately sitting down beside her. 

“I worked in a bar long enough, I can read the body language and tell you exactly what’s going to happen.”

He turned to his wife, a skeptical expression on his face. “Prove it.”

“Wow, you don’t even believe your own wife. I’m wounded.” She placed her hand over her heart in mock devastation. “Fine, I hope you saved room after that cake, because you’re about to eat your words.”

Riley went on to explain what each was saying to the other, and accurately predicted each move that was made. Liam was so impressed that part of him felt like she may have hired these people specifically to act out this scene. 

“Now watch, he’s going to pull out his phone and try to get her to put her number in.” She said, as the man reached into his back pocket. 

“Is he going to get it?” Liam couldn’t help but be invested in the story that his wife was narrating for him. 

“She’s going to give him a number, but see how she’s already almost standing up?” Liam nodded, waiting with baited breath for her to continue, “She’s going to give him a fake number, and then leave immediately. She doesn’t want to reject him to his face.”

“That’s cold.”

“It’s life, we’ve all done it.” Riley replied nonchalantly. 

Liam’s gaze snapped to face her. “You’ve given men fake numbers before?” 

She nodded and shrugged. “Lucky for you. You never know, I could have ended up suckered into marrying one of those creeps. Or like locked in their basement or something.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I consider myself very lucky for that.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. 

“Oh oh, here we go, look!” Riley brought his attention back to the bar where the woman was shaking the man’s hand. “Ooooh, not even a courtesy hug. Game over, dude.” They watched the woman exit the restaurant, as the man started typing on his phone. “He’s sending a text to the number she gave. It either won’t be delivered, or he’ll get a reply from someone who is most definitely not that woman.”

“That poor man. He just wanted to find love.”

Riley sighed, shaking her head. “Ahh my sweet, romantic king, your naiveté is so heartwarming. That man is just looking to get laid.” She laughed, “For all the normal experiences you missed out on, aren’t you glad that you never had to pick up women at bars?” She paused for a second. “Present company excluded, of course.” 

Liam laughed, his expression quickly turning serious. “Actually, I kind of wish I could have had the opportunity. I think I would have been good at it.” Riley arched a brow at him. “I mean it, I got you to quit your life and fly all the way to Europe because of one night, didn’t I?” 

“Touché.” She drummed her fingers against the table in a brief moment of thought, “But can lightning strike twice?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Pick me up. I’ll go sit at the bar, you come over and shoot your shot. No social season, no friends, no boxy work uniform. Just a regular guy picking up a regular girl.”

Liam smirked at the proposition. “You’re on.”

Riley left the table and took a seat at the far end of the bar. Once she was seated he put down some money to cover their dinner, and made his way to the bar. “Excuse me miss, is this seat taken?”

She looked up, smiling politely and shaking her head, motioning with her hand for him to have a seat. 

“I’m Liam.” He extended his hand. 

“Riley. Nice to meet you Liam.” She placed her hand in his, and he brought it to his lips. “A hand kiss instead of a shake, bold move. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I actually just moved to the states from Europe.” 

The bartender approached and took their orders. Liam instructed him to open a tab to cover himself and Riley. He took Liam’s card and stepped away to make their drinks. 

“So, why is a beautiful woman like yourself sitting here all alone?” He asked once they were alone again. 

Riley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at the bar, playing up her role. “You’re sweet. I uh… I was supposed to be meeting someone, but I think they stood me up.”

“Well, their loss is my gain.” As the bartender set down their drinks, Liam lifted his glass in Riley’s direction. “A toast,” He waited for Riley to raise her glass before he continued, “To the missteps of old friends, which allow the opportunity to make new ones.”

“So we’re friends now?” Riley asked as she tapped her glass against Liam’s. “That’s awfully presumptuous.”

“Well, we’ve only just met. I’m hoping that perhaps we could get to know each other and see where the evening takes us.”

Riley agreed, and they began with some small talk. Riley stuck to her pre-Cordonia life, while Liam had done a pretty good job of coming up with a non-Royal backstory. They sat there talking, and drinking and ‘getting to know’ each other. Riley was impressed with Liam’s subtle flirting skills and decided that he was right, he would have been pretty good at this had he been given the chance. 

The lights came up, and Liam’s bill was dropped on the bar in front of him. “It looks like they’re closing up.” He said as he reviewed the receipt, signing his name at the bottom. “This was a lot of fun Riley, I would like to see you again. We should grab coffee together sometime.”

“I actually don’t drink coffee, I think it’s gross.”

“Oh.” Riley smiled to herself at the disappointment in his voice.

“I would like to see you again, though.” She reassured him. 

He looked up at her and smiled. “Could I take you to dinner, maybe?” 

“Dinner would be nice.”

“Great!” He noticed the annoyed expression on the bartender's face, they were officially the last customers in the bar. “We should probably go. I’ll walk you home.”

“I actually have a car waiting for me outside.” He dropped his head, again disappointed by the rejection. “You need a lift?”

He smiled widely, standing from his seat. “I’d like nothing more.” 

He offered his arm, she slid off the stool and linked hers through his. They exited the restaurant, and were greeted by Bastien, standing in front of their SUV. Before the guard could reach the door handle, Liam released Riley’s arm and jogged ahead, opening Riley’s door for her. 

“Such a gentleman.” She smiled coyly as she slid into the backseat. He smiled and got in after her. 

“Back to the hotel, your majesties?” Bastien asked as he entered the driver’s side. 

“Yes please.” Riley answered. 

Liam looked at her curiously. “Assuming I’m going to come home with you, bold move.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to come, but I promise you’ll have fun if you do.” Riley said in a sultry tone, closing the distance between the two of them.

“Riley…” Liam’s voice was just above a whisper as she leaned in, finally pressing her lips to his. They pulled back breathless from their kiss, their eyes remained closed as they rested their foreheads together. “I guess lighting can strike twice.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the second time I picked you up in a bar, and the second time you kissed me first.” He grinned triumphantly. 

Riley leaned back, laughing as her eyes met Liam’s. “I guess that means you win?”

“Great, let’s go back to the hotel so I can collect my prize.” He brought his hand to her cheek and pulled her in, kissing her again. 

Permatag:

@anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @bbrandy2002 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @emersynwrites @emkay512 @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @pixie88 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @sincerelyella @sweatyrysconnoisseur @tessa-liam @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Liam x Riley:

@jared2612 @neotericthemis

Liam:

@amandablink @ao719 @yourmajesty09

One Shots:

@bebepac @darley1101

[yanderecandystore]

Hello, this is the first time I’ve come here and I’d like, if possible, you could place my order, I don’t remember if I already placed that ask or something, so if yes, sorry to bother you...

I can order something with Yandere! Vampire with a Vampire Slayer! Reader, please...

Welcome in!

Well yes boo, you did make a very similar request, and I'm sorry if it took me like a long time to answer you (at least to me it feels like a whole month has passed, time has been so slow and so fast somehow-) it's just that I'm dealing with a lot of stuff outside of Tumblr and although I try to not think about it, it does affect my performance in writing. Also you're not bothering me at all boo!

Also I just realized something, normally when I write I put really mean remarks about the reader but it's not supposed to be taken seriously by you guys, as it's mostly either an look into the perspective of the ocs (normally the bullies who are very mean and cruel-) or even an exaggeration on the reader's current mind state (if the reader feels dumb about a certain action they have chosen, I try to make them sound very exaggerated since I don't want any of you to take it personally, y'all are beautiful okay? Don't worry about the snarky comments and rude remarks that I may write).

I'll try to make it more obvious that it's mostly a character's exaggerated perspective next time, or maybe put trigger warnings about degrading language/mean comments.

TW/Tags: mentions of addiction (to blood) // male x male // male reader // vampy vamp // monster(vampire) x (human)reader // mentions of death // unofficial OC/just a random character I decided to create for this specific piece // captivity/kidnaping // mentions of torture/infliction of pain // mind control/gaslighting/manipulation and stockholm syndrome // being drugged/poisoned // kinda sadistic but not so much so cause I like giving y'all some softness.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

True love is found in small bites [Yandere!M!Vampire x M!Vampire Hunter!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who doesn't like a little one on one with an immortal creature in a fight filled with sexual tension? Who wouldn't want to prove their worth to their dad who is a lonely vampire hunter?

Your dad had hunted vampires all by himself for years now and he won't stop until the day he drops dead, or at least that's what he told you.

He taught you everything that you needed to know, and honestly- You probably know a lot more than some of the guys who are paid to do this every month, Hell, your dad hunts them basically every week! That's kinda the reason why he won't accompany you this time, too busy dealing with vampires in a neighboring village, some rumours of some high profiled vampires coming into your hometown… He was very concerned for your safety before deciding that whenever these rumours were true or not, he needed to check them for himself regardless.

You decided to go on a hunt on your own, hunt one down and prove to your man that you'll do just fine all by yourself.

However, you have the knowledge from the books you read and from what your father taught you, but you don't have personal experiences in fighting vampires. So that's why you're finally going to take down a vampire all by yourself.

It took you some time to find the right target, but after hearing complaints about some odd things happening in the less wealthy part of town, you thought you had a pretty clear picture of what happened. You thought that maybe some vampires have been attacking the poorest people in town to not cause a bigger panic in the population, and sadly enough, you were right.

Apparently the vampirism started to spread uncontrollably as the newly transformed vampires weren't accustomed with the new malevolent power. Some would get addicted to blood and to the power they hold against humans, and start to bite more than what they can chew on.

You found someone who was acting suspiciously, a commoner who was acting more aggressively towards his neighbors and family, he had created a lot of enemies in only a couple of days after being transformed, as he was now acting like "royalty" surrounded by peasants. The poor bastard was out of his mind, and sadly you needed to take care of him before he would hurt more people.

The work of a vampire slayer (or at least, one who works on their own accord) isn't as glamorous or "pleasant" as most may think, it involves you constantly questioning yourself and your morals, the guy you're hunting has a family but from what you heard and from what you have seen as you observed him from afar- He is clearly gone, consumed by the addiction of human blood, he would end up hurting his own family if you didn't intervene.

You had to stalk him for basically the whole day, collecting information and waiting for a good opportunity to strike him- Sadly enough, you didn't know that someone else was also interested in killing him.

It was pretty quick now that you think about it- You were about to tackle him when someone else got to do it before you. You didn't know about vampire society's inner relationships but you are aware that there is some form of hierarchy, and that those who were transformed into vampires were considered to be closer to the bottom than those who were born into it. The bottom of their social structure being those who they could all feed on, so in other words humans.

As you have already prepared yourself to attack the blood addictic, this guy who seemed to have come out of nowhere has already noticed that he wasn't alone, you wouldn't be able to hide yourself at this point and running wouldn't be an option considering how fast he moved.

The only option was left was to fight this vampire who was clearly way too powerful for your newbie ass. It was a pretty tough fight, and even if you have lost- You did manage to prove that you weren't just a random human who found themselves in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

You were very well prepared- Idris was pretty impressed by your resistance, but from his eyes, you were lacking a lot in the intelligence department. You were a good brawler, but not a decent vampire slayer by far- He would question you about your level of skill constantly, even mocking the idea of you being an "newbie" at this job.

Idris had won in the end, making you his prisoner who he would bring back to his clan to be used as an easy food source while also giving them info about other vampire slayers. Of course you wouldn't give them anything, no matter how bad your situation was you would still fight to the very end.

Idris had used one of his abilities to bring you two to his clan's hideout in a blink of an eye, you weren't expecting it to be so quick. You were tied up and inside an "abandoned" mansion filled with vampires, you were sure you wouldn't survive this at all- Yet you had promised yourself to not give them any information about other vampires slayers, especially your father.

You have met them, all of them- All of the Nox clan of pure vampires (or at least the last of them), in one single place. They were all so eager to jump in and start the "fun" with you. To torture you, drink from you, control your mind so you would spill all that you know, they tried to but you wouldn't stop squirming and fighting their touch- However, your attitude has only helped to aggravate them.

Idris was in charge of taking care of you- And by that they meant he was the one who would be screwing with you the most. He would keep you alive with your bare necessities but would also be the one to punish and torture you to speak up.

Interestingly enough, Idris wasn't interested in violently taking the truth out of you- Oh no, boo- He was much more sadistic than that.

He saw you as a plaything, like a cat he would see you as something he should toy with before devouring- He would try to push you to your limits verbally, trying to trigger some sort of wound you may have. You were stronger than he assumed, he should have known you weren't so dumb to give in to his insults and threats.

He would still bite you though, hey, a man needs some blood before continuing his private interrogation, right? It's not his fault you're both his snack and the one being interrogated.

You were strong minded, you weren't feeling too awful about being taken as a prisoner, since you felt as if deep down you could still escape this- So the effects of the poison that he would inject on you weren't showing up at first, but after sometime of being under this terrible living condition with only him to talk with, you started to feel some type of weird way around him.

It could be the poison finally taking over, but you have started to notice some… Particular choices that Idris took when interacting with you. Again- It could be all some magic shit in your mind, but you could swear that the lingering touches from him weren't rough or painful as his threats.

Idris was never physically harmful towards you, even to his peers dismay as they would constantly scold him for being too soft. He was indeed very off putting and sadistic- But could he be hiding something deep inside his literally cold exterior? You started to think so… Well, you started to hope so.

See, although the poison is already making your mind dizzy and making you feel some kind of weird attraction towards Iris- It wasn't completely just your mind playing tricks on you, Idris has been trying a new tactic with you and it was working.

Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but for the last few weeks he has started to flirt with you more, touch you more and whisper less concerning things into your ears, and you were eating it all up due to your isolation and his poisonous bite.

The more he sucked your blood, the more enamoured you were with his softer "side", the poison becoming stronger with each bite. But everyday you two spend time together, Idris can't help but feel just as interested in you as you are to him. He may play it off as a sadistic manipulative (which he kinda is-) vampire who is above you and his own feelings- But whenever it's just you and him, he just feels like there is a bigger connection being formed.

The more you two get to know each other the more he'll start falling for you, to the point he doesn't know if he is faking empathy and care or if he actually likes you in a weird way. He has started to feel very satisfied whenever you start acting clingy, desperate even for his attention (again- He is the only one willing to even talk with you before biting you and sucking your blood), the sensation of power he feels is a little bit overwhelming- But very much appreciated.

You have started to feel some side effects from losing so much blood everyday, which has made Idris concerned and incapable of drinking from you for at least some time while you recover from it. But since you need some time to rest without being injected with more venom from fangs, which will cause you to start waking up from your brainwashed state and remember that A: It has been months since you were gone, your dad is out there looking for you and it's possibly thinking you're dead; B: You're trapped in a mansion filled with the last vampires of a powerful clan which has been massacred by vampire slayers like you; and C: You were starting to catch feelings for the one who brought you here- Regardless of manipulation and freaky vampire shit- You were indeed falling for his charm.

Whenever that happens, it will be obvious that you'll start trying to fight them and escape again, even if you're very, very weak from all these months without proper training and healthy eating habits.

You may try your hardest dear, but you'll need a better plan than just going feral on Idris. He is a lot stronger than you, especially since you can't even stand up on your own, and even hurting him makes you feel oddly awful- You had relied on him for so long, that it feels like you would be betraying him if you actually do hurt him, it seems like some of the effects of so much time under his manipulation are still present.

You can't hurt him, but you can still try to sneak out. You should still try to escape!

You would eventually come up with a plan to run away while it was still morning, even if it was a very flawed plan considering that the only place you knew in this entire mansion was Idris's room and bathroom. For some miracle reason, you would find a way to sneak out, it was pretty hard considering you have no strength in your legs, yet luckily no one seemed to be aware of your sudden movement around the corridors- Apparently the whole clan is composed of heavy sleepers.

Your escape was successful, but you wouldn't be able to reach safety anytime soon in your condition- And you knew that eventually they would wake up again and Idris would find you soon. Yet as you had promised yourself and your father, you weren't going down without a fight.

Idris is responsible for you, so whenever he notices that you were gone- He would first assume one of his kind has took you, but considering how everyone else in the clan considers him to be a nuisance and incompetent, he couldn't possibly ask around where were you. If he did, they would end up yelling at him and take you as their personal blood bag- He couldn't let them know that you have escaped.

He would search for you and be honest to god thankful that you weren't dead yet- He would be pissed but more concerned about your current state, after all you were supposed to be resting from losing so much blood and yet here you are: Trying to survive the wild nature around the mansion in a stupid attempt of escaping the vampires.

Idris would have to bite you more often while also giving some days off so you could rest, but doing in a way that you never lose the effects of the poison- He can't stand to see you fighting him so much.

I mean- He thinks that it's pretty attractive how fiesty you are, but he needs you to stay still in his bedroom and to start giving him those confused yet passionate eyes again- Idris doesn't know whether or not you're in love with him or is just acting in instinct considering your current position, and he soon will find himself begging for you to truly give in to this weird fantasy he has built around you two- But for now, all that he wants is the smallest affection that may come from you, even if it's not as true and morally correct as true love is supposed to be.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[bluefirewrites]

‘A Flowery Back-And-Forth’- Juke Florist!AU

Juke AU where Julie’s mom had owned the Petal Pushers Floral Company, now run by her Tía Victoria and she helps by delivering orders on her bike. 

Another riff from the Triad Chat Vault. Happy JATP Appreciation Month!

"Alright, I'm on it, Willie!" Julie calls out, slipping the arrangement in her basket, foot primed to pedal-

"Wait!" Willie sidles up to her with a conspiratorial smirk, "Can you do me a teensy weensy favor?"

Her eyes shut, already groaning, "No, no. Willie, no-"

The skater sticks out his bottom lip, pouting, "Please? I'm willing to pay for the 'Julie Molina Special'"

Julie points to the sign hanging in the Petal Pushers shop, "Do you see a 'Julie Molina Special’ or arrangement up there?"

Willie presents her a wad of cash.

She eyes it warily, "You're shelling out so much for this, aren't you?"

"It's Alex," he says, eyes twinkling, "He deserves the best," he elbows her playfully, "Right?"

Shit. Romance isn't dead after all.

And Julie does need the money.

"Okay, fine," she pockets the cash and mounts her bike "One 'Julie Molina' delivery special coming up."

"Yes!" he hugs her from behind, careful not to squash the flowers, "Thank you. He'll appreciate it for sure."

"I'm doing this for you," she rings the bell and starts rolling down the street, "And you better properly introduce me to your boyfriend next time!"

"Here you go, courtesy of your boyfriend,"

"Will do!"

Julie bikes over to the address, not too far from her house. 

“He’s in band practice right now, so take the flowers there,” Willie had told her. 

She could already hear the music flowing from the garage as she pulls up and parks her bike. Carefully scooping up the bouquet, she knocks on the double doors. 

It takes a moment for anyone inside to notice the knocking due to the loud music (which is pretty good from what Julie has heard so far. And she doesn’t really listen to much music anymore). 

The guitars and drums are put to a halt. Then a voice calls out. 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s Petal Pushers Floral Company. I have a delivery for an ‘Alex Mercer’?” 

“Cool. Come on in.” 

Heeding instruction, she pushes the doors open and walks inside. She spots Alex immediately, by the drums. The blonde raises his hand and Julie comes forward with the large bouquet Willie ordered for him.

"Um..." Julie e starts, rubbing her hands together nervously, "There's more."

"Thanks!" Alex blushes, admiring the rainbow of flowers collected.

“And the card,” 

Alex quickly swipes the card, eyeing his bandmates in case either of them would dare to steal it and read it outloud. He reads the note to himself and he blushes even more. 

“Happy One Month, Hot Dog,” he recites an excerpt for everyone, to which they all go ‘aww’. Then Alex nods at her, “And you’re Julie, right? Willie tells me all about you. Thanks for coming by.” 

“Really no problem. Just doing my job. As a delivery girl and his friend.” 

Speaking of friend duties...

Then she looks around the room and shrinks in on herself seeing that she does have an audience, one that she recognizes. 

There’s Reggie from her Home Ec class and the other boy, Luke, she thinks, the one she always spots with a guitar case in his hands.

"Um..." she starts, rubbing her hands together nervously, "There's more."

"Oh," Alex says, surprised, "Really?"

"Yeah..."

"I don't know what it is that makes me love you so...I only know I never want to let you go...'" she sings, snapping to the beat, trying hard not to look at anyone else but Alex.

I'm so gonna kill Willie for this...

She clears her throat. And goes for it. 

"'Cause you started something, can't you see...That ever since we met you've had a hold on me...”" she starts moving around the space, spinning and dancing like an old-timey singing-gram.

Coming back around, she catches eyes with Luke, and she immediately averts her eyes, turning red.

No, Julie... just keep singing. This would all be over soon. So you won't have to keep embarrassing yourself in front of cute boys...

“It happens to be true.... I only want to be with you!" she finishes on own knee, with jazz hands.

She's met with a round of applause as she stands up, feeling awkward.

"Wow!" Reggie claps, "Your boyfriend got you flowers and a pretty girl to sing you a song."

"That was great," Alex beams at her, "You're really good!"

She blushes, waving off the compliments, "Not really a thing we do at the shop, but Willie insisted."

"What a shame," Luke finally pipes up, his eyes never having left her ever since she walked in, "I bet a lot of people will buy flowers... if they're being delivered like that."

Julie swears she's glowing red like Rudolph at this point, with the way he stares. 

Julie walks her bike up to the garage, finding only Luke there playing away on his guitar.

"Thanks..." she mutters shyly, rushing out the door and towards her bike, “Have a good one guys. And you sounded great by the way.” 

“We’re Sunset Curve,” Luke shouts after her. 

“Tell your friends!” Reggie follows up. 

Julie politely waves at them and bikes away, all too keen to continue on with her route and try to put this whole embarrassing moment behind her. 

If only Luke Patterson was planning to do the same. 

Ever since she made the delivery, the guy would try to flag her attention at school. With a ‘Hey Flower Girl’ and striking up conversation, which throws her off balance. 

She tries not to associate with people in the music program as often, not since she left due to... personal reasons. (Flynn is a notable exception)

Julie would be friendly, to Alex and Reggie to an extent as well, (to Alex especially since he is Willie’s boyfriend), but she’s just trying to get by with her busy schedule of school and her job at the flower shop. 

She goes to work after school two weeks later and makes her rounds with the deliveries Tía sends her on. Tía only gives her the remaining orders that the trucks couldn’t take, last minute ones that are within riding distance.

(Julie can’t wait until she’s able to get her license and really make a contribution to her family’s business). 

She’s just about to call it a night when Tía surprises her with one last minute arrangement. A call made while she was out. 

It’s about 6 at this point, getting darker and so she packages the bundle of peonies quickly, puts it in her basket and looks at the address. She rolls her eyes when she reads where it’s going and who it’s for. 

She knocks against the door, bearing the small bouquet of peonies, "Ahem?"

It startles the boy and he fumbles with his instrument. He looks up to find her standing there and grins. Soon, the guitar is off his person and he's meeting her at the door.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi," she smiles, although confused, "Delivery for 'Luke Patterson'?"

The boy glances around the empty space before feigning realization, "Oh! That must be me!"

"Looks like," Julie couldn't help but giggle. She gives him the flowers, their hands making brief contact during the exchange. 

"You like peonies?" Luke sniffs the flowers, playing with the paper wrap.

She pulls back, clearing her throat. She wants to ask that question at the forefront of her mind, but she really shouldn’t assume anything about their customers. But she couldn’t help but wonder who the flowers are for. 

So she just settles for: "Nice arrangement.”

"They're pretty, yeah,"

He tilts his head, "But are they your favorite?"

Julie purses her lips, "Nope. Not really."

"I swear you give me a peonies kinda vibes,"

"That's a thing?"

Setting down the flowers onto the table, Luke nods, "Oh yeah. Don't you try and guess what kind of flowers people would buy when they come in?"

"Sometimes,"

"But still," he pinches a peony from the bunch and offers it to her and Julie's breath hitches.

"For you,"

She crosses her arms, despite the butterflies. Instead of accepting it, she raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not one to take a customer's flowers,"

He shrugs, "Consider it a tip?"

"Why? ‘Cuz you don't have any money?" she jests, making her way down the driveway.

"C'mon, Julie," he calls from the open garage, "Here." he holds out the flower again.

Rolling her eyes, she mounts her bike, "I'm not a peony-kind of girl, remember!"

"I'll figure out what kind of girl you are," he says, almost like a promise.

"Good luck with that!" she shouts back, racing down the driveway and onto the street.

The last thing she sees is him grinning like an idiot in the doorway, tossing aside the peony, and watching her ride off into the evening.

Little does she know that this is only the start of their little flowery back-and-forth...

Tagging: @blush-and-books​​ @lydias--stiles​​  @thedeathdeelers​​ @ruzek-halstead​​, @pink-flame​​, @ourstarscollided​​, @nottheleastbrave​​, @echocharm17618​​ @smolfangirl​​ 

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ���

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[undercoveravenger]

Closing Cases

Written for my 2021 Halloween event

Pairing: EJ Caswell x Male!Detective!Reader

Prompt: EJ with a Nancy Drew/Scooby gang reader investigating something haunting the school and EJ steps up to help. With “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars” and “Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?”

A/N: This is prompt # 2 for my Halloween event! The next prompt will be posted Thursday, October 7th.

-------

East High was being faced by an unexplainable problem. Each night, lockers were being broken into and various class and club rooms had been found vandalized. The faculty had examined the footage from all of the security cameras near the areas that had been attacked, but weren’t able to see anyone in the videos; only that the halls looked normal in one frame, and had been trashed in the next.

As someone who had spent his entire childhood looking up to all of the great detectives, you took it upon yourself to get to the bottom of the situation. You had told Miss Jen, the theater teacher, that you’d be missing rehearsals one afternoon in order to conduct your investigation, but she had been the only person you told.

You supposed that was why it came as such a shock to find EJ Caswell, a popular senior and star of the water polo team and drama department, leaning against the locker beside yours after school.

You disregarded his presence, moving to open your locker and tuck away your textbooks.

“So I hear you’re not going to be at rehearsals today,” EJ said after a moment, turning to face you. “Care to share why?”

“I’ve got more important things to do,” you said easily. You knew it was kind of a weak response, but it was the first thing that’d come to mind.

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking up into a grin. “Yeah, we both do, I guess.”

That gave you pause. You turned to look at him incredulously, and you had to force yourself to ignore the way the amused glint in his pretty blue eyes threatened to make you smile. “Excuse me?”

“You’re investigating the break-ins, right?” EJ asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you.

“I’m not convinced that they have been break-ins, but yes,” you said, grabbing a different backpack entirely out of your locker and leaving the one with your school supplies in it before shutting the door. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” You turned away at that, making your way down the quickly emptying halls.

EJ scrambled to keep pace with you, weaving around the remaining students and faculty to stay at your side. “I want to help! I’ll be the first to say I don’t really have experience with investigations, but I want to help stop what’s going on.”

You let out a sigh, turning abruptly to face EJ. “Fine. You can help,” you held up a hand to interrupt him when he made to let out a victorious whoop, “But if you get in the way of my investigation, I will tell you to leave and you will listen. Do we have a deal?”

The brunet nodded vigorously, falling back into step beside you as you resumed your previous path, “Deal. So,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Where do we start?”

“Here,” you said as you came to a stop outside of a janitor’s closet on the second floor.

EJ’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “Our investigation starts at the janitor’s closet?”

You nodded, twisting the door open and entering the small room. You sat down, nestling your way between a set of shelves and several empty garbage cans. “Well, this is where we’ll be waiting until the time is right.”

“And when is that?” he asked as he crept into the closet with you, wincing as the door slammed closed behind him.

You snickered, pulling out your phone to set an alarm. “Well, the thief only strikes at night, right? They’ll probably emerge at around nine o’clock, which means we have,” you glanced back at your phone, “About five hours to kill.”

“Five hours?” EJ asked incredulously, blue eyes wide as he looked at you. “What the hell are we going to do for five hours?!”

“Well, I was going to play games on my phone since I wasn’t planning on having company until a few minutes ago,” you said, glancing pointedly down at the device. “You’re still more than welcome to leave, if you don’t want to wait?”

EJ shook his head stubbornly, shifting to sit with his back against the opposite wall from you. “No, but my phone definitely isn’t going to hold up for that long.” He paused, thinking, “Maybe we could play twenty questions while we wait?”

You shrugged, figuring that humoring a cute boy wouldn’t kill you. “Alright, sure. But since it was your idea, you have to go first.”

He smiled widely, clearly delighted that you’d agreed. “Okay!” He hesitated for a moment while he thought, but a question seemed to strike him pretty quickly. “So, do you make it a point to hang out in sketchy janitor’s closets often?”

You barely managed to bite back a snicker, but the upward tilt of EJ’s lips made you suspect that he knew about your poorly concealed amusement. “I do when my cases require it,” you said by means of explanation, but you found yourself elaborating further at the confused-puppy expression on his face. “Today’s a Tuesday, which means that the cleaning staff isn’t in tonight, so no one will be checking this closet for stragglers like they would the library or a classroom. Waiting in here means that I’ll be able to remain in the building after the doors are locked, which means that I’ll be able to find out if anyone else comes into the building after it’s locked down for the night.”

“Wow,” EJ said, eyes wide as he processed everything you’d just said. “You put a lot more planning into this than I would’ve thought?”

“What, you thought I’d just wing it?” you teased. You had to admit, you were enjoying his company far more than you had anticipated. “I like to think that I take my job pretty seriously.”

He gestured wildly with his hands, like he was trying to wave away his previous words. “No, no, no; that’s not what I meant- I meant that-” He cut himself off as he noticed you beginning to laugh, “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” He faked offense, but the appearance of his dimples gave away his amusement. “Fine, you got me.” His grin widened as he looked at you, “Alright, Mr. Holmes, what’s your leading theory?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, “Currently? Vengeful spirits.”

EJ let out a surprised laugh. It was deep, uncontrollable and infectious, and you were helpless to hide the grin it brought to your face, though it faded after a moment, “You’re serious?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else to think,” you started softly, fingers twisting nervously in your lap as you were forced to admit that, for once, you really weren’t sure about what the outcome of your case would be. “Any normal person would have been caught on camera, and the only people in this city that have the ability to manipulate the footage to make it look like no one was there either wouldn’t care enough to do it or they’ve got an alibi.”

EJ’s brows furrowed, “And none of them could have lied about the alibis?”

“Mr. Mazzara could’ve, I suppose,” you mused, “But I double-checked it with Miss Jenn and it sounds legit.”

“So ghosts then, huh?” he prompted, scooting a little closer to you until his knees brushed lightly against yours. “Seems like a little bit of a leap in logic.”

You shrugged helplessly, a tired grin forming on your lips, “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars. Ghosts weren’t the least probable option, if I’m being honest.”

“How would you even get rid of a ghost-” He stopped as the rest of your statement caught up to him, “Wait, you’ve had fifty candy bars?!”

“Just the little ones.” You said, waving off his concern and checking the time on your phone. “Depends on the type of spirit, but I’ve talked to some sophomores who practice witchcraft and they say that sage and pure intention to banish it should take care of whatever we’re seeing, as long as it’s a normal ghost or spirit. I just want to eliminate any other options before I take action.”

“Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?” EJ demanded, taking your phone from you and setting it aside so he could get you to focus on him, “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself,” he said quietly, normally bright eyes turned stormy with concern, “You’ve got a lot of people that care about you-”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Like who?” At his stunned silence, you pressed on, “Everyone at this school thinks I’m a weirdo. You don’t think I’ve heard people call me Scooby-Doo or Nancy Drew or Sherlock?” You shook your head, pushing yourself to your feet as your frustration mounted, “This was a mistake. I’m leaving; I’ll solve this case on my own.”

“Wait,” EJ exclaimed, shooting up to his feet and grabbing your wrist to stop you from going. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at EJ. “About what part?”

He nodded seriously, eyes locked with yours, “About no one caring about you and about everyone thinking you’re weird.” He took a deep breath, and, for the first time since he’d joined your investigation, you watched his confident facade falter. “I care about you,” he started softly, like he was afraid to finally say it. “And I really like that you’re so passionate about solving mysteries.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to look back at him, “You… like that?”

“I like you,” he said, so quiet that he was barely audible, but when you didn’t pull away he continued, volume picking up as he did so, “I really like you and I can’t believe I get to help you do something I love, and that probably sounds pretty dumb since we don’t really know each other that well, but I would really like to get to know you better and maybe even take you out to dinner sometime if that’s okay with you?”

It took you a long moment to find your voice again. “Okay,” you found yourself saying as you tugged your wrist from his grip to link your fingers with his instead. “Okay,” A wide smile spread across EJ’s face and you could feel an answering one as it tugged at your lips, “When we close this case, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

“Really?” he asked, like he almost expected you to tell him it was some cruel joke. He let out a breathless laugh when you nodded, “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked joyfully, tugging you towards the door by your joined hands. “We’ve got a case to solve!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you were led out into the long-abandoned halls of East High, glad to have finally found someone who matched you. After all, all the greats came in pairs; Daphne had Fred, Sherlock had Watson, and now you had EJ.

[souluble]

✿ Scenarios ✿

Inumaki Toge / Nobara Kugisaki / Junpei Yoshino / Itadori Yuji

✿ Playing videogames with them

Inumaki Toge

✿ Ok he’s a canon troll and most definitely throws the first round then absolutely carries the second round to get play of the game which annoys his teammates to no end.

✿ His notficiations are overflowing with friend requests and he never declines them he just lets them pile up.

✿ Inumaki has a hacker client downloaded and when you finally found out he offered to send you the link.

✿ If his team makes him play healer the only people he’s going to heal is you and the new player who doesn’t understand the difference between left click and right click.

✿ When you play with him he likes to be on opposite teams so he can cross team, he always ends up killing you though.

✿ Leaning over Inumakis shoulder you watched as his fingers effortlessly glided across the keyboard as he commanded his teammates to rush the enemy line. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he clicked away at his mouse before letting out a frustrated groan when his screen turned a vivid red signifying his defeat.

Maneuvering around his chair you placed yourself on his lap and pulled the keyboard closer to your reach “Can I try? It’s a shooter game right?” titling your head back you peered up at his flushed face.

Resting his chin on your head Inumaki placed his hands over yours to maneuver your fingers over the proper keys “Salmon”

With an excited glint in his eyes he watched as you jokingly made your character run into walls and shoot your teammates by mistake to agitate them.

Whenever someone would ridicule your skill in the chat Inumaki was quick to start typing up a spiteful message that would get the two of you banned from the lobby.

His account ended up getting suspended for 24 hours that afternoon but he assured you that he didn’t mind.

Nobara Kugisaki

✿ She isn’t fond of keyboards because mouse spamming makes her finger cramp up, she plays with a controller connected to her console.

✿ Do not play with her If your sensitive, she rages a lot especially when someone throws and isn’t afraid to call to them out.

✿ Definitely uses the voice chat and makes herself leader and no one really argues because her win rate is so high.

✿ If you play with her she’s going to be tailing you non-stop to make sure you don’t die and make you double kill with her to get team points.

✿ If there someone being toxic in the voice chat she’s going to be coming for their throat, make sure to back her up but don’t let her get carried away she already has two strikes on her account.

✿ Only accepts friends requests from people who are the same rank as her or a rank higher, she says the higher ranks are cocky.

✿ The sound of the controllers joystick being pushed around bounced off the walls as a string of curses left her lips “I always get the worst competitive teams”

Nobara let out a loud dramatic exhale as she swiveled around in her chair to face you with puppy eyes “play with me please!! Just one match so my ranking can go up” jutting her bottom lip out she reached out to you.

“Just one match! We have an early mission tomorrow”

“I promise just one match!! It’ll be short and then we can go shopping!”

What was originally supposed to be a quick game turned into multiple as Nobara had formed a party over the last couple of rounds “Y/N go left and flank from behind”

Following her orders you made your character crouch behind the in game objects before going for the kill. The score was tied 4 - 4 and whoever got the last point would win. Nobaras party was on a winning streak and she refused to loose even if she had already ranked up.

“Take point!! Touch point!” Nobaras yelling came to a stop as the screen went black and the words ‘defeat’ flashed across her screen, with a frustrated huff she muted her mic before heading over to you with a defeated look on her face.

“Can we at least still go shopping?”

Junpei Yoshino

✿ He’s surprisingly a really good sniper and only plays DPS, If you make him play anything else he will leave the lobby.

✿ Junpei plays on those public school servers and purposely only targets his classmates, he finds great joy in making them rage quit.

✿ He has never sent out a friend request and refuses to, you had to send him the request if you wanted to be in game friends.

✿ If someone’s targeting you he’s going to spawn camp them even if it means throwing for his team.

✿ Doesn’t use chat, he has it muted to ignore all the trash talk but if he likes his team he’ll drop a ‘GG’ in the chat after a win.

✿ Probably has a hacker client installed too, but he actually paid for it and uses it frequently, his account shockingly has never gotten banned.

✿ Junpei sat crossed legged on the floor as his fingers skimmed over the controller buttons while you sat on his neatly made bed with your controller tossed to the side. His head rested comfortably on your thighs as you brushed his bangs to the side so he could the screen.

Your character had died at the beginning of the match and Junpei was hellbent on killing the person who killed you “Upper left” you watched as he aimed the crosshair with precision before pressing the trigger on the controller.

With a gasp at the accurate headshot you clapsed your hands together “You got them Ino!” a small smile appeared on his face as he looked up at you shyly.

“It wasn’t really anything that special”

“Yes it was! You were all the way on the other side of the map and the shot still hit!”

Facing back towards the screen you watch as Junpei got play of the game once more, if it weren’t for his mute chat you could already see the complaints from the enemy team.

Titling his head back you bent over to press a kiss to Junpei’s forehead “let’s play another match?”

With red ears he looked away from you with a teasing smile “As long as you don’t die first again”

Itadori Yuji

✿ Itadori is that one person who makes small talk in the waiting lobby then asks if everyone wants to stay as a team yet leaves as soon as they start loosing.

✿ Only joins games where everyone’s in voice chat because he doesn’t like the awkward silence when no ones talking.

✿ His aim is so bad and he genuinely doesn’t know why, absolutely despises snipers especially when he doesn’t see them until after he dies.

✿ He’s so cute if he sees you online he’s going to be sending you party invites and asking you to join his games.

✿ Prefers to be on opposite teams with you so that he can kill you before anyone else does, his teamates pity you because your always dying first.

✿ You leaned back in your chair and let out a scream at the sudden death of your character “YUJI” a nervous chuckel erupted form your boyfriends throat as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry Y/N but I just don’t want anyone else killing you”

Silence filled the room as you stared at him with a blank look on your face, whenever you play videgames with Yuji he always refuses to be on the same team as you. His reason being that he isn’t good enough at the game to protect you and if your on opposite teams he’s able to kill you first so one else can.

“You actually DONT have to kill me everytime!”

“But then someone else will kill you!” rushing up from his seat Itadori threw himself at you as he burried his head into your stomach and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that playing with him was not a fun experience when he was always so excited to see your gamer tag pop up on his screen.

Glancing towards his screen you watched as his character got taken out “fine fine let’s play another game, I’ll just avoid you this round”

Shaking his head in a ‘no’ manner Itadori let out a loud whine at your statement “No Y/N! You’ll die if you run away from me”

“I’m going to die either way!”

[therealvinelle]

Thoughts on Heidi and do u think Aro killing her entire coven was called for?

Heidi is from Hilda’s coven, which means her human life was garbage.

Hilda, for reference, was a vampire in 16th century London with a feminist mission to liberate society’s most oppressed women. In addition to Heidi she created Anne, Victoria’s older sister. Anne had been an impoverished prostitute who worked to keep a roof over Victoria’s head, and Hilda turned her on a night she went to see a john. Hilda also created Mary and Noela, while Anne went back to see her sister and ended up turning her.

Considering Hilda’s mission to save destitute women, Heidi would have been destitute as well. I think most likely she was a prostitute, in fact I think Victoria was the only member in that coven who wasn’t. The fact that Anne was turned on a night she was working means Hilda singled out a lady of the night, and I suspect she found the others that way as well.

And now we enter the realm of speculation, but I suspect Heidi recruits the Volturi secretaries the same way. (And yes, considering the fact that Heidi is the one responsible for bringing in the humans, I do think it’s her who recruits the secretaries.)

We don’t know much about these women, but we know that they’re completely loyal to the Volturi, that the Volturi trust them, and that they don’t appear to have anything else in life.

There’s also the Volturi mission. Explain to these destitute women what vampires are and how the Volturi preserve human society, and offer them a place in all of this, and I imagine Heidi doesn’t need her gift to make them say yes.

As I’ve been over before, I think Chelsea can only do so much. If the secretaries were normal human women with bright futures and friends and family who’d worry when they inevitably go missing, Chelsea would have to use all her talent full force on every single secretary to mindwhammy these women. It’d be cumbersome for Chelsea, and frankly quite unwise of the Volturi to take women whose departures from the human world could attract a lot of notice. Besides, the secretary we do see, Gianna, seems to be quite happy with her job. She admires the vampires she works for, is delighted when Jane greets her, and longs to join them. This does not strike me as the behavior of a woman who had a lot of life options before coming into touch with the Volturi.

So yes, I think Hilda’s directive survives in the form of Heidi singling out these destitute women, empathizing with them even, and bestowing upon them this great honor. Their material needs will be covered, they get to serve the Volturi, and in time they will either give their lives or their mortality. Either way it’s a better life than the one they would have (or so Heidi would certainly think, considering her background).

When it comes to the secretaries’ position within the Volturi (because this has apparently turned into a post on Volturi secretaries), I imagine the fact that they are replaceable does not make them worthless. They do serve the Volturi, and Volturi guard is what Aro calls those who serve his coven. There is too an inherent nobility in the sacrifice they make. I imagine Aro does not disrespect that sacrifice.

We also see that they are treated with respect. Jane shows respect to Gianna. She didn’t have to, in fact Jane does what she wants, but she greeted Gianna all the same.

Going back to Heidi’s coven and what happened to it, I have a lot of thoughts on how the Volturi carry out their justice, but bottom line is I think they’re just. Eclipse was an anomaly.

And I’m not sure that Heidi’s coven was as innocent as Meyer tried to portray them.

Going by the timeline, we know there was Anne, Victoria, and Noela within a short span of years. Anne admittedly had amazing control, being able to turn Victoria when she had only been a vampire for five years, but Anne also loved Victoria so much that she became a prostitute to provide for her (the way the deal she had with her pimp sounds, it sounds like she was working for free in exchange for Victoria getting to live for free in the brothel). That’s love. And the way their meeting is described, Anne struggled at first to be even in physical proximity of Victoria, so her success in turning her sounds like Herculean effort fueled by her all-overpowering need to protect her beloved sister rather than Anne being that great on the regular. I’m not saying I’m not impressed by Anne’s success, my point is that the control she showed around Victoria might not be representative of her control overall. Point being, Hilda had a bleeding heart and a lot of young vampires all living together in a densely populated city as a result.

At its height, the coven consisted of six vampires. The average vampire coven has three or four vampires. The Cullens being seven strong makes them an anomaly. Hilda had a coven twice the size of the norm living in the middle of London, eating at least one person each every fortnight, making it twenty-four dead people in a month, though the number could be higher. 

I’m not surprised that they caught the attention of the Volturi.

Then we have the fact that Anne was allowed to go speak with Victoria in the first place. I totally get why Hilda would okay that, checking up on an impoverished woman to see how she’s doing sounds like something right up Hilda’s alley, but letting a human see her vampified sibling and live to tell the tale is toeing the line of keeping the secret big time. Luca was doing something very similar, and while he got away with it, the Volturi didn’t like it and if it weren’t for Renata he probably would have been executed. Now, Anne going to see her sister is a very minor breach and not something that warrants the slaughter of the whole coven, especially not when said sister was made a vampire, but it does show that Hilda did not rigidly enforce the law within her coven.

Remember also that Aro relieved Renata of Luca and Demetri of Amun without harming either Luca nor Amun. Given Luca’s thing that he had going with Renata’s family, and Amun’s ancient enmity with Aro, he had far more motivation to kill either of them than he did Heidi’s coven, and yet they were spared while these women were not. This, to me, points to Heidi’s coven having actually been guilty.

I question the idea that Aro even knew that Heidi was gifted when he issued the order to have the coven executed. Eleazar wouldn’t be born for another two centuries, and... well, how would Aro know? I suspect he found out when reading Heidi’s mind. Besides, Heidi’s gift is great, but she’s no gamechanger. Would a vampire whose gift is covered by Chelsea really be worth wiping out a whole coven?

As for how Heidi is doing now, I suspect she’s fine. What happened was tragic, but Chelsea loosened her emotional ties to the coven, lessening the trauma. The coven was guilty as charged, and Heidi gets to honor Hilda’s memory with the Volturi secretaries. It’s sad that things turned out the way they did, but they could have been worse.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || ii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause?

warnings: f!reader, mentions of depression/implied depiction of depression

wc: 2.9k

m.list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3 

last time... 

He leant in, pressing his lips against yours softly. You froze, every nerve in your body now on high alert.

Iwaizumi Hajime? Kissing you? No way. No. Better yet, your first kiss? You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening.

And yet the burning of your cheeks, the swelling of your heart, the feeling of his lips pressed against yours all said otherwise. This was happening.

✧ ✧ ✧

You’d half-convinced yourself that it was all a dream. There was no way Hajime had kissed you last night. No way he’d looked at you like that – like you were the most delightful thing he’d ever seen.

It sounded far too good to be true.

But the smile he’d given you in the morning told you otherwise.

It was so gentle, so honest. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve only caught a few times before, and each time he knew you could see it, he had always looked away.

But this morning was different. Because last night had been different.

Because he’d kissed you.

The two of you were in the kitchen, Iwaizumi with a cup of milk in hand and you empty-handed. You had intended to come and get yourself some breakfast, but you weren’t sure if you could stomach it now. Not with all these butterflies crashing around in there.

You hadn’t even said anything to each other – just looking at him was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt into a useless puddle. 

He nodded to the kitchen counter. You followed his gaze to a mug, the string and tag of a tea bag dangling over the side. One look at the tag and you knew it was your favourite. 

Oh. He remembered. You weren’t even sure if you’d told him that detail, but he’d paid enough attention regardless. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, casting your eyes to the ground.              

Come on, you thought, at least say thank you. You’ve spoken to him plenty of times before. If anything, you should be less nervous now – he’d kissed you. Kissed you! That meant that he must like you a little bit, right?

Your heart bloomed in your chest, spreading a feeling like static throughout your body. At the very least, you could say good morning. And you knew – you just knew – that he would smile at you again. That’s enough motivation.

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes back up.

“Are you alright?” Tooru’s voice popped your bubble. He was standing just to your left, bread bun in hand and cheeks puffy like a squirrel’s.

“Hm?” You tried to pay him no attention; you absolutely didn’t want to give Tooru a reason to tease.

“You look sick.”

Of course. You shot him a glare, the dreamy look on your face morphing into a scowl. “Oh, thanks?”

“What?” Tooru whined, mouth full of bread.

“You’re being rude.”

Tooru scoffed, swallowing in one big gulp. “I am just a concerned brother, I don’t know why you’re demonizing me—”

You rolled your eyes, stalking over to the kettle.

Chances were a conversation with Hajime was likely out of the question, at least for today. You didn’t want to just announce this… thing between you to Tooru.

You’d just text him later.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Here,” he smiled, holding your boba out to you. He knew your favourite order like it was his own. That enough made your heart go wild.

“Thanks,” you blushed, letting your fingers brush against his as you took the cup from him.

You caught a glimpse of colour in Iwaizumi’s cheeks, and your heart fluttered.

He stabbed his straw into his boba and brought it to his lips.

He had such nice lips. They weren’t particularly big or striking, but they were nicely shaped. They complimented his face, balancing well with the rest of his features. And best of all, they were softer than—

You snapped your eyes away, heat flooding through your face.

God, you were embarrassing. This was embarrassing.

The two of you had already kissed. Why were you so damn awkward. Surely, you could hold his hand. That usually came before kissing for most couples. You might be working backwards, but that was okay, right?

“Hey, uh… Hajime?” Your throat was dry, your hands clammy.

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. This was still harder than you’d given it credit for. Even if you had crossed other lines, this was still more exciting than it should be. “Can I hold your hand?”

There’s a moment of silence. A long silence.

Had you said something wrong? Was this moving too quickly? But he’d kissed you…

“Ah, that’s…” He said finally. You caught your breath. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh…” You tried to swallow down the weird little lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Not, uh…” He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not until we’ve told Oikawa.”

“Right,” you nodded. You fought the urge to shake off your disappointment, to stretch out the fuzziness in your hands.  

You’d get there eventually, you told yourself. One of these days, you’d walk hand-in-hand with Iwaizumi Hajime, happy and giggly and open about your feelings.

You couldn’t wait for that day.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where’s Hajime?” You asked, juice box in hand and frown on your face.

“He said he needed to study this weekend,” Tooru yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

You did your best not to pout.

Other than your Tuesday walks, Friday was the only other opportunity each week to spend time with him without it being too obvious.

But he wasn’t there this Friday.

A little knot sat at the bottom of your stomach, small enough to be ignored, but heavy enough to give you pause.

You shook your head, frowning.

No, you were being silly. He was just busy this weekend – and perhaps you should be, too. There was no reason for you to be so worried.

Not when he’d given you no real reason to be.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been almost two weeks since he’d kissed you.

It’s been four days since he’d had a proper conversation with you.

On reflection, he had been a little weird on Thursday. His texts had been drier than usual – and he was already a pretty dry texter. Then, he hadn’t come over to your house on Friday like he usually did.

And then, he hadn’t texted you at all over the weekend.

That little knot in your stomach from Friday had gotten tighter, bigger, more demanding.

It’s like he was hiding you away. Some part of you – a part you very much wanted to throttle – feared that he was doing so because he was ashamed. That being seen with you would be embarrassing. Not that he’d given you any reason to think that, but the worry just wouldn’t shift.

The more logical part of your brain knew he was doing it so Tooru wouldn’t see you together. That alone is enough to root a deeper, more violent anxiety through your stomach.

But he had to walk you home today. You didn’t feel like he’d bail on that, at least.  

To your relief, he was waiting for you at the school gate.

But as you made your way to the boba shop, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t the most talkative of people, but even this was quiet for him.

And when he was purchasing both your drinks, he made no comment about your financial ‘situation’. The most you could get out of him were some anecdotes from practice or what assignments and exams he had coming up.

And as you walked on, the stretches of silence grew longer. Usually, you wouldn’t mind them, but these days…

Hajime sighed, slowing to a stop. You shuttered to a stop after him, only just becoming aware of your surroundings.

To your left, the mountains. To your right, some rocks and a wall. In front of you, Hajime.

This was familiar. This spot, this boba, this afternoon.

But something was distinctly off. This wasn’t your typical outing to go look at the mountains. This was different.

You bit the inside of your cheek. So, he was of the same mind as you.

“So,” you sighed, sitting yourself down on the rocks. It was warm to the touch, likely from basking in the summer sun all afternoon. Hajime remained standing, his eyes trained on the mountains.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what there was to say. Was this his way of telling you he wasn’t interested? Was that it? You’d never really been involved like this with a guy before, so the potential was there. Was this just standard practice for boys?

“How are you?” Hajime asked, a strange stiffness in his voice. There was usually a bit of tightness in his face, a light scowl or a look of intense concentration. But even he looked tenser than usual.

“I’m okay,” you lied. You took a moment to try and catch his eye. He wouldn’t look at you. “How about you?” You asked, hoping to alleviate at least some of the awful atmosphere that had begun to cloud around the two of you. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Perhaps you were being more polite about it than you should’ve. Perhaps you should’ve stormed up to him with a vengeance, demanding to know why he was suddenly ignoring you after taking your very first kiss.

But you just didn’t have the guts to do that. Not at seventeen.

“Yeah…” Hajime mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

You were well-aware that it wasn’t entirely a lie. He was Seijoh’s ace after all. And his studies were becoming more and more important. You knew as much.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

You bit your lip, looking down at your skirt. You took a deep breath, placing your boba on the ground next to you.

“Hey, Hajime… I think we should talk,” you swallowed, your heart stuttering in your chest. “About…”

“I know.” He cleared his throat, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah…” You braved a glance at him.

His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed in that familiar knot.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hajime?” You murmured, clenching your fists in your lap. You wanted to reach out to him, to place a comforting hand on his back. But your instincts were at war with one another, unsure of what to do.

He looked at you for the first time. There’s something like torment behind his eyes. Hopelessness, conflict, regret. It felt like something really terrible had happened – was about to happen.

It felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

“What?”

“There’s too much that could go wrong.” His response was instantaneous – a little too quick by your count.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, twisting your skirt in your fists.

He was quiet for a long moment, still looking at the sky. “What if we broke up?”

You froze, objections dying in your throat. It was a fair question. But you weren’t sure if it was entirely relevant.

“We haven’t even given it a shot yet,” you murmured, trying to swallow down the discomfort brewing in your chest.

“And it’s best if we don’t.” His voice was firm, blunt. It’s the voice he used when trying to get through to Tooru.

Tooru…

“Did he say something to you?” You asked quietly, closing your eyes. If your brother…

“He doesn’t know.” Hajime knew exactly what you were talking about. “And it’s best if he didn’t.”

“Why not?” There’s something else brewing in your chest, not unlike indignation.

“One of the guys asked him about you,” Hajime said, his voice spread thin.

“They did?” You frowned. You knew who ‘the guys’ were. But you hadn’t spent enough time with the volleyball team for you to actually know what any of them were like. Although, you were only fixated on Hajime. That might have something to do with it.

“Yeah…” Hajime nodded. “And he was pretty mad.”

Really? Tooru had the gall to get angry at the fact a boy expressed interest in you? That’s why Hajime wanted to call this off?

“Are you scared of him?” You snapped before you could stop yourself.

He sighed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Your response was quick, sharp, irritated. But if Hajime caught onto that, he didn’t say.

“It’s just…” He sighed. “It could get messy.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to still the barrage of questions you had. This didn’t make sense. Why would he—

“I don’t want to lose both of you.” His voice was soft, fragile. More fragile than you’ve ever heard it be.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say to that.

“What do you think he’s going to do if he thinks I’m messing around with you?”

Your chest ached. “Messing around?” The corners of your eyes were starting to sting.

“I don’t mean it like that—”

“Is that what you saw it as?”

“No.” He almost shouted that. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. “But he will.”

You understood.

God, you understood.

Hajime was scared that you thought he was using you. That he was playing with your feelings and leading you on. Worse yet, he was frightened that Tooru would think that way, too.

Would Tooru perceive it as a betrayal? Would your relationship cause conflict in their friendship? Would you fuck everything up by getting involved?

Tooru trusted him more than anyone. You knew how much Hajime meant to him.

And you knew that Hajime wasn’t going to throw that away for a crush.

You took a deep breath. Your throat had grown painfully dry, and your stomach was starting to swell. You needed to get home.

“Alright,” you said, standing to your feet.

Hajime stared at you for a moment, a strange brew of emotions in his eyes. You didn’t have the energy to try and work them out.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi,” you mumbled, giving him a quick bow. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He was silent for a long moment as you bent down to pick up your boba. The boba he’d bought you. He hadn’t teased you for your lack of funds today. Had that been a preemptive apology?

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You didn’t look at him as you turned around, already plotting your walk home without him. Surely he’d understand that you needed to be alone right now.

He didn’t chase after you. Not as you walked away. Not as you threw your unfinished boba into a bin. Not as you held back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, fists clenched at your sides.

A weight pressed inside your chest, something so heavy and immovable that you knew you couldn’t keep it down this time. The bitterness you’d been trying to stifle for years bled through your ribs, rippling through your body.

Tooru got everything.

He got the passion, the drive, the direction.

He got all the attention, the opportunities, the praise.

He got Hajime.

✧ ✧ ✧

The cool touch of porcelain in the pitch dark was more soothing than you’d given it credit for.

You hadn’t known what else to do. If you were in your room, chances were someone could walk in – especially if you turned all the lights off and hid under your covers.

Admittedly, hiding in the bathroom with all the lights turned off was no less suspicious. But there’s something comforting about the cold and dark. Your brother had been onto something all those years ago.

When you were younger, you’d found Tooru sitting in the bathtub, knees drawn up to his chest while he cried.

He’d been fourteen at the time. You were barely thirteen.

You hadn’t known what to do – the first thing you did was run for Hajime.

That’s what you’d always done when it came to Tooru. You always turned to Iwaizumi – without fail, that was your answer to almost every issue. It was the only thing you could think of, even to this day.

The light flickered on. You flinched, your eyes screwing shut at the sudden assault on your retinas.

Someone yelped. It wasn’t you.

You whipped your head round, squinting at him.

“What are you doing in here?” Tooru asked, face marked mainly by confusion but not without a hint of concern.

“Just… sitting,” you said, blinking a few times.

There was no way you’d tell him why you were here. Something in you felt like that’d be wrong; that, maybe, you’d be betraying Iwaizumi’s trust.  

“What happened?” Tooru asked, his voice soft and tender. He crouched down besides the bathtub, propping his elbows on the ledge.

You shook your head, looking away from him.

“You can tell me,” Tooru pouted. “Do you need me to beat someone up for you?”

“No,” you choked, cursing yourself for the crack in your voice. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glared at him, sniffling. God, you must look pathetic.

“Hey,” Tooru held his hands up. “I’m just being honest.”

You let out a long sigh, rolling your shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You sure?” Tooru said, concern heavy in his voice. “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Tooru,” you sighed.

You couldn’t tell him. Even if he offered to support you, offered to beat up anyone who broke your heart.

Because the very person that had broken your heart was the very same boy who pulled him up off the ground. 

[elfwoodfae]

“Nightcall” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Chapter 3

Summary: As you taunt the devil another criminal may be ready to strike.

Gif credits go to the owner, I found this one on google.

Author’s note: let me know what you all think, if you have any suggestions, I hope you like it!

Once again, you were all brainstorming ideas about the man in yellow, nothing concrete, but the team had been stuck for a few days without making any progress.

“I just don’t believe that he doesn’t go somewhere after,” Barry commented.

You were sitting on Cisco’s desk and as you saw Wells roll into the cortex you decided to chip on your own ideas. Even tho he had specifically told you not to.

“You know I bet he has a day job too,” you said while noticing from the corner of your eye how Dr. Wells moved his head to look at you and rub two fingers over his lips, how he tended to do when he was thinking, probably how to get rid of you without attracting heat to himself.

“He seems smart, I bet he is some kind of doctor,” you spurred on. “I mean his suit seems pretty legit so he probably is very smart.” Now you were sassing him up. Oh boy were you sassing him up. You knew this risky comment had the potential to blow up on your face, but honestly it was a risk you were willing to take just by the look of Wells’ eyes.

“Very interesting idea y/n.” Wells said looking at you with that fake smile he gave people. God how you wanted to whip it off his face.

“Actually Dr. Wells I was wondering if I could talk to you about something” you asked him as you hopped off the desk.

He only nodded and signaled you to follow him. This plan could very much make you or break you. You were hoping for the first one.

“Those two seem to be talking a lot lately” Cisco commented once you were out of earshot.

Once in Wells’ office you reclined yourself against his desk and looked at him.

“So I have been thinking about your proposition.” You began to speak.

“My proposition? I don’t believe I have proposed anything to you” he said, the look on his face was unbelievable, you had some nerve to be sassing him up so much, and the worst part was that he couldn’t kill you or get rid of you just yet without making it obvious and drawing attention to himself.

“Yes, your proposition about me not speaking and you not killing me” you continued.

“I have thought about it, and I’m willing to accept with one condition.”

He couldn’t believe you. He just couldn’t believe that you were either stupid enough or brave enough to face him.

“I don’t believe I gave you a choice or that you have one, what part of dying was not clear to you?” He added.

“Trust me it was very clear to me since you literally stuck a hand in me, but killing aside, I will keep your secret on a condition, so please at least humor me, we both know you can’t kill me, for what reason is unclear to me but if you really wanted me dead I would be by now.”

You would be the fault in his plan if he didn’t do something about you fast. You were too smart and too fearless of him to be scare that easy. Or too stupid as he had previously thought.

“What is that condition?” He would humor you, play your game and let you think you had the upper hand until he could get rid of you.

“I will play along with you and keep your secret safe, going as far as making sure no one else suspects of you, only if you promise me that once this is all over, and you get whatever it is you are trying to achieve that you will leave a confession freeing Barry’s father of the murder of Nora.”

Now that wasn’t that hard, he would be gone, it wouldn’t affect him in any way, and if that’s what it took to keep you quite then he would oblige.

“Fine, I give you my word.” He said.

“And you won’t hurt Barry badly, or anyone else in the team” you added, feeling a wave of bravery.

“Don’t push your luck little one or you will find out what happens when you taunt me.” he said through gritted teeth, he was a very patient man, but you had a way of pushing his buttons like no one that he had encountered in a long time.

After your little conversation with Wells you felt more confident than ever, you had managed to at least get something out of it and the enjoyment of messing with him, it made you feel powerful.

“Well someone is in a good mood” Cisco said as you entered the cortex smiling and more relaxed than they had seen you in a long time.

“What happened back there?” Cisco insinuated as he looked at you suspiciously.

“Gross Cisco! Gross!” You screamed at him with a fake look of disgust.

“I’m just saying!” He added raising his hands in the air in an apologetic manner.

“Alright you guys,” you called everyone’s attention.

“I’m going to get some coffee, anyone wants anything?”Everyone made their orders and you left to Jitters.

It was getting dark by the time you were getting out of Jitters, walking to your car with your hands full, you struggled to get the key out of your pocket, and as you placed the coffees on the roof of your car and looked at your window to open the car you screamed in fear as a hand covered your mouth with some kind of clothe and the other one grabbed your neck beginning to drag you away.

Back at Star labs, the team had began to wonder what was taking you so long. It was normal to take some time since Jitters wasn’t exactly a street away, but you had been gone for almost two hours.

Just as Barry was about to tell Cisco to try and call you for the twentieth time, a message was being broadcasted on the tv.

“Cisco!”Caitlin urged him as she pointed to the monitor. “Put the volume up!”

“Flash!” The knowing voice of Captain Cold came through the speakers. “I have a friend of yours. If you don’t come and surrender yourself, she will die.” He added in his typical singsong way of speaking.

“Flash don’t come for me!” You could be heard screaming in the background, the focus changed to you as the image showed another man putting a gag in your mouth while you were tied to a chair.

“We need to do something fast” Barry said as he raised his hands to his hair in desperation. In that moment doctor Wells who had seen the whole ordeal from the entrance to the cortex spoke.

“We need to be careful Mister Allen, we don’t know where they are keeping her or if Captain Cold still have the cold gun.”

“Dr. Wells is right, we need to be careful, acting on impulse may not be the best call right now.” Caitlin added.

“I know but we can’t just stay and do nothing! He has y/n” he desperately added.

“I’m aware but I do caution restrain.” He added.

They planned a strategy, as Barry made it to the meeting point, Cisco and Joe would go to see the location where they suspected you were being kept.

As Barry struggled to defeat Cold and Heat Wave. Dr. Wells and Caitlin stayed behind guiding them through the operation. When Barry finally manage to neutralize Cold and Rory a bigger problem arose.

“Guys!” Came Cisco desperate voice through the comms. “She isn’t here, this was a decoy” he added.

Barry looked down on Cold, and as he grabbed him by his shirt collar he shook him.

“Where is she!?” Desperation could be heard in his voice.

“Flash, you really thought it would be that easy to find her? I hope you said your goodbyes earlier since in a matter of around two minutes your little friend will blow into the air.”

Dread came over Barry as he realized that no matter how fast he managed to search the city it wasn’t enough time to find you.

“I will give you a hint, why don’t you start in the East side?” Cold added as he smiled sarcastically at Barry.

Back the labs Wells excused himself from Caitlin and went to his time vault. He needed to find you fast. It was true that this was the perfect chance to finally get rid of you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let you die by the hands of Cold.

You were seated in some kind of abandoned warehouse. In what part of town you had no idea, but you were painfully aware of the ticking bomb at the bottom of your chair. And as you heard the ticking get faster you were sure that was it, this is how you were going to die. If Barry hadn’t found you yet, you doubted he would on time.

As the seconds came to cero time seemed to stop all together, and in flash of red you were whisked away as the bomb went off and the explosion resonated all around you.

Your eyes watered as your mouth opened to let a sigh of relief come out. You squeezed Barry’s neck and placed your forehead on his shoulder as you breathed him in only for a second later to recognize this particular smell. This wasn’t Barry. As you opened your eyes you were met with a yellow suit and a pair of red glowing eyes. Still in his arms you hugged him again, adrenaline controlling your actions.

“I have never been happier to see you” you said, he only nodded and put you down on the floor.

As he speeded away you saw Barry coming to you fast. Relief could be read all over him the moment his eyes landed on you.

“She is safe” is all he said through the comms to the team.

“How, how did you managed to escape?” He questioned you once you were all back at Star labs as Caitlin checked you over.

“ I am not sure, I managed to free myself from the ropes but the bomb may have glitched as I had enough time to run as far as I could” you explained, trying to sound convincing.

“I mean but you don’t even have a scratch on you” Barry kept questioning you.

“I think I just had a lucky star tonight.” You said as you looked over at Harrison, who had just entered the med bay area.

“I think we should let Miss y/n rest for tonight Mister Allen.” Dr. Wells added.

“Yeah, I am just glad you are okay.”Barry added as they all walked out to let you rest for the night.

Wells was the last to leave and as he was about to roll out the door you stopped him. You had so many questions to ask him. He could have easily let you die and get rid of you without being suspicious, but he hadn’t.

“Why did you save me?” You asked when you were sure no one was close by. He only smiled at you and turned around, leaving as you sat there with now more questions about the man than ever before.

@mintchipcupcake

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