#the current situation. not without a hint of desperation ('oh my god do i pray..') but ultimately grounded in an unshakeable sense of self

[hoodiewithhorns]

━  using your safeword scenarios p.3 !★

genre : hurt/comfort smut.

characters : f! reader x sakusa, matsukawa, kenma

p.1  + p.2 + m.sterlist + requests  

(please read the rules before requesting ty.)

▼ cw : not proof read, use of safeword, neglect , unprotected sex, degradation , clit spanking ( 1 ), impact play ( sakusas part ), mentions of exe(s), caught masturbation (reader) , pillow humping, thigh riding, implied punishment, kinda crybaby reader, implied cockwarming, cheating (?), angst, established relationship, all characters are 18+, MDNI ▲

different safewords used this time <3

- ty to the anons and user @/please-take-me-to-the-moon for the scenarios <3 

sakusa 

word count : 1.4k

you knew better than to do this, humping your dearly beloved boyfriends pillow with just your cotton panties, a loose shirt with no bra under, like a bitch in heat, desperate for friction of any kind. You knew if he had caught you like this he would punish you that was guaranteed. however, in the literal heat of the moment you didn’t care. sakusa’s constant pattern of coming home the minute you were already fast asleep in your shared bed, never being able to fill the void of need in your little cunt. 

〜　☆

Considering he’d let this slide since its been a month since you’ve two have done anything sexual, these thoughts only making you hump his pillow even more desperate leaving a pool of your arousal staining his pillow, with the occasional soft whimpers of his name. losing yourself in your own lust, You didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open.

Sakusa, leaving his practice early since his performance was unfavorable by the shitty mood he was in, lashing out on his teammates for the smallest things they’d do and so many more. in short, his team suggested he’d stay home t’ill he cooled down. 

“y/n? i’m home.”he walked around the empty apartment accompanied by the muffles of your soft moans, trying to find you as quickly as possible, obviously knowing it was you. he opened the bedroom door slowly and quietly. his eyes grew wide at the scene in front of him. 

still not noticing his presence in the door frame you continued humping his pillow feeling your high approach, but leave you since you needed him. 

“tch.” clicking his tongue at you in disapproval. you flinched letting go of his pillow to face him, feeling your heart race when you made eye contact with him, arms folded and a look of disgust planted on his pale face. Your eyes already filling up with tears knowing what comes next. “m’ y-yoomi! w-welcome home-”

“who the fuck gave you permission to touch yourself?” cutting you off, walking towards the bed, he pinned you down to the bed, arms on your sides, hovering over you with his dead, cold, heartless gaze cutting through you, as you tried to look away in shame only earning you a slap to the face to make you look at him. the sting causing you to choke out a sob. praying internally that he’d let you off the hook just this once. you were just needy for him.he has to understand that, right?

“answer me, right.now.”

“n-no one yoomi... i’m s-sorry please don’t wanna be punished!” you pleaded to him only making him more angrier. he grabbed your jaw making you whimper at the tight grip. scanning you top to bottom, eyeing at the wet patch on your underwear. 

“then why did you huh? couldn’t wait until i got home couldn’t you? needy fucking thing.” he tutted, letting go of your jaw harshly, tugging your panties down to your knees already feeling impatient himself by how his cock hardened through his shorts. despite wanting to punish you, he wanted you. needed you to be precise.

 the man hasn’t felt you in a whole month how could he not miss his girlfriends tight slutty cunt? removing his volleyball shorts letting his cock spring free, he strokes himself a few times before lining himself against your cunt, letting a small sigh when you felt his hard tip touch your soaked entrance. 

feeling slightly relief you were finally gonna feel him after so long. That feeling of relief however didn’t last long when he slammed his fat cock inside you without warning. you let out a yelp, hands immediately going to his chest hoping for him to not bruise your cervix from how deep he was already. he growled when he felt your palms try and stop him, so he slapped your hands away roughly marking them red. 

“b-but yoomi please it hurts..it h-hurts” 

you figured he didn’t hear you. but he was too focused on punishing you to care if it hurt or not. so you pleaded again for him to slow down. finally getting a response from him.

“shut up you disgusting whore.you brought this on yourself, touching yourself while your boyfriends away.”

“...dirtying up his fucking pillow while he’s gone. how fucking pathetic.”  he spits, slapping your clit harshly in attempt to get you to shut up. his degrading not having a hint of reassurance anywhere like it usually does when he fucks you. normally, he’d call you his “slut” or his whore but never ever calling you a disgusting one at most, what did this mean?..you asked yourself, mind going hazy with fear. feeling like your boyfriend finds you disgusting for your actions, and not a single trace of love or concern for you, not even noticing how you tried inching yourself away from his pace. 

sakusa was a mean dom yes, but he cared about you and your boundaries and right now it seemed like he didn’t care about any of those.

too focused on his own pleasure, not realizing you slowly started to breakdown in front of him, hands to your eyes shaken from how hard he hit them, as more tears fell to stain your cheeks.

“n-no not disgusting..i-i’m...so sorry..sakusa..just missed you.” you muttered no longer feeling the long needed pleasure of his cock, only feeling a painful discomfort in your chest as if your heart was gonna burst out of it at any minute. he was caught off-guard by you calling him by his last name, but that didn’t stop the brutal pace on your sloppy cunt. repositioning his hand to your hips digging his nails in your sides, bound to leave marks to be seen in the morning. 

“addressing me by my last name? what you think thats gonna make things better?”he muses, his pace speeding up making you whimper. you’ve just about had enough.

“germs! g-germs! no more, i don’t like this!! y-you’re hurting m-me sakusa... please s-stop..stop.” screaming your safeword, trying to get him off you, you pushed with the little strength in you with your fragile hands. it wasn’t enough but he got the message. blinking a few times to make sure he processed the current situation.

he sighed pulling his cock out watching you with wolf eyes as you softly cried to yourself, turning to your side. he didn’t say anything he just laid down beside you. sneaking an arm around your waist, face buried in your neck. he planted some soft kisses onto it trying to make you relax. if he was being brutally honest, he didn’t know what to do.

you never used your safeword and even if it didn’t show in his face, he was pretty frightened. watching you tense up and shake around him all because of him.

“ y-yoomi..im sorry-”

“don’t be.”

he rubs your hands with his thumb in slow but comforting circles, seeing its still red from being slapped away by him, along with him kissing your cheek to simmer down the sting from earlier. god he felt so bad, but was so scared at the same time, all he wanted to do was hold you close..

..and thats what he did, watching you curl up to his chest. The room was silent for a few minutes that felt like hours gone by. you looked up at him with the look you always gave him. Full of love and adoration even with puffy eyes and hurt in your chest you still loved him.

He looked down noticing the soft smile you gave him as if nothing happened. Titling his head in confusion he asks

“why are you smiling? aren’t you upset..at me?”

you shook your head at him, “no yoomi I’m not mad. My body kinda hurts yes, but I’m glad to have you home...i missed you so much I’m sorry i touched myself without permission...”

he lightly smiles at you kissing your lips softly.

“it’s okay. tomorrow we’ll have the day all to ourselves and we can do whatever you want my love. I’m sorry i was so mean... i was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

you paused leaning in closer to his chest as you mumbled.

“can we...take a bath together yoomi?”

“oh sure...here i’l carry you.”

needless to say, you forgave him and gave him one last kiss before going to bed.

kenma

word count : 886

kenmas work schedule was god awful since he was practically up to play games and just that leaving you feeling needy and neglected. you hated it. 

but tonight you were just, so needy and couldn’t stand this constant neglect.

No matter how many times you touched yourself of grind against something it couldn’t compare to the way kenma would stuff you with his cock.

he wasn’t a super harsh dom leaning towards a mix of soft and mean, but he still prioritized your needs before his. and tonight you were gonna get that version of kenma.

walking towards the couch he was playing his games at slowly, with nothing but his hoodie and knee highs. you bit your lip standing in front of him, fiddling your thumbs out of nervousness. He titled his head to remove you from his line of sight to see the tv screen better making your heart ache just a little, being so used to it already.

taking a deep breath you sat in between on of his thighs wrapping your arms around his neck making him let out a groan of annoyance to your needy antics.

he continued to play his game acting as if you weren’t there and nothing changed. it all came to a halt when he felt you grinding on his thigh, letting out small cries of his name.

“baby.... please” you mumbled facing his disinterested face not even sharing a glance at you as he continued to move his thumbs around his controllers joystick. He didn’t even pay mind to the fact you were borderline naked either.

“five minutes pretty girl.” he muttered still too absorbed in his game. You pouted shifting your legs to be wrapped around him now, wet cunt on top of his crotch rubbing against him lightly. Making him flinch at the sudden friction. giving you hope he’d give you what you want now. you smirked continuing to grind against him making him bite back a grunt. 

“ugh what are you doing?” he said clearly annoyed by your antics already.

your face became red while placing your hands on his shoulders slowly starting to grind against his growing bulge. “want your attention kenma please need you so bad.” you begged hoping he’d give you something anything really.

but being kenma, he went back to his video games. your pout returning once more. “but kenma, please i really really need you.” you continued with your antics and he paused his game, putting his controller on the coffee table. 

“fine you want me so fucking bad?” he grabs you by the hips making you yelp as he throws you down the couch. back hitting the cushions while he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist.

he pulls down his sweats pumping himself a few times as he rolls his head back, holding back his grunts. he slowly slides his cock into you, being easy to do considering how wet you were already for him. 

he groans as he bottoms out inside you starting steady, but slowly picking up the pace to be more..brutal.

“k-kenma..m’ feels good thank you thank you” you rambled out praises making him grab you by the throat to thrust into you faster. 

“god you’re so fucking annoying bothering me because you wanted to get your cunt stuffed like a little slut while i fucking work.” he scoffs making your eyes shoot open at him.

“such a fucking annoying little slut.” he continues his degradation thr grip on your throat not loosening. you felt you eyes grow teary as he continued to call you more vulgar names with the sprinkle of him calling you annoying. 

“ c-console...” you mumbled wrapping your hands on his wrists, making him let go of your throat. he froze getting closer to your face as he pulls out slowly.

“huh? Whats wrong does it hurt?” he asks rubbing away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

your lip quivered as more tears started to form. “...i-im annoying...?” you looked him in his eyes as more broken sobs leave you.

“I just wanted some attention kenma...you’re always so busy sometimes I don’t even think you remember i exist..” you muttered feeling small under his cat like stare. 

he sighed kissing your cheek, falling to your. side feeling his breath hit your neck. “sorry baby i swear i didn’t mean it...you’re not annoying its my fault for not giving you attention.” he admits as you wrap around him. 

“y-you promise you didn’t mean it?” you ask once more. he sneaks a hand under your head to lift you up to his chest, patting your head softly. 

“ i promise. here why don’t you sit on my lap, we can do that thing you wanted to try last week...” he looks away embarrassed, you tilt your head in confusion but then realize what he was referring to. you nodded joyfully wrapping your arms around his neck, he adjusts himself for you to line up to take him. he  slowly puts you back down on his cock. hissing at the returning feeling.

He smiled kissing your forehead lightly as he hugged you tight. 

“better my love?”

“mhm mhm!” you said placing your head on his shoulder as you relax into him. slowly drifting away into sleep. its not much, but at-least it stuffs your very needy cunt.

matsukawa 

word count : 615

what lead to this? you two were just on a simple date together at a nearby mall shopping together, looking at upcoming movies, stopping by a few manga stores and bakeries to treat yourselves. overall, just enjoying the time shared together. 

that is t’ill the two of ran into your ex. issei watching the two of you talk to each other not realizing how uncomfortable you really were, hiding it with a friendly facade of course going unnoticed by him since he was practically death glaring your ex. 

he was basically third wheeling in your conversation with your ex. you would side eye issei hoping he’d pull you out of your situation but it was too late since his mind was cloudy with jealousy and rage.  

now, leading up to your current predicament. a heavy make-out now leading to a degradation fest.  

“aw whats wrong little slut can’t take me, fucking pathetic much?” he teases pounding you at a faster pace. “can’t believe my own fucking girlfriend was just there being all friendly to her ex..what don’t tell me you still want him?” he muses making you rapidly shake your head. 

“ no i don’t i swear issei..just wan’ you..”you muttered eyes growing puffy from how cruel he spoke to you as he continued to suggest away of how would get him back since it seemed like you missed him from how friendly you were acting.

growing quiet at his words trying to tune out his words. it’ll all be over soon anyways, you just had to hold on a bit you told yourself. of course you were an idiot for letting him keep going. 

“ maybe i should go ask how kimi’s doing act all friendly and nice towards her.” you tuned into what issei had said in horror at what he just said.

kimi, his much prettier ex who t’ill this day wasn’t over him and he knew this. throwing it in your face as he darkly chuckled at you. you removed your arms that were wrapped around his neck pulling him close. and cupped your face in your hands at the thought of your boyfriend going back to his ex. leaving you alone again.

he wouldn’t right? even though she was much prettier in every feature she had compared to you. he wouldn’t right..? right? 

“f-funeral...“you sniffled making him stop all his movements and lock eyes with you. your safeword ringing in his ears. 

“hey..hey no i didn’t mean it...” he quickly pulls you towards him, pulling you out of him and hugging you tight. he rocks you softly back and forth in his embrace letting all your bottle up feelings burst onto him.  he quick to comfort you and pepper a few kisses on your face.

“ issei..” you mumbled against his chest. he rubs your back looking down at you.

“yes baby..?” his voice shaken with worry hoping you weren’t too mad at him.

“ i-i don’t miss him.. i was only being nice..i was uncomfortable talking to him why didn't you..” he internally punches himself for being so blind and not being able to see by all your movements how uncomfortable you were just breathing the same air as your ex.

he was too blinded by his jealousy to realize his poor baby was scared. he mumbled a curse before apologizing.

“i’m sorry baby i didn’t realize he was making you uncomfortable i should've done something..” his eyes wander away from you.

“ i was just jealous..” he admits

“but issei.. you’re all i want.” you say kissing his cheek and he smiles gracefully. 

“am i-i all you want sei?”

“ duh pretty baby. everything  i want and need.”

matsukawas is so short i’m so sorry ahhhh but i hope u all enjoyed <3

[astrovian]

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin​ said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking,  “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1)     allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2)     judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh�� as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh… 

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10 

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

 I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

[moonbythecabstan]

We're Up Against The Wall (Know I Like It Like That) - Part 1

Rated: M

Pairing: M/M

Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment

Relationship: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler

Summary: A surprise visit from Mike's good friend takes a surprising turn.

Mike flicked his thumb over the screen, skimming the posts scrolling past with vague interest. He wasn't one for mindless social media perusing, but waiting on his wife usually took quite a while. Especially when she had her girls with her. Their giggles heard every time he peeked into the room to check on how much longer he'd be waiting. Left with nothing else to do, he took to looking through Instagram. Tossing a double tap out here and there, smiling at the many pictures of his friends doing interesting things in their lives.

He glanced at the time at the top of the screen when his restlessness got the better of him, groaning when he found only three minutes passed by. How was it time moved so slow when you desperately wanted things to hurry up? Waiting on your wife and suffering through workouts being the times when you wanted the minutes to fly by. Yet they merely crawled. Dragged.

There was a knock at the door that startled him out of his silent griping. He furrowed his brows at the door like maybe he imagined the sound, but it came again. A rhythmic knocking he recognized with a grin. Pushing up off the couch to greet his friend as he pulled the door open wide.

"Hey, man! Didn't expect you to drop by today." Dolph Ziggler, in classic shades and red Motley Crue shirt (sleeves cut off because of course), nodded to him. Ponytail flicking jauntily back and forth as he shifted weight from the left to the right, a hint of teasing to the 'apologetic' smile he offered.

"Yeah, well. I was in town and... I mean, you know how it is. Better to drop in on a friend than go out to some expensive establishment in town." He paused, head tilted and lips pursed for a moment. "It's cool that I'm here, right?" He leaned over to one side and then the other, seemingly checking behind Mike. Probably wondering if they were going out or if his wife had something planned for them.

After all, Mike was dressed in a casual but still nice outfit. Jeans, blazer, clean white t-shirt. His nicest boots. He figured there was still about twenty minutes before he'd even be close to leaving the house anyway, so he nodded and invited Dolph inside. It was better than sitting bored in the living room, something playing on the television and staring at the wall while his thoughts ran away with him.

Not possible to be bored when Dolph was around. That anyone knew.

"So, judging by your nice clothes and pretty face I assume you're going out soon." Mike dropped back onto the couch, though Dolph remained standing. Glancing from where Mike sat to somewhere down the hall. With a hum, he got into a more comfortable position. Effectively rumpling his shirt and blazer, something he was surely going to be nagged about when it was time to go.

"Yeah we've got some business stuff to attend to. And then dinner at this new steakhouse. I'm just waiting on wifey to be done with her thing so we can go." He checked his watch, grimacing. "Should be in the next twenty minutes."

"Ah. Hence the letting me come in. Better than talking to the wall. Probably anyway." Mike snorted, nearly running a hand through his hair before remembering he'd styled it already. He dropped his hand listlessly into his lap, puffing air out of his mouth up at the ceiling.

"Trust me. It's a much better alternative. What are you doing in town anyway? I thought you'd be up in New York by now?" If he remembered correctly, Dolph had some... thing or other scheduled soon in New York. Of course, he could barely keep up with his schedule, never mind a friend's.

"I do, but that's not for a few days. Well, technically two, but I figured it would be fun to visit my brother for a bit. Except he's apparently busy. Then I thought, 'Hey, Mike probably wouldn't mind a buddy' and here I came." He certainly appreciated it. It had been a little while since they really got to hang out. Usually one of them was busy doing something else or they were hanging out with their group of friends at a party or some formal event.

It wasn't the same as just chilling out. Shooting the shit. Catching up.

"Glad you did. You don't know how long a minute can stretch until you're waiting for someone to get ready to go." Dolph laughed, sunglasses now hanging on his shirt collar and his smile reaching his eyes. Blue as the California sky outside his window.

"Brutal." Then he took a step back, glancing down the hall again and smiling in apology. "Mind if I use the bathroom real quick?"

"Sure. Go ahead. You know where everything is, right?" Dolph nodded, already heading out of the room. Something about him a bit more...highstrung than usual. Mike wasn't sure what it was about him, but he let the musing go in favor of heading for the kitchen. Seeking one of his healthy snacks since it would be a good while before he'd be eating anything.

Not even five minutes later, his phone buzzed on the counter. Curiosity piqued, he set aside the mustard bottle he'd been examining for an expiration date and plucked the device up. Brows furrowing when he found Dolph's message notification there. An amused thought crossed his mind of Dolph stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper or something, though that disintegrated quickly into curiosity when he unlocked his phone and read the actual text.

"Hey, you gotta come check this thing out in your guest room. What is he talking about- guest room?" He tried to think of what in the world Dolph could have found in the guest room, shuddering at the thought of a rat or something being in there. His phone buzzed again, a 'hurry up miz' making him roll his eyes as he pushed away from the counter and walked quickly to where Dolph was waiting for him.

"Alright, what is i- mmph?" The moment he was through the door, it shut quietly behind him. Dolph crowding him up against it. A dangerous and enticing gleam in his eyes. He nearly spoke again, his thoughts shooting off in a hundred directions as he scrambled to understand what was happening, what he'd walked into, but Dolph shushed him. Tilting his head once towards the adjacent wall.

And then he heard it. Talking. It was muffled through the wall, but he recognized the higher frequency of women chattering together. Giggling and speaking in shrill voices that carried into the next room. That being the one he was in currently, Dolph watching him carefully. Heat in his gaze that made Mike swallow. His throat suddenly very dry.

"I believe I remember you once mentioning something about how you've fantasized about this. About us going at it in the room next to the one she's in while getting ready." Oh God. He remembered that? Mike vaguely remembered one of the times they hooked up while out of town, he'd been completely blissed out and barely able to put coherent thoughts together. Rambling on about something while kissing along the throat that tasted of salt and smelled of thick musk. Dolph's fingers trailing along the skin of his back and chest, sending little shivers through his body.

Afterwards, when he had his bearings, he remembered saying something along the lines of what Dolph said to him just now. Cringing in embarrassment and praying Dolph either hadn't heard him or wasn't able to pay attention any better than Mike was. Not that it wasn't truem he was ashamed to say, but he preferred to keep such fantasies to himself. Not wanting anyone, not even Dolph, to know some of the things he really wouldn't mind doing.

Apparently he'd hoped in vain, because the man heard and remembered. Obvious in the smirk he wore as he looked him over.

"Um, I was kind of hoping maybe you didn't hear me when I said any of that." Curiosity sparked in darkened eyes, Dolph humming lightly as he considered him for a moment.

"Why? I mean, it's not the best idea you could have in terms of keeping people from finding out. But apparently that gets you hot, and who am I to deny someone something like that? I'm game if you are." It hit him rather suddenly what exactly Dolph was proposing. What was on the table here. He really wished it didn't have him flushing head to toe. Didn't have his heart hammering at the mere thought.

He wished he didn't want to do this. It was wrong on so many levels.

But damn it he did.

Still, he found himself hesitating. "I don't know..."

Dolph leaned in close, their bodies just nearly brushing, and lightly slid his nose against the underside of Mike's jaw. Pulling a sigh out of him and making his eyes flutter closed. It had also been a while since they got to be together like this, rarely ever alone or somewhere they could feasibly be alone.

He didn't like to admit it, but he missed this. There was something insanely addicting to it. The adrenaline coursing through his veins. The knowledge he was doing something he shouldn't. Their natural chemistry snapping and crackling between them when they touched. Kissed. Their passion burned so hot, so bright, and together it was absolutely blinding. Threatening to burn them to ashes.

Every time they got together left Mike wanting more. He couldn't, really shouldn't, but still he craved. Still found himself thinking about it. Once or twice even dreaming of it, an awkward situation he felt immense shame over while sitting on the closed toilet seat. Head in his hands. Drying sweat leaving his skin sticky. Grimy.

"It's up to you. Whatever you want." In his opinion, though Dolph was trying to make it like the final decision was Mike's to make (and, he supposed, in a way it was since he could technically walk away), Dolph also wasn't playing very fair. Ambushing him in the guest room. Leaning in close, keeping him trapped against the door with his body. Teasing him. Smelling as good as he did. Looking like he did.

Looking at him like that.

Really it wasn't fair at all. Because whether he wanted to or not (he totally did) they were definitely doing this. He had no possible way to fight Dolph, or ignore the hum of energy under his skin. And Dolph knew that. Knew just how to push Mike's buttons to get what he wanted. A reaction. A favor.

And behind closed doors, whatever he wanted in bed.

Not that Mike was, like, complaining. He loved making people happy. Would do anything to do so. What they wanted to do he would do delightedly. Diligently. That applied about ten-fold in the bedroom.

"You know I want." He spoke lowly and with slight irritation because they both knew Dolph knew this. Far too smug for his taste, knowing Mike would play right into his hand. Dolph, grinning, tugged him off the door. Letting out a quiet yelp when Mike suddenly charged him, taking the control right out of his stupidly smug hands. He licked heated kisses into Dolph's mouth while curling around him. Absorbing the pleased moan Dolph let out and kissing back harder. With earnest fervor.

Hands squeezed at his shoulders, fingers then trailing along the back of his neck. Bodies pressed firmly together. His ears picked up loud laughter from the next room and he broke the kiss with a gasp to trail lips along the stubbled jaw. Squeezing his fingers into Dolph's waist, a low sound next to his ear making his hair stand on end.

Muffled conversation continued from the other side of the wall his back thumped into, Dolph whispering against his throat. He grasped tightly to whatever parts of the man he could, taking a shape inhale when fingers picked at where his shirt was neatly tucked into his pants. A shiver running up his spine when quick tugs freed it, hand slipping underneath and nails biting into his sensitive skin.

He wasn't sure how much teasing he could really take like this, praying Dolph took mercy on him but knowing the chances were slim. It was rare they got this, even rarer in the situation they were in, and Dolph wasn't known to squander an opportunity laid so perfectly for him. Trust him on that one.

Fingers plucked at buttons, getting through three before Dolph invaded his space again. A heady scent bulldozing his senses and making him dizzy. Dolph always smelled good, but this was something else. He'd happily drown in whatever bottle this stuff came in, that's how good it was.

"Gonna have to be extra quiet, you know that? They could hear you." Another button undone, his shirt looser across his chest. Falling just a centimeter more open. He felt himself arching, trying to break free or maybe draw closer to the other man. To melt completely into him. "Can you actually do that? Can you keep quiet?"

He swallowed thickly.

"Yeah. Yeah I'll- I'll manage." Another button, Dolph leaning back and shooting him a twisted smile he felt deep in his gut. Leaving him to question just how well he'd be able to manage not alerting anyone in the next room what was transpiring.

"We'll see about that." And then, without warning, he dropped to his knees. Fingers making quick work of Mike's belt, the leather snapping as it was tugged from around his waist and tossed onto the (thankfully carpeted) floor. Dolph glancing back at it and making a face.

"Next time, we'll try the laundry room. I remember it has a hard floor." His response dried on his tongue as eager hands wasted little time with buttons and zips. Mike wheezing, clenching his jaw to keep from making any other sounds, when Dolph's left hand slid across his skin. Pressing firmly but gently into his stomach while eyes watched him with open curiosity.

"Hmmm. Usually can get at least a squeak out of you with that one. Going to have to work harder, aren't I?" Squeezing his eyes closed, he counted to five in his head and let out a steady breath. Trying to center himself and ignore the delicious tingling all over his body.

"You're trying to break me...on purpose?" Dolph hummed, smiling sweetly while tugging down snug dress slacks and briefs a few inches. Cool air skating across his skin and making bumps rise up his arms. A tremor in his thighs. Damn him.

"It makes this a little more interesting, don't you think? Just like that time you did something really similar when I was on that conference call with those really important people I told you about? Remember that?" He did, and that had been pretty entertaining. Dolph's strained voice and broken sentences delighting him to no end.

He was quickly coming to realize it was not nearly as fun on the opposite end. Especially when he liked being vocal. Noisy. Sharing his...appreciation.

"If we're caught-" A pointed look.

"Don't get us caught. Simple." If only it were. He had a feeling this was not going to be anything near easy or simple for him.

[amelink66world]

Love of my Life

Heyy guyss!! It's been long. This is the next chapter. If you missed the previous one, it's right below this one XD Enjoyyy!!

Miserable

Link called Jo, his best friend and present drinking buddy for some company. As the saying goes misery loves company. Link thought angrily, But I don't like misery! He was having a hard time trying to process the events of the day. What happened so suddenly? What drove her to leave me? Like I said, that woman is a mystery!

Since Jo was down with the flu, she forced Alex to keep Link company as she didn't want her best friend to suffer alone. She knew how hurt he was as he had gradually started falling for Amelia. I need to talk to her. I know she must've had her own reasons but still. That man is my childhood friend. I can't see him so hurt. Argghh.

At Joe's Bar, Link was seated at a secluded booth in the corner with Alex venting out his feelings. He was listening to the man intently trying to comprehend what to say to make him feel better. I'm married to a very manipulative woman! She always makes me do these things. What shall I do now? As far as he knew Amelia, he knew she'd come around. You just had to give her some space. She had already been through enough.

" I think Amelia dumped me," Link said with sadness hitched in his voice, sipping his drink.

" Wait. You think ? ", Alex wanted to laugh at the situation. " What does that even mean?", he said whilst chuckling.

Link was not at all surprised by the other man's reaction. He knew how Alex was. He always found comedy in every situation. He felt like laughing along with him given his current situation. " I'm not exactly sure," he said uncertainly. " Forget it. You say. What I heard, is it true? About you getting fired along with Richard and Meredith? ", Link asked inquisitively.

Alex just rolled his eyes, silently nodding with a scowl. Link took that as an affirmation.

Link grimaced, " What did you do, man? I mean, all three of you got fired." Link had a hint of mirth in his eyes.

         " Ahh, it was not a big deal. Mer just did something crappy and Webber and I were just the partners in crime," Alex tries to be diplomatic but a slight raise of Link's left eyebrow prompted him to spill the truth. " Okay fine. Mer just had to go and try to impersonate  Mother Teresa and obviously she committed insurance fraud. We just seemed to know about it and didn't report her considering she's my person," Alex shrugged. " Byt some son of a bitch found out and spilled his guts out to Bailey. You know how Bailey gets. She hulked out and fired all of us in front of Mama Avery", he said with simple shrug.

Link's eyes bulged out. Is this thing normal for him? How is he so casual? Weird. Jo surely met her match. Link all but shook his head in disbelief and started laughing suddenly. Alex gave him a strange look before joining him laughing at the ridiculousness of their situation. They hung out for two more hours at the bar, drinking and talking before bidding farewell.

Link was feeling miserable and alone. This was the first night in a long time that he didn't spend with Amelia. He missed her already and hadn't even been a day! He knew he was entering dangerous territory before falling for her. Now that the damage was already done, he was feeling helpless. He tried to go off to sleep but couldn't. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling before exhaustion and alcohol took their effect.

           He didn't know how to act around Amelia when he'd come across her so he resorted to what best suited him to do. He avoided her. He made sure they were never in the same room or even the same hallway. If he saw her coming out of a patient's room in the hallway, he would sharply turn 180 degrees and move in the opposite direction before she saw him. He knew Amelia's shift timings and when she'd be at the coffee cart. So he always ordered his coffee at a completely different timing at the cart just to not cross paths with her. He just hoped she wouldn't notice him. He even paged Koracick whenever he needed a neuro consult. He prayed to God like hell that Koracick was not busy at the time so that Amelia would not answer his page.

He just didn't understand this one thing though. Why does she keep calling and texting me? She even asks people around about my whereabouts. She broke up with me. So why this now? He ignored her texts and calls. It had been a whole week. It was getting unbearable for Link. He just couldn't shake this feeling of loneliness away. Obviously Jo kept him company as soon as she recovered from the flu. She tried her best to cheer him up. She brought him doughnuts and soup from his favourite place to his apartment almost everyday. But nothing seemed to work. Even Nico tried cheering him up by bringing extremely interesting ortho cases. Knowing his fellow, this was as far as he could go to cheer him up. He even went out of his way to invite him for drinks but he quickly declined as he was just not in the mood.

He knew what he wanted. What he needed. AMELIA. But that option was not available. He should often find himself lingering outside her lab or office just staring at her. He terribly missed her and longed her touch. He would stand outside and look her way. He would stare at her face just get a small glimpse of her ocean blue eyes. Her nose. Her lips. He just wanted to grab her and smash his lips with hers. As soon as these thoughts plagued his mind, he would leave quickly. People around him were starting to get worried for him. He knew this but he just couldn't figure out how to tell them that he was okay and didn't need them to get concerned.

He tried to ask how Amelia was doing from Maggie when he had a surgery scheduled with her. Maggie just looked at him sympathetically and gave him a small answer. " You need to ask Amelia that herself. Don't avoid her please. She's not accustomed with being on this end of the avoidance game generally. She's having a hard time, Link. You should please talk to her." He listened to her with a guarded expression trying to comprehend the piece of information. She's miserable too? Just like me? Shall I talk to her? Will she take me back? He quickly shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. NO. I WON'T approach her. She broke up with me. She hurt me. She has to come to me. I'm a human too. Arrgh. It's all so complicated.

Meanwhile with Amelia, she was completely in shock. She was at a standstill. Where the hell is Link? He's neither picking up my calls nor answering my texts. Why is he avoiding me ??!! I know I told him I needed time but that didn't mean I broke up with him, damn it. I just meant we needed to go slow. Ugghh. MEN!! They are so crazy sometimes. Ughh I'll strangle him the next time I see him, provided I see him at all!!! What the hell?

           Amelia knew what he was trying to do. Does he really think he'd be able to beat me at my own game? I'm an expert in the avoidance game. He won't be able to avoid me for long. And seriously he thinks I haven't spotted him running away from me or him hiding in the on-call room the second he sees me? I have seen him every single time! I just don't understand why he's doing this.  Amelia knew things would get awkward between them for a while after their talk but not this awkward.

She tried convincing herself of the otherwise but quickly gave up. She couldn't help but miss him terribly. She got attached him to an indescribable level. He had become a part of her routine. Her day was never complete without seeing him. She missed his touch. His smile. His eyes. His kiss. Oh, his kiss! She felt crying at the mere thought of him. She had never felt like this with anyone in her entire life. She was a completely different person around him. Like Meredith used to say, her demeanor took a 180 degree turn from dark and twisty to bright and shiny in Link's company. She was liking this change. He was good for her. IS. Is good for her.

              She desperately tried approaching him but always stopped in her tracks. What would she say to him? How would she console him? She knew for a fact that she would jump his bones if he even came at a 5 foot radius near her. She craved his touch, his body. He was the best that she had ever had. She loved the way he always held her, stroked her hair and peppered his face with kisses after the amazing,  amazing sex. There was a certain level of gentleness with him that she never knew she was capable of having. Her mind had started picturing him in her future. That's why she had needed some space before she went all in which she was pretty sure she was.

Amelia had tried talking to Jo about Link but she avoided the topic and refused to divulge any information she had of him. She was getting horribly frustrated. What is the matter with everyone around here?! In this whole madness there was no one she could talk to. Meredith, Alex and Richard were fired. Ohhh, now I get it. So that's why they weren't answering my page to the on-call room. And how stupid of them! She just couldn't even contemplate how poorly this situation was handled. Even Bailey acted out of rage and lost all her logic. Had it been me...ooh,I'm getting off the topic. Back toh the matter at hand, Tom is dealing with a breakup too. I warned him. He should've listened to me about Teddy being Owen's tumor. It was just inevitable. People should listen to me more. Definitely the smartest sister I am of the Lady Chief Trifecta. Huh. Owen just had a baby and he was definitely not an option. She desperately wanted to talk to Maggie. She was her favourite human being apart from a few more. But even Maggie was unavailable. She was dealing with her own breakup with Jackson. That was another man she wanted to strangle. That asshole! How could he treat my sister...my SISTER like that??!!

            Men and their beautiful minds! She was done with this gender now. Bunch of assholes. Stupid, brainless, pathetic creatures. She noticed that she was cursing a lot nowadays. It's all Link's fault. It's his fault I'm angry all the time. His fault I'm so aggressive. And definitely his fault I'm so damn horny! She just knew one thing. Men were a bunch of idiots. She thought about calling her ex-resident and dear friend Stephanie but she was currently in Italy and she didn't want to disrupt her "world tour".

Her sharp mind was quick to notice that she was not getting paged for any ortho cases since the past week. How weird, isn't it? Of course, thought indignantly. The only ortho consult she was getting was of the Jai who was heroically saved by his wife. It was also kinda the only opportunity she was getting of seeing Link. She noticed that he was withdrawn and somewhat cold (?) whenever she entered Jai's room to examine him.

             There was absolutely no interaction between the two and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. It just didn't suit well with Amelia. And Link too.

He buried himself in work trying to cope with the sadness. He was fully invested in his recent patient, Jai. He came in in horrible shape. He had to perform at least three surgeries on him in a span of four days. He even thought that the best way for Jai to survive was if he amputated his leg. Not to sound smug or anything, he was as usual a miracle worker and saved his leg. His wife was in pretty bad shape too. He arm was completely shredded and it had taken him a few hours to fix the damage. He had his hands full with these two. They were priving to be a good distraction for him. But it was not enough. Whenever he was not with his patients, he was thinking about Amelia.

God was not at all in his side. The neurosurgeon on Jai's case was of course none other than Amelia. It was torturous for him to be in the same room as her for extended periods of time without doing the things that he wanted to do to her in their present situation. He had a hard time keeping his distance in the patient room but was thankful that Javkson and Nico were there with him on the case. Till now, he hadn't had any surgery with her which he was extremely thankful for. It would be disastrous, he was pretty sure.

Amelia on the other hand tried to cope with grief in the only way she knew apart from crying, dark, dark humor. Her colleagues were pretty disturbed by the comments she was making but they had to agree, it they were pretty funny! She kept making jokes and made fun of the situations. I'm weirdly behaving like Alex. Bleh. Not my finest moments at all.

             Amelia just wanted to clear the misunderstanding with Link. If only he wouldn't run for the hills at the mere sight of me! She only needed two minutes with him to make everything better. Of course, they weren't getting any chance to even get locked up in an OR for extended period of time, all thanks to LINK !! Just this once she wanted some divine intervention to make everything better but it was futile. Now that she wanted Almighty God to listen, He was actively ignoring me. What is it with people ignoring me? Even God is ignoring me. Wow. Great. Just great. What the hell, man? Is this how people feel when I am the one doing all the ignoring? It's a horrible feeling indeed, she chuckled darkly.

Her prayers were finally answered after the whole week had passed when Jai needed a nerve graft repair which required the assistance of all the lead surgeons on the case, Avery, Link and Amelia. Of course, Nico would be there too as he was Link's fellow. Not that it mattered to Amelia who was there with Link and her in the OR. She was simply glad that she finally got the opportunity to spend time with Link in a locked OR where he couldn't evade from her clutches and clear all the stupid misunderstandings he had in his stupid mind. Amelia looked up and smiled. She sent a small silent Thank You to whoever it was above who loved playing tricks with her and interfering in her business. But this time she was actually happy with the interference, she laughed silently.

As soon as the OR board was updated and their names were written on the board, there were quite different reactions arising out of the surgeons on Jai's case.

Amelia...YESSS!!!

Link...NOOOO!!!

Nico...SHITT!!! WHY ME ??!!

        (He was obviously aware about their situation and knew how cold the situation in the OR was going to get.)

Jackson...HUH?  Cool surgery. But why do these people have weird looks on their face?

The surgery proved to be quite interesting and entertaining for everybody involved, that's for sure.

Author's Note:

Heyyy guys!! First of all, I just want to apologize to all the male readers. I'm so so soooo sorry for badmouthing MEN !! 🙈😂 It was just how I thought Amelia would think. Again, I'm really sorry. But people have to agree with me here, men do act pretty stupid some of the times. Hahahaha.

By the way, some people will be glad to know that this chapter was not that long. I just couldn't write sad AmeLink. Sad AmeLink is not my cup of tea.😅

Anyway, do comment. I would love to hear your thoughts about the chapter! And thank you to all my readers for showering my story with love! ❤

We'll see happy AmeLink for many more chapters to come! Yayyy. Until then.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 14

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Hey, remember when I said this story was going to be about 90% humor? Good times, man. Good times. Art by Senora_Luna. [There is some somewhat graphic violence described, and brief mention of past sexual situations with dubious consent at best. Just a heads-up.]

***

Padre Fernando Mendoza did not like Americans.

It was nothing personal - he’d met a few decent ones - but as a whole, he suspected his country and arguably most of the continent would have fared much better without them. Even so, the telegram that reached them that morning had been entirely unexpected. 

Americans attacked Veracruz. Battle ongoing. 

It was all everyone in the Archdiocese was talking about, and it had taken precedence over everything else, because of course the last thing Mexico needed at the moment was hostility from a foreign power and the attack could not be ignored. However, not everything could come to a standstill, and Padre Fernando was expected to deal with menial tasks. 

Which included replying to a letter that had just arrived from Sant Cecilia. And, ironically enough, it came from an American. That American. 

Fernando had groaned when he’d opened it to see the signature. He didn’t much like that gringo; truth be told, even among clergy few people appreciated the foreigner who kept telling them at every turn how they were doing things wrong, bemoaning the persistence of pagan fetishes in Mexico like they were not already aware of it, muchas gracias. 

But he had been sent in good faith, and he did uphold the Catholic Church’s official position - not realizing that the Vatican was, quite literally, an ocean apart - so they had to support him. He’d even had the blessing of their own Archbishop Eulogio Gillow y Zavalza, who’d had to flee Mexico and had found refuge in San Antonio first, then in Los Angeles.

“I am loath to offend traditional sensibilities,” he'd written. “It might turn people away from the Church rather than towards it. But I am concerned idolatry and too rampant religious disorder might weaken faith. This young man is eager to prove himself - it is fair to give him a chance.”

The letter didn’t add ‘if an American causes offense it won’t be on us’, but it may as well have. So far, it seemed that the one to truly take offense at… everything was the gringo himself. And it seemed that the sun and heat had gotten to his head, judging from the contents of the letter Padre Fernando was reading now. 

“... Lastly, I find the new parish priest to be, quite bluntly, severely lacking. I do not question his faith, but his methods are concerning - likely due to inexperience, as perhaps the seminary did not adequately prepare him for his first task as a man of God. I will gladly assist however I can, but I would suggest you consider sending a more experienced priest…”

Ay, he’d lost it, hadn’t he? Fernando had been present when news had come of Padre Edmundo’s death, and when his replacement had been chosen. He’d never met Padre Joaquín, but had only ever heard good things about him. What was the gringo going on about?

Normally, he might have handed the letter to someone above him for consideration; but right there and then, with everyone busy discussing the possible ramifications of a conflict with the very country their Archbishop was currently living in, he felt it would be a waste of their time. So Padre Fernando sighed, took pen and paper, and took it upon himself to write a response to that idiota, who thought he was smarter than anybody else but was so up his high horse he couldn’t even tell a parish priest from a novice.

With all due respect, we believe - as certainly you have by now realized - that you’re mistaken. Padre Joaquín is no novice, his seminary days far behind him. He was highly recommended for his strong leadership, a very important asset in such turbulent times, when faith is tested. Is there a possibility you met one of the novices instead? Language can be a barrier…

***

“Hola, Juan! How’s your back?”

“GAH!”

All right, maybe Ernesto should have knocked before throwing the door open and calling out, but to be fair he was rather nervous for what was most likely going to be a very awkward meeting. And to be honest, considering his track record when it came to making wise choices, this wasn’t even the worst. This time, he hadn’t even patted him on the back as-- wait, what had he just dropped?

“F-father Ern-- what-- what are you doing here?” 

Juan very nearly shrieked, getting Ernesto’s full attention before he could try to get a closer look at what looked like a handful of pieces of paper on the ground next to the bed. The wounds on his back were beginning to heal, most having scabbed over, but he was still on his stomach on the mattress, sheets up to his waist. At his sight, he seemed to be trying to shrink. Not a very successful attempt. 

Ernesto smiled the way you would at a man who has absolutely not been whipping himself raw in sheer horror at his own desire to fuck you, and held up the tray. “Lunch,” he said lightly.

“But why you!” Padre Juan choked out, only to catch himself when Ernesto raised an eyebrow. His face began turning red almost immediately. “I-I mean, I-- I mean no disrespect but usually… the sisters…

“They were busy, and asked me to do this on their behalf,” Ernesto said, and went to put the tray down on the nightstand. Juan quickly reached down to pick up whatever it was he’d been looking at when Ernesto had come in.

“Wait, I’ll pick that for yo--”

“No!” Juan almost screamed. “No, I-- I got it, I got it, no need--” He snatched everything up quickly, but not so quickly that Ernesto couldn’t see it was photographs… and get a glimpse at his own face, smiling at the camera. “This is just-- these are just-- bad photos, the ones I couldn’t mail out, I was… I was…”

Juan stammered, and Ernesto couldn’t help but feel some pity for him. “Trying to figure out how you can take better ones next time?”

Juan gave him a look of pure relief. “I-- yes, of course. Yes,” he said, shoving the photographs under the pillow. His face was almost purplish. “Practice makes perfect a-and… I can’t say I aim for perfection, only God is perfect, but--”

“But you wish to properly portray His wonders, I am sure?” Ernesto said, feeling just a little smug. That, however, went well over Juan’s head: he just nodded, and cleared his throat. 

“I… thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and smiled, sitting on the chair. Juan stared at him, then at the door, then at him again. Ernesto leaned back, still smiling. The hopeful look on Juan’s face faded, replaced by utter confusion and some desperation. 

“Aren’t you-- leaving?”

Ernesto raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“I-- it would be best for us both.”

“Oh?”

“As a matter of… of safety. Your safety,” he added quickly, and looked down. His voice was quieter, weaker; his shame evident, plus something else that was a lot like fear. 

Ernesto’s smile faded; it wasn’t much fun, all of a sudden. “I think I’m perfectly safe, Juan.”

“You are not. I am... grateful that you have told no one of my sins. But I fear you don’t quite grasp-- I desire you, and the devil is in me,” he choked out, blinking back tears. “I heard things in the seminary - I heard confessions in my journeys - such heinous crimes on unwilling victims. I am terrified of what it would make me do if I drop my guard for only one moment.”

Well, now it was... no fun at all. Ernesto almost pointed out that Juan couldn't overpower him if he tried with all his might, but he paused, knowing full well that was… not the real issue.

Don't think about the barracks, he told himself. Don't think about the barracks. Don't think-- ah, too late for that, wasn't it? He couldn't not think about the barracks, about what men who live and breathe war will do once the lights are off and they're so far away from everyone they care about. Anything for some relief, anything not to think for only a few minutes. A toss of the coin and maybe you were lucky - if not, you had to grin and bear and hope to be the lucky one next time.

Pray to be the lucky one next time because ah, it could hurt.

"... You wouldn't," Ernesto found himself saying; his voice sounded distant to his own ears. Juan seemed too lost on his anguish to notice.

"You are kind, but naive. You don't know that. The Devil--"

"Forget the devil, never met him. I know you. You would never."

Juan blinked, taken aback. Some tears fell down his cheeks; his lips were pulled in a tight line, but oh, there was just a hint of hope that maybe that odd priest might be right. Ernesto could see it for a moment before it was squashed and the gringo spoke again. “The things I’ve heard-”

“I have seen what you have only heard of,” Ernesto cut him off, without thinking. It wasn’t a smart thing to say, for a man who wished to leave his past unknown, but it only occurred to him after it left his lips and ah, it was late. He cleared his throat and straightened himself, staring back at Juan, whose eyes were suddenly wide, mouth slightly agape.

“I have met men like that, Juan,” he said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there were screams of women. Men were not the only ones who had reason to fear soldiers when they came swarming, after all; officials turned a blind eye, and… and so did he. What else could he do? Confront them and risk being shot dead? He wanted to survive that war, and surviving is easier when you mind your own business.

Nevermind that now, in Santa Cecilia, he had ended up making everybody’s business his own. 

“You have?” Juan asked, his voice barely audible, like old paper.

"Sí.”

“When-- where…?”

The truth - the army - was not an option. “Seminary,” Ernesto said instead, causing Padre Juan to pale.

“Were you… were you hurt?”

“... That doesn’t matter,” he said, voice dry enough to discourage further questions. “I’m not naive as you believe. I have seen more than you think."

Juan swallowed. "Then you should know how… how dangerous those like me--" 

"None of them was like you. You would never," Ernesto cut him off, with the certainty of a man who's stating the tenets of the universe. Juan… stared, hope a little more plain on his face now. Ah, that was… sad. Just plain sad. 

"You... truly think what you're saying?"

"I do."

Juan blinked again, and more tears spilled out. This time he acknowledged them, and reached up to wipe his eyes. "Ah, I-- my apologies. I just… that is not… do I not disgust you?"

“... No.”

"I harbor an unholy desire for you."

"Well, that's rather flattering."

There was a choked-back noise that was almost, almost a laugh. Juan wiped his face again, smiling faintly, and he even managed to chide him. "Heh. Pride."

"None of us is free of sin, no?" Ernesto grinned a little. The faintest smile curled Juan's lips, but ah, it was so bitter.

"My father feared I would taint my younger brother, when he cast me out. I never would have, I couldn't even imagine, but… it haunted my dreams, the idea that I would turn into-- that-- if I failed to rid myself of this sickness."

“That was never going to happen.”

“... That’s what my mentor said. Father Joseph - he was kind, too kind, he called me son and I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t listen to him. I was so sure-- what my father said, and the letter...”

Ah, right. The letter - Sofía had mentioned that, but of course Ernesto had to pretend not knowing what he was talking about. “A letter?”

“Yes. I wrote to my family when I was about to take my vows - I told them I had converted, that I planned to remain celibate and dedicate my life to God. I hoped for their blessing. But my father wrote back to tell me to never contact them again. And so I didn’t. They told my siblings I was dead.” A pause, then a sigh. “Michael was so young, I don’t know if he even remembers me. I don’t even know if they’re all still alive. It’s been so long.”

Ernesto paused to think of his own parents, back in his hometown in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He hadn’t seen them since he’d been drafted; he had no idea how they were faring. Not a huge loss when it came to his father, but… he would have liked to have some news of his mother. “I see.”

“I hoped that if I could make a name for myself… become someone important, perhaps even a Bishop, then maybe they’d hear about me. Maybe they’d…”

“Want you back.”

A sniffle, and Juan simply nodded, shutting his eyes. “I told you and… and myself that I was here to do God’s work here in Mexico. I do hope I have done good, but what I really wanted was to leave a mark. So that I could become someone my family could be proud of again, and… and go home. I could go back, to visit - they could tell my siblings that I was disowned for converting to Catholicism, but that all was forgiven.”

“... I see.”

Juan stayed silent a moment, then finally looked up. He looked immensely sad, but the tears were gone. “That’s never going to happen, is it? No matter what I do, I can never go home.”

"Well… it's their loss.” Ernesto reached over to pat his bare shoulder, noticing all too well the small but sharp intake of breath at the touch. “We’ve got you now. You can stay here.”

“I… I truly can’t.”

“Why not? No offense, but I think you’re going to stay a maricón regardless of where you are.”

He half-expected fury at the statement, but no such thing happened. Juan just blushed furiously. 

“You know why I shouldn’t be in your presence, Father Ernest. This is still a-- a sin, something I need to cure. Or if Father Joseph was right, then… then it is a cross I must bear. But I should avoid all temptation. I will leave as soon as I can travel.”

Ah, damn, and there he’d hoped he could convince him to stay that easily. Holding back a sigh, Ernesto raised an eyebrow. “Am I that tempting?” he asked. Maybe he could, after all, use that to make him stay in Santa Cecilia. 

Padre Juan’s blush grew redder. “W-well, I-- I--”

“The suggestion to help is still up,” Ernesto pointed out, and Juan suddenly choked.

“F-father Ernest!” He stammered, eyes wide as saucers. “I could never-- you should never-- that suggestion was outlandish even when you thought it was Gustav I lusted after, but yourself-- surely you jest!”

“I am perfectly serious.”

“It is a sin, Father Ernest!”

“No worries, I got everything covered.”

“What?”

“Once the deed is done, I can absolve you and you can absolve me. Easy.”

“That’s… not how it works.”

“Oh, come on. That is exactly how it works.”

“W--well, regardless, I...I…”

Ernesto shrugged, leaning back against the seat. “It might turn out you despise it,” he said, knowing full well that was impossible as long as he was involved - no matter what Sofía said. “And in that case, the urge might be gone for good.”

Juan swallowed, barely daring to look up. “And if I, God help me-- if I enjoy it?”

“Then you’ll at least know something about yourself. And I’ll still absolve you,” Ernesto added quickly. Hell, maybe he’d pushed too far, maybe it was too early to bring up that suggestion again. He braced himself for refusal, trying to think up of more rebuttals… but Padre Juan just fell quiet, and lowered his gaze again. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper as he stared at the pillow.

“I… need time to think,” he managed. Ernesto - who counted the fact he had not ran off screaming a success - supposed it was the closest to a ‘yes’ he could get out of him at the moment, and mentally patted himself on the back. 

Not that he was that eager to do this, because Juan would probably turn out to be a pain in the ass in bed and for all the wrong reasons, but with some persuasion he could just be able to convince him to stay and not wander across Mexico, telling all the wrong people about one Padre Ernesto from Santa Cecilia. And by the wrong people, he meant specifically the Archdiocese.

And besides, he did sleep better with someone sharing his bed.

“Of course. No pressure.” Ernesto said lightly, and stood. “Might want to eat your stew before it goes cold-- er. Colder.”

“Ah. Of course.” John moved as though to sit up, but he paused, clearly uncomfortable. Ernesto took it as his cue to leave.

He suspected that was about as far as he could push it in one go.

***

“WE CAN’T WITHSTAND ANOTHER ASSAULT! WE’RE SPREAD TOO THIN!”

“Let’s get back in the Academy! We can barricade in!”

“Where the hell is Maass?”

“Fucked off to Tejería with his soldiers!”

“Not all of us!”

“Great, so there’s what, fifty of you left?” 

The cadet’s laugh, a mixture of horrible amusement and just plain horror, was barely audible through the sound of cannon fire, but still enough to make Santiago’s blood boil. He could have gone to Tejería with Maass and most of his comrades, away from the fight and keeping his own ass safe, but he’d chosen not to - how much was it was desire to help and how much a thirst for blood was hard to tell - and that was the thanks he got?

“Be thankful we stayed behind then, cabrón!” he snapped, grip on his rifle tightening. 

“Stop arguing-- Chago, for fuck’s sake, stop arguing and keep shooting!” Nando screamed somewhere on his left. On his right a man - a civilian who’d probably never used a gun before that day - was struck by something and fell back, blood splattering across the ruins of what had been a house until minutes ago. Everything around him was gunfire, screams, dust. 

“Pier Four is lost!” someone was screaming. “It’s crawling with gringos!”

“Fall back! Fall back! In the Academy! We can shoot them from above-- José! Come here!”

“I’ll stay here, I’ll use the machine gun! You go in! I’ll cut them down!”

Nando reloaded his rifle, lips pressed together in a thin line. “We stay outside, too?”

“We stay outside. Let’s move someplace high up, we’ll do better shooting from a distance. The muchacho with the machine gun has better chances here, ” Santiago confirmed, wiping the dust off his brow. Nando groaned, and followed him in a side street. 

“It’s not looking good.”

“We’re fucked. But we can take as many as we can down with us.”

A sigh. “I don’t know what else I expected from you,” Nando muttered, and gave a slightly unhinged laugh. “I’m almost out of ammunition, too. Guess I can use it this thing as a club.”

“And be shot dead before you can approach a single gringo?” Santiago reloaded his own rifle, and lifted it up. It was hard to see a thing; dust covered the sun, it covered them, it covered everything. “Once we’re out, we’ll fall back towards the deposits and see what we can find. Don’t waste bullets. Only shoot if you can see them clearly.”

And it worked, for a time: the few cadets left and civilians were a lot more helpful shooting while barricaded inside, especially with the enemy stupidly advancing in formation… to be met by heavy machine gun fire. The young man manning it - Commodore Azueta’s own son, Santiago would know later - was brave almost to the point of insanity, and kept firing and firing despite being hit several times… but he eventually collapsed, and had to be taken away. 

And then came the heavy artillery, again. It was aimed at the Naval Academy. It hit the building they were on first. With a deafening noise Santiago would never forget.

“Mierd--”

“Move move move move!”

Half the building collapsed immediately, in a sea of dust and debris, the roar of the cannons barely covering the screams. Santiago fell, hit something and rolled in the remains of a broken-down wall, and came to a rest on his stomach. He lifted his head, coughing up dust. His ears rang, his side hurt from hitting something hard, and he had to blink several times before he could see a thing. A few feet before his face, there was an arm. Only an arm, the rest of the man buried in rubble, but what Santiago’s eyes paused on - all he could see - was the watch.

He knew that watch, he’d watched Nando win it at a card game. 

“Nando?” He coughed again, and threw his rifle aside. Around him it was chaos, but he barely heard it. Gringos could be coming gun in hand, and he wouldn’t have known: he focused on digging through the debris, trying to pull out his friend - the only friend he had left, now.

Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

But of course he was dead. Santiago knew Nando was gone before he even saw the faraway look in his eyes and the caved-in skull, the blood coming out in rivulets from his head and nose and mouth to mix with the dust. He felt it in the heaviness of his limbs, the complete limpness as he pulled him out from beneath the debris and lifted him in his arms. 

He had done the same for Alberto when he’d found him, that day in the desert. But Beto had been stiff, and what blood he had left in his body had set; he barely bled at all anymore, lying face down in red sand. But Nando was still warm; he still bled, turning Santiago’s uniform red.

When he’d found Beto, Nando had been there. Telling him to let go of the body, helping him up, holding him up when Santiago’s knees threatened to give in. Now, there was nobody standing by him. Nobody to help him up. 

He had to get up on his own, and he did. He leaned Nando down, stood slowly, and walked away through the dust and the debris and the screaming, trapped men. Somewhere in the distance, there was an explosion he barely reacted to. His ears still rang, his gait uneven, his mind a blur. What snapped him out of it was the outline of a man running through the dust, towards him. Santiago raised his rifle without thought, as practiced countless times, and the man threw up his arms with a cry.

“Don’t shoot! I’m a civilian, I live here! Don’t shoot!” he cried out, almost sobbing. He stepped closer, hands raised; he was covered in dust, blood on his face his tears couldn’t manage to wash off. Not an inch of his skin was visible and his Spanish was perfect, but his accent gave him away - he was American, one of those who’d made themselves a life in Veracruz, who called it home. 

Do rats call the house they infest their home, too?

“Please, help me,” the man choked out, stepping closer still. “My-- the building was hit-- my family is trapped, please--”

Santiago pulled the trigger, and the man’s face exploded into a fine mist of blood, brain matter and bone. He fell back with a thud Santiago did not hear: he was already turning his back to the body, reloading the rifle, looking through the dust for more enemies to appear. Soldiers or not, it made no matter now. They were enemies. 

With Alberto’s death, he had one man to blame; one man he’d hunt down and kill someday, somehow. But for Nando, there was no individual to blame - so he blamed them all. Invaders, every one - who did they think they were? What right did they have to intrude in their war, to kill the only friend he had left as easily as you’d swat a fly?

He’s started out that war thinking he had something to defend. Now he had nothing left. 

Traitors and invaders. They have no mercy. They deserve no mercy. 

Santiago Hernández narrowed his eyes, lifted his rifle, and kept on fighting.

***

News of the occupation of Veracruz were no longer that new by the time they reached Santa Cecilia. With no telegraph line yet, they mostly relied on letters - and they travelled slowly - or occasional visitors for most news from the outside world. The visitor in question was a travelling leatherworker little cart from San Luz to offer his services and, most of all, the stunning news that American forces had attacked and occupied Veracruz.

The man, who was a mediocre leatherworker at best, had probably never received so much attention at once; within an hour of arriving, he was in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by people who had all but forgotten the market stalls around them… merchants included.

“Wait, what?”

“What do you mean, Americans? What do they have to do with… with anything?”

“So Veracruz is lost?”

“It is. They attacked on Tuesday. I heard that by Friday, all fighting had ceased. The gringos have occupied it."

“... What, the entire State?”

“No, idiota, only the harbor.”

“Haven’t they had enough of our land? Wasn’t taking the north enough for them?”

There was a lot of talking, a lot of speculation, and Miguel could barely understand a lot of it. Most of all, he couldn’t understand why Americans had suddenly decided to invade one of their harbors. But he wanted to know, so he’d done what seemed the most logical thing to do: ask the only American he knew. 

It occurred to him just a moment too late, after knocking and then stepping in, that he wasn’t supposed to see or know anything about the wounds on his back. Thankfully, he didn’t have to pretend to be seeing them for the first time: at the wounds must have mostly healed, because while he rested still on his stomach, reading the Bible, Padre Juan did have a blanket on him.

He smiled when he saw Miguel walking in. “Oh, Miguel. It’s nice to see you again.”

Miguel managed to smile back, like he didn’t know what his back looked like under that blanket, like he didn’t know he had done that to himself for some reason he couldn’t begin to imagine. “You look better,” he said.

“... I do feel remarkably better.” Padre Juan closed the Bible, and put it down on the nightstand. “Sister Sophie told me you asked about me. It was very thoughtful of you. I do appreciate it,” he said, and he sounded so sincere Miguel felt rather bad for him. It occurred to him that he was probably the loneliest man he’d ever met. “She didn’t quite keep me up to date with the latest in town, however. How are things going? How do you like Héctor’s Latin class--”

“Americans attacked Veracruz,” Miguel said, and Padre Juan fell silent, staring at him like he’d just spoken in a foreign language to him. Well, technically he was, but… like he’d just spoken in a foreign language he didn’t understand all that well. 

“The city with the harbor, Veracruz,” he repeated, hoping he could give him some insight to the actions of his country. “Americans took it. They attacked last Tuesday. Why did they do that?”

Padre Juan stared at him for a few more moments, seemingly stunned. Finally, he shook his head. “I am afraid I have no clue, Miguel,” he said slowly, and immediately sat up, blanket around him. “... I need to talk to Father Ernest,” he added. Miguel chose not to point out that they did, by the way, have a mayor.

Everyone he always turned to the priest first, anyway.

***

“This could be a good thing--”

“It’s never a good thing!”

“He’s right,” Ernesto spoke up, causing the other three to pause in their discussion and look at him. “Huerta counted a lot on that harbor to receive supplies. And now that route is gone.” 

“Are we supposed to believe they did it out of the goodness of their heart? To help?” Sofía asked, sounding all the world like she was asking him if he really believed El Sombrerón was real, or that size did not matter.

He shrugged. “Of course not. But however you look at it, this is a blow to Federales. Veracruz was of huge strategic importance. And the enemy of my enemy… you know.”

He had… a point, Imelda had to concede. Still, it all felt wrong. “Only because they’re accidentally useful for once, it doesn’t mean we have to appreciate another country occupying our land. And God knows if they even are going to leave once this is all over.”

“That makes two of us,” Ernesto conceded. “Dealing with one gringo is enough of a hassle. I’d sooner stick my hand in a wasp nest than deal with more, believe me.”

Sofía shrugged. “I doubt you’re the only ones to think that way. I expect any gringo currently in Mexico is going to have a much harder life from here on. Huerta won’t take it well. Nor us. Let’s be honest, no one is happy.”

“But there could be a silver lining to this, if it weakens Huerta,” Héctor said, and sighed. “I guess we can only hope that’s worth the trouble, at least.”

“We can hope, I guess. Hey, what about our resident gringo? What are the odds someone is going to take it out on him?”

Imelda, Héctor and Ernesto exchanged a glance. “... They wouldn’t,” Héctor finally said, sounding nowhere as certain as he wished to. “He’s a priest, after all. People respect priests.”

Ernesto raised an eyebrow, glancing towards Imelda and Sofía. “With how I’ve been treated, I beg to diff-- ow!”

“You don’t count,” Imelda informed him, digging her heel into Ernesto’s foot another moment for good measure before pulling back, ignoring his complaints. Within moments, he would be very grateful she hadn’t said anything more specific aloud. “Someone should tell him what his countrymen have done. Just so he knows it’s in his best interest not to be too annoying.”

“Duly noted,” a very familiar, rather dry voice rang out. All three of them turned to the door to see Juan, of course, wearing the cassock again although the collar was missing. His hair was still ruffled from the pillow. 

Sofía raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a promising start.”

“A promising start for what?”

“Being less annoying.”

An unimpressed look, and Padre Juan’s gaze turned Héctor and Ernesto. It was funny how he was still under the delusion it was them to take all decisions. It was annoying, but Imelda knew she had to pick her battles, and at the moment that wasn’t one she had time to pick. 

“I believe you should try command more respect in the sisters, Father Ernest,” he said. “I don’t think they show you the reverence a parish priest deserves.”

… Come to think of it, what she was going to pick was an empty bottle to smash over his head. Her hand moved towards it, only for Sofía to grasp her wrist. She glanced at her sideways. 

I hate him, she tried to communicate through her eyes alone.

Who doesn’t, Sofía somehow managed to respond without a single word. 

Across the table, Ernesto was clearing his throat. “Ah-- well-- emotions are running high. I don’t know if you heard the news, but--”

“I have,” Padre Juan replied, his voice quiet again. “I promise you, I… I knew nothing of it.”

“None of us is so stupid to think an obscure priest would be informed on the decisions of his country’s government,” Imelda said, her voice cold as frost. She expected a retort, but the gringo just seemed to flinch at the remark, eyes still on Ernesto - whose expression became unreadable for a few moments before he spoke. 

“What Ime-- Sister Gisela means is, we know you had nothing to do with this.”

“We’ll make sure that’s clear to everyone,” Héctor added quickly. Padre Juan gave a weak smile, but it did not reach his eyes. 

“I have no intention to cause trouble. I did plan on leaving once I was better, so--”

“Too dangerous,” Ernesto shut him down quickly, causing Imelda to raise an eyebrow. He was a good actor, she had to give him that; if she didn’t know he had less than selfless reasons to keep the gringo in Santa Cecilia for the foreseeable future, she might have even believed he was concerned for his safety. It made her feel… slightly less foolish for falling for his priestly act

She didn’t notice how Sofía, sitting at her right, was very obviously biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt at keeping her expression neutral. Neither did Padre Juan who, unaware of it all, tried to argue. “I am no stranger to the dangers of travel. If God wills it, I will be safe.”

Ah, if not for the fact he might end up exposing Ernesto, Imelda might have wholeheartedly and loudly agreed, encouraging to leave Santa Cecilia as soon as possible. She really, really hoped the idiota currently posing as their parish priest knew and appreciated how much of an effort it took her to keep quiet.

“This is out of God’s hands,” Ernesto muttered, unaware of her thoughts. To his credit, the gringo flinched but did not launch into a full lecture on why what he’d just said was sacrilegious. He listened, eyes wide, as Ernesto went on. “Things are going to get more complicated for Americans in Mexico. Huerta will be pissed because they took an important harbor from his grasp, so you’ll have to watch out for Federales. And everyone will just be pissed because… well, come on. You-- they invaded us. We like it better when the States don’t do that.”

Padre Juan hesitated, gaze shifting from Ernesto to Héctor, who smiled. “We’d love you to stay,” he said, purposely avoiding to look over at Imelda and Sofía, who had raised an eyebrow each in perfect synchronicity. “People know you here. You’ll be safe.”

“And besides, we didn’t go through all this trouble to bring you back from the brink to watch you head out and commit suicide,” Sofía added, a seraphic smile on her face. Imelda held back a smile. Ernesto gave her an exasperated look. 

“We might still need your help,” he spoke up quickly. “If this, uh, development makes it harder for resources to come from the States, we will need you to put in a good word for us.”

That seemed to hit a chord, and after a long moment Padre Juan gave a nod that was more of a bow of his head. “... I understand. Thank you. I will stay, if… if you want me to.”

As Imelda bit her tongue to hold back a retort, Ernesto smiled at him. When he spoke, his voice sounded startlingly sincere. “We do,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Juan was very quick to mumble his thanks and leave the room - giving Imelda no time to notice the sudden redness spreading on that pale, tired face.

***

Twenty-one dead. Twenty-two, if you counted the idiota who drowned while trying to get on land. 

Twenty-two dead American soldiers, and they still couldn’t put a number to the Mexicans who had died in the attack. Some said two hundred, some said three hundred; it was hard to tell if civilians were included in the count, because they had taken up arms, too. 

Soldiers probably accounted for at least half of the total. One-hundred and fifty at the very least. One-hundred and fifty like Nando, and the gringos had only lost twenty-two. And he had perhaps killed… one or two. Or maybe he had only wounded them, impossible to know. The only man he knew for sure had died was the civilian who’d had the galls to turn to him for help.

Not enough to avenge Nando. Not nearly enough, but oh had he tried.

They outgunned us. If not, we would have killed them one by one. Have they already counted Nando among the dead? Have they found him? Has he already been buried? He should be buried. He deserves it. I need to write to his family. If only I could tell them I have avenged him...

Resting on his back on a bed, his right leg ablaze with pain, Santiago shut his eyes not to see the cracked ceiling above. Somewhere on his left, a young man whined about not feeling his legs anymore. Somewhere on his right, a woman was talking. 

“... Commodore Azueta’s boy was so brave. The American admiral with that funny name wanted to visit, but he said, ‘if the American enters my house, I will either kill him or me’. Doctor Xicoy said-”

“Good answer,” Santiago rasped, staring at the ceiling. It caused the nurses fall silent, turning to him. He barely noticed them. “Shame he passed up the chance to actually do it.”

“Oh, you’re awake.” One of the women walked up to his bed, tall and somewhat imposing. She looked tired, but managed a smile. “We took the bullet out of your leg. Nothing broke. You’ll walk again and probably won’t even limp. Now we only need to keep your wound clean, and then we’ll send you home.”

Wait-- what? “Home? I can’t go home. I’m in the army.”

“You don’t have to. You fought bravely and were wounded. You earned an honorable discharge.”

No, no, no, no, no. “I have to rejoin my battalion. The 19th Infantry. I have--”

“They’ll have been moved somewhere else by the time you recover, and--”

“Then I’ll join another,” Santiago snapped, making an effort to sit up and causing her to recoil. “I am not done with this war.”

She stared at him a few moments, stunned, then slowly her expression turned bitter. “You mean this war is not done with you.”

“I don’t care how you put it. I’ll recover and return to duty. I’ll join another battalion - any battalion,” Santiago snapped, and turned towards the wall. He kept silent for the rest of the evening, gaze fixed on a corner where a few uniforms had been thrown, drenched with blood. His own was among them, probably, stained with Nando’s blood as well as his. 

There was barely any blood on Beto’s. The sand soaked up it all.

I never avenged him. I couldn’t avenge Nando. What am I still alive for?

Ah, but he could still do something, couldn’t he? He had one man only to blame for Beto’s death. One target only, and the last thing he knew was that he’d gone south, towards Oaxaca. So, once his leg had healed, he’d join any battalion heading there. He’d find him, make him pay. He’d see his blood run down his hands and all light go out of his eyes, he thought, and the idea was so soothing. 

When the nurse returned to check on him Santiago was asleep, a serene smile on his lips.

***

“So. How is the seduction plan going?”

“There is no seduction plan and I’d really appreciated if you stopped blabbing about it where anybody walking in would hear you. We only talked. I made an offer. Up to him whether to take it or not. He’s staying in Santa Cecilia, anyway, so--”

“He was turning red when you said you want him to stay here yesterday.”

“So what? We know it’s me he wants. Unsurprisingly.”

“... You thought it was Héctor.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You thought it was Gustavo, too.”

“That was, er… last week. He turned out to have better taste than I anticipated, is all.”

“Well. I guess he could have made worse choices.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But really--” A knock at the door of the sacristy, and Sofía fell into blessed, blessed silence. Ernesto breathed out a sigh of relief, and turned to the door. 

“Come in!” he called out. The door opened, and… well, speak of the gringo. 

“Father Ernest - Sister Sophie,” John Johnson said, his voice quiet, and stepped in. He was almost back to normal, if… quieter than ever before. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Father,” he added, eyes resting on just about… anything across the room except them. Which was a good thing, really, because Sofía did precisely nothing to hide the grin that spread across her face. Not until Ernesto elbowed her, anyway. She recoiled. 

“Oh! Of course! I was just leaving,” she exclaimed, sounding much too chipper, and walked past Padre Juan to the door. She turned on the doorway, with the expression of someone who is about to eavesdrop on every single word, and made a rather explicitly gesture from behind the gringo’s back. Ernesto held back from rolling his eyes.

“Close the door behind you. Gracias,” he droned instead. As the door shut - undoubtedly with her ear pressed on the other side - Ernesto turned back to Juan with a smile. “Can I help you?”

Padre Juan seemed to… well, shrink. He kept staring at the floor now, hands folded anxiously in front of himself, face quickly going from white to increasingly bright pink. “I have… thought about what you suggested. Long and hard. If you’re… still willing… if you’re certain…”

Ernesto bit the inside of his cheek not to make a ‘long and hard’ joke, laugh, or a combination of both. Through a supreme effort of will, he kept his expression neutral. He could easily imagine Sofía on the other side of the door, stuffing a fist in her mouth to keep quiet. “I am,” he said.

Padre Juan swallowed, his skin now red. Ernesto suspected it would feel burning hot to the touch. “I have… fought my urges for my entire life. I hadn’t felt a thing for a long time, I thought-- I thought I was rid of it. Until I came here and… and…” he swallowed again, and finally dared to peer up at his face. “Is it possible I will-- if I try-- hate it, and never long for it again?”

Well, now that would be a blow to his pride. Still, he wasn’t bothered. “... It is. You never know.”

“I might-- not hate it-- but then I’d know, I suppose--” he paused, and drew in a long breath. “You’d absolve me. And I’d absolve you. Right?”

“... Yes.” Not that Ernesto’s absolutions meant anything, but he didn’t need to know that. “I will.”

A sharp intake of breath, and Padre Juan gave him a quick nod before staring back at the ground, uncharacteristically silent. He hardly spoke to anyone for the rest of the evening. 

And when Ernesto came to his room that night, he let him in without a word.

***

In case you're wondering how the night goes, here you go. Mind the rating.

***

[Back to Part 13]

[On to Part 15]

[blackaquokat]

Iv datective friends to romance

iv)    Somewhere along the way of getting into bar fights together, staying up allnight with movie marathons, other friendship things, I’ve fallen in love withyou but oh my god this could ruin EVERYTHING

For @dontworryaboutanything

So, inwriting this prompt, I’ve realized this is exactly the missing piece I need forpart of my DAtective series, ‘Law and Disorder’ and here we are! If you wish toknow the origin of this pairing, I shall direct your attention to how theymet inthis series. This work also foreshadows the next installment.

Oo00oO

Abe has no idea when it began.

Not the friendship, obviously. He will forever remember thatfirst meeting at the DA’s office, the way his lawyer friend took to the case likea shark to its prey. Then later, when the two of them were supposed to rejoice a job well-done, their close-minded asshole ofa coworker decided to ruin the celebration.

Although it wasn’t sobad. Their outing did end with a rather lovely sunset.

Since then, Abe has outright searched for reasons to spendtime with them in between cases. Advice on how to talk to a victim, checking inon them at home when appropriate, and sometimes just popping by without awarning because old habits die hard and he’s not so great at personalboundaries.

They haven’t kicked him out yet though, so Abe considers thata good sign. They’ve even taken initiative and dragged him to a few films,invited him out for drinks, and taken him to the pier again to watch thesunset.

He doesn’t even understand why he’s so intent to be around them. They’re easily annoyed,reticent, and not friendly at all,not in the typical sense anyway.

But then, maybe that’s it.

They aren’t typical. And neither is he.

True, the two of them are very different kinds of different, but hey, Abe likes to think that’sexactly why he’s drawn to them. The thrill of finding a kindred spirit willdwindle eventually, but he’ll drag it out as long as he can and then they’llboth move on to being mere acquaintances.

Which is what brings him to his current situation.

They’ve just completed their second successful case together,and rather than go to the pub, he drags them to the fair taking place in thecity.

“What part of ‘I really do not like crowds’ do you notunderstand, Lincoln?” they growl as he drags them by the hand down the street.

“What part of ‘Just trust me’ do you not understand?”

“Last time you said that, it was about the fact that you licked a corpse’s fingers beforeforensics could look it over.”

“Don’t start spouting logic, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

“You told me this in the courtroom.”

“Details, details, you’re still coming with me.”

Abe ignores the groan, because they’re only a few blocks awaynow.

“Abe, I appreciate that you’re trying to get me out of myoffice more, but I’m exhausted. Ijust want to go home and take a nap—”

They cut off when Abe pulls them to the entrance to the fair,staring wide-eyed at the bright lights everywhere, the countless tents andrides. The air smells of cigar smoke and fried food. Aggressively cheerfulmusic is played via strategically placed radios.

More importantly, however, there are a rather minisculenumber of people taking part in the festivities.

“Where…where is everyone?” they ask, looking at him withhesitant excitement.

“It’s the last day of the fair,” Abe answers. “It alsohappens to be Sunday, so everyone is at church right now. No lines, not toomany screaming kids, no risk of someone bumping into you and sending your foodeverywhere.”

“Abe that happened once!”they defend. “It’s not my fault you can’t watch where you’re going.”

“I could say the same about you.”

They laugh, making an enchanting sound that sends a jolt ofelectricity through his chest. “Anyway, um, the peanut vendor is over there, Ibelieve…” he mutters.

The pair spends a good two hours at the fair, sharing a bagof peanuts, making fun of the people looking at them with judging eyes, andtrying out a handful of the games offered. Oddly enough, Abe’s companion dominates the sharpshooter tent.

“You never told me you know how to use a gun,” Abe mentions.

They shrug. “It never came up. Is it really so surprising?”

“Not really, no.” Whey they glance at him, he explains, “Youdid tell me both of your parents were in the military. But, honestly, mostpeople just dissolve on the spot when you turn your Angry Eyes on, so youknowing how to shoot a gun doesn’t seem like much of a stretch.”

The corner of their lips quirk upward, and Abe suddenlynotices that they have dimples. Why is he just noticing that now? Why does that little detail make his chest thump faster?

Matter of fact, this entire evening has been an exercise in notstaring at them for too long, because damn it, this is a side of them he hasn’tseen yet. This utter delight, a smile bright as the moon, eyes lit up likefireworks, Abe wouldn’t be surprised if they started glowing of all things.

“I can’t believe you remembered that about my parents…” Theylook around some more before seeing, to his dismay, the Ferris wheel. “I haven’tridden a Ferris wheel in years.” Theystart heading in that direction and Abe moves with them.

They’re about to get on when they notice he hasn’t tried tojoin. “You’re not coming?”

“Uh…well…nah, I don’t…” Abe clears his throat. “Not too big afan of Ferris wheels. You go on ahead.” He shoves the last of the peanuts inhis mouth before he says anything incriminating.

They gaze at him a moment longer and he just prays they don’t read too much into hiswords. “Alright.” As they enter the ride, they turn back to him with a smirk. “Foryour information, if I could make people dissolve with my ‘Angry Eyes,’ therewould be four people left at the DA’s office, including myself.”

Abe chuckles so hard he nearly chokes on the peanuts.

After that ride, he walks them home in silence, which isuncharacteristic for him, but not so much for them. Normally their strollstogether involve him ranting about a case or his fellow officers while they nodin sympathy and occasionally throw in a complaint about their own coworkers.

This time the silence feels…different. If he didn’t know anybetter, he’d think they might have something they wish to talk about.

“Thanks,” they eventually say. “Thanks for, um, bringing mealong.”

“Not at all,” he answers. “These sorts of events aren’treally fun to take part in solo anyway—”

“I’m not done,” they interrupt. They take in a deep breathand roll their shoulders. “I’ve had exactly onefriend in my entire life. Due to our current career paths, we haven’t been ableto see each other as much, so I’ve been a little…lonelier than normal. I guess what I’m saying is…it’s nice to haveanother friend and not feel like I’m, um…too strange to be around.”

Abe’s mouth opens and shuts. What the hell is he supposed tosay to that? How does one respond to the realization that you’re one of two ofthe only acquaintances a kick-ass, emotionally distant ADA has?

Whether he would have found a response or not, Abe will neverknow, because they hurry to fill the awkward quiet with, “Also, the DA calledme into his office earlier today and said he planned on retiring early nextyear.”

It takes Abe longer than it should to switch gears. “Oh, um…that’sinteresting. Why would he tell you?”

They bite their lip, almost like they’re trying not to smile.The two of them stop walking. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you this…he basicallytold me that if I was interesting in being the DA, he would back me in aheartbeat.”

Abe swings around to face them, eyes bulging from his head. “I-you’reshitting me??!!”

“I had to pinch myself to keep from leaping with joy.”

He can’t help it. He grabs them into a hug and actually spins them around a few times beforesetting them back down, both of them laughing in joy as they start moving oncemore. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have been doing something farmore high class, like eating at a fancy restaurant or crashing a prom—”

“No, I hate big fusses, you know that,” they dismiss. “I just…Ireally wanted to tell someone. I mean, obviously this isn’t a guarantee. He’sgoing to announce his upcoming retirement soon, so I really need to buckle downand get started on a campaign. I’ve built a reputation in the community andmade a few public statements about community outreach, but I don’t exactly havefunds—”

“Hey, all of that will work out,” Abe interrupts. He’s still grinninglike an idiot until a thought occurs to him and it disappears. “I guess thismeans you’ll be pretty busy for a while, huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant,but he doesn’t think it works. Much as he’s been expecting this relationship todie down, he doesn’t want it to do so this soon.

They give him a strange look as they stop walking again. Aberealizes they’ve reached their home.

“I won’t be too busy to spend time with my favoritedetective,” they assert in a determined tone. “Not when he still owes me aFerris wheel ride.”

A nervous chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Uh…yeah, yeah,definitely…”

It’s time for them to part ways, but Abe is suddenly overwhelmedwith the thought that he should do somethingbefore the night officially ends. But what?A handshake? A hug? The thought of kissing them flashes through his headjust long enough to make his face turn beet red. He desperately hopes it’s darkenough under his cap that they don’t notice.

“Well…I had a lot of fun tonight, Abe,” they eventually say. “Thanksagain. I’ll see you again soon, alright?”

It takes three gulps to actually force a sentence out of hisdry throat. “Absolutely. Have a good night.”

When they finally entire their house, Abe stares at the doorfor the longest time, feeling like a total buffoon, before cursing to himself andhurrying down the street.

He never looks back, so he doesn’t see the attorney part theshades a hint to watch him leave, a smile tugging at their cheeks.

Oo00oO

The months pass and, unfortunately, Abe and the attorney’s timespent together shrinks a rather significant amount, what with Abe’s suddencaseload and them taking on more and more court cases to further solidify theirreputation.

They make time to leave him notes though, at his doorstep,especially if weeks go by without them seeing each other. He starts doing so inreturn, though not as often, he’s ashamed to say. He’s still awfully shook upby that night, the way they looked under the porchlights and how the thought ofkissing them actually crossed hismind.

Now that it’s happened once, it’s been happening more andmore often lately.

Abe will look over a case and notice a quirky detail, whichhe then wants to share with his friend, butthen those thoughts dissolve into definitelynot friendly thoughts and he’ll endup spilling his coffee on his lap. These sorts of incidents have happened, invarious ways, more than he’d care to admit.

Damn them. This is their fault. He’s never been this distracted byanyone except three of his pastpartners, and look at how those turnedout.

He just…he can’t.

Not again.

And so time goes on in this cycle of missed calls and lettersonly sometimes answered. Before either knows it, the DA retires, gives a glowing endorsement to Abe’s favoriteattorney, and it’s only a month later that they’re elected into office by an overwhelmingmajority.

Abe wishes he could say that he was at the celebration whenthe news hit, but he was seeing someone about a new case.

His old friend Mark had finallycontacted him again, after almost two years of complete silence. Their meetingended up lasting several hours, both catching up on the latest personal events(he suspects Mark hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about why he’s been sounreachable) and discussing what Mark wanted Abe to do for him. It turns out tobe a simple recon case: check out the guests and employees for an upcomingparty Mark is throwing. Nothing too out of the ordinary, aside from the Mayor,of all people, being included in that list.

But when he returns to his car and switches on the radio, hehears the results of the election.

At first, Abe lets out a whooping cheer in the confines ofhis car. He is so proud. They’veworked so hard for this, fighting for justice in the courtroom and againstprejudice in their own office…

Simultaneously, however,he felt this awful guilt gather inthe pit of his stomach at the realization that his friend had won a positionthey’ve been struggling to reach for so long and Abe wasn’t there to celebrate with them.

So now, with these thoughts eroding his mind, he leans hishead back against the seat of his car and makes a new resolution.

Abe will finish this case for Mark, check out these peoplelike he wants.

Then…then he’ll make it up to the new DA, somehow.

For the moment, he needs space to clear his head. Otherwise, he’llruin the best thing in his life.

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @beereblogsstuff , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @musical-jim , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @cosmic–frappucino , @wkm-detective-abe-squad

Sendme a prompt for Detective Abe/DA, Damien/DA, Actor!Mark/DA!

[kanrakixystix]

Tenebrae Secrets -- CindyLu

@ffxvfemslashweek

@ramtiger, @domesticfluffsimulator, @agi92

Day 3: Mermaids

This...was an undertaking that I wasn’t expecting. I’ve really been looking forward to this one, and I ended up building this whole world and lore that I wasn’t ready for. So, this is more of a pilot run of something that I might turn into a full series if it gets enough positive feedback. I rushed the ending because it’s getting late here and it was getting long, so I’m sorry if it just kind of flops at the end. ^^;;

ANYWAY, I really hope you all enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing it! 

Word count: 3179

Sunlight beat down the back of Cindy’s neck as she cranked the ratchet, tightening the bolt to the unit behind the lighthouse. She had been outside all morning and well into the afternoon just trying to fix the damn switch that triggered the light, or something like that. Admittedly, she was more handy with cars and other vehicles. Power boxes, well, that was a different story. Not to say she couldn’t do it, but it wasn’t in her main wheelhouse of expertise. Still, she was more than happy to lend a hand to the royal attendants that had recently taken up residence in the house on the other side of the cliff while Paw-paw oversaw repairs on the boat below.

 Her vision blurred, and Cindy shook her head, blinking herself back into focus. When was the last time she ate, she wondered? She had definitely skipped lunch, and breakfast, and maybe even dinner the night before? Hell, had she even had anything to eat at all in the last few days? The more she thought about it, the louder her stomach growled, and she felt a wave of nausea crash over her. Oh yeah, it had been a hot minute for sure.

 She swiped a gloved hand over her brow, huffing as she sat back on her haunches, looking over her work. No misplaced or extra pieces – that was a good sign – all that was left was to test it. Cindy stood, vowing to eat as soon as she tested the light. Whether it worked or not, well, that was another beast in of itself, but she prayed to the gods that her work was done and she could move on to the next project.

 As she turned on her heels, she wavered. The world spiraled, and the sharp lines and edges of shapes blurred into one. Cindy blinked, desperate to regain herself, and she reached a hand out to lean on the wooden fence blocking off the cliff.

 There was no way she could have known that that one particular spot was weak, nor any way she could have stopped herself from tripping, one leg over the other as she tried to catch herself. On the way down, she could make out the sound of wind rushing past her ears and she felt the sharp crack of bones as she hit the rocks at the bottom.

She didn’t hear the water enveloping her, or feel the tug of the current pull her out to sea, but she remembered thinking, before she lost cognitive thought, that she should be dead, and  that maybe a piece of toast could have saved her life.

-

 Sunlight beat down the back of Cindy’s neck as she stirred. Everything ached, but nothing really hurt, at least, not that she could tell. That was a good start. Cracked fingertips twitched on the surface of something smooth, slimy, and she realized that she no longer had her gloves. Had she taken them off? She was almost certain that she had them on when she fell. Whatever. She was too tired to care, and the melodic voice that was singing to her was too beautiful to interrupt. Questions could wait; she just wanted to listen to this song some more.

 What song is this, anyway?

 The next time Cindy came to, there was no singing, and the ache in her bones was almost non-existent. Without opening her eyes, she sat up, groaning. Even if her muscles didn’t ache from the fall, they were definitely stiff from being unused. Slowly, she peeked an eye open. Beneath her were rocks, but not the same rocks that lie at the base of the lighthouse in Caem. Maybe she wasn’t far off, though? Her jacket was shredded, discarded in a heap a few feet away, and her gloves sat atop them. Looking over her body, there was hardly a mark at all, save for an indigo colored bruise that looked more like a watercolor painting on the outside of her left thigh. It almost resembled a flower, Cindy thought, and she ran her fingers over it.

 “I hope you don’t mind,” a voice, gentle, feminine, came from her right, and Cindy whipped her head to face the source. A gasp lodged itself in her throat as she took in the…creature. She was beautiful; Fair skin, with ash blond hair wrapped in a braid and a pony tail, and eyes as blue as the clearest water she could ever imagine. A white, sheer top that did little to cover the girl’s chest hung around her neck, and purple earrings that glittered like crystals hung from her ears. Behind her was…a tail? A tail made of dark blue, almost midnight, with gold along the edge of each scale, swished in the water.

 “What..?” Cindy managed, and she hoped it would magically ask every question that was racing through her mind. What was she? What was this place? What happened? What the hell is the mark on her leg? What was her name?

 So many questions.

 “Your leg,” she says, and motions to it with a hint of guilt in her eyes, “It’s the mark of Tenebrae, an uncommonly practiced magic from the days of old that binds a human to the kingdom of which the mermaid who gave them the mark belongs.”

 Cindy gawked and rubbed her face. This had to be a dream. That, or she was one-hundred percent dead and this was some kind of weird limbo between Heaven and Hell. Or maybe this was one of those places. She had never paid much attention to the that sort of thing, and Paw-paw wasn’t much for preachin’. She scrunched her nose and ran her hands through her hair, only just realizing that she was without her hat. Huffing, she leveled another look on the…mermaid?

 “What?”

 The girl giggled, and Cindy almost felt bad for being so flustered when she saw her dazzling smile. And that laughter. Her voice was truly godly.

 “I should start over.” She placed a hand over her chest delicately as she spoke, and the gesture, though seeming a bit over the top, caught Cindy’s eyes. Was her skin shimmering? “My name is Lunafreya. I am the Princess of Tenebrae, an underwater kingdom that lies between Niflhiem and Lucis.”

 Those were words that Cindy understood, mostly. She’d heard of Tenebrae, but the Tenebrae she knew of was definitely not under the sea. She’d overheard the prince talking about it before, how he had visited there when he was a kid because of some injury, or somethin’. It couldn’t be the same Tenebrae, right? Was it possible that there were two Tenebrae? That seemed like the most logical answer, but also the least likely. Then again, given the circumstances, she supposed she couldn’t really be a judge of what was likely and what wasn’t.

 The mermaid continued to smile at her, and Cindy felt butterflies flutter in the pit of her stomach. She, Lunafreya, was a sight to behold, barring the fact that she was half fish, and Cindy found herself entranced by her. She’d never really paid much attention to the merfolk stories that Weskham had told her when she was a little girl, but sitting here now, amongst the sea-worn rocks, face-to-face with a creature from the deep, she wished she had. At least then, whether she was alive or dead, she would kind of know what to say, what to expect.

 “What do the humans call you?” Lunafreya asked, and she folded her arms in front of her on the rock, propping her chin atop them as she floated, eyes fixed on her.

 “Uh, Cindy,” the mechanic said finally, and the sound of her voice made her wince. It was deep, gravelly, and she coughed. “Cindy Aurum.”

 “Aurum,” Lunafreya repeated with a fascinated grin. “As in gold?” Slowly, Cindy nodded.

 “That’s right.”

 If Lunafryea was going to say anything, she was cut off by the sound of Cindy’s stomach roaring to life, but not with the aforementioned butterflies. With hunger. And it promptly reminded Cindy as to why she had fallen to her death in the first place. As her stomach gurgled, the two women locked eyes, an awkward silence falling between them, until they both giggled at the situation. Oh, what the hell. If she was dead, she might as well play along with whatever fantasy this was, right?

 Because this had to be a fantasy. Beautiful mermaids didn’t just save mechanics that fainted and fell into the depths of the water.

 “You wish to eat?” she asked, but Cindy thought it was more of an obvious statement than a questionable observation. “I am afraid I haven’t much in the way of human delicacies, but perhaps…” The mermaid trailed off, as if she had gotten lost in a stray thought, then reached out, her hands lightly touching Cindy’s cheeks. They were cool, Cindy noted, and felt like mist against her skin. Maybe she had been expecting her to smell of ocean, or dead fish, she wasn’t sure, but she was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t slimy nor smelly. Lunafreya tipped her head down and pressed their foreheads together. Under her breath, she whispered words that Cindy didn’t understand – probably some kind of weird mer-language, is that was a thing, and felt a surge of energy around them. It wasn’t scary, really, rather, she was awestruck. Her eyes flicked from side-to-side as she watched this strange magic float around them.

 And then it was gone. In its place was a bowl of soup and bread, as well as juice in an ornate glass. Cindy looked from it to Lunafreya, who had sank back to her original position, watching her again.

 “So…you can just produce food from thin air?” Cindy asked, and Lunafreya laughed.

 “Nothing can come from nothing,” she replied cryptically, and Cindy suddenly felt dumb for asking it at all. “However, I am able to manifest simple desires, should one want them enough. Food, for instance. You wanted to eat badly enough that I was able to bring it to you from your mind.”

 It was one thing after another with this girl, and Cindy felt as though she would be perpetually dumbstruck. She thought maybe she should stop asking questions, but then where was the fun in that?

 In this case, however, she wouldn’t question the legitimacy of the food. The scent of potatoes wafted into her nostrils, and Cindy lifted the bowl to her lips, uncaring of the audience she was keeping, and drank. Immediately, she pulled the bowl back and set it down on the rocks.

 It was hot, and she felt the warmth spread through her as her tongue burned. Hastily, she reached for the bread. It, too, was warm, fluffy, like the kind she remembered her mother making when she was much younger.

 Cindy froze. If she were dead, wouldn’t they be with her? Did she not lead a life good enough to see them in the end? Her arms dropped, and the bread rolled from her fingertips. She hadn’t considered any of that prior to now, but now that she had…

 “Am I dead?” she asked softly, unable to meet Lunafreya’s eyes. If she had, she would have seen confusion and curiosity in them. She would have seen Lunafryea shake her head.

 “That is the price for the your mark,” she answered quietly, and Cindy felt her touch her hand. She didn’t pull away. “Your life was spared. In exchange you are bound to the waters.”

 Blood rushed to Cindy’s head; she heard it pounding against her ears, felt it thrumming through her veins. This wasn’t happening. No way.

 “…why?” she hiccupped, and Lunafreya frowned. “Am I just your pet now?”

 “Of course not,” the mermaid assured, and with her other hand lifted her chin to look at her. “That was never my intention.”

 “Then what was your intention?!” Cindy snapped, and she had expected Lunafreya to recoil, but she remained next to her. Their hands still touching, their fingers wove together. She wanted to yank her hand away, to be angry and lash out, but where would she go? What would she do? Lunafreya was her only hope at surviving. Her hand was forced.

 “Only to save you, and perhaps get the chance to talk to you.” Lunafreya admittedly quietly, and as much as Cindy wanted to call her a liar, she knew there was truth in her words. A voice as angelic as hers could speak nothing false.

 “Can I ever go home?” Cindy asked finally, allowing her cheek to be cradled in Lunafreya’s palm.

 “If that is your wish,” Lunafreya replied. “Though, I must warn you. Your mark will always draw you back to the sea. You will miss it, long for it. The need to be near the water will overcome you over time.”

 “And what does that mean?” She had only ever really known land, the desert, specifically, and that was as far from any kind of water as you could get. It wasn’t that she didn’t LIKE water, per se. She simply hadn’t spent a lot of time around it was all. Could she grow to like it? Probably, but under her own circumstances, and not some old mermaid hat trick.

 “I don’t really know,” the mermaid sighed. “Mermaids are only allowed to mark a single person in their lifetime, and since it’s a long forgotten tradition, no one has performed it in centuries. There are rumors that the human imbued with the mark may move closer to the sea to be near it, or live on the water by way of boat. However, there have been scarce whispers of humans that have fallen in love with the water so much that they wished to become one with it, and were granted permission by the Goddess to live as one with the kingdom in which they were marked by.”

 Cindy listened as she spoke, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask any more questions, or to speak at all. What would Paw-paw say if he saw her with the mark? Would he even know what it was? Probably not, she thought. He would think it was a bruise, a permanent reminder, like a scar.

 Night was drawing upon them quickly, but Lunafreya was still there, unmoving, patiently waiting for her to process things. There were still a million questions to ask, but there wasn’t enough strength in her to keep asking them. She didn’t know if she could handle the answers, or if she really even wanted to know them in the first place. There had been a time when she had considered herself a curious girl, but never in her life had she ever thought it was a bad thing to be. Now, she wished she had never asked anything. Maybe she would have been better off dying amongst the rocks.

 …Lunafreya, though, hadn’t seemed to think so. She had saved her on the principle that she wanted to speak to her. But why? It wasn’t like they had ever met before. Maybe she was the first human she had ever seen, and wanted to ask her own questions? That seemed plausible. But again, she didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. She wanted to sleep, preferably in a bed.

 “I want to go home,” she whispered, and Lunafreya only nodded before she finally let go of her. Cindy watched as she tipped her head down, as though she were praying, and the water around her stirred to life, waves crashing on the rocks and glowing a seafoam green. From the depths arose two giant seahorses, one on either side of her. On her left was one that was all white, with scales that gave off an iridescent shimmer in the majestic light that surrounded them. To the right was one that was all black with oil slick scales. This one, unlike the other, was wild, as though it had seen a million journeys begin and end, and Cindy could sense the pride and loyalty it emitted.

 “Oh my stars…” Cindy trailed off, eyes flicking between the two giant creatures.

 “I can only provide you so much,” she said, and her voice echoed as though it were all around her all at once. “This will have to do for now.”

 “What…is this?”

 Lunarfreya flourished her hands.

 “Pryna,” she introduced the white one, “is my spirit guide, a soul that has been attached to mine since birth.” Cindy didn’t understand, but she nodded all the same. “And this is Umbra.”

 Umbra and Cindy’s eyes met, and Cindy couldn’t be quite sure, but she was almost positive she could hear Umbra speaking to her, as though there was some sort of secret understanding between the two of them. Maybe there was, now that she was part mermaid, she supposed. It might just come with the territory.

 “Umbra can take you anywhere,” Lunafreya explained. “He has the freedom to wander through time, within certain limits, of course.”

 “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!” Cindy exclaimed, astonished. “This seahorse can do all that?” Lunafreya nodded, and Cindy couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Well, I’ll be. That’s pretty nifty!”

 “Indeed it is,” Lunafreya agreed as she smiled, but it was sad, Cindy thought. “He can take you to your home.”

 “What about you?” Cindy asked. “Where will you go?”

 “Home, as well,” the mermaid said, “until you call upon me. Then I shall be wherever you call me to.”

 Cindy blinked and tilted her head. Surely mermaids didn’t have cell phones, right? How in the world was she supposed to call her anyway?

 As if reading her mind, Lunafreya swam to her once more. Again, she placed her hands on her cheeks, and Cindy reveled in the gentle mist that blessed her skin. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Cindy thought she could see the world within them. The gaze was intense, and it only lasted until she felt the brush of lips on her own. Gold and silver sparks ignited between them, but they didn’t burn. Instead, they tingled, and danced on the pout of her lip.

 And then they were gone, as were Lunafreya’s lips.

 “For whenever you speak my name by the sea, I shall come to you.”

 Everything blurred, but Cindy could see Lunafreya’s beautiful face, followed by a black mass that she assumed to be Umbra before she felt her eyes slip shut again.

 -

 Sunlight beat down on the back of Cindy’s neck as she swore and shielded her eyes. From what she could make out, she was at the lighthouse in Cape Caem again. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, noting that she was wearing her gloves again, and they were in the same condition they were in before she fell. Her jacket, too, was all in one piece. Had it all been a dream? She gasped, and immediately twisted her body to look at her leg.

 The mark was still there.

[sakurablossomstorm-blog]

Lockdown Chapter 8 - Ben II

Also on AO3.

~~~~

“Oh my God,” Ben cried out, his breathing heavy and frantic. “Oh my God.”

His knees went to his chest protectively, and his hands were running through his hair anxiously. Leslie’s text was still reeling in his head.

A gun.

Someone had a gun in City Hall.

And Leslie was three floors above him.

Alone.

His shoe was still in the corner of the room. Ron kicked it towards him as he walked back to his old desk. Ben watched as Ron calmly ran his hands along a piece of the wall behind it, and, with a careful tap in the right place, it opened up to reveal a bottle of Lagavulin and two glasses.

“Ah good; it’s still here.”

Ben didn’t have time to question how long Ron had this secret compartment for. And whether he had it during his role of City Manager. He just watched with strange fascination as Ron pulled the bottle free and analysed it for a second, like he was studying it to see if anyone had taken a sip of the precious liquid since he had been gone.

There was suddenly silence, and Ben looked up, furrowing his eyebrows. The alarm that had been sounding around City Hall fell silent, it must have run out of battery.

But someone was still here with a gun.

Someone had a gun.

Ben’s eyes were wide as he watched Ron pour two glasses of the scotch, taking one for himself and then walking back over to Ben, crouching down and stretching out his hand, offering the second glass to him.

Ben tried to shake his head. But all he could do was stare at Ron and the absurdly kind, weird gesture given the current circumstances.

Leslie was alone upstairs on the third floor, and he was here about to have potentially his last drink with with Ron of all people.

And there was a gunman on the loose.

“Take it,” Ron ordered. “You might as well. We’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

Ben tentatively took the glass and sipped the strong liquor. He hated scotch; it was one of those drinks that he never took to. He’d much prefer having a gin and tonic over this harsh tasting alcohol.

But, in this moment, he seemed to ignore how much it burned his throat; right now; this glass of Lagavulin was exactly what he needed.

He looked back down at his phone; it was still open on the text that Leslie sent to him. Ben set the glass next to his shoe and grabbed his phone, his fingers working desperately to type out his message.

I’m safe. Where are you? Are you safe?

Panic reared inside him when he didn’t get a response. He knew Leslie. In these situations, she’d respond instantly.

I don’t want to call you in case someone finds you.

Just please text me yes or no to let me know you’re safe.

Leslie, please…

Ben’s head rolled back and hit the wall, praying for a response, praying for anything, a sign, a hint, something that would let him know that Leslie was okay.

He closed his eyes, feeling tears brimming. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. He’d never forgive himself for snapping at her this morning when it was clearly his fault for oversleeping. He couldn’t face looking into three tiny faces every day and having to explain why Mommy wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t do it, and the potential scenario scared him.

There was a beep from his phone, causing Ben and Ron to both look at it. Ben scrambled to pick it up, and he clasped a hand over his mouth as a noise that was a cross between a sob and a sigh of relief came from his mouth.

Yes.

“She’s safe,” Ben mumbled. He wasn’t sure if Ron even cared right now if Leslie was all right, but he needed to say it out loud, as if to confirm it to himself.

Ron just grunted and took another sip.

Ben reached down and took the glass back into his hands, feeling the need to taste the sharpness of the Lagavulin again. He let the dark liquid run down his throat, and this time around he coughed slightly at the taste.

And that’s when it hit him. He couldn’t stay in this room.

“I’m going to find her,” Ben announced, clambering awkwardly to his feet and draining the last of the scotch. It burned this time around, and Ben gagged loudly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Ron snapped, walking over to him. “Don’t be a fool. She’s fine; you’re both in contact with each other. Just leave it at that.”

“But I need to be with her,” Ben cried out. “I need to see her and protect her. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her and all because I’ve been sitting in here drinking! No. I’m going to find her.”

It must have been the scotch. But Ben had never felt confidence like this before. A perilous situation, but still he wanted to run down the hall, into the lift and to her office, where he could hold her, and she could bury her face in his neck. He’d comfort her and tell her they were both going to make it home tonight.

The thought of living a life without Leslie was unimaginable. And he wasn’t going to sit around and let it happen.

“I’m going,” Ben said again.

“You’re not. First off, you’re only wearing one shoe,” Ron said, gesturing to Ben’s shoe, still on the floor. “Second of all, you’ll get killed if you go out there. What if you ran into the maniac? You’re not armed; you’d get killed instantly” Ron carried on, topping up his own glass. “Do the smart thing. Stay here.”

“I’m not staying here. If you are so worried about me getting killed, then come with me. You’re strong; I’d be okay with you,” Ben said, not noticing the pleading to his voice.

Ron’s face remained expressionless, just like Ben had always known him to be. But there was something in his eyes.

Fear.

Ben had never seen fear in Ron’s eyes before.

“Leslie and I aren’t friends anymore; that’s true. But I don’t want you going out and getting hurt just trying to get to her when we know she’s okay. She’d die without you. Not to mention your children. Don’t be a fool, Ben” Ron told him sternly.

Ben was getting flustered, his curled his fists, and the alcohol swirled his brain.

“What if it was Diane?”

Ron flinched.

“What if it was Diane up there?” Ben said again. “Scared and alone. You’d want to go and find her, right? Help me, Ron. Help me get to her. You can hide on the third floor, just…help me…Please.”

Ron turned away from Ben and slowly walked back behind his desk. His hands traced the wall just above where a picture was of several purple lines; Ben was about to ask what he was doing, when Ron’s fist slammed into the wall with a thud, causing Ben to jump back.

Just like that, another compartment opened up, and Ron rummaged inside, pulling out two shotguns.

Ben gawped at him. How did he have all these secret compartments without anyone knowing? Not to mention with guns and alcohol in them.

“Well what are you waiting for?” Ron said, walking back over to him and handing him and gun. “Put your shoe back on, and let’s go.”