#this is the context for the she spilled my coffee bit from last night

[problemcore]

agh she spilled my coffee! (VERY LOUD)

[philaet0s]

WIP Wednesday

From two different WIPs because I’ve been writing for two fics aha

First, my fem!Snowbaz one

With a bit if context; my trans Niall headcanon is very dear to me but for plot reasons I needed Niall to be a boy at the beginning of the story when they’re kids, so in this fic Niall is actually Alice, a trans girl!

I keep writing scenes that happen in the future rather than following the timeline in chronological order, so here’s another bit that’ll come late into the fic

SORRY, just like the other scene I shared the other day, it’s sad, all the scenes I’m interested in writing at the moment are the sad ones, I miss angst

(TW: mentions of suicide)

Baz

“Are you still sure you don’t want to tell anyone? Not even Dev?”

Alice tenses. It makes my head move on her stomach. I move it further, craning my neck to look at her. I mostly see her chin, but even from down there I can tell her jaw is set.

“Dev is in love with Niall,” she answers, with enough pain in her voice to make my heart clench inside my chest.

“Dev is in love with you. I’m sure he’d love Alice just as much.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t get it. He likes boys. If I tell him… I don’t want him to break up with me because of someone I can’t even be.”

I flip onto my stomach and hold myself up on my elbows to look at her in the eyes. Hers are staring in the distance, empty.

“You are Alice, though.”

She lets out a sound, a dark, bitter chuckle. “Only with you.”

“No. You always are.”

“Baz. I’m not. And I’ll never be. It’s not… That’s good for your friends in London. Not for me. I’d have it easier if I just… went on like this.”

“Or you’d kill yourself because you’re miserable,” I answer, harshly, making Alice gasp.

The wound of Emily’s passing is still fresh. I never told Alice about Emily. I never told anyone, not even Simone. My friends from home… They’re too far away from everything that goes on in the life of my friends in London. I don’t know if they’d understand. Thankfully, I have Sasha. I can talk to her about that life, those friends, that we share.

“Pretending to be someone you’re not like you are… It’s a way to die, not a way to live. And I don’t want you to die, Alice.”

And then my Fiona/Ebb fic!

Ebb

“Ah, Ebb, you’re so emotional,” she says with a sigh and tender eyes.

“Nothing wrong with that. I like feeling things deeply. It makes me feel more alive, more human.”

“Too human for your own good. When’s the last time you made a selfish decision?”

She probably thinks that this is a question I will need to think about. Because she thinks I don’t make selfish decisions. Fiona never understood people very well. She gets them. She gets what makes them like her, what makes them want to do her favours. But she doesn’t understand them. The inner turmoil inherent to human experience. She’s in her bubble, she only understands what she knows, in other words, herself. I think that is why she matches with my brother better than with me. They’re similar in a lot of ways. Meanwhile, she and I are like night and day.

“You’re a selfish decision,” I mumble under my breath. Because I want her to hear it, but I also don’t.

It’s hard to talk to her about this. It’s another thing she doesn’t understand.

She moves her feet from the coffee table to the couch and turns to me. She’s holding her cup of tea on her lap with one hand. I hope she won’t spill tea on the plaid, I washed it three days ago.

“What do you mean?”

Actions have always had a greater impact on her than words. I lay my hand high on her thigh, and stroke the seam of her jeans with my thumb. “This is selfish. So is not telling Nicky.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re not doing this again. Telling Nico is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.�� “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[buckyownsmylife]

Them - Chris Evans Smut

The one where Chris is your professor.

Warnings: smut, professor au, reader is a postgrad student, so no underage business, but definitely some age gap, reader is very clear about what she wants here, lots of dirty talk

Chris’ P.O.V.

Looking out of the window of the fancy bistro I had been waiting on, I just couldn’t believe my luck. Y/N, the woman I had been thinking about for the last three months, that one that had made me accept this stupid idea of a blind date to try to get over her, was standing just outside the restaurant, looking from side to side, clearly waiting for someone that was nowhere around. 

I pondered over what to do, weighing the consequences of what I truly wanted, but in the end, I said, “Fuck it,” and jumped out of my chair, explaining to the host that I only needed a minute.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I knew I was grinning from ear to ear, but that was just the effect she had on me. When her eyes widened as she took in who was talking to her, I had to laugh. “What? Not used to seeing me in more casual clothes?” I was convinced her chuckle was enough to end wars. 

“I don’t think that can be considered casual, Professor Evans,” she said, but with the cutest teasing smirk on her face. Right. There was a reason why coming out here to talk to her could possibly bring severe consequences to my life. She was my student, after all, and even though she was pursuing her PhD and we weren’t currently in an academic setting, her politeness served to remind me of the distance that remained between us.

“Well, I’m not sure I could consider what you’re wearing casual either, but I must say, sweetheart… You look beautiful.” I took pride in the blush that spread through her cheeks, making her almost as red as the dress she was currently wearing. Fuck if I didn’t want her desperately.

“Thank you, sir.” I was convinced she knew about the effect those words had in me, but then again, it wasn’t like I could call her out on it. Clearing my throat, I decided to change the subject before I brought more difficulty for my own situation.

“So, what brings you here on this delightful friday evening?” I forced myself to look away from her as I spoke, mostly because I felt like I’d been staring for too long. But I’d happily look at her for as long as possible, if I didn’t fear for what she’d think of me.

“I’m guessing the same thing that brought you here, Mr. Evans.” To my raised eyebrow, she simply responded with a shake of her head, her delightful giggle going straight to my pants. “C’mon, you’re dressed like this, on a friday night, and waiting for someone in a bistro? You’re obviously on a date!”

Well, I was most definitely impressed, but that didn’t serve to distract myself from the disappointment that pierced through me at the realization that she had dressed up so pretty to go out on a date with someone other than me.

“If that’s the case, then where is the lucky gentleman?” That seemed to be the wrong thing to ask, by the way her beautiful face fell.  Immediately, I felt terrible for being responsible for sucking the light out of this woman.

“Oh… I guess he’s not coming. I’ve been waiting for him for at least an hour, it was supposed to be a blind date. My friend thought he’d be perfect for me or something. Guess he didn’t agree, huh?” She tried to chuckle, but the fact that she couldn’t meet my eyes was enough to demonstrate how embarrassed she was by the whole ordeal.

“Sweetheart…” I itched to touch her, to pull her body to mine and comfort her anyway I could, but she continued to avoid my eyes, keeping up with her own monologue almost like she couldn’t physically stop.

“And the worst part is that I can’t stop thinking about how he probably walked in, saw me and decided to go home. God, this is mortifying. Why am I even telling you this?” At that, she finally looked up to find me looking back at her, and whatever it was she identified in my gaze at last made her stop.

“Come eat with me,” I offered, not even thinking about what I was saying, although capable of admitting that it was all I truly wanted. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she wasn’t able to structure a proper sentence, looking up at me with those big bright eyes.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to say. I was completely taken by surprise by his invitation, but I couldn’t really say it made me uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than the chance to spend some time with him, away from the university environment.

It was no secret that he was attractive, of course. I knew that, but it wasn’t because of it that I wanted the chance to share a meal with him. It was for all of the little things I’d managed to learn over the course of our meetings, the bar trivia he liked to share randomly over cups of coffee when it would make more sense if we were sharing a beer. It was the fact that his mind fascinated me, and I’d never met anyone who had captivated me so much, so easily, in such little time.

Even with so little to go off on, he occupied my mind. And perhaps half of the attraction came from the taboo of it all, but I couldn’t deny that it was there. I wanted to get to know him better. I wanted to say yes. Didn’t I deserve it, after such a lousy night?

“We shouldn’t,” I decided to remind us both, but he only smiled, reaching out for my hand. The touch surprised me even more, but I found myself accepting it easily, even smiling as I looked up at him from underneath my eyelashes to see an answering grin in his handsome face.

“No one has to know. Come on.” He tugged me in the direction of the restaurant he was in, apparently, some place definitely fancier than where my date was supposed to happen, and with a curt nod towards the greeter, he quickly took me to the table he’d been occupying before pulling the chair for me.

Such a simple gesture, not at all romantic, really, but it sent butterflies all over my stomach, and I bit my lip to stop the giddy giggle that wanted to break free. “Thank you,” I recognized, and he only flashed me another perfect smile in return.

“It’s my pleasure. Would you like some wine?” He gestured for the waiter, his eyes barely leaving mine before returning to me again. “It’s okay if you don’t. Choose whatever you want, I’m usually more of a beer guy myself, but with this being an italian restaurant and all…”

I waved his fears away, rejecting the menu the waiter was offering and pointing to the glass of wine that was sitting in front of Chris. “I’ll just have the same, please.” The waiter nodded, already turning to grab me a glass when my professor called him over again.

“Wait! Just bring us the bottle, would you?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk making its way into my face. If there was one thing I had already learned about the man I was about to have dinner with, was that he loved to be teased.

“Planning on getting me drunk, professor? That’s not the right way to keep me quiet.” His eyes grew big at first, before he caught on to the teasing nature of my comments, and then he laughed, a hand going over his chest as he threw his head back and closed his eyes, fully in the moment.

Chris’ P.O.V.

Fuck, this was exactly what I’d hoped for when I took the chance and invited her over here. She was just so damn *funny. I was thrilled to have this opportunity to spend some quality time with her.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart. I really don’t want to keep you quiet.” Shit. It was only after it was out in the open, and her eyebrows were raised high, that I realized just how weird that sounded, given the context. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was, I really want to hear you.”

By now, she was pressing her lips tightly, clearly trying not to laugh about my awkwardness, so I saved her the trouble by breaking into a fit of laughter myself. “That’s okay, Professor Evans. If it makes you feel any better, I really want to hear you too.”

… Was she flirting with me? The idea caught me by surprise and sent a jolt of thrill up my body, making me sit up straighter in the restaurant’s chair. I pressed my lips tightly together in an effort to suppress my laugh, and looked up at her from under my eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teased, and it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

“Why not?”

“It makes me nervous.” The answer surprised me. I never considered that I could affect her in any way, much less that one, and so I found myself leaning in her direction, my elbows on the table so I could talk more quietly and she could still hear me.

“Why are you nervous? It’s just me. We’ve been alone in smaller environments than this one,” I reminded her, watching with delight as she giggled but avoided my eyes, opting instead to play with the glass of wine that had by now been delivered to us. I knew she was thinking about the tiny office we shared and all the times we had to ignore this sexual tension as it filled the air between us. When her eyes met mine, the mischievous glint in them was unmissable, and so I braced myself for her answer, knowing it would definitely be something as out of the ordinary as herself.

“Yes…” She started, leaning closer to me and lowering her voice, and while I was sure I didn’t want to miss one single word of what she was saying, it was impossible not to look down at how her breasts threatened to spill from her dress. “But this time it’s harder to ignore just how much I want your cock down my throat.”

I was stunned to silence for a minute, staring back at her with my mouth opened as I felt my cock unmistakably harden at her directness. This was so different from the reserved and polite woman I had to work with at the university, and if that one was already enticing, I had no words to describe the minx that stared back at me with deviousness in her eyes.

“Well, now I feel bad,” I settled on saying, eyes dropping to her cleavage before meeting hers again, making sure she saw just how hypnotized by her body I was. “And here I’ve been, picturing you on your knees all this time.”

I *knew she was hot and bothered by my comment, it was pretty obvious by the way she fidgeted in her seat, squeezing her thighs together, I was certain. There was nothing I wanted more than taking her away from here, and just… well… *take her. Preferably more than once, but it didn’t even have to be on a bed. I wasn’t sure I’d hold back enough to get her close to one, even. Especially when she stepped it up a notch, her heeled foot caressing my leg under the table as she whispered, “I think I made a smart choice when I decided to wear this dress tonight.”

Inevitably, my eyes fell to her breasts once more. It was obvious that I agreed, but still, I licked my lips to be able to agree, “Yes, I’m very fond of it as well.” The corners of her lips twisted up, a clear indication that I’d fallen right onto her trap.

“I’m glad you liked the choice. Wanna know why I’m happy I ran into you while wearing it?” I just nodded, dry swallowing at the thought of what she was about to say. “Because I can’t wear anything underneath it.”

My knuckles turned white as I held onto the edge of the table, practically urging myself not to leap out of my seat. “Careful, sweetheart…” I tried to warn, the months of restraint and tension taking a toll out of my patience and control. “You should think about what you’re saying. *Pay attention to what you’re asking of me. I’m not exactly great at resisting something that I want. You have to be sure,” I murmured, eyes never leaving hers as I watched her breathing grow more laboured.

She let the silence simmer the anticipation between us, until I felt like *I was about to collapse.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“I think I’ve made my desires clear.”

That was all it took for him to dart out of the chair, fishing out his wallet and throwing some bills on top of the table before reaching for my hand. “Come.”

I followed easily, body buzzing with excitement as I accepted this first touch from a man I believed to be unreachable only a few hours before.

Nothing was said as he directed me towards his car. Once inside, I took advantage of the few seconds it took for him to reach his own door and took a deep breath, both to calm my nerves and take in the delicious scent of the familiar cologne that seemed to be ingrained in the vehicle. How many days had I spent clenching my thighs as I tried to focus on my research because his scent took over our tiny office? Too many to count. But now he was right here, ready and willing to take care of the mess he made of me.

A shiver went through my body when he finally made his way inside the car, and instead of turning on the engine, fixated his gaze on me. It was heavy with lust and primal need, that much I could recognize - mostly because I knew those two feelings all too well when it came to him.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” It wasn’t a question, and immediately after he was done speaking I was already leaning over to meet him halfway. 

Chris’ kiss was nothing like I expected it to be. While I imagined a gentle lover, he was more on the eager, almost desperate side. I was surprised how much I liked it that way. He took control of our kiss so easily, it made me feel small and under his spell. Like I’d do anything he wanted me to, just as long as he kept devouring me like this.

I lost myself to the kiss, to *him, to the taste of wine and something that was undeniably just him, but then a hand fell on my lap and I gasped, instinctively opening my legs to feel more of his touch. It made him grin, but he didn’t stop kissing me, instead cradling my face between his hands before returning one of them to the spot that was throbbing for him.

“I just really need to feel you, only for a second,” he whispered against my lips, and I could only nod, too lost in his eyes to care about the implications of his words. “Maybe if I have your taste on my lips I’ll feel motivated enough to drive all the way home, instead of just taking you right here.”

Needless to say, paired with two of his fingers curling inside of me before they were gone and wrapped by his lips, the fires of desire had grown to such heights I could no longer control them. “Hmm… Delicious,” he hummed, dark eyes opening to meet mine only for a second before he was turning the engine on. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Chris’ P.O.V.

The second we were inside my apartment, I had to unbuckle my belt and curl my fist around my member - that’s how badly it hurt from the lack of attention. At least I wasn’t the only one desperate to get things going, her dress was on the floor just as I sat back on the couch, moaning both at the feeling of my jerking motions and the sight of her naked body.

“Come here, Miss. Y/L/N,” I instructed, beckoning her over while keeping my other hand occupied with my cock. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Join me.” She didn’t seem to need any further invitation, small frame quickly making her way over to where I was sitting before she dropped to her knees in front of me, right between my thighs that she held to support herself.

“God, you’re sexy.” She smiled up at me from underneath her eyelashes, hands reaching out to take my member from me before she began to lick at my already weeping head, and I had to take a deep breath in order to control myself. “Fuck.”

She was a tease, alright - but that much I knew, already. Instead of immediately starting to suck me off, she opted to get acquainted with the taste of my cock by licking it like a damn ice cream cone, until every inch of it was wrapped in a coat of her saliva and I was trembling underneath her attentions, hands curled into fists in an effort to let her keep her own pace but desperately wanting to gag her on me.

“You taste so good,” she teased, but it did sound more like an absentminded comment. It was just my need that made me believe she was doing it on purpose, trying to get me to break, but I wouldn’t let her win.

“Put it in your mouth, then. I promise I’ll give you more to taste.” If I had been worried I’d scare her away with how open I was about what I wanted, the smirk she gave me assured me it was well received, just as the way she finally wrapped her perfect lips around the head of my cock, tongue swirling over it briefly before starting to slowly suck more of it.

“Shit, yeah. Just like that. Swallow that cock, darling.” She did just so, all the while making sure to keep eye contact with me, which only added fuel to the desire I felt for her. I knew I couldn’t resist for too long, so I reveled in the feeling of her warm mouth, the sloppy blowjob easily the best I’d ever had, before I pulled her to me, making her climb my lap so I could fill my hands with her fantastic ass.

“God, I’ve dreamt about this ass,” I groaned, palming it and using it to rub her pussy over my member, that twitched at the slight contact, making us both gasp. “And this pussy…” the connection was obvious. Of course I’d imagined it too, but the little mynx wanted to hear it for herself.

“Did you think about it at night?” She asked, taking control of the motions I could no longer direct as she rubbed her wet cunt over my member, making me growl on her ear.

“At night, in class…” Maybe I should have felt embarrassed to admit it, but as it were, I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when it was the truth, and not when she was right here, ready to sink down on my cock, looking at me with those sinful eyes. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She bit down on her lower lip to stop the grin from taking over her face, I could see that, but it didn’t stop mine as I watched her rub the head of my member between her lips before finally starting to sink down on it.

“Fuck!” My head fell back on the couch, and I had to hold on her hips to keep control of myself, but still, she was being too slow. Opening my eyes, I saw by the smirk on her lips it was purely to tease me, but two could play at this game. 

“Keep going,” I ordered, slapping her ass before sinking my fingers on it again, for good measure. She gasped, momentarily losing control and falling further down, which was really all I needed to fuck up into her until I bottomed out.

“God, you’re so big!” She really did know how to get a man going.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Once I relinquished the control to him, there was really nothing else I could do but to hold on tight and enjoy the ride. He fucked me like he was trying to cherish every single second of this act we were sharing, probably conscious that we’d never be able to do this again.

“Such a fucking great pussy,” he groaned, fingers now probably bruising my skin as he used his grip on my hips to force my movements to match his. “I bet I can make you even louder.”

I hadn’t even realized I was screaming until he said that, feet raising to the sofa so he could find even more grip to fuck me silly. “Hold tight, sweetheart.” My hands slipped from his shoulders to the back of his neck, as I tried to keep my chest glued to his despite the brutality of his movements.

It didn’t take long for his thrusts to lose their rhythm, and I was dancing on the edge of my own orgasm too, watching a single drop of sweat make its way from his hairline until his jaw, where I leaned down to collect it with my tongue.

“Fuck.” His eyes met mine, holding my gaze hostage as the next words that fell from his lips brought me to my release. “Oh God, please tell me you’ll be mine. I need to know I’ll be able to have you like this whenever I want. Please.”

The aftershocks of my orgasm, paired with the way my pussy clenched around his member, milking his own release, had him cumming as hard as I had, eyes closed tightly and beautiful mouth hanging open as I tried to catch my breath and not lose the show at the same time.

“Do you mean it?” I had to ask, once both of us were able to speak again, still tightly embraced and deeply connected. I could feel his cum slowly seeping out of me and into his own lap.

“Of course.” His eyes searched mine for any inkling of my own feelings in regards to the revelation of his. “You’re worth the trouble it’ll be trying to keep this under wraps. Besides, Professor Stan had mentioned he’d like to seduce you, and I can’t imagine having to watch you be with another man.”

A giggle and a kiss sealed the deal, but we renegotiated the terms of our agreement a dozen of times before finally falling asleep wrapped in each other’s embrace. Thank God I was stood up today.

[assaily]

I thought about saving this one, but i’ve been sharing it around for a while, so i may as well share it here, too.

Context: Allison and Diego borrow some empathy powers and use them to try and gain some insight on Five

Allison sipped her coffee for lack of anything better to do. She dallied for a time, unsure how to proceed, suddenly aware of the heavy weight that clung to them, and wondered if this was normal. It could have been exhaustion, considering the dark shadows beneath Five’s eyes. It felt deeper than just a bad night of sleep. This was what she’d been afraid of, what she was fully expecting to find and now found herself feeling diminished beneath.

“You hungry?” she asked when Five finished his coffee.

“No,” Five answered, the question hardly a blip on his radar.

“I could eat,” Diego said. Five usually said no to the offer of food unless it was put in front of him. He couldn’t resist once it was there, thankfully, so this little dance of two siblings pretending to cook for each other and secretly cooking for Five was not new. If Five himself noticed, he never said anything about it.

Allison got up from the table, snatching Five’s mug from beneath his fingers. He had been mindlessly tracing the rim and was genuinely startled from his thoughts when Allison took it from him. He said nothing, attention suddenly on her like a scalpel. She wasn’t sure if it was the power or her own imagination that made his scrutiny feel sharper than usual. She set a skillet to heat and refilled Five’s cup before taking it back to the table for him.

Suspicion burned at the hairs on her arms and she took a step back to meet Five’s piercing gaze. “What?” she asked.

“You’re being nice,” he muttered, an observation and a question rolled into one. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know what she wanted.

“Nothing,” she reassured without thinking. “I mean,” she corrected quickly when Diego gave her a sharp look. “I’m just feeling weird and you look tired. I miss my daughter,” she admitted, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Five blinked, something swirling around them at her admittance, a little like irritation, a lot like muted affection. “I’m not your kid, Allison, you don’t need to dote on me.”

She smiled around the confusing mix dusting the room. “Refilling your coffee is hardly doting,” she replied in a daze.

He shrugged, eyes falling down from her, the sharp focus softening at last. He took a sip of the coffee and it tasted like acceptance. She turned back to the fridge, fighting a smile as she pulled the sausages from the top shelf and added them to the pan. Soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling and the smell of food; the anxiety had eased into something quiet and tired and easy to ignore.

She whisked eggs in a bowl, added milk and cheese and cooked it in the same pan as the sausage drippings once they’d finished. She divvied the food up on three plates and set them on the table. The whole meal took her less than twenty minutes, hardly any trouble at all but it felt good to do something for them. It soured when a flood of dread and disgust spilled across the table the moment she put the plate in front of Five. Her movements stuttered, taken by surprise, hesitating to watch him spear a sausage with the fork and nibble on one end like he hadn’t felt anything.

She exchanged a look with Diego, who’d paused mid-bite to watch Five as well.

Irritation suddenly simmered between them, a striking indecisiveness between anger and the urge to flee, anxiety washing over them again. It happened so fast, her and Diego nearly drowned in it. She put her own plate down before she dropped it, and moved to sit. The scrape of the chair on the floor was like someone physically hitting her.

“Five,” she said, her voice swimming.

Diego put down his fork, food untouched, and reached across the table to put a hand on Five’s shoulder. The old man vanished in a pop of light and reappeared by the counter next to the coffee pot. He poured himself another cup, his body lax and his movements smooth in sharp contrast to swirl of indignant rage pounding at the walls.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you too, but I don’t want to be involved.” He took a long slurp from the coffee, turning to regard them over the rim of it. “Play your games with someone else.” And with that he disappeared in a pop of light, leaving behind the traces of bitter irritation.

-

“Maybe it was breakfast?”

“What was wrong with eggs and sausage?” Diego asked.

Allison had no idea. Five was a bit weird about food, but she supposed surviving a few decades in an apocalypse could mess with someone’s ability to have a healthy relationship with eating. He was so skinny, and seemed to get skinnier every day. It was a challenge getting him to eat.

“Maybe he doesn’t like them.”

“Does Five like anything?” Diego asked. “Besides coffee.”

“Fluffernutters,” Allison said. It was the only thing she’d ever seen him choose for himself, besides the time he pilfered all the canned peaches from the cupboards and Klaus found them stashed under his bed. “Fruit?”

For lunch Allison asked Mom to chop up a fruit salad. Five emerged from his room around eleven a.m. like clockwork, usually for coffee. He arrived in the kitchen through one his rips, immediately splashing the room with an emotion that tasted like gunmetal. Allison couldn’t describe it other than dark, sardonic, and irritable. It twisted with the bleeding rawness she had felt earlier. 

Five stopped in the doorway, dread spilling forth when he saw her and Diego waiting for him. And he knew they’d been waiting, she could feel him realize it, suspicion mixing with the dread. He scowled at them, a classically abrasive Five expression that she wouldn’t have blinked twice at yesterday.

It was surreal feeling the tumult underneath it.

Five went for the coffee. “Is there a reason you two are still here?”

“We live here,” Diego said.

“Don’t you have a job?” He said to Diego, voice and intonation both sharp and accusing.

“It’s my day off.”

“So you spend it sitting around the kitchen? What a productive use of your time.”

“Oh yeah?” Diego asked, temper flaring predictably. “What do you do around here all day? Huh?”

A bitterness, dark and sharp, encased the room like tar, bubbling with frustration and a delicately muted rage that felt utterly ancient. There was something there Allison wasn’t quite seeing, something deeper than whatever foul mood he was in.

“Why are you mad, Five?” Allison cut the tension like a knife, going against the grain.

“I’m not angry,” Five said, most definitely defending himself.

“You came down here and immediately started picking a fight,” she pointed out, watching his eyes dart from her to Diego and back again, caught out. 

He scoffed, glancing down at the coffee cup in his hand, and she felt him switch at the realization. “Oh,” he said, folding inward on himself. Anger still shimmered off him, but it felt like he was trying to pull it back in, drink it down with the bitter burn of coffee in his throat. “The math is being uncooperative,” he gestured above his head in the general direction of his room several floors above them.

“Well you don’t have to take it out on us, you ass,” Diego said, his voice forgiving despite his words.

Shame descended like a fog, settling like an ache against her breast bone. She gestured at the table, desperate to dissipate that cloud. “Mom made fruit.”

Five glanced at her from beneath his bangs but latched onto the change in subject. “Made, huh?”

“She didn’t ‘make’ the fruit, she cut it up though. Do you want some?”

There was a bubble of emotions that came up in the form of hesitation, it was old and complicated and Allison didn’t know how to sift through it fast enough to make any sense of it. Five pursed his lips, shrugged one shoulder and stepped over, holding his coffee in one hand casually. He considered the medley, genuinely perusing the selection, which was more than she could say for breakfast. He chose a pitted peach, cut in half, pulling it from the mix with slender fingers.

“That’s all?”

“Hmm?” he paused, dropping the peach-half back into the salad.

“You can take more,” she felt compelled to inform him.

“I know,” he said, which struck her for the lie it was. She had to swallow that quickly lest it show on her face.

“Get a bowl, take as much as you want.” He could take the whole damn thing, if it pleased him, and none of them would stop him or even admonish him.

The prickle of suspicion resurfaced, and he withdrew his hand away from the bowl, staring at her. His eyes flicked to Diego, mistrust wafting up like a foul smell. He leaned back, straightening to his full height and it was like a veil descended over him, and him alone. A muting of everything, like a layer of cloud, fog, or smoke that socked him in, pushing them out. He took a sip of his coffee, still watching them, before vanishing again in a pop of light.

Diego sighed, deflating next to her. “You can’t push directly, you keep spooking him.”

She groaned in frustration, pillowing her face on her arms on the table. “And here I thought this would be easier than trying to guess.”

She startled up when a returning pop announced Five’s re-arrival. He landed inches from the table wielding a knife from god knows where, which he used to spear several large pieces of fruit. He vanished again without pretense, leaving her stunned and blinking. 

From somewhere upstairs, peach flavored delight bloomed on her tongue.

[togetherwearerapture]

Boundary (Ethan x MC x Tobias?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine) x (hints of) Tobias Carrick

Description: Tobias and Elle get to know each other while working on a case. Tobias pushes some boundaries.

Warnings: A few curse words, underlying health problems. Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: Something a bit different, but I very much enjoyed writing this. There’s no overt Tobias x MC, so this is hopefully something Ethan stans can enjoy reading too. If PB won’t give me what I want, I guess write it myself lol 

*********

It’s early Fall, yet despite this fact and the hospital’s ‘Bloom-and-improved’ ventilation systems, the diagnostics office feels uncomfortably hot. Elle feels a prickling heat across her back, one that she has become accustomed to of late. The façade she’s wearing is beginning to feel like an actual mask, all clinical-scented and restrictive and artificial.

And yet, this is not a mask she’s wearing on a crowded, sweltering T carriage. Her discomfort is unwarranted; there are, after all, only three of them in the room.

Oblivious, Ethan and Harper continue their conversation. She’s tuned out long ago, but she catches the premise- something that Dr Yannick once said at a conference in New York several years ago.

If she really tried, Elle knows she could search for a moment to join in the discussion. But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s tired of searching for sidegates to enter their house of conversation, instead of ever being invited through the front door.

She tries her hardest to appear relaxed, unbothered, indifferent. But her uneasiness spills into her mannerisms, like water through a cracked pot. Manicured nails drum erratically on the top of her thigh. Her top teeth tug, over and over again, at her lips. The apex of her stiletto heel taps the diagnostic office floor like a furious knife.

She likes and respects Harper very much, and her feelings for Ethan, both as a diagnostician and as her romantic partner are unfathomable. But as juvenile as it sounds, she’s so tired of being shut out.

A whooshing of the sliding doors breaks her out of her reverie, and she and the two other occupants of the room look up. Tobias Carrick strides in, all beams and bravado.

Her own notion takes her by surprise, but somehow, she thinks, his arrival is the breath of fresh air she so desperately needs.

“Goooood morning team!” he chimes brightly. Once again, his arms are laden with a trayful of drinks.

“Morning,” Elle offers him a warm smile, Harper echoing her words.

Ethan nods towards the drinks.

“Another round on you?”

“Sure is, but this isn’t just any old round, Ethan,” Tobias replies. “Now I’ve spent a week on the team, I take great pride in this being the first drinks order that’s just right, for all of you.”

Ethan quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Tobias grins, and plucks the first drink off the tray.

“Harper,” he presents her with an extravagant looking drink. “Chocolate frappucino. Double the sugar, double the caffeine. The Friday OR schedule is always jam packed, so I reckon you’ll need it.”

“You got that right, I’ve got two laminectomies today,” she sighs, although the passion for her job shines through her eyes. She takes a sip from her drink. “No complaints from me!”

“Excellent,” Tobias grins. “Ethan- a Vienna for you. Classic, refined, and,” he winks, “only a little pretentious.”

Ethan accepts the drink with a roll of his eyes, as Tobias moves around the desk to Elle.

“And now, for you Elle,” he hands her the third cup. “I must admit, for you I went out on a whim. I just hope my guess is a lucky one.”

Curiosity piqued, Elle presses the rim to her lips. She is aware of the eyes of both Tobias and Ethan following her action with interest. Mild, pleasant citrus swims onto her palate.

“Lemon balm?” she asks Tobias. He nods. “You going to elaborate?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’ve noticed that I’ve never seen you with a coffee before 4pm, so I figured you like to limit caffeine earlier in the day. And I’ve seen you make up a couple of herbal teas before. I took a gamble and figured you’d like this one.”

“Impressive guess, Carrick,” Elle nods, amused. She takes a sip. “It’s good, thank you.”

“Those are some very…astute observations” says Ethan stiffly, as Tobias takes a seat beside Elle. “Maybe you can put your perceptiveness to better use for our next case.”

He slides three manila envelopes across the table, and the team begin to peruse.

“Jake Adams. 17-year-old male admitted last night, with multiple cardiac arrests,” Ethan begins. “He collapsed at school, was unresponsive, no signs of life, but luckily a fellow student was able to perform high-quality CPR until the paramedics arrived. Heart rhythm on their defibrillator was ventricular fibrillation, he was shocked, back to normal sinus rhythm. Between the scene, being loaded onto the stretcher, in the ambulance and arriving here, he arrested and was shocked again 5 more times.”

“Jesus, poor boy,” murmurs Elle, a crease forming between her brows.

“Cardiology have asked us if we can determine the cause of the arrest, which will of course determine the treatment,” Ethan explains.

“This case only came in last night and since he’s now on life support, we’re able to bypass Bloom’s absurd judicial performance and get straight into it,” Harper adds. “Actually, Ethan and I discussed it at length before you both arrived, and we have some solid ideas.”

Elle looks up from the file, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“So I’m thinking Long QT syndrome, or maybe Brugada,” says Harper.

“They would definitely explain the spontaneous cardiac arrest,” Ethan adds, “Harper and I have ordered genetic testing for both on immediate family members already.”

“Any family history of sudden cardiac death?” Tobias asks.

“Not that we know of,” says Ethan. “But that wouldn’t rule it out.”

Elle frowns slightly as she browses the file. The tests ordered so far are scant, and in her mind, there are several pieces of the diagnostic puzzle missing. But this didn’t seem to stop Harper and Ethan steamrollering ahead, and seemingly settling on a diagnosis before the case had even been presented.

“Does Jake have a-”

“Do you remember that patient with Brugada syndrome who came in for a study a few years ago, Ethan?” Harper turns to Ethan suddenly.

“Ah yes, Paul?” Ethan chuckles, “he was quite a character.”

As Harper and Ethan drift off once again, Elle glances up to see Tobias looking at her quizzically. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Tobias clears his throat.

“Hate to interrupt your…uh…stroll down memory lane,” he begins. “But Elle was about to ask a question about the case, and you both spoke over her.”

The three other diagnosticians turn to Tobias, and a tense silence hangs in the air. After a beat, Harper speaks up.

“I’m sorry Elle,” she says, sincerely. “That was out of line, please continue.”

Tobias turns to Ethan expectantly, who meets Elle’s eye.

Something flickers across his face for a moment, a mixture of shame, guilt, embarrassment, perhaps? It’s a look that Elle can’t quite place. Then, his eyes skim to Tobias and he coughs awkwardly.

“Yes…thank you Tobias. We did speak over you, Elle, I apologise. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if he had a 15-Lead ECG.”

“Not yet,” Harper replies.

“Then until he has one, I don’t think you can consider Brugada syndrome,” says Elle. “We’d need to do an ajmaline challenge too. I can see from the echocardiogram reports in here that he has a structurally normal heart, so we can definitely exclude congenital heart disease as the cause. But for me personally,” she gestures to the file, “there’s a lot missing in here. About what actually happened.”

“How do you mean?” Ethan asks.

“About the context of the cardiac arrest. All we know is that he was at school, but what was he doing? Was he doing anything strenuous, did it happen at rest? There’s a lot more I’d like to know.”

The rest of the team nod thoughtfully.

“I agree…if it happened during exertion, there’s a few other things we could rule out,” says Tobias.

“Exactly,” says Elle. “I think we should consider catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia.”

“You’re thinking CPVT?” asks Ethan, interested. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yes, and it’s one I’d like to investigate more by visiting the school, and finding out more about what happened” says Elle.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harper responds, twirling her fountain pen between her fingers. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you on your expedition. Like Tobias said, I’ve got a full day in the OR.”

The rest of the team turn to Ethan, who hesitates.

“I…have a meeting with Naveen and the board until lunch,” he says. “Which-”

“-means it’s just you and me, Valentine!” exclaims Tobias, clapping his hands together. “Oh boy, I’ve been looking forward to my first house call with the diagnostics team. We’re going to be on some scooby doo shit, Elle!”

“I beg your pardon?” says Ethan, scowling. Elle can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That settles it then, me and Elle will go to the school,” says Tobias, standing up from his chair. At the same time, Harper gets a page that her surgery is starting and bids them a hurried farewell.

“I was going to say, which means the three of us can go this afternoon once I’m finished,” Ethan says stiffly, as Harper heads out. Tobias shoots him a bemused look.

“I’d rather not wait,” says Elle flatly.

Ethan has wasted enough time in their meetings by bringing up pointless anecdotes with Harper, and she’s very keen to revert her focus to the patients, to diagnostics- the things she loves.

“Me and Valentine will be just fine, E. After all, I’m sure what happened with Jake is still pretty raw to the kids and staff, we’ll need to handle it delicately. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Tobias flashes Elle a smile.

The same look as before flashes across Ethan’s face, although this time, Elle thinks, it has less of the awkwardness and embarrassment and more of the…something else. His bright blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he looks between Tobias and the woman of his affections.

“Alright,” he sighs finally. “We’ll reconvene when you’re back.”

“Let’s get this show on the road!” says Tobias happily. “To the mystery machine!”

He crosses the room to retrieve his car keys from his bag, while Ethan turns to Elle, and this time, the look of concern is undeniable.

“If you need anything,” he closes some of the distance between them and lowers his voice just a little, “just call me.”

“I think we can handle it,” says Elle, not unkindly. “Enjoy your meeting. And tell Naveen I said hello.”

And with that, she and Tobias leave the office.

********

A short while later, Elle and Tobias are riding in his blue Mercedes S-Class on the way to Jake’s school, a short drive away in South Quincy.

“Not exactly the mystery machine, huh?” says Elle, glancing around at the plush interior.

Tobias shrugs.

“The same colour, at least.”

Boston blurs by as Tobias pulls into a main road, and Elle turns to look at him. His side profile is unmistakably handsome. He drives one handed, the other resting on his thigh.

“So, how’s June?”

He gives a wry half smile, and glances at her.

“Is that your way of asking if we’re still sleeping together?”

“No!” says Elle, honestly. “I’m just wondering how she’s fitting in at Mass Ken. I mean, she left Edenbrook when she thought the ship was going to sink. I got the impression she was pretty keen to be working on your team, now I can’t help but think now you’ve come here, Aurora too…don’t you think she’s been left kinda high and dry?”

“In all honesty, I haven’t seen her for a while, and don’t expect to again anytime soon,” Tobias admits. “But trust me, Hirata will be just fine. She’s head of the team there now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows, impressed.

“I’d say she moves fast, but actually, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“She was pissed as hell when I said I was leaving, don’t get me wrong,” says Tobias. “But she’s the strongest diagnostician on that team, and the strongest player too.”

“Player?”

“She knows how to play the game. She’ll have no trouble asserting herself as the new leader, running the show the way she wants to.”

Elle thinks back to her time working with June. The way she changed her personality to gain patients’ trust…and Elle’s. Distant anger simmers at the back of her mind, as she remembers how June stole her employee file.

“I agree…office politics was always child’s play for June.”

“Speaking of,” says Tobias as they stop at a red light. He turns to look at her. “The meeting this morning seemed very…uh…political.”

Elle pauses as feels the uncomfortable tingling rise in her chest. She could ask “what are you talking about?”, but she knows exactly what he’s talking about. And there’s something about Carrick that makes her want to cut the crap, to be upfront. So she is.

“You mean Harper and Ethan…”

“Yeah, that. Whatever the hell that was.”

Elle is silent.

“Does that…happen a lot?”

“More often than I’d like.”

“Well, good job I’m here then,” he grins.

Elle’s head whips around.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t appreciate the out.”

She rounds on him.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear, I don’t need you to fight my battles” says Elle angrily. “Since Harper joined, every time the two of them have gone off track, I’ve steered them back on. I’m here for the patient, to solve the case, and nothing is going to detract my focus from that. That’s the way it’s going to stay, with or without your “outs”, Tobias.”

Tobias chuckles.

“You’re feisty Elle, I like it.” His eyes sweep over her from head to toe, which makes Elle feel more angry, but also, inexplicably, makes her stomach flutter a little.

“What I mean is,” Tobias speaks more seriously; sensing her anger, but mercifully oblivious to the other sensation, “I hope you know you’ve got someone else in your corner Elle. I know how much you care about your patients, and I know Bloom’s going to make life for the team difficult, and try and undermine our every move. That’s not helped when it feels like you’re not listened to by the actual people in it. You’re an excellent doctor Elle, and I value your input. The others should too.”

Elle is dumbstruck. She still doesn’t know what to make of Tobias Carrick; she had picked up pieces and hints from the scattered stories she’d heard from Ethan, most recently in their walk through the rose garden. But while considering the perspective and feelings of the man she so deeply cares for, she acknowledges it is biased. Elle knows that she has good reason to be wary of Tobias; it was not just Ethan he had toyed with, after all- Aurora had been burned by him too.

But, Tobias had helped to save her life. And the genuine smile that he gave her through the contamination screens of that cursed room, on the worst day of her life, had always stayed with her.

So, with a pinch of salt ready between her fingers, Elle decided from the moment he joined the team, that she would form her own opinion of him.

It occurs to her then, just how much Ethan sees the world in black and white. But Tobias Carrick is very much a shade of grey.

Before she can respond to him, the GPS on Tobias’ dash declares that they are arriving at their destination, and sure enough, Elle sees the school up ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” murmurs Tobias as he pulls in through the school gates. “Looks like we’re expected.”

They park up and head over to the school steps, surrounded by blossom trees, where a middle aged woman offers them a watery smile and extends a hand.

“Ah, hello…the doctors from Edenbrook, I presume?” she asks. “I’m Helena Brady, the principal of Greenview High.”

“Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone,” says Elle. “I’m Dr Eleanor Valentine, and this is Dr Tobias Carrick. We’re here to speak to the people that were with Jake when he collapsed?”

“I’m afraid it’s just the one person,” says Helena gravely, leading them through the school. “His friend Charlie was the only one who saw it, and then ran for help. How is Jake doing?”

“He’s still in a coma, but stable,” says Tobias. “The most important thing for us to help him, is find out from Charlie some more about the collapse, and go from there.”

Helena nods, as they come to a stop outside a small office.

“We’ve all been praying for him, it’s so tragically sad…nothing like this has ever happened to a student before,” she sniffs stoically. “Thank you for your work doctors, but please, be gentle with the boy. He’s still very shaken.”

Elle smiles at her reassuringly.

“We will be, don’t worry.”

As Tobias and Elle knock and enter the room, the boy springs to his feet, eyes wild.

“You’re the doctors…how’s Jake, is he-oh god is he-is he dead?” he cries.

“No, Jake is ok. He’s been through a lot, but he’s recovering,” says Elle gently. Charlie sinks back into his chair, though his knees are still quaking.

“It’s Charlie right?” Tobias asks, pulling up a chair. “I’m Tobias and this is Elle. We’re Jake’s doctors. Do you know why we’re here today?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Charlie sniffs. “Principal Brady said you were here to talk to me about Jake…I was so scared, I thought, I thought that meant he had died.”

Elle kneels in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his knee.

“I’m really sorry that us coming made you think that, Charlie,” she says. “It must have been really tough watching Jake collapse like that, I’m not surprised you’re thinking the worst. But we think we can help Jake get better, we just need your help.”

Some of the tension seems to leave Charlie’s body upon hearing this; his shudders subside. He pulls anxiously at the strings of his hoodie, unruly teenage bangs falling over his forehead.

“So, Charlie,” Tobias asks as Elle pulls up a chair beside him, “do you think you could tell us a bit more about what Jake was doing when you saw him collapse? Had he been running, exercising, working out?”

“No,” Charlie says quietly. “He wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“That’s really helpful Charlie, thank you,” says Elle. “Can you tell us if he standing up or sitting down? Did he lose his balance or seem dizzy? Did he complain of feeling ill, or funny in any sort of way before it happened?”

Charlie stiffens.

“No. He was-we were-we were arguing.”

Tobias and Elle exchange a quick look.

“Is Jake your friend, Charlie?” Tobias asks.

“No! No he’s not, and I’m so sick of pretending he is!” Charlie shouts. “Jake’s my boyfriend!” Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry,” says Elle. “You said you were pretending…does anyone else know that?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“No. That’s what we were arguing about,” he accepts a tissue that Elle offers, blowing his nose.

“Take your time, Charlie,” says Tobias, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “It’s ok.”

After a few deep breaths, Charlie steels himself.

“We’ve been dating for three years, kind of in secret, kind of not,” he explains. “My parents know I’m gay, and they’re fine with it. They’ve met Jake before and they love him, they know we’re together. But he’s not even out to his parents, they just think we’re friends.”

He sniffs.

“Now we’re in senior year, we’re both looking at colleges, and we want to go to different ones. We’d be living five hours apart. I don’t know if we can make the long-distance work, especially if his parents don’t know about us. In the times we’d both be back home, they wouldn’t understand why he’d want to spend a lot of that time with me. But the one thing I just really, really wanted, was for us to go to senior prom together. As a couple, you know? To just dress up together, get photos together, dance together, one last time before we leave.”

“And Jake…wasn’t on board with that?” asks Elle.

“He was,” says Charlie. “He said he really wanted to. He just…wasn’t on board with the part of that which meant he’d have to come out to his parents.”

“I see,” says Tobias.

Charlie’s eyes begin to fill with tears again.

“I was saying, before he collapsed, that he didn’t love me,” he cries. “That he must not love me if he’s not prepared to come out. He was getting so upset, begging me, telling me of course he loved me, he was just scared, and then-” he sobs. “Then he was on the floor.”

Elle kneels beside him again, taking both his hands in her own.

“I’ve been googling stuff that could have caused it,” Charlie sniffles. “I saw there’s this condition, some long one beginning with, a C, I think, that means people’s hearts can give out when they’re stressed.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow, somewhat impressed at the boy’s diagnostic skills.

“What if-what if I could’ve killed him, because of the argument? And I told him he must not love me, I didn’t even mean it, I know how hard it is to come out, I didn’t mean to-” he buries his head in his hands.

“Charlie- Charlie listen to me,” says Elle. “It’s true, that we think Jake might have a condition called CPVT. It means that certain situations, like exercise, or stress, can cause the heart to go into an abnormal rhythm. But that does not mean, whatsoever, that any of this is your fault. We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment, when we’re angry. If Jake does have this condition, and we’ll have to run a couple more tests to know that for sure, then it means that we can treat it, and stop it from happening again. It could have happened to him at anytime, anywhere, but he was lucky enough to be with you. You’ve helped him have a lucky escape.”

“R-really?” asks Charlie.

“Really,” says Tobias, who is on his feet. He lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  “Your principal was telling us earlier that you did CPR on Jake while you got others to run for help?”

“Yes,” Charlie mutters, looking up at Tobias.

“Well Charlie, I think you saved his life.”

Charlie’s eyes gleam with hope.

“What are you applying for at college?” Tobias asks.

“Um..cardiac nursing,” he says.

“Very fitting. You’ll always be welcome at Edenbrook for some work experience.” Tobias smiles, genuinely. It’s the same smile Elle remembers from after the attack.

“Do you think, then, that he’ll be ok?” Charlie asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do,” smiles Elle. “And I think that you and Jake will be ok too.”

****************

Some time later, Elle steps out of the school. After speaking at length with the school counsellor, she had made sure that Charlie had some extensive therapy sessions in place. Tobias is waiting for her at the foot of the steps, beneath the blossom trees, and she is surprised to see he has a cigarette in hand.

“You smoke?” she raises an eyebrow at him as she approaches. “I thought you’d know better, Tobias.”

He takes a drag.

“Vices, Valentine,” he quips. “We all have them.”

Elle vaguely remembers Ethan had once said the same thing about butter.

“Carcinogens, though. Really?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I’m dirty, what can I say?”

He dutifully puts out the cigarette, as Elle gives him a reproachful look, and turns to her.

“You were good in there, with him,” says Tobias.

“Thanks…so were you.”

“We make a good team,” he smiles, and his expression softens a little. “That was kinda heavy though. You bearing up ok?” he asks.

Elle nods.

“I’m fine. I just hope Charlie will be ok, I really want to make sure he starts therapy as soon as possible.  I know how much of a difference it made for me, after the attack.”

She trails off, and Tobias seems to sense the darkness clouding over her eyes. The mild September breeze sifts through the blossom trees above them with a gentle sigh.

“I don’t think I ever actually said this to you,” says Elle quietly, “but thank you. For helping to save me and Raf, that day.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds. “I wanted to do everything I could to help.”

He pauses only briefly before continuing.

“You know, out of everything that happened that day, all the work we did in the lab trying to find an antidote…the one thing I remember most is how Ethan was in that room. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that before. About anyone, or anything.”

A sudden chill trickles down her neck, goosebumps erupt on her forearms; a million tiny foothills.

Since their conversation in the car after Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Ethan had never really spoken in depth about his own feelings during the attack. Sometimes, in early hours when they laid in bed together, with the rain hammering against his window, she would mention it.

And every time, she would see his eyes darken with so many unsaid words. He would fix his gaze desperately on her like she was evaporating steam, set to vanish from existence in a matter of moments. His hold on her waist would tighten, fingertips tracing her soft skin as if to remind himself she wasn’t a ghost.

There had been whispers in his bed in the stillness of the night, when they were both half asleep. He had uttered sleepy confessions and declarations to her; some so heartfelt and moving, she still questioned whether they were real or if she had dreamt them.

More often straight after the attack, but still now sometimes, she would wake in his arms to find him already looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder, pain, and something else that she was starting to place.

‘Why are you awake?’ she would gently murmur.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I-had a nightmare.’

She would press herself closer to his chest, feel his strong arms encircling her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘I’m here, Ethan.’

‘I know. I’m…so glad you are.’

She is jolted to the present with Tobias’ voice.

“Even if he didn’t show it this morning…Ethan’s got it bad for you, you know.”

Elle cranes her neck to look up at him- at the man who shares so much history with Ethan. He’s almost as tall as her lover, but slightly less built, shoulders not quite as broad. Alike in many ways, but different in so many others.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” she asks, without breaking eye contact. “You had it all at Mass Kenmore. You’re an excellent diagnostician, you could have gone anywhere. Why, of all people, would you want to come and work for Ethan, someone you have such a complicated past with?”

Tobias’ hazel eyes, a contrast to Ethan’s azure blue’s, look into hers deeply. She knows that there’s something hiding beneath their golden depths; either earnestness, an ulterior motive, or perhaps something more complicated- a mixture of both.

He takes a step towards her, raising his hand towards her face. Her breath hitches, then climaxes in a soft exhale, when he simply removes a lone blossom petal that has settled on the lapel of her white coat. She wonders what exactly she had been expecting him to do.

Tobias twists his tongue between his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes roam over her from head to toe. This close, Elle can smell his cologne. It’s good; notes of leather and pine and exotism drift to her olfactory nerve. It’s a contrast to her favourite aftershave of Ethan’s, which smelled like bergamot, cedar, and home.

Tobias drops the petal to the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m here Elle,” he murmurs, “because I want to push boundaries.”

********************

Ethan leans against his desk, fingertips drumming impatiently. His meeting had been finished for a while now, but he was still waiting for Elle and Tobias to return.

His old rival’s keenness to go on an outreach call with Elle had stirred something within him. Something in his head had switched on. A distant alarm bell that had been silent for some time, had started to ring.

Lost in thought, he mulls over the events of the morning.

He’d done it again.

He, and Harper, had spoken over Elle when she was trying to talk about the patient. Not only that, he recognises now, but before Tobias had entered the room, the two of them had been reminiscing about something that didn’t involve Elle in the slightest.

He doesn’t know why he keeps slipping up. He harbours no romantic feelings for Harper whatsoever, but he’s been enjoying the chance to work more closely with her, the friendly conversations, to share stories and experiences.

But they haven’t just been work related, he thinks. Did I really need to bring up the flamenco lessons? Or Gaston’s? He recalls the look on her face when he’d told Elle he planned to take her there because of its intimacy, immediately after discussing it with Harper. Before Elle’s forced smile and her gracious reply of “I’d like that,” he’d always thought he had caught a flicker of dismay, of hurt, on her features.

Now he’s certain it was more than a flicker.

I don’t deserve her, he thought.

With a swoosh, the doors of the diagnostics office open. He sees the familiar head of immaculately coiffed blonde locks, and as his eyes travel down to Elle’s beautiful face, his heart soars, and he can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Elle!” he says happily, pushing himself up of the desk.

I missed you, he foolishly finds himself wanting to say, despite the fact that like most days at work, it’s only been a few hours since he’s seen her. But as his eyes travel to Tobias following her in, he keeps the admission to himself.

“We have an answer,” says Elle triumphantly. “We’ve listed Jake for an ICD insertion tomorrow morning.”

“It was CPVT?” Ethan asks.

“Yep,” says Tobias. “Elle’s hunch was right. Turns out it was an argument with his boyfriend that brought on the cardiac arrest. We ran a test for CPVT as soon as we got back, while you were still in the meeting, and it’s positive.”

Elle smiles brightly.

“Jake’s going to be okay.”

Ethan beams. He’s exceptionally proud of her.

“Excellent work Elle,” he leans forward to squeeze her arm, as bold a gesture as he dares while they have company. “And thanks Tobias, for helping out.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Tobias. He looks pointedly at Elle, then adds, “believe me.”

An unpleasant sensation coils in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He tries to push it down.

As Tobias crosses the room to take a phone call, he steps closer to Elle, lowering his voice.

“Listen Elle, about earlier. I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tentatively taking her hand in his own. He caresses her tiny fingers with his thumb. “It’s unacceptable for me to talk over you in meetings, and I…know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and that there are, uh, other things. I’m sorry if my actions have ever made you feel excluded.”

Elle’s bright green eyes look into his thoughtfully, though she says nothing; silently willing him to continue.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I think a date night between us is long overdue. Can I take you for dinner tonight?” he asks. A flash of hope, along with the tinge of dismay he remembers from before, travels across her face. “Not Gaston’s,” he adds quickly. “I want to find somewhere new with you. For us.”

Her face floods with warmth, eyes gazing into his searchingly. He desperately scans her beautiful face, seeking some inkling of her true feelings; the ones he knows she’s bottling up.

“You’re right, it is long overdue,” she says finally, her gaze steady. “And I’d really like that, to find somewhere new to go to dinner with you. But I can’t do tonight.”

His heart sinks a little, and as if sensing this, like she always seems to, she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I’m out for drinks with Si, Aurora and Jackie tonight. But we’ll go soon.”

She offers him a soft smile, which he returns.

It doesn’t quite quell the slight but unmistakable feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It’s guilt, it’s the gnawing thought that he will never be good enough for her, the idea that he’s taken her for granted.

Worst of all, there is the completely irrational, but terrible notion that he could lose her.

And somehow, the thought that he could lose her in living rather than in death, as he had once feared, is almost more terrible.

She gently lets go of his hand. On the other side of the room, Tobias hangs up the phone.

“I’m going to go and speak to Jake’s parents,” says Elle, slipping off and readjusting her white coat.

Ethan’s eyes travel over her form-fitting pencil skirt, clinging to her delicate body in all the right places.

He doesn’t miss the way Tobias’ do the same. Then, as if knowing he’s being watched, he looks up at Ethan. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Ethan wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw.

“We’ll check in later, once Harper’s finished surgery?” she asks, breaking the two men out of their reverie.

Ethan nods, and Elle bids them goodbye. The click of her heels on the linoleum echoes into the tense silence. Then, he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Could you be,” Ethan begins through gritted teeth, “a little more fucking subtle, Carrick?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I can’t help it, Ethan, and clearly neither can you. A woman like that, body like that…we’re just as powerless as any other red-blooded male.”

Ethan curls his fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Don’t talk about Elle like that. I won’t have you disrespecting her in that way,” he spits, taking a step towards him.

“You want to talk about disrespecting her?” counters Tobias, unflinching. “Because I think taking a stroll down memory lane with your ex, every five minutes, is pretty disrespectful to the woman you’re currently fucking.”

Ethan is stunned. Had she told Tobias that it had happened before? Did she tell him they were seeing eachother, or had Tobias clocked it himself? What exactly had they talked about while they were away?

“Elle is- she’s off limits,” he snaps, the only response his seething mind is able to come up with.

Tobias smiles, satisfied at seeing the other man riled up. Then, infuriatingly, he turns away.

“Who decided that, Ethan?” he says quietly over his shoulder “Her or you?”

And with that, Tobias turns and leaves.

*******

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this far! I wanted to explore the dynamic between Elle and Tobias, and the way I wrote him in this fic reflects my own thoughts about him; I think he’s a good guy, as demonstrated by him helping to save her life and his thoughtfulness, but I’m definitely suspicious of his ulterior motives and his past actions. I also wanted the sexual tension between Ethan, Elle and Tobias, and was hoping that PB would make Tobias call out Ethan shutting her out of meetings. They didn’t deliver so I did it myself lol Also wanted Ethan to start feeling insecure about the way he’s been treating Elle since his behaviour has been trash thanks to the OOC writing, but I still love him

[savagenutella46]

boy was my face red (2/2)

Part 1! DICKINETTE

Marinette sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Dick had sent a text message, and while the gesture wasn't uncommon, it was the context inside. The vague, two-worded message that settled unprecedented worry deep in her bones.

Dickie: It's Barbara.

She hadn't responded. Of course she hadn't, because, why would she? How would she respond to something like that other than dropping everything at her part time job as a barista and come barreling home?

Especially when it's about Barbara Gordon.

Barbara Gordon was everything she wasn't and more. Barbara was tall, red-headed, and beautiful, while Marinette continuously fell on the literal short end of the scale compared to her.

Barbara Gordon was exactly Dick's type. Smart, cunning, and played an important role in society.

And Marinette liked to make dresses.

—But, they had been having relationship problems, hadn't they? She'd witnessed the dismayed look on Dick's face he'd often had after hanging out with the red-haired woman. The slam of the door that so often abruptly broke the comfortable silence of their dorm when he'd come home after a fight.

"Don't think like that." She whispered to herself. Marinette was standing idly outside the heavy door that led to their dorm, stalling.

Do it. Go inside. He's waiting.

Marinette placed a shaky hand on the brass doorknob and waited for a sign. A text, or a tell-tale noise from inside the dorm.

Nothing.

She swung the door open and immediately, muffled sniffles from Dick's room filtered through her haze of disappointment, shaking the undertone of guilt-ridden excitement as she stalks down the hallway to his bedroom.

"Dickie?" No answer, just sniffles that continued to float through the air and thoroughly continue to crush her heart into tiny pieces. Her throat squeezed in anticipation, and her face crunched up.

Marinette knocked on his bedroom door hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Dick's voice cracked pitifully in the middle of the word, and Marinette tightened her grip on his doorknob and swung the door open, quickly rushing to his side.

Dick looked like a mess. His long hair that was usually swept in place stuck out all over the place, some of it looked a little wet, as well. Dick was laying in his bed under rumpled sheets, clutching a blue striped pillow to his chest tightly, his face buried into the top of the tear-stained covering.

Marinette sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair as his body shook with muffled sobs. "Dick, I'm so sorry." Dick let out a slightly more audible sob when she started to rub his back.

He looked up, and, shit. Marinette's heart lodged itself in her already constricting throat.

There were dark circles the size of California resting under Dick's eyes. He peered up at her through red-rimmed eyes, and tears that quickly spilled over his eyelids when he blinked fast enough to rid them.

Worst of all, there was no spark of joy she always saw on his face, nor his eyes, nor his body language. There was not a single trace of warmth or recognition in his eyes, and it chilled her to the bone to see her best friend so affected by Barbara Gordon.

She wanted to strangle the red-haired woman in that very moment. Her throat squeezed with both hatred and guilt for letting such a woman break her best friend's heart.

"She—she broke up with me, Marinette-" Ouch, what did she do to deserve her full name? "—she left me." Dick squeezed his eyes shut again, and crumpled into himself, his body rattling and shaking like a leaf from unrestrained sobs.

Marinette bit her lip and wrapped herself around Dick, squeezing her arms hard around his middle and burying her head into the crook of his neck. "She's a fool. You're amazing, Dick." Marinette whispered, almost inaudible.

—but he heard, she was sure, because he froze, and for a moment, she felt almost felt it was the wrong thing to say. Marinette had nothing else to say, so she tightened her arms around him, but, he turned around in her grip, loosening it slightly.

Dick stared at her, almost too intensely, and Marinette felt a flush rise to her neck, his sobs minutely subsiding, but not completely, tears starting to absently roll down his face, and hiccups fighting their way up Dick's throat.

"You—" Dick swallowed a hiccup, "You really mean that?" He stared at Marinette, with such a newfound intensity that almost made her choke, and it would have if it wasn't for the hurt lingering in his expression and the fat tears still racing down his pale cheeks.

Marinette floundered for a response, cornered by his hopeful, yet hurt expression. "Of course, Dickie. You—someone like that isn't worth your tears. You—" She smiled awkwardly, and reached for his limp hands, and squeezing. "Dick, someone like you...you deserve someone who knows your worth."

Because Dick was worth everything. Barbara was truly a fool to break up with him.

Dick audibly swallowed. He looked down at their hands, conjoined tightly, soft against one another, sans the permanent calluses on Dick's palm from acrobatics as a child.

Marinette rubbed his palm absently, humming to awkwardly break the stretching silence that seemed to envelope them at her words. Her stupid, stupid words; a sentence that surely made him internally scoff at her obvious pining.

But, suddenly, Dick was hugging her again. Her best friend's arms were wrapping tightly around her middle and squeezing just about the life out of her, murmuring to himself incoherently.

"—ank you, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much that means to me." He was muttering to her.

Marinette's eyes widened at the warmth soaking into her shirt and realized he was crying again. "Oh, you're welcome, Dick."

"I love you."

Words so silent she'd forgotten to actually understand them instead of just hearing them, continuing to stroke his back softly.

The worst part about when your best friend gets their heartbroken, is the sudden extra person constantly clinging onto your arm and using all your hair appliances; and with the passing months, Dick had become her other half, quite literally.

"You're going to fry your hair at this rate." Dick grinned and shook his head, his alarmingly stubborn soft hair swinging around with the sudden motion and settling behind his neck, a tad overgrown so that it sat under the nape of his neck, but it was nice to run her hands through.

They were sitting on the couch, almost like conjoined twins with how their legs and shoulders seemed to plaster themselves together. Empty ice cream pints and various fast food takeout littered the coffee table and couch around them as the television blared Hell's Kitchen in the background.

"If that means my hair looks good, then so be it." It really did, but she's hate to see the notion of his luscious locks last less than a millennia. Especially with how the moonlight currently reflected off of it, making him look almost angelic.

Yes, her bestfriend was beautiful, and, yes, she was jealous. And what about it?

Marinette chose to remain silent instead of quipping back; the bastard was not going to laugh at her again.

No, because when Dick laughed, angels sang, and when he laughed, she was reminded of her big fat crush on Dick Grayson.

She reached for his hand, and squeezed it tightly, stubbornly training her eyes on Gordon Ramsay yelling at a blue team chef for undercooking scallops instead of looking for a reaction in Dick. Marinette felt as if she would actually combust if she even looked in his general direction, her face flushing a deep red from the sheer silence to her left.

A few minutes passed, each one with a growing intensity in silence that lodged a heavy lump in her throat and squeezed the air out of her. Hell's Kitchen continued to drone on in the background, each scene providing a different tinted glow to their faces in the dark of the night.

Marinette was sure Dick could feel the damp sweat soaking her palms, the heat soaking through her hand to his. She was so sure he would pull away out of disgust—then his hands went slack in her hold.

Marinette stopped breathing. She turned her head to the side, slowly. It was hard to make out the details of his face underneath the absence of light, but his expression was calm, naturally relaxed.

Dick was sleeping.

She swallowed harshly, the heavy ball of saliva easing its way down her throat and a symphony of relief flooding her nerves, flushing the red-hot embarrassment out of her system.

It would be so easy to tell him right now. To lift the heavy weight off her chest so she could breathe properly for the first time in two years. Marinette could tell him anything she wanted to and he wouldn't know. She ran her free hand through his hair slowly, relishing in the silky smooth glide of her hand in Dick's locks.

"Love you." She opted for, instead. It could be seen as painfully platonic, though her tone was thick and wavered at the end, the meaning of her words breaking through the seems of her poorly placed disguise.

She's in class, picking out a few fabrics on the rack for a shirt she so meticulously designed when he called.

Or, called out to her. In the middle of class.

Dick sprinted into the room, narrowly missing a full on concussion to a heavy clothing rack on his way in, bracing his hands on red knees to catch his breath once he had caught up to her.

Marinette cleared her throat, taking a sweep of the room with her eyes, and, yep, they were all looking at her and Dick; some with a knowing look on their face—damn you, Steph—and ones with utter curiosity.

"Uh," Marinette turned her attention back to the man crouching before her with wide eyes. "Dickie? You okay?" Dick wheezed in response, clutching his knees even harder.

"I," Dick gasped. "I ran...three miles—" Another wheeze. "To get to your class." He rushed out, straightening up with one last deep grasp for breath before fully opening his eyes at her, and, woah.

An unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes told a whole different story. Staring intensely, deeply into her own, they conveyed a message so strong it almost had her gasping for air.

(Not that she'd ever do that. What an overplayed cliché.)

An undertone of apology, although underwhelmed by the sheer amount of excitement and happiness that stretched his mouth from ear to ear in the perfect grin, she hadn’t seen this since—

(“Nettie!” The dorm door slammed with Dick’s arrival, the noticeable octave change in his voice giving away his rattling happiness.

Marinette smiled from her lazy perch on their brown, holed up couch, spurred on by her best friend’s good mood to wash over her, too. “What happened, Dickie?” Dick bounded over to her, bright blue eyes shining even more with an unprecedented gleam, his shiny hair bouncing as he plopped down in front of her, bracing his hands on her shoulders.

“You’ll never believe it!” Dick grinned toothily, squeezing her shoulders periodically as he stopped to laugh boisterously with his head hung low, hiding his expression.

Marinette could feel his excitement seep into her, and grinned. “Tell me, Dickie.”

“I asked Barbara out, and she said yes!”

A static noise filled her ears. Marinette stopped breathing as Dick’s words hit her full on, momentarily stopping on their way past to slap and laugh at her face before continuing on their journey. She could feel the aggression climbing up her shoulders where Dick’s hands rested, beckoning to rip them off and tear him a new one.

She couldn’t. He was so—)

Happy. Dick looked so happy, and for a moment, Marinette had almost forgotten how to speak.

“...Dick?” Had he found someone new, again? Did he come over all the way to design class Three miles away from their dorm to come and break her heart for the second time in the past two years? She’d waited to tell him, damnit, and it was slipping away again.

Just like last time. A shadow started to creep up on Marinette again, looming over her with words of doubt and uncertainty, clawing at her carefully sewn seams, tearing holes in her polyester resolve.

“Marinette, I—“ This was it. He’d tell her he was moving on again, and again would begin the vicious cycle of her forlorn feelings never being able to see the light of day.

“I love you.”

She’d never—

“What?” Marinette gaped dumbly.

Dick straightened up even more, if that was possible, and gripped both of her hands in his own, staring at her intensely, and repeated himself.

“I’m so in love with you.” And just like that, a cacophony of emotions flooding through the gate, beckoning the dark shadow that looked over her, and, instead, a glimmer of hope, happiness.

She was aware her face must look somewhat similar to that of a fish, because Dick carried on, somehow gripping her hands even harder.

“I can’t believe I never realized, I—I’m so dumb!” Dick laughed, and it was the drop of a hat to unload an avalanche.

“You...love me?” Somewhat of an avalanche. Marinette couldn’t convey emotions as well as Dick could.

“After last night, I felt this—this type of way. I was thinking so hard this morning about you and, and—“

“I love you, too.” Marinette let herself grin with him, picking up onto his sheer stellar grip on her hands and squeezing back equally as hard.

And, yes, it felt amazing to openly admire his hair while Dick stared at her with the force of a million suns. She’d earned this, damnit. Isn’t it nice to bury your hands in your new boyfriend’s hair while he kisses you with the force of a thousand suns?

permanent taglist (open): @tbehartoo @nathleigh @officiallydarkgeek @stainedglassm

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Could you do 15,60 and 100 for Tom and Maddie?

A/N: Y’all know how much I love Snackbar on here, so this had to happen eventually. For context, this will take place before the start of the movie. I usually don’t write about couples or romance just in general so call this a first attempt at that.

‘After a long, rough week of working in the office, Tom takes the time to make sure his wife’s special day is a more relaxing one.’

100 asks post: link here

——————————

Maddie furrowed her brows as she felt a sudden bright light shine onto her face. Squinting her eyes against the morning sunlight as it peeked through the dark curtains, she groggily raised her hand to shield her eyes and rolled over to the other side, pulling the covers up over her head.

Her best guess was that it was after seven since the usual warmth of another body next to her was noticeably absent as she extended her hand to the empty space, she could just slightly hear music playing on the radio from the kitchen. She slowly raised her head from the covers and saw that the door was open slightly ajar and the hallway light was on.

"Why does he always leave that stupid light on?" She grumbled as she hoisted herself into a sitting position, readjusting her hair wrap as she felt a few strands of hair slip out at the back of her neck and and tucked them back in. Her still tired eyes made her have the thought of going back to sleep, but the feeling went away as soon as she stretched her arm up and twisted her body from side to side.

Her body felt strangely achy and oddly sore, like she ran on a treadmill for two hours without stretching her arms and legs first. Along with that, her stomach felt so empty, to the point where it immediately started to growl as soon as she noticed it. 

Although she was more awake now, the urge to stay in the bed was lingering even more, the week she spent at the office must have really taken a toll on her despite getting a good night’s sleep. From delivery a litter of 6 kittens to a feisty, angry mother cat to performing stomach surgery on a dog after he managed to eat a rubber teething ring in the shape of a dinosaur. It was a strange week compared to the others.

She slowly pushes the covers away and moves her legs out of the bed to get up when she hears soft creaking at the door and more of the hallway light spilled into the room. She looks and sees Tom leaning against the doorway, smiling as he watches her. His hair still had a serious case of bedhead and had his house robe wrapped around him as he playfully twirled around the robe’s belt in his hand

“Ah, good morning beautiful.”

She gave a soft laugh as he came in and gave a soft kiss on her forehead. “Well, I don’t feel beautiful this morning. It feels like my body is just turning on me.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s showing all over your face.” He said as he walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to her, gently rubbing her shoulders through the soft fabric of her shirt. Maddie leans her head back and lets out a contented sigh as he digs his thumbs in her shoulder blades.

“Geez, your shoulders are really tense. To think this happens when all you do is pet puppies and gossip all day.” He joked, hissing slightly as she roughly smacked his knee in response.

“Oh hush. It’s just this week was just so...much. I forgot how stressful it can be since most of the people in this town have pets of all shapes and sizes, I mean Mr. McCready just bought another horse for his ranch and he already has five of them!” 

Tom stopped rubbing her shoulders, brought an arm around and pulling her close to him, his other hand gently clasping her hand in his. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him, absorbing the warmth that his body was giving off. “I’m sorry it was like that for you this week. Especially since today is not the day for you to feel this way.”

“Why? What’s today?” She said with a hint of sleep still in her voice.

He playfully nudged her with his shoulder. “Come on, you know what day it is.”

She moved her face up and blinked. “What?”

Tom moved back and gave her a surprised look. “Oh, don’t tell me you forgot”

“....Forgot what?” She questioned with a now confused look. A wide smile slowly morphed over Tom’s face as he reeled back from her, pushing a closed hand against his mouth, hiding his ever growing smile.

“Oh wow.”

“What?”  At that point her voice was carrying a more irritated tone, she picked up a small pillow near her and was about to smack him on the head before he jumped out of the way, nearly falling out of the bed on his back.

“You actually forgot- ,you know what? Nope, I’m not going to tell you.” He gave her a cheeky grin as he got up and tried to break it towards the door. Maddie quickly got up from her spot and blocked his way to the door.

“Thomas, I'm being serious. What is today supposed to be?” She tried to sound mad but her demeanor was starting to crack at the sight of her husband nearly kneeling over in laughter with whatever was tickling his funny bone that she didn’t know about.

She continued to stare at him in disbelief. She still had no idea what was going on or why he wouldn’t just tell her. A quick thought slipped in her mind that he might be pulling a prank on her, but then again he doesn’t go this far into it so it must be something important.

Tom took a few deep breaths before taking a few steps towards her, grabbing her forearms and giving her another firm kiss on her cheek. He swoops his one arm behind her back and the other under her legs, scooping her up and carrying her in a bridal style back towards the bed and placing her back into it. “God, I love you.”

He once again rushes to the door, not before looking back at looking back at her one more time. “Just stay right here, I already have something planned, okay?”

“Wait Tom-.” He fully closes the door before she even gets a chance to retort. She sat her back against the pillows, flabbergasted at her husband’s sudden jovial behavior. With slight hesitancy, she got back fully into the bed and shifted her eyes around the room. She bit the inside of her lip as she fiddled with the comforter, surely it must have been mildly important for him to react this way.

‘What on earth did I forget? It’s definitely not our anniversary, we don’t have a date planned, his birthday isn’t for a few more months while mine isn’t until...next week? I think?’

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and the bedroom door opening brought her back to reality as Tom walked back in holding a tan serving tray in his hands. He lets out the legs of the tray and places it in front of her as she helps him balance the tray out on the covers. 

She let out a soft gasp as she could see what was on the tray itself, on it held a small white kettle with two small coffee mugs, a tiny vase of flowers, a knife and fork with a napkin wrapped tightly around them, a small white bowl filled with fruit and a large plate with a plate cover on top of it.

She looks up at her husband, realization forming on her face as she looks at the spread.  “So that’s why you were excited about doing this. You made it look so nice.”

“Well it’s not everyday you get to make your wife breakfast in bed, including on the day of  her birthday.”

Maddie stopped midway from grabbing one of the cups and let out a groan as she rubbed her tired eyes. Out of all the things to completely slip her mind, hearing Tom’s quiet chuckles didn’t help with the embarrassment either.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Just a bit. But hopefully you’ll cheer up more once you see what’s under here.” He reaches over and lifts the top off the plate. The hot steamy aroma from the freshly made stack of pancakes quickly filled her nose, practically making her mouth water with the familiar smell. “I made your favorite.”

“Just a bit. But hopefully you’ll cheer up more once you see what’s under here.” He reaches over and lifts the top off the plate. The hot steamy aroma from the freshly made stack of pancakes quickly filled her nose, practically making her mouth water with the familiar smell. “I made your favorite.”

“Chocolate chip pancakes with cinnamon honey syrup?”

“And a bowl of strawberries and a fresh cup vanilla hazelnut coffee to sweeten the package.” He said as he poured the dark liquid into the awaiting cup. She blew gently into the cup and took a long, slow sip of the hot brew. She relaxed as the satisfying feeling filled her stomach, ceasing the growing hunger pain and settled down close to Tom as he poured his own cup, using one of the pillows to support his back.

It was becoming pretty rare that the both of them would have a relaxing morning and be able to not think about anything else that would be distracting or even stressful. She couldn’t remember the last time they simply just sat next to each other and not say anything, just simply enjoying each other's company.

Maddie glanced up at him and cupped the side of his face, bringing his head away from his mug and in her direction. He smiled tenderly at her as their lips softly touched, gazing into his wife’s eyes as they broke away, brushing a hand against her cheek.

“Happy birthday, kochanie.”

 She let out a quiet laugh as he spoke in the familiar native tongue that the Wachowski’s would speak in, long before they first came to Green Hills and would only express to close family members. “Thank you Tom. For everything.” 

[saber-of-dreams]

Dead as a Dodo (Birds of a Feather pt. 5)

Part 1     Part 2      Part 3      Part 4

“Welcome home, Daughter.”  

The heat washed over her first.  And then the acrid, sulfuric smell.  Raven didn’t bother to say anything.  They’d played this exchange out many many times, and she was too tired to humor him.  Besides, his over-pleasant tone told her everything she needed to know.  Trigon was still imprisoned, and still trying to wheedle his way out.  

Sometimes she thought she was being paranoid, for coming back to hell every single day.  But then she looked up at the demon that had sired her and realized she probably wasn’t being cautious enough.  Hadn’t Azerath been lesson enough for her?  Weren’t her visions of that other life proof enough?

Raven opened another portal and returned to Earth.  

The daughter of a demon seeking refuge in a church was the creme de la creme of ironies, in her book.  But she had no where else to go.  She’d considered trying to join the Titans, but she feared what would happen to them when the inevitable happened and her demonic father broke free.  

She shouldn’t have approached Damian, either.  But of all the memories she’d seen of that other life, it was the memories of him that had come with such powerful emotions.  Respect on a level that was almost frightening.  Trust so strong she was convinced even the literal end of the world couldn’t shatter it.  And...love.  Although, she had to admit to herself that the last one might just be her own wishful thinking.  Probably her own unrequited feelings for him.  

But she was an empath, and much as emotion for her were like trying to juggle chainsaws on a tightrope, she’d also spent the last who-even-knew-how-long in hell.  She was emotionally starved.  So when she’d sensed Damian’s familiar presence...he was the flame.  She the moth.  

Though, she had to admit even to herself, Damian’s brief flair of embarrassment and pure joy right after he’d offered her his hand was a positive sign.  She sensed that he was probably just as drawn to her as she was to him.   Perhaps they were both moths, then.  Problematically, that made Trigon something like a metaphorical bug zapper.  His coming would be the death of everything she’d ever cared about, and if her father learned that she had feelings for someone...  She shied away from that thought.  

If they could defeat her father though...she sighed.

Like Damian, she too had gaps in her memory.  She remembered meeting him.  Healing him after he’d provoked Blue Beetle in a stupid fight.  But her last clear memory was of an encounter not long after that where he’d (sort of) thanked her for healing him, and then he’d mentioned seeing into her mind too, and the man he’d seen.  Just recalling the memory made Raven shiver.  Everything after that was a jumbled mixture of disconnected images and a riot of feelings that she had no context for.  

Right now her sole hope was that she’d gained these memories early enough to prevent the end of the world.  Surely now that she knew (mostly) what was coming she would be better able to stop it.

That night her dreams were fire and destruction and death.  She woke in a cold sweat, to find she wasn’t alone.

“When I said I’d see you at 6, I meant pm.”  She muttered.

Damian looked up from the copy of the bible he’d been scanning.  “Oh I know.  I had questions about why you ended up...here.”  His eyes flickered over the bare room, the empty pews surrounding her.

“How did you know I was here?”  She demanded groggily.

“I put a tracker on you, of course.”  

Raven groaned and sat up.  It was wwwayyy  too early to be dealing with interruptions.  She hadn’t even had...

Damian held out a plastic coffee cup.  She wrinkled her nose, a refusal on her lips.  Damian beat her to it.  “It’s tea.”  

“Oh.”  She said.  

“I remembered you wouldn’t drink much else.  Hopefully it’s steeped long enough.”  

She took the cup and took a tentative sip.  It was a bit over-brewed, but she much preferred that problem to the opposite.  

“So.  How come you’re not living with the Titans.  I noticed you dodged my question last night.”  He kept his posture casual, his eyes on the page in front of him, but his interest in her answer rolled off of him in a wave.

She took a long, fortifying drink.  Then she gave him the truth.  “You know my father...what he is.  I believe in that...other life...he escaped his prison, and that the destruction that he wrought is what brought the world to its knees.  I think it will happen again.  And when it does...I don’t want others to die fighting my battle.”

Damian scoffed.  “Ridiculous.”  He didn’t look at her.  His eyes didn’t leave the page.  

“What is?”  She demanded.

“If you couldn’t defeat him with the help of the Titans and I would assume by extension the Justice League...you have no chance in hell on your own.”  Damian snapped the book shut.  “Besides.  That isn’t the truth, is it?”  

“Excuse me?”  

“You aren’t staying away from them just because you fear for their safety.  If that was the truth, you wouldn’t have even come to this world.  But you are here, and you’re the one who reached out to me - “

“I shouldn’t have done that.”  She admitted.

“Which means” he continued, ignoring her, “that you didn’t go to them because you were afraid of something else.  I would guess you were afraid that they will remember more of this other life and that they’ll blame you for it.”

Raven looked away.

“Which,”  Damian concluded, “as I said earlier, is ridiculous.”

Raven opened her mouth, but suddenly found herself incapable of forming words.  

“No one can blame you for your parentage, Raven.”

“But they can blame me for the destruction of everything they hold dear.  You don’t understand, Damian.  This has been my destiny from the moment I was conceived.”

“Raven, the only person you’re destined to become is the person you decide to be.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Emerson?  I had you pegged as a Thoreau kind of guy.”

Damian shrugged.  “I like variety.  Now stop deflecting.  I know you’re afraid, but I swear I will be there every step of the way.  And we can’t do this without the Titans.”

Raven looked at the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the church.  The light that spilled onto the aisle was appropriately red.  “I close my eyes and all I see is death.  People I loved and innocents who were slaughtered for no damn reason at all.  I caused the extinction of life on Azerath, Damian.  I don’t think I can bear it here too.”

“Then we’ll just have to stop it.”  He carefully placed the bible back into the holder in front of him and stood.  “But before that, we’re going to go get breakfast, and then I’m going to see about getting you a room at my hotel.”

Raven stood up.  “I can’t let you -”

“Do you honestly expect me to just let you live like this?”  He asked, gesturing around them.  “Really, Raven?”

She flushed.  “It’s not your problem.”  

“Your comfort and happiness is most certainly my problem.  Now, let’s go.  I saw a bakery a couple of blocks over with fresh-baked croissants.”  He walked up the aisle, stopping about halfway to the door when he noticed she hadn’t followed.

Raven groaned, knowing a lost battle when she saw one.

To his credit, the croissants were delicious.  And the tea was divine.  But then he’d gone on to try to book her a suite the size of his own.  She’d put her foot down, insisting that all she needed was a simple room with a single bed and a small bathroom in it.  He’d equally insisted that she would be more comfortable in something with more amenities and space.  Eventually the helpful (though bewildered) desk clerk had helped them find a compromise in a much smaller room with a large king-size bed and a massive bathroom.  

He gave her a few blessed hours to take a scalding hot bath and rest in the comfort of her new room, saying he had other business to attend to.  He knocked on her door at a few minutes to 6 pm.  

“Ready?”  He asked.

“Not particularly.”  She muttered, shutting the door behind her.

She took him to an arcade that she remembered Garfield and Jaime being fond of.  Damian looked around at all the flashing lights and loud noise and sighed.  They knew that it was unlikely they’d find the Titans on their first go, so they knew that would probably have to come back a few days in a row.  They played a few uninspired video games and then Damian demanded they go somewhere else.

The next place Raven remembered was a cafe that she knew Starfire liked to frequent for dinner dates with Dick Grayson.  This was where she’d learned that Nightwing and Batman had been out of town.  Starfire had come to pick up a to-go order.  The clerk had asked her where her boyfriend was because he hadn’t seen him around for a while, and Starfire mentioned that he was on a business trip with his father for a few weeks.  Raven translated that pretty easily.

But they struck out there too.  

But fortune was with them, because as they were getting ready to call it quits for the night, they heard screams and loud explosions a few blocks over.  

They exchanged a look and bolted for the source of the commotion.  They ran opposite to the crowd, up a few blocks to the busiest part of the city.  She was so focused on reaching her goal that she almost missed the ice.  The entire city block was a sheet of it.  

Raven gasped as she went sliding, grabbing onto a streetlamp to steady herself.

“Ugh.”  She groaned.  Farther up the street, Captain Cold was having a megalomaniac moment, covering every visible surface in sheets of ice.  

She’d lost sight of Damian in the crowd, but she knew he was careful and could take care of himself.  Right now her priority was to stop Cold.

Overhead a familiar green bird swooped into view, closely followed by a flying Beetle and Starfire.  As they swooped in to neutralize Captain Cold, three other members of the criminal family appeared, engaging them.  

Raven watched as Damian swept in, engaging Mr. Freeze while Beast Boy took on Killer Frost, Blue Beetle battled Icicle and Starfire went after Captain Cold.  Raven joined her, teleporting just in time to throw up a shield and block a streak of Ice headed for Starfire’s head.

Starfire’s eyes widened when she saw her, but the alien princess’ attention was quickly claimed by their opponent.  But between the two of them, they managed to subdue the ice villain.  Behind her, Damian had already knocked Mr. Freeze out and Jaime had tied up Icicle.  Beast Boy was wearing Killer Frost out.  It wasn’t long before she too was subdued.  

“Raven?”  Starfire said.

Raven turned.  “Hi, Starfire.  Do you...do you remember me?”

Starfire smiled.  “Yes.  Yes...I thought it had all been dreams...”

“I think a lot of us are experiencing that lately.”  She admitted.

A Tiger’s roar and Damian’s snarled curses shattered her brief moment of happiness.  “Wait!”  She cried, seeing Beast Boy and Blue Beetle starting to attack Damian.

“Stop!”  Starfire commanded.

Reluctantly, the three teen boys looked up.  

“He’s a member of the League of Assassins!”  Beast Boy protested, pointing to Damian’s garb.

“Damian.  Take off your hood.”  Raven called.

Slowly, Damian did as she asked.   Raven watched as the confusion and partial recognition distorted Beast Boy’s face as he tried to place the other.  Jaime had clasped his head and fallen to his knees, groaning similiarly to how Damian had the day before.

“Damian...”  Starfire said.  She sounded relieved.  Damian looked up, surprised.  “You remember me?”  He asked.

“Yes.”  Starfire said, simply.  “Though, I expected to see you dressed as Robin, not...as a member of the League of Assassins.”

“Who is Robin?”  Damian asked.

“He...uh...doesn’t remember everything.”  Raven explained.  “We both have some pretty big gaps in our memories.”

“Yes, I feel holes in my own memories as well.  Perhaps we should...compare notes?”

“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”  Raven agreed.

Damian sheathed his sword, but watched Jaime and Garth warily.

“I suppose some things never change?”  Starfire remarked, following her gaze.  The animosity between the three was like a charged battery ready to explode.  Raven doubted they’d do anything, but she was still frustrated by the machismo.  She’d hoped that they’d be past the grandstanding at least.

“I guess not.”  Raven said with a resigned sigh.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas: Chapter 2

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 2

[Hermione]

Hermione tugs the pillow off of her head, groaning at the sudden beam of light from the window. The sun is too intense for the morning— based on the afternoon's unbearable heat, she swears her hotel window faces west. She covers her face and groans again, angry at having been pulled out of peaceful sleep.

She opens her eyes to find Ron standing near the bed, staring at her and wearing nothing but a towel wrapped precariously around his hips. Her cheeks blush at the sight of his bare chest. He's pale and a bit scrawny, but he wears it well. She's seen him shirtless before, just a few days ago on the pool deck, but the effect is different in the context of her hotel room.

Did I sleep with him last night?

"Why are you—?" She pauses, unsure how to encompass all of her confusion into one question. He's staring down at her shirt, so she follows his gaze to find she's wearing a bright orange t-shirt with the words Chudley Cannons across the front.

Isn't that the name of the youth football team he coaches?

"Why am I wearing this?" She glances around the room to see that it's a total mess, and the blinding light from the window indicates that it's facing east, not west. This isn't her room. Tentatively, she meets Ron's narrowed eyes. "Why am I here?"

Ron simply gapes at her. Obviously, he's just as confused as she is, and she suddenly feels very exposed.

A few things happen in quick succession. She's busy trying to read the expression on his face when his towel begins to loosen around his hips and falls swiftly to the floor. He tries to catch it, but his hands are occupied — he's clutching his clothes in one and a piece of paper in the other. She doesn't notice his reaction because her eye line instinctively lowers, causing her to blush and bite her lip.

"Morning!" he says, pointedly trying to draw her attention back to his face. He's wearing that fake smile again.

"Ronald Weasley." She hopes her authoritative tone masks her self-consciousness and distracts him from her lingering gaze. "What the hell is going on?"

x

One week earlier…

"I'm Hermione Granger."

She extends a hand to the red-head, one of Ginny's brothers. She feels like an idiot for forgetting his name, but the girl has six brothers. It's bound to happen.

Whatever his name is, his flimsy handshake indicates that he doesn't want to be here. "And you are?"

"I'm Ron." He sounds angry that she doesn't know. "Ron Weasley? The bride's brother? The groom's best friend?" She raises her eyebrows in a way that hopefully looks apologetic. "You really don't know me?"

"I figured," she shrugs, hoping her nonchalance will overshadow her tone of defensiveness. "But most people introduce themselves without assuming others know who they are."

He huffs, and it hits a nerve. Admittedly, she's not great at first impressions, but he already seems determined not to like her.

She fights her urge to call him out on it. She is about to embark on a ten-day international trip to celebrate Ginny's wedding, and as the Maid of Honor, she'll be working closely with Ron and the rest of the wedding party. She wants things to remain friendly between them, even if he won't meet her halfway.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Hermione Granger," he says in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Thanks," she tells him, keeping her voice neutral. She takes a seat and motions to the empty chair across from her. He hesitates, staring at the chair as if expecting her to present a better option. After a moment, he sighs again and sits down.

What is his problem?

He shakes his head impatiently, like an anxious dog that would rather be anywhere else. She wants him to like her, of course, but it's starting to seem like an uphill battle.

Pushing her insecurities aside, she waves down a server, and Ron squirms uncomfortably. What now? The server must sense his contagious discomfort because he grumbles when he approaches. Ron looks expectantly at the server.

"I'll have an iced coffee," she says.

The server nods then glances at Ron. "Oh erm... same, I guess."

"No straws," adds Hermione. Ever since Luna showed her a video of a plastic straw stuck up a sea turtle's nose, she has felt guilty using them.

"Noted," quips the server.

"Actually," says Ron, "I would like a straw."

He looks questioningly at her when the waiter walks off, so she assumes he wants her to explain herself. "Straws are awful for the environment," she says, shrugging. "You really don't need them."

Ron just stares blankly at her. His eyes are such a soft blue shade, which makes their lack of emotion unsettling. He takes an impatient breath. She expects him to say something about straws, so she is quite surprised when he changes the subject. "We should compare itineraries for the bride and groom."

Her heart sinks. She doesn't actually want to talk about straws or sea turtles, but without his acknowledgment of her explanation, her request to the waiter comes off as controlling. She's been called that before, and the memory hurts.

She decides to play along. "Yes, I agree. In fact, I have put together a tentative plan for the joint stag and hen party." She slides a piece of paper across the table to him. Hopefully, he will appreciate her attention to detail and the fact that it's even laminated if they spill their coffee. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem the type to be impressed by organization.

"Hold on," he says. "A joint stag and hen party?"

"Yes, it's more efficient this way. You can see on page four, I've already made reservations at a hotel on The Strip, and for pretty much everything, bigger parties mean bigger discounts."

"Hermione, I think the boys would prefer a separate stag party."

She anticipates his response — Harry has mentioned Ron might be planning something for the boys but could also use the help. "I've already spoken to Harry, and he loves the idea," she said in her best reassuring tone.

A flash of hurt crosses Ron's face. "He… what?"

Is he hoping to plan this all alone? "Yeah, he already agreed to it."

Their conversation pauses as the waiter returns to deliver their iced coffee. Ron pointedly takes a long drag from his plastic straw, and she tries her best not to scowl. It's not worth the power struggle, and it feels like he's trying to pick a fight.

Keep calm, Hermione.

She wonders if he's always like this. Ginny says he's usually an amiable and caring guy. What's changed?

Then the realization hits her. She recalls a recent conversation with Ginny about wedding party drama. Evidently, she only asked Lavender to be in her wedding party because she was dating one of her brothers. Then they broke up, and she was worried things would be awkward and weird.

She looks back at Ron, sitting dejectedly across from her, attacking his coffee with a plastic straw. That brother must be Ron. Hermione leans forward and looks him in the eye. "I know it must be awkward for you to spend so much time with your ex-girlfriend. Ginny told me about the breakup. She wasn't expecting you two to split before the wedding,"

She hopes her tone sounds caring and apologetic, but hurt fills his face again. That's probably why he's so opposed to a joint party. It must be challenging to put aside his pain and heartbreak to focus on the wedding, especially since his ex is part of the festivities. It would be tough for her too.

If only he knew the pain that she's pushing aside right now. They could bond over similar heartache. She's almost tempted to tell him but knows it would fall on deaf ears. "Look, it'll be hard, but we can't let our own personal issues affect this. This wedding is about Harry and Ginny. No one else."

Ron just scowls at her, but it doesn't hurt as much. She's starting to see it as a mask. "What are you saying?"

"I'm asking that we don't bring any unnecessary drama along. Leave it here, and focus on the bride and groom."

"We?"

She nods. "Yes, we. I will also leave my issues at home." Hopefully, her words are enough to hint that he's not going through this alone.

"So no drama at the wedding. None." He takes another swig of his drink, raising his eyebrows at her like he's trying to draw attention to the straw. Infuriating.

"No drama."

"Deal." He reaches out a hand, and she takes it. It's another flimsy handshake that makes his promise feel insincere, but she decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Then, something on his face catches her eye. "You've got something on your nose."

When he releases her hand and rubs his nose, she realizes it's one of his many freckles. They're kind of cute — like his eyes, they make him look kind.

His face turns an angry red, suggesting he doesn't feel the same. "Must have been dirt," she says, hoping to avoid pointing out an insecurity.

He smiles at her, but it looks forced. She tries to smile back.

x

Hermione shakes her head to detach herself from the unfortunate memory of their first meeting. Ron has pulled his towel back up over his hips and is currently backing toward the bathroom, still clutching clothes in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. What is so important about that paper?

"I'm going to get dressed," he splutters, followed by a string of profanity before the door shuts and locks.

Hermione groans, dropping her face into her hands to rub her temples. She has a headache, a lump in her throat, and so many questions, but Ron's apparent regret indicates that he doesn't remember much of last night either.

She wonders how much he regrets it. It would be a more straightforward question to answer if she knew what it was. They both had a few too many drinks, and at some point, decided to go to bed together. It's possible that they just went to sleep, but the fact that he was naked and she's wearing his clothes suggests otherwise.

The bathroom door unlocks, and Ron emerges, dressed in khaki shorts and a red button-down. There's something about a ginger man confidently wearing red that makes her smile. "So, erm, good morning. Again." He sounds uncomfortable.

Hermione's head is still pounding. She lowers it back into her hands and takes a deep breath. She feels the bed shift and knows Ron is sitting next to her.

Ron's voice is surprisingly soft when he speaks next. "Are you ok?"

She isn't expecting the question, and it catches her off guard. She hasn't thought much about how she feels; she just wants answers. "I don't know yet. How much of last night do you remember?"

Ron sighs. "Honestly? None of it." He fidgets. Oh god, he is so uncomfortable.

She nods. "Did we have sex last night?"

His face turns crimson red, and he inhales sharply. "I don't know."

"You were naked this morning."

"Yeah," he nods. "I generally sleep naked."

"I'm wearing your clothes."

He glances down at her clothing. "Yes, you are. My favorite t-shirt, actually."

She knows she needs more time to process it all. How could this have happened? She has never had a one-night-stand; in fact, she can still count the number of people she's been with on one hand. She even has a few fingers left to spare.

Her voice is quiet when she speaks next. "Ron, I think we probably did, don't you?"

Ron nods. "Yeah, probably."

Her self-consciousness is overwhelming, and her eyes prickle with tears. The last thing she wants to do is cry in front of Ron, so she tries to mask it by covering her face with her hand. He must think she's a lunatic.

An image of Lavender Brown, Ginny's other bridesmaid, and Ron's ex-girlfriend floods her mind. Lavender and her perfect body that's always dressed in pink, her natural confidence, and her effortless charm. Hermione has seen the way she smiles at Ron and bites her lip like she's plotting how to get him into bed with her. How could Ron resist?

She wonders how many times they've slept together since breaking up and if Ron wishes it was Lavender in his bed instead of her, wearing his boxers and Chudley Cannons t-shirt. The thought ignites a tinge of jealousy. Lavender is probably fantastic in bed, and selfishly, she's thankful Ron doesn't remember, so he can't compare.

Her anxieties are interrupted by his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"Why are you sorry?" He winces when she snaps the question at him, and she internally kicks herself for not having more control over her tone.

He's looking at her with those piercing eyes, so blue that she can hardly look at them directly. At least she can't anymore, but maybe she could last night. "I bet it wasn't a good surprise, waking up next to me."

His words match her feelings, catching her off guard. He must be projecting. "What do you mean?"

He anxiously runs his hands through his hair, tugging at his orange locks until they stick straight out from his head. She's momentarily curious to know, or maybe just remember if his hair feels as soft as it looks. "I'm just sorry it happened."

She lets out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding. "You are?"

"Yeah."

The confirmation of his regret hits her like a punch in the stomach. "Well, how about we pretend it never happened, then?" She rises to her feet and scours the room for her clothes, but she can't find them. Her hotel room is right down the hall, and maybe she can make it there without running into anyone. She wouldn't want to embarrass him by being seen in his clothes.

"Is that what you want? You want to pretend it didn't happen?"

"Yes, of course," she responds, briskly crossing the hotel room to the door. In different circumstances, she might have been thrilled that this happened, but knowing he regrets it…

"Hermione, wait," he says hurriedly, reaching for the paper he had been clutching earlier. "We have a lot more to talk about—"

"No, Ron. We don't." She slips into the hallway, letting the door close behind her. Tears start to fall from her eyes, and she doesn't hear him call her name from inside the room.

[artsymew]

It’s raining somewhere else

It’s been a hot minute. Finally wrote the last installment for my Contestshipping fanfic “Race You to the City”. You can read it on FanFiction here or under the cut! Takes place in Castelia’s Cafe Sonata. Enjoy ^^

Context: May and Drew engage in small talk in "Café Sonata" seeking cover from the rain. Snippets of small talk. Their coffees keep going cold. Bragging rights. The rainy weather has them moody.

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.

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"It's starting to rain."

The lights are dim in the little Café Sonata. The sudden downpour keeps them cooped up in Castelia's hidden alleyway café. The rain splatters on the concrete outside their window seats, earning Drew's comment. May grasps the now lukewarm caramel latte with both hands. Lost in thought.

"Ah!" May glances through the blinds of the window they are sitting besides, responding to Drew's comment, "looks like it is". She smiles slightly before turning her attention to the swirling foam again.

He wasn't expecting her to reply, yet he finds it odd that she hasn't started a conversation. Small talk is her thing. He watches her gaze trace the swirling bits of foam of what once was the latte art in her cup. He likes how the lighting in the café reflects on her face. A golden glow. Drew stares down at the steam coming from his own coffee; a usual dark roast – French press.

He likes the comfortable silences they share from time to time, yet this one seems too comforting. Disquieting, even. Any other time he'd admire the faraway look in her eyes; how she daydreams despite pocking fun at her for it. It's one of the things he loves about her. But the look she wears now seems too distant.

As if she is somewhere else.

"How is Max feeling about the upcoming League battles?"

He knows she is somewhere else; in her mind anyway. Hoenn. Judging from the phone conversation she had with Max last night, their home region is likely on her mind. Her brother giddily called exclaiming how he had finally won his 8th Gym Badge against Juan, a former coordinator and someone she and Ash had battled a few years ago. He planned to head home for a while before competing in the upcoming Hoenn League.

"He's really excited, following in Ash's footsteps and all", her tone comes off a bit deflated. She looks out the window, pensive. "I wish I could be there to celebrate with him."

"He misses you, you know."

She smiles half-heartedly, traces of guilt lingering as her eyes avert to the swirling foam again.

It had surprised Drew to hear that May hadn't visited her family in a while. Max playfully chastised during their call how he'll become League Champion twice fold by the next time she visits. Drew noted how May gripped her sleeve when she laughed him off.

He didn't pry for her reasonings about not visiting; he barely remembering the last time in a few years he visited his own family and had his own reasonings for that. He suspects hers have to do with the non-stop training and desperation. Desperation for a damn Ribbon Cup.

He doesn't see the glory of it anymore. He guesses it's the allure. The excitement waned quickly for him once he decided on his next contest route. Of course, it's easy for him to say now that he's attained the title of Top Coordinator and has a Ribbon Cup himself. But continuing to train and compete with his Pokemon is what drives him to get stronger, to get better. That and to compete against his rival. His rival who made that allure of winning worth it.

He figures May will come to understand that once she wins, too.

Once she gets out of this cloud of self doubt, that is.

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"Oran or Pecha?" May turns to Drew at his random question, looking at him inquisitively before he continues, "which do you prefer?"

May puts a finger to her lips and hums, pondering before deciding, "Pecha".

"Excuse me," Drew walked up to the café counter at May's surprise, pointing the barista to one of the Pecha pastries in the glass display, "this one please; with added whipped cream."

He sees May's suspicious look when he sits back down with a delicious Pecha Berry shortcake – with the added whipped cream. The rain outside continues to drawl, but some light returns to her eyes. The embers of the fireplace flicker in them. Drew smiles.

Prompting conversation has its ways.

"Felt like trying one of their pastries out," he shrugs off simply, gesturing at the two small forks on the plate "want some?"

May takes his offer with a quick thank you. "Didn't know you had a sweet tooth, Mr. Bitter Coffee", she playfully jabs while taking a bite off the cake. Her teasing lacks her usual spunk.

"Not usually, but you didn't drink your liquid sugar in one gulp today either," Drew's smirks when her eyebrow twitches, "leave some of it for me to try, will you?"

Bait.

May literally bites, her blissful expression from those first few chews turns incredulous. "You know I won't eat all of it!" she digs out another piece of the pastry, taking some of the whipped cream Drew so graciously asked for with good measure. "At least I don't take Slakoth sips from dirt-flavour coffee."

"It's an acquired taste from the sleepless nights of being a Top Coordinator" Drew takes a bite off the pastry and chuckles at her irritated chewing. To Sonata Café's credit the pastry is quite good. A bit too sweet for his own liking, though. He planned letting May have most of it anyway.

"Yeah, yeah, bragging rights" May sighs, unresentful. Their battle together last year had been breathtaking and incredibly difficult; Drew would not have wanted to win his title any other way. "Don't bragging rights expire at some point?"

"Until you win," Drew sips his coffee. He cocks a brow hearing her sigh, but decides not to push further at the moment. He goes to ask for another coffee.

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.

.

"I'll have to deal with Max bragging about his own championship title soon," May comments after a while, looking up from her notes. Another coffee in hand, this time a mocha. Drew perks at the hint of discomfort in her voice.

Ah.

"Not sure he'll win at all, though," Drew states bluntly, closing his book. The rain shutters against the pavement outside. Her reflection turns to watch him. "How many times has Ash – an experienced trainer - challenged the Pokémon League and won?"

It is a risk to critique Ash or Max in a conversation, let alone use Ash as an example of training criticism. But Drew is not one to use sweet flattery when someone is feeling down.

"But Ash continues to work hard for his dream!" she exclaims defensively, a bit miffed at her rival. The barista looks over to them, cleaning a cup. "He hasn't let his losses stop him from getting stronger."

"He still hasn't won a League," he states calmly, turning to face his now irritated companion across his table, "winning the Orange League or the Battle Towers does not count." Proceed with caution. "In short, no different from your current position."

She stabs her tiny fork at the Pecha berry. Surprisingly, the shortcake is only half gone. "Yes Drew! I know I haven't obtained the title of top coordinator yet", she munches and closes her notes. He worries about the little notebook and whether it would damage anything in the cafe if thrown. "but Max is a talented trainer; he can do it. He beat the gym leaders in Hoenn under a year. That's much faster than Ash."

"Yet he has yet to beat you in a Pokémon battle," Drew retorts.

"Why are you being so cynical?" May infuriated gaze aimed towards him, dismissing his backhanded compliment. 'A small price to pay', he thinks.

"Realistic, May" he brings his coffee to his lips, looking sternly at his rival. He's starting to feel irritated himself. The weather is affecting them both. "Max and Ash are good trainers, yes, but they've done nothing you haven't. I know because I battle the result of it."

He watches as her mouth parts agape, before she looks downward, frowning. "But I still haven't-"

"-Arceus, May," he interrupts as May's gaze widens. "Winning that damn title wouldn't have been worth it if I hadn't battled against you. You made it worth it." He looks into her eyes, unfaltering. "You're strong. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Drew goes to take an exasperated sip of his coffee only to realize he finished it. He presses a palm to his head and averts his gaze to the window again. Rain continues to fall even harder, shaking the Café's hanging sign almost off it's rails. The taste of bitter coffee grounds remains in his mouth. May's lips trembles in what he catches with a sideways glance. Is she about to cry? Mew.

He hadn't meant to spill his heart out like that at all. He picks up where he left off in the chapter, but can't concentrate. It's down-pouring outside. He lost his cool. They're both upset and the silence is now shredded and awkward. Great.

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All the sudden May bursts out laughing.

Tears fall from her eyes as she cackles. She has a hearty laugh that fills the room and opens up space to breathe. She wails even more when she sees his dumbfounded expression. What in the Arceus-

"Oh, Drew," she breathes while pushing away the tears from her eyes "look at us- what am I even saying? Needing you scold me like some kid, oh Mew," she exasperates through giggles and Drew can only stare at her, wide-eyed. She looks at the shortcake and laughs even harder.

"Oh no, don't tell me - you bought this freaking cake to cheer me up, didn't you?" she accuses, letting out a snort at his guilty blush. "You know me too well, Arceus-"

May's outburst of laughter is contagious, he can't help but start laughing too. What the hell. Cold coffee, half eaten cake. The bartender looking at them like a pair of lunatics. The café setting like some cheap soap opera. Bickering like children. Never being able to admit their obvious feelings. The entire situation is ridiculous.

Drew has never felt so smitten yet so lost before in his life.

They are still kids, aren't they?

He presses his hand to his face to cover his own snort. May laughs even harder, eyes twinkling. Drew finds the rain drops on the window suddenly appear interesting.

"Would you look at that!" May begins sarcastically, spunk restored. "'Top Coordinator Drew snorts when he laughs!' Where is the press?"

"Great story idea, would drive my fans wild. Empty shelves for sure."

"Here I was about to compliment your nice laugh" she flicks a Pecha berry at him, that he catches easily. She sighs contended, "You're so full of it. Guess we should finish eating your pity cake."

"Why, thank you, I've heard my laugh is quite charming," he ignores her jab, flicking his hair on purpose. She rolls her eyes at him but doesn't bothering to hide her grin. "And like I said May, I had a genuine urge to try it."

"Sure you did."

They both take up another piece, savouring the flavour. It tastes sweeter, somehow. A new comfortable silence ensues.

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"We never had this much rain in Hoenn, did we?" May asks after a while, glancing over to him.

"Probably," Drew watches how alleyway lights flicker in the puddles, "it's been a while since I've been."

He watches May look beyond the rainy view outside, a renewed focus. "I should visit them soon."

"You should," he agrees, "there should be enough time after the next contest. If you want to visit, I mean."

May hums in agreement, "that would be nice," she stares at Drew through the window, the rain fall lighter on the ground. "You're welcome anytime, you know?"

"Your dad wants to murder me with his Slaking whenever I visit," Drew deadpans, elicting another laugh from May. He doesn't give away how touched he feels and how smitten he gets whenever he makes May laugh with his comments.

A bit more time passes, both coordinators bask in silence as the downpour continues to fall. Occasional commentary. Eventually, he stands to order another coffee. Might as well wait out the rain.

She reaches over to grasp his hand on the table, squeezing it. Drew's heart jumps to his throat, he looks down to her. The smile reaches her eyes again. "Thank you, Drew."

Drew lets himself smile.

"Anytime, May."

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A/N: After a year, I think this is a good place to finish this fic. I felt a casual conversation at a coffee shop would suffice. I knew I wanted to write them in Café Sonata for a long time, but I wasn't sure what to do with the scenario. Going for a coffee at my local café during a rainy day inspired me. Thank you so much for your patience with this story. 😊

[purplesurveys]

1093

survey by pinkchocolate

Hi there! This list is based on some things I've done recently. Let's say, within the last few days. Have you done any of these things in the last few days?

Worn make-up? I never wear makeup. I’ve never felt the need to.

Worn perfume? Sure. I went out last Sunday to bring Cooper to the vet and to take myself out to a coffee shop for a few hours, so I wanted to make sure I smelled decent.

Taken selfies? I think I may have, but I’m sure I deleted them almost immediately.

Shared some photos on social media? Yes, I posted a couple photos of Cooper because he was being super smiley the other day. I also shared a photo of my laptop, which was playing Friends, beside my Friends mug the other night.

Woken up to the sound of your phone vibrating? Technically. But this usually happens when I’m trying to fall asleep in the evening, i.e. someone sending a late-night message, and not in the morning.

Heard the rain outside your window? Yes. It’s literally happening right now haha it just started raining.

Added sugar to a mug of tea/coffee? No. I use 3-in-1 coffee packets, which are already pre-mixed and all I have to do is add hot water. I’m terrible with measurements and starting from scratch and I doubt I’ll ever get the hang of manually combining coffee + sugar + milk + creamer + whatever else goes into coffee haha.

Refilled your drinks bottle? I don’t use a tumbler. I’m at home nearly every day of the week so I always have access to our glasses.

Felt emotionally involved while reading a book? This has happened before for sure, but not in the last few days.

Chuckled/laughed while reading a book? Uhhh I guess. My employer recently lent me this book on PR that they thought would help me gain a richer appreciation of the industry and I guess I did lightly chuckle at a few humorous anecdotes in it.

Spilled a drink? I don’t think so.

Eaten something that was sprinkled with sugar? Nope. I’ve eaten sweets here and there but nothing sprinkled with sugar.

Googled the definition of a word? At least a few times a day.

Read a Wikipedia article? Yes, I love Wikipedia. The last entry I read was a list on notable last words.

Laughed at a video you watched online? So many times. The main reason I watch videos is to be entertained and to laugh, to be honest; so it’s nice that a lot of creators make great, funny content.

Craved a savoury snack of some description? I’ve been craving gourmet donuts for weeks now. Nothing sweet; I’m looking for those with creative, out-of-the-box flavors.

Cursed after dropping an item on the floor? Probably.

Been amused by your pet's behaviour? I am always amused at their behavior. Kimi’s approaching 13 years but he still makes me laugh every single day.

Recognized an actor in a TV show, from another show you'd seen? I’ve only been watching Friends, soooo nothing to compare it to.

Seen an actor on TV that you thought attractive? Courteney Cox, always.

Typed something in a word processor? I had to look this up lol, but I guess I have if Google Docs counts as one? I use it a lot for work.

Been asked a question that you found awkward or difficult to answer? Sure. My grandma called up when I was stuck in a particularly tough period of my shift and she was asking how it’s been. I didn’t want to worry her or overshare, so I paused for a bit and just said “it’s going great!”

Smelled a pleasant food aroma? Yeah, my dad cooks up some great stuff al the time.

Dipped your food in ketchup, mayonnaise or another sauce? Tartar sauce.

Forgotten a hot beverage, then found it had gone cold? I don’t make hot beverages, so.

--

survey by kellyburnsred

What music video do you wish you were in? I don’t watch music videos a lot, mostly because they’re usually not at all related to the song it corresponds to and I never saw the point. Buttt idk, the one I had some of the most fun watching was One Direction’s Best Song Ever because it was hilarious. It’d be cool to fuck around with the characters there.

Who makes you laugh the most? I’d say it’s either Andi or Hans. JM and Kate are good runners-up.

You only can eat three things the rest of your life, what do choose? That would make me sick of those foods so fast...but if it were a legit life-and-death situation, I would go with surf and turf (so that I at least have a bit of variety), rice (because I can’t live without rice), and macarons (for something sweet).

What's one thing you wish you had in your life right now? Macarons. I recently liked a slew of local macaron shops on Facebook and even though I know it’s my fault, I hateeee that my feed is filled with macarons now haha.

If you had to give up your style, what other style would you choose? I’m not really sure. I can think of more styles I’m not willing to adopt, than those that can be my back-up.

What's your favorite ice cream topping? Hot fudge.

What is the bare minimum of sleep you could function on? I guess 3 or 4, but that’s the barest of the bare minimum. I would still be cranky if I was only able to sleep for that few hours.

When you drive, do you generally speed? Yeah, if I can. You’re always stuck in traffic in Manila so if you have the chance to press harder on the gas, you typically wouldn’t want to miss out on it.

Are you an animal lover? Yes, except for pests and insects I don’t like, like cockroaches.

What's the dumbest thing you've done because someone dared you? I once ate a piece of siomai that already fell to the ground; when I ate it I felt a lot of tiny pebbles and other debris so I promptly spat it out in a nearby bin.

What is the most disgusting trait that you have? Idk...typical disgusting habits make me wince myself. The worst thing I can think of is that I tend to keep my nails super long just out of neglect; and I usually only clip them once dirt starts getting trapped under the nails, or once it starts to become hard to type.

What was the last thing you talked to your friends about? Angela had made this really cute, DIY foldable collage for Hans for his birthday yesterday and I just checked in on her earlier to ask if he loved it.

What part of your day do you look forward to the most? The moment my shift ends.

What are your favorite song lyrics? This week, it’s probably “It isn’t the same, but it is enough.” It’s oddly calming no matter how sad the actual context is.

Who are your closest friends? Angela and Andi.

What profession do you admire the most? All are worthy of admiration. I don’t really have a ~favorite~

Do you believe in karma? Not strictly in the spiritual sense; but it can be comforting to think that the people who have hurt me will have their ass handed back to them someday.

What do you think is the funniest show on TV? Ooh, I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore...I have a sitcom in mind but it ended 17 years ago and it’s still pretty polarizing to this day, lol.

Are you an organ donor? No.

Did you have imaginary friends when you were younger? Just one, but I didn’t get the point of it and I got bored very quickly.

Have you ever smoked weed? No but a friend knows a supplier should I ever want to start getting into it.

Who do you look up to for your style? Idk, whatever girls my age are wearing these days.

What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought? With my own money, probably the hotel accommodation I purchased for my dad’s birthday this weekend. I’m super stingy with my money and I can’t imagine spending 4 or 5 figures on something just for myself.

What's your favorite amusement park ride? Not too big on rides.

Who was the craziest teacher you've ever had? Ironically, it was my Christianity/religion teacher from 5th grade. We bumped into each other a few weeks after I graduated high school and his first remark towards me was about my breasts. He did a lot of stupid shit too when I was in 5th grade but I don’t feel like getting into them because he was just one big headache of a man.

Where would you like to travel that you have not been? Thailand, if within Asia; Spain if outside.

If you could be any musician for a day, who would you be and why? No thanks.

Do you have any tattoos? No.

What are your favorite scary movies? Some favorites are Carrie, The Shining, and Scream.

[naancypants]

Soup

I received writing inspiration from this ask, so this is where it lead me! Nancy has come down with a bad cold and is surprised when Joe Hardy shows up on her doorstep. For context, this story definitely takes place post-Nedcy and probably even after Francy comes to some sort of resolution as I have canonically aged them up to 25/26 here. Also contains mild descriptions of cold symptoms, so… something to be aware of if you’re easily sensitive to that kind of thing? Nothing graphic, though.

(Ao3) (Words: 2,820) (@nancydrew-onthecase​)

DING-dong!

…Ugh.

Nancy has been curled up on her couch in River Heights, staring at the tv for the last 8 hours or so. As a matter of fact, the only movement she’d made all day was to waddle her way down the stairs from her bedroom, grab a light breakfast and collapse onto the couch. For the next 8 hours (in case you missed that part).

Her eyes flit over to the antique clock on the cabinet next to the fireplace as she begrudgingly stands up; 6:40pm. Had she really not eaten since breakfast?

She sniffles, whipping a tissue out of her decorative turquoise tissue box and giving her nose another wipe. This cold has been going on for about 3 days now, and Nancy is dying to know when it will ever end, because she feels like she’s dying. She rarely gets sick, either, so when she does, it hits her like a greyhound bus.

“Who on earth is this?” Nancy grumbles to herself as she shuffles over to the front door. Her father and Hannah were both away for the weekend, which was all the better, Nancy supposes; it gives them less exposure to whatever this germ is that’s hijacked her immune system.

With one hand on the door handle, she swipes at her nose one last time before pulling the door open to find… Joe Hardy?

The younger Hardy brother gives her that goofy little sideways smile of his and lifts one arm, carrying a clear plastic carryout bag, out to her. “Soup delivery.”

She blinks in surprise. “Soup delivery?” she repeats, stepping aside just enough so that he can come inside if he chooses, which he does.

“At your service.” he takes a few steps further into the entryway, shaking a little excess water off of his dark brown jacket. It hadn’t rained all day in River Heights or surrounding areas, and there was just a barely-there dusting of snow on the ground, so as well as taking into consideration the time of year, Nancy deduces that it must have been snowing in Bayport.

“Let me take your -” Nancy starts to offer to hang up his coat, but then she glances down at the used tissue that’s currently crumpled up in her fist and a dry chuckle fills the space, “- well, never mind.”

He cracks another grin, “I got it.”

After Joe puts away his jacket and the two of them amble back into the living room, Nancy watches in bewilderment as he fluffs the side pillows and readjusts the throw blanket that was sloppily piled into a heap on the sofa. When he’s done, he gestures to the spot he’s just made up, which Nancy accepts with a furrowed brow. “What’s gotten into you? What are you even doing here?”

Joe shrugs, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t know - I was in the area.”

“You came from Bayport.”

“What? How could you tell?”

“The melted snow on your jacket.”

“W- well, that could’ve just been… a sprinkler. Or a passing rainstorm. I mean, you’ve been cooped up in here all day, how could you really know if it was raining or not?!”

“Joe.”

He laughs. “Aw, I’m just kidding. I came because I was already bored today, and you said in your text that you weren’t feeling well. So I thought I’d come check up on you.”

Nancy, once again, blinks in surprise. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate such a nice gesture, but it seems so out of nowhere - when was the last time she’d seen Joe without Frank? The more she ponders on it, the more she wonders, has she ever seen Joe without Frank? This was a peculiar thought that led her to ask her next question.

“Is Frank with you?”

“Ah, no. He doesn’t know I came. He thinks I’m at Chet’s house. So maybe… don’t mention this to him? I just - don’t want to get caught in a lie or anything.”

Nancy giggles a little bit, “Then why lie?”

Joe, exasperated, lets out a frustrated sigh, but Nancy is perceptive enough to tell that he isn’t upset. “Are you going to let me give you your soup, or not?”

Nancy shrugs, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Joe says with the inflection of the drama queen he truly is, bending over to unpack a medium plastic container from the bag. He sets it on the coffee table along with a plastic wrapped spoon while Nancy blows her nose.

“It’s chicken noodle - I was going to get you some clear soup, but I couldn’t find an Asian restaurant between here & Bayport with a Yelp rating higher than a 2.7 - how depressing is that?!”

“Very sad!”

“So, I just went with the ol’ standby. Hopefully you don’t mind.”

Nancy looks at him with a sleepy expression that she can tell isn’t reminiscent of her usual perky self, “Are you kidding? I love chicken noodle.”

“Better than clear soup?!” Joe says in shock.

“Well, I mean, nothing can beat Hannah’s homemade chicken noodle… but I’m sure this is fine.” Nancy sucks in a deep breath, which leaves her a little lightheaded for a moment, but as soon as it passes she gazes up at her friend.

“Thank you, Joe. I really mean that.”

She feels like absolute garbage, but she musters up every bit of energy she has left in an attempt to express the genuine sincerity with which she means that. His eyelids drift closed and he bobs his head forward in a slight nod.

“You’re welcome.”

A moment passes while Nancy reaches for her spoon, stabbing it against the hardwood surface in front of her to pierce the outer wrapping. Meanwhile, Joe’s eyes wander around the room and eventually land upon an empty glass hiding behind the discarded carryout bag.

“Nancy! You need to hydrate!”

As he leaps for the glass, Nancy can’t help but laugh out loud at his words. “Really, Joe? You sound like Frank.”

“I AM NOT MY BROTHER! How dare you call me out like this!” he hollers in an offended tone, disappearing into the back hallway to refill her glass in the kitchen.

This was certainly turning out to be an odd night.

Nancy shakes her head and picks up the TV remote, flipping through the channels until she lands on something that catches her interest; a crime documentary detailing the life, irreparable actions, and eventual identification of the Golden State Killer. She dips her spoon into the bowl of soup just as Joe returns with some fresh water and a dorky twinkle in his eyes, “Straight from the kitchen sink.”

“Thanks,” says Nancy, eyeballing the 25-year-old as he catches sight of what’s playing on the TV.

“Ooh, is that a crime show?! Heck yeah!” Joe flops excitedly onto the opposite end of the couch, his face alight with admiration, “Y’know what, Nancy? Even when you’re sick you’re the best kind of person.”

She blushes a little; she’s always been shy when receiving compliments. She reaches for another tissue. The two of them become completely engrossed, watching and chatting enthusiastically until finally (and miraculously, in Nancy’s case), they fall asleep.

-+-+-+-

It’s still dark outside when Nancy begins to stir. It takes her eyes and her brain a few moments to adjust, but once she’s fully aware of her surroundings, she jumps at the realization that her head has been softly nuzzled into the side of Joe’s hip. As soon as she’s upright again, her nose starts running and invasive TV ads are blaring in her ears and Joe begins waking up all at once.

Nancy blindly reaches for the remote to decrease the volume, but in her uncoordinated state, she misses entirely and knocks over the plastic soup container. “Shoo-oot!”

Joe’s eyebrows lift when he hears the commotion that’s happening to his right; what little bit of soup still remained in the bowl has now spilled onto the brand new rug Hannah bought for the living room. The only solace Nancy had was seeing what a small amount of liquid had actually stained, but even then! She felt awful. Hannah had spent half an afternoon picking that out.

“Oh no, Hannah will be so disappointed!” Nancy murmurs.

By this point Joe is already up from the couch and is bounding into the kitchen to collect a paper towel roll. Nancy feels utterly useless sitting there staring at the floor until her friend returns to help clean up the mess, which they manage to get done together.

“There we go,” Joe says at last, and although he had eagerly gotten up to take care of the spill, his tired voice betrays his behavior. “That should do it. Nice job, pardner.”

Stretching her sore muscles, Nancy sighs and lets out a groan; since her sudden awakening, her head feels stuffier than before, saddling her with this annoying ache that occasionally pounds at her cranium. Still, she sniffs and responds to Joe’s lighthearted comment, “You too. Pardner…” Her voice trails off at the end a little. Joe notices that her eyes are closed now.

He looks down at his phone to check the time; 1:21AM?! Dang it. He’s going to have to tell Frank something. He’s never spent the night at Chet’s house a day in his life - Frank will never believe him if he says that he crashed there. But then Joe decides that it doesn’t really matter. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, and he doesn’t regret getting to spend a few hours with one of the people he reveres most in the world - even if she, perhaps, couldn’t enjoy it to the same degree.

But then, almost as if reading his mind, Nancy speaks in a quiet voice, “Thanks again for the surprise visit, Joe. I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

Joe nods his head a few times, staring at Nancy with a small quirk of a smile. “Anytime.”

Well, he thinks, I wish that were true. It would be true if not for the 4 hour drive I have to look forward to now. Goodie. If Bayport weren’t so dang far away from Nancy’s quaint hometown of River Heights, Joe has a feeling that both he & Frank would be seeing a lot more of their favorite fellow detective. But sometimes, kids, life sucks.

Joe clears his throat and goes to collect the trash from this soup adventure of theirs, but Nancy stops him with a grateful shake of her head.

“No, no, I’ll take care of it. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I’m sick, Joe, I’m not on my deathbed. I can handle it.”

Joe nods, chuckling because it’s so very Nancy of her. “Sorry.”

They make their way back to the front door where Joe’s jacket hangs alone, but just as he’s about to pick it up off the hook he hears Nancy’s weakened voice say, “Hey.”

He turns to look at her and can tell she’s on the verge of asking him something; lips slightly parted, uncertain stance indicating a feeling of hesitation. His training for ATAC back in the day had taught him a lot about reading body language, which is something he loves to apply in his everyday life. Can really give you a lot of insight.

But suddenly her mouth closes again, and she reaches up to warm both her arms which have now grown goosebumps. She shakes her head, “Never mind. Drive safe, okay? And text me so I know you’re home!”

Joe, ever curious about things he doesn’t understand but also very familiar with Nancy as a person, chooses not to inquire about what it was she wanted to say, despite how much he wants to. Nancy is stubborn; she won’t tell him now that she’s made up her mind not to. So instead he gives her another soft smile in return, and he can tell that the exhaustion that lines Nancy’s face is mirrored in his own.

“You got it, pardner. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

As Nancy closes the door behind him and turns the lock, she attempts to clear up the foggy haze in her mind. It’s no secret to her that the state of her health is affecting her ability to think clearly, let alone how doggedly tired she is; she wishes she could fully process all the events from tonight, but her stupid brain simply doesn’t want to function when she feels this awful. She pads into the living room where her darkened phone lies next to Aunt Eloise’s old analog clock, unlocking it with a quick swipe and tap of her passcode. The screen is already illuminated with what she was looking for, which is the text conversation of hers & Joe’s from around 1 that afternoon.

J: hey Nance! How goes it? Any big cases pop up for you lately? N: No, unfortunately I’m stuck at home with one of the worst colds I’ve had in a very long time. 😕 How are you? J: aw man! that’s no fun! 😟 I’m sorry to hear that. J: I don’t feel like it would be very considerate of me to tell you that Frank & I just scored one of the most promising cases of our young careers… J: but… you know, you asked. N: 🙂 that’s great, Joe! Where are you guys off to? J: Barcelona! We got a tip from one of dad’s colleagues that there’s this really creepy serial killer out there. All female victims, and the guy always leaves a rose with a slip of paper, “mi amor”. Police are scratching their heads, as usual J: as usual for these kind of cases at least N: Wow, that sounds so exciting! Have fun and stay safe you two! N: When do you leave? J: Our flight takes off tomorrow night N: Oh, awesome. Well keep me posted! I’d love to help in any way I can! J: As if we would have it any other way!

That last message had made her grin a little the first time she read it - it was just so very Joe of him. Hearing about this case of theirs really invigorated Nancy’s adventurous spirit, and she wishes more than anything that she could join them on this journey - but alas, her immune system had other plans for her. She internally smacks herself on the head at the fact that she almost asked him such a ridiculous question - that if he wanted to avoid the drive home, he could simply stay here overnight and take her with him to join Frank at the airport tomorrow. She could easily purchase a plane ticket before tomorrow night, she had thought in her sleepy haze before recognizing what an outlandish idea that was. She’s way too sick to go off on a case, and she wouldn’t want to intrude anyway. Plus, if he had stayed, where would he sleep? Nancy certainly wouldn’t want to confine him to sleeping on the couch, but the Drew home doesn’t have a guest bedroom and it just felt… wrong to let someone else sleep in her dad’s or Hannah’s bed while they’re away.

Or…

She briefly – VERY briefly – considers the glowing warmth and selfish comfort it would provide to have another person stay at her side her for the night.

… Goodness, I’m really out of it.

It’s both a weird thought and a dumb one, because Joe is just a friend and she doesn’t want to get him sick. It’s at this point she checks to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, though she’s quite sure the feeling is simply from the congestion in her head.

Altogether, the whole thing was a poorly thought out proposal by a confused, debilitated mind, which is why she didn’t ask in the end. It was silly and she knows it.

She walks to the archway between the entry and the living room and lets out another groan, this one even more aggressive than the last; she needs to get some sleep. The trash on the table, truthfully, could wait until morning.

As she painstakingly climbs each stair one at a time, however, she gains enough clarity to register the fact that she was incredibly thankful to have a friend so spontaneous and caring in her life. Not many people would drive for 4 hours just to bring you a simple bowl of soup.

Her eyes fall closed as she trods towards her bedroom door, only a few feet in front of her now.

Joe is pretty cool on his own, she thinks with a yawn, it’s really too bad I haven’t spent much time with him - just him - until now.

Also… she’s going to have to ask him where he got that chicken noodle soup from. That was some really good soup.

[nixmatize]

Making room for someone new (chapter 2)

First || Next

Read on AO3

Second part of my story for @marigami-week! I’m still technically on time (in my time zone), though I’m much closer to the end of the day than planned.

Enjoy! :-)

Kagami woke up warm, and happier than she remembered being in a very long time. Though on a regular day she had no issue immediately rolling out of bed to get dressed, today she just snuggled further into the warmth with a contented hum.

Moments later, her bed shifted beneath her, and Kagami’s eyes snapped open in surprise. She was met with the sight of a sleep-mussed Marinette, hair askew and mouth slightly open as she breathed evenly. Kagami herself was against Marinette’s side, one leg slung across hers and an arm pulling Marinette close enough to be as much under her as beside her.

Though she prided herself on her control over her emotions, since there was no one (conscious) around to judge her, Kagami allowed herself a moment of being completely flustered at the position she found herself in. Was this normal for sleepovers? She presumed not, given that Marinette had set them up two separate beds to sleep in. Kagami must have fallen asleep during the movie and trapped Marinette there with her.

But if that was true, that meant Marinette was stuck there more out of a reluctance to wake her than as a choice. Would Marinette be angry? Given her past actions, it was unlikely that she would yell at or be deliberately cruel to Kagami, but making your host uncomfortable was surely the fastest way to ensure no further invitations. And despite herself, Kagami had really enjoyed the chance to spend more time with Marinette. She would be quite disappointed to never be given the opportunity again.

Kagami shifted a bit to try and create an opening to slip out of the blanket that tied them together, but her shifting seemed only to rouse Marinette slightly. Marinette rolled toward her, flipping their positions and burying her face in Kagami’s neck.

Kagami felt as though her face was on fire. She had always scoffed at such depictions, especially in the context of romance – after all, she had never stooped so low as to become a blushing mess around Adrien, and he was the one she chose to crush on.

But now, every trite expression Kagami had dismissed haunted her. The blood rushed to her face, her heart pounded much more furiously than normal in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. Having Marinette close was more ruinous to Kagami’s composure than any amount of exposure to her crush – but of course, that was silly. Kagami was crushing on Adrien. These aberrant reactions would dissipate once she fully finished waking up and moved somewhere cooler.

Unable to free herself from Marinette pinning her, Kagami decided that the only way to get out would probably be to swallow her pride and wake Marinette. Though this would make their positions obvious to Marinette and probably cause her to avoid Kagami out of discomfort, it was still preferable to her waking up to a wide-awake Kagami and wondering how long she had been awake, leaving them in this position without any effort to wake her sleeping friend.

Mind set, Kagami reached up to gently jostle her sholder. “Marinette. Wake up.” Marinette just mumbled something sleepily an buried her face further into the crook of Kagami’s neck, which was entirely unhelpful. Kagami tried again, to the same effect.

Giving up on the subtle approach, Kagami shook her hard enough to startle the girl awake. “Ah! I’m up, I’m up!” Marinette flailed in her panic to stand, which only further entangled them in the thick blanket. Kagami’s eyes met wide blue ones, each pausing to take in the other before Marinette’s face began to take on a pretty pink flush. “Sorry Kagami, I guess we must have fallen asleep after the movie!” She began to disengage herself from the blanket burrito, freeing both of them. Illogically, Kagami missed the closeness.

Kagami shook her head in response, “It was my fault, as I was the one to fall asleep first.” Internally, she was just glad that Marinette did not seem too upset; though she knew herself capable of living without friends, something about the idea had become… strongly distasteful since getting the chance to actually interact with others her age.

Marinette just smiled at her. “I think we were both a bit too tired last night. How about I go check downstairs with my parents and see what we’re doing for breakfast? You can get ready up here while I’m gone.”

At a nod from Kagami, Marinette left for the downstairs. Kagami showered quickly, noting the different soaps Marinette kept haphazardly piled at one corner of the tub. Some part of her expected them to be scented “warm vanilla sugar” or something similar, but it seems like Marinette’s scent came entirely from living in and above the bakery as opposed to artificial scents – the bottles ranged from “coffee” to “lavender” to “original fresh,” but nothing that Kagami would instinctually associate with the baker’s daughter.

After getting clean, Kagami stepped out and dried off. There seemed to be some sort of commotion downstairs. If she had to bet, she would place the shrill screeching as Chloé’s, to absolutely no one’s surprise. She dressed back in a clean outfit – a black button-up and jeans that she had packed for herself earlier, simple and yet classic. The entire building shook violently, and her eyes widened: an akuma.

The violent roar of an enraged akuma came from downstairs. Before she could do anything else, another tremor shook the building. Kagami toppled over into a corner of the room, sending a flurry of fabric scraps and random object tumbling across the floor. She bent to try and sweep the scaps at her feet bck into a haphazard pile, so as not to make a mess of Marinette’s space. Just as she lifted a large piece of black felt, her eye caught on what was underneath – a small black box with red engraving that had popped open, spilling two smooth earrings onto the floor. The back of her neck prickled with familiarity, and Kagami felt miles away from herself, watching as if from a distance as her hand reached out to scoop up the dark earrings.

There was a bright flash of light, and before her floated a kwami: its colors were similar to Longg’s, but while Longg was unmistakably modeled after a dragon, this little creature was a…

“Ladybug,” she breathed out in a trance. The little ladybug kwami floated there in shock, clearly unsure of what to do. At that moment, the entire building rattled again, which seemed to break the kwami out of its daze.

“Kagami. You cannot tell anyone that you saw me.”

“I will not, I swear it.”

The bug seemed dubious, but left the topic for now and looked around the room. “Where is Marinette?”

Kagami blinked. This kwami was in Marinette’s room. It came from magical earrings. And once released, its first instinct was to look for Marinette. So many puzzle pieces she didn’t know she had been holding suddenly slotted perfectly into place.

While she would certainly revisit this whole revalation later, now wasn’t the time or place. She locked eyes with the little creature, and said, “Marinette went downstairs a little while ago, perhaps twenty minutes or so, and was there when the akuma happened. Should I take the earrings to her?”

Without responding, the kwami phased down through the floorboards, leaving Kagami alone in the intermittently rattling room by herself, staring down at the jewelry in her hands and reconsidering her whole life. If Marinette was Ladybug, that meant that the first day they really met each other, Marinette had been willing to entrust her with Longg. Even in spite of Marinette’s own previously negative feelings toward her and her friend’s disparaging comments, she had been willing to give Kagami a chance.

Kagami had not realized until now, either, just how selfless Marinette was. She already knew that Marinette donated much (in her own opinion, too much) of her free time for the good of others, mending their clothes, building them projects, and baking them treat. Once her time superheroing was factored into the equation, it was clear Marinette gave so much of herself, that Kagami was surprised there was anything left at all.

They would have to discuss this – Kagami would need to apologize for her discovery, and thank Marinette for the hundred ways she had been wonderful. And after that, Kagami would et Marinette to eat and sleep and take a break once in a while, protecting Marinette from any who would take advantage of such a kind person.

Perhaps Marinette wouldn’t want to be friends with Kagami after today, since she had already screwed up so much and it was only the morning. But Kagami swore to herself that she would do her best to support Marinette, so matter in what capacity she was allowed to do so.

The kwami phased back through the floor. Objectively, Kagami was aware that the little god was the same color as before, but somehow she still got the impression of sickly paleness from the kwami. Before she could say a word, it said, “We don’t have much time. The akuma took Marinette, who I know you know is Ladybug, and we need someone out there to fight it with Chat.”

“Where should I take you to find a new holder?”

It stared at her gravely. “Kagami, we don’t have time for that. I need you to put the earrings on. Your transformation phrase is ‘Tikki, spots on.’ Understand?”

Kagami had officially become unable to process any of what was happening, but somehow she managed to nod and slip the arrings on. She stood to go to Marinette’s full body mirror, the kwami – Tikki, she said – trailing behind anxiously.

Locking eyes with herself, Kagami slipped in to her focused mindspace. Mother had drilled the importance of a calm mind, and had taught her from a young age how to push aside emotion or pain in the pursuit of victory. Summoning steely determination, Kagami said, “Tikki, spots on.”

When the glow of magic faded away, she was left with the tingling feeling of strength and grace and power and magic that she remembered from her transformation with Longg. She was left in a thin but flexable black bottom layer to her suit, with red polka-dotted armor layered on top in a clear facsimile of a ladybug’s coloring.

Kagami looked at her spots in the mirror – Ladybug’s spots, Marinette’s spots, odd and out of place on a clear newcomer such as herself – and cracked a cold smile.

Even if this was her last day of friendship with Marinette, she still cared for her friend deeply… and if that akuma had hurt her in any way, there would be hell to pay.

(((@jessigurl-design​ - hopefully you like the new chapter!)))

[ceve4ever]

Prompt #6: “if you ever want to prank him use a pear”

Based on the “Short random writing prompt list” by @starflight4842-writingprompts​

I was actually going to make this a Casskens (Cassikens? I don’t know which ship name is more widely used in the fandom) fic bc I wasn’t sure if I could turn it into a Ceve prompt, but I did manage to after all. This was also the most fun one to write so far :)

[I did change the prompt to “if you ever want to prank her use a pear” to make it work]

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

Cassandra had to make sure Eve never found out about this.

If she knew that Cassandra had gone behind her back to get ahold of her military files, she was sure there’d be hell to pay.

Cassandra was able to justify it to herself, but she didn’t think she could justify it to Eve. The records were confidential and property of the government, after all. But Eve had done as much research as she could about her Librarians, so it was only fair that Cassandra learn all she could about her Guardian.

After tucking herself away with a cup of tea in a far corner of the Library (and making sure she was completely alone—she didn’t want the boys finding out either, especially not Ezekiel), Cassandra settled in with the thick packet of records.

She was surprised at how much wasn’t new information to her. Eve seemed to have really opened up to them all, in addition to the things she had let slip accidentally. Her birthday, names of the various military bases she had grown up on, health records and information about her basic training.

There were details on seemingly every aspect of Eve’s life, and once Cassandra reached the part where NATO missions came up, she did begin to feel a pang of guilt at prying into her Guardian’s life.

And then, tucked into a report written by Eve’s commanding officer from an early NATO assignment, a single sentence that made Cassandra stop and blink a few times to make sure her eyes weren’t imagining things.

If you ever want to prank her, use a pear.

There was no context. No other details.

Cassandra nearly spilled her tea. She was puzzled. She figured that was enough reading for the day and tucked the files into her bag to take home and hide away. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last sentence, but she knew she couldn’t ask Eve about it without it being instantly obvious what she’d done.

Still, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering.

And she just so happened to have a nice ripe pear in her kitchen…

…

The next morning, Cassandra went into the Annex early and crept quietly over to Eve’s desk. She placed the pear right in the center on top of it, then went back out to her car. When she saw Eve arriving, she pretended she had just pulled in as well and greeted the Guardian with a smile. They went to their respective desks upon entering. Cassandra pulled out her notebooks, trying her hardest not to look over at Eve.

“Huh.”

Cassandra finally looked up. Eve had the pear in her hand and was eyeing it curiously. She held it up to show Cassandra.

“Was this you?”

“Nope. Why?”

Eve was silent for a moment. “No reason. It’s nothing. Huh.” She repeated. After staring at the fruit for another moment, she shrugged and put it aside on her desk before sitting and beginning to do paperwork.

Cassandra watched, then returned to her own notes. Well, that didn’t work.

On the way home that night, she stopped by the grocery store for more pears.

…

Cassandra was beginning to feel the effects of going into the Annex early every single morning to place a pear on Eve’s desk. She was yawning more and having to drink more coffee during their missions. She was also starting to feel a bit guilty; Eve was growing more annoyed and suspicious by the day.

“Jenkins, did you leave me a pear-- or eight-- for some reason?”

“Flynn, have you been leaving me snacks?”

“Ezekiel—no more pears!”

Finally, on the twelfth day of finding a single pear on her desk in the morning, Eve sighed in exasperation. “Why have you been doing this?!” she called to Ray.

Cassandra knew she needed to confess. “Um, Eve…” she started.

The woman looked over at her. “What is it, Cass—Oh no. No, you haven’t…”

Cassandra felt herself turning red. “I—I did.” She admitted.

“Cassandra! Why would you—I mean, how would even know to, unless…” Eve’s eyes grew wide. “Cassandra! Did you read my files?!”

“Yes, but I just—You read our files!”

“Ugh, Cassandra!” Eve groaned and put her head in her hands. “How much did you read?”

“I read up until the part about the pear…”

Eve groaned again.

“I was just curious, that’s all!”

There was a moment of silence between the two women.

“So, um… What’s with the pear?”

“Cassandra!”