#I need katya to DANCE
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#that Pokedance song has been stuck in my head#but I am no animator so this is clearly rushed and choppy#however#I need katya to DANCE#and so she shall#pafl#pafl katya
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I Get to Love You
Thigh squeezes. Reaching over and resting your hand on their outer thigh, perhaps giving a gentle squeeze. Feeling their eyes on you as they try to decipher your motives. Whether the touch is teasing, loving, reassuring, or just for fun.
part of my Valentine's Day prompts
requested by @pyotrkochetkov | word count: 0.6k | warnings: none!
The breeze blowing in from the ocean was a pleasant sensation against your skin. You sit in your designated white wooden folding chair on the large patio, the scent of flowers filling your nostrils. The gentle music floats above you as you watch the adorable parade of kids making their way to the altar. You shoot a quick glance back at Kevin, rocking on his heels, his eyes trained at the end of the aisle.
“Kev looks like he’s about to cry already,” you whisper to Brady, sitting next to you.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Brady questions, his eyes turning to look towards his friend.
“Of course it is,” you lightly giggle. “Which reminds me; if you don’t shed a single tear during our wedding, I might have to call the whole thing off.”
The teasing in your voice is evident, that mischievous smirk on your face as you look back at your fiancé. Brady shares your grin, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips.
“If that’s the case, then I promise I will be a sobbing wreck. And if I’m not, you can subtly kick me in the shins until I start crying.”
Another gentle laugh escapes you and you press a kiss onto his lips. The music swells and you see the officiant lift their hands – an indication for you to stand. You do, angling your body towards the entrance of the aisle. Brady’s hands come to rest on your hips, his need for physical touch making you smile.
You watch as Katya makes her way down the aisle, holding the elegant bouquet of white florals, the material of her dress dancing in the breeze. You sneak another glance towards Kevin and you look just in time to see him wipe a tear away. Katya makes it to the altar, kissing her father on the cheek and handing off the bouquet to her maid of the honor before taking Kevin’s hands in hers. Once everyone has settled back down into their seats, you listen intently to the exchanging of vows, the smile never leaving your face.
There was something magical about weddings – an entire day devoted to celebrating love. They were one of your favorite events to attend and you loved every second of them: the ceremony, the first dance, the reception. But your favorite part was the vows. Listening to two people profess their love for each other in front of friends and family was beautiful, especially when it always looked like the couple was in their own world. Just the two of them – no one else around.
You smile as you see Kevin and Katya seemingly caught up in their own perfect bubble.
A hand landing on the top of your thigh pulls your attention away from the bride and groom and towards your soon-to-be-husband. Brady looks at you with a soft smile on his face, his strong grip gently squeezing the flesh of your upper thigh, his thumb running over the silken fabric resting there.
You understood the action – one that could have many different intentions driving it – was one of excitement and love. You grin back at him, your head coming to rest naturally against his shoulder. Brady presses a kiss into the crown of your head and you hear his gentle voice whispering into your hair.
“Only three more months. Then that’s going to be us up there.”
Your smile grows, your left hand coming up to rest on top of his. Your engagement ring catches the sunlight, sparkling like an exclamation to the end of Brady’s statement. You lift your head, resting your chin onto his shoulder, watching as Brady turns to stare into your eyes.
“Three months can’t come fast enough,” you whisper. Brady smiles, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you both turn your attention back to Kevin and Katya.
Weddings were magical. And you knew in your heart that yours and Brady’s wedding would be the most enchanting of them all. You couldn’t wait for that day.
#nicole writes#brady skjei blurb#brady skjei fluff#carolina hurricanes blurb#nhl blurb#hockey blurb#valentine blurbs 2k24
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When your boss and his "friend" are too lovey dovey
Fandom: Genshin Impact
Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli
Premise: In which, Ekaterina makes the mistake of posting about her boss and his "friend", and the entire Liyue goes crazy
A/N: This is a social media au fic cross posted from my ao3! which you can read here
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chapter 1
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Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
My boss and his “friend” better hook up, or I’ll seriously kill someone. How is it possible to not notice the heart eyes your “friend” looks at you with, for like every time you talk??!?? 2 years. It’s been 2 years since both Master Childe and Mr. Zhongli have been dancing around each other. 2 YEARS!!!!
And just now… You literally won’t believe the level of PDA I had to witness. Mr. Zhongli lent his coat to Master Childe because his official uniform is too “risque” and “insufficient” for Liyue’s winter.
It’s not even 9 am yet… I need coffee for this shit.
| Vlad . @ vladaddy
Replying to @ katyaaa
You’re not the only one. Sweet Tsaritsa, have mercy on us.
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Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Update: He finally went out to have lunch with his “friend”. Thank archons.
| Nadia . @ spynadia
Replying to @ katyaaa
You gotta admit, they’re pretty much couple goals, even without the dating.
| Xiangling . @ cheflingling
Replying to @ spynadia and @ katyaaa
[Insert blurry image of two people, one with ginger hair and another with dark brown. The brunette looks like he’s feeding the ginger haired man. They’re both basically glue to each other’s side]
Awwe, look at them!! How cute!
| Felix . @ felixis
Replying to @ cheflingling
Definitely did NOT need that image on my home feed and it definitely does NOT make me feel sour ass single pringle.
| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Replying to @ cheflingling
What happened to something called privacy ?
| Yunjin . @ operagrandis
Replying to @ katyaaa
Privacy went out the window the moment you decided to post about your “boss” crushing on his “friend” and vice versa
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Signora . @ thefairestlady
Hey. @ katyaaa , dig up some more pics and info on the two idiots in love. Tsaritsa’s orders
| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Replying to @ thefairestlady
What ?
| Pantalone . @ theregrator
Replying to @ katyaaa and @ thefairestlady
Don’t bother asking why, it’s strictly confidential. Oh and also, make it quick :)
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Ekaterina stares at her phone in horror as the notifications from her socials go blasting off every- freaking- second. Not to mention, the weird, suspicious and vague “mission” about digging more information on her boss and his “friend”
Ugh. Why is she the one who has to suffer?
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chapter 2
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First thing Ekaterina does is to mute her socials. The constant pinging of the notifications started to annoy her and it might overheat her phone too.
“-terina”
She shouldn’t have posted about her boss. Worst decision she ever made in her entire life- well… not exactly the worst but definitely ranks up high somewhere in the regrets list.
“Ekaterina?”
But to be fair, it was getting on her nerves recently, since Mr. Zhongli got very bold with his affection towards Master Childe recently, and well… her boss being the oblivious and dense person he is, hasn’t even noticed the advances, and instead he just shoots his “friend” an extremely blushy smil-
Woah —
Something- no - a pair of hands grab Ekaterina’s shoulders and shake the living soul out of her body. “Oww.”
“Katya! Come on! I’ve been calling your name so many times now. Where is your mind at?” Nadia, one of her colleagues and friend, stares at her with concern.
“Sorry,” Ekaterina replies, pushing her hair back. “Was thinking…”
“Is it the new mission?”
“Yeah.”
She shoots Ekaterina a pitiful look before handing her a cup of coffee. “Better start the hustle then. Call me or the others if you need help. And boy, we have a lot of work cut out for us.” Nadia ushers her away to her office, “Go, go, time is mora. Don’t waste it.”
With that, the door to her office closes. Ekaterina places her coffee on the table and pulls out her chair, before remembering to check her phone.
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Notifications
Signora . @thefairestlady
3 messages
Pantalone . @theregrator
1 message
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Back to regretting my life choices, I guess.
It took about a week to stalk gather intel on Master Childe and Mr. Zhongli’s time together. Stacks of brown envelopes and manila folders, labelled as “CONFIDENTIAL : FATUI ONLY” covered the entire top of Ekaterina’s dining table (scouring over reports about a harbinger’s rendezvous with a funeral consultant during working hours would have been too much on the nose)
The mission became a joint effort between her and other agents working at the Northland Bank. It was found out on their first day, that it wasn’t an easy task observing their extremely lovey dovey targets… The PDA displayed by them was too much (it was lethal to the agents’ health to watch them longer than an hour).
As the mission is classified to be confidential, and specially ordered by her majesty, Ekaterina and the agents couldn’t take any risks to get information leaked about whatever the heck they were doing. So, everyone opted for hard copy reports which could be destroyed once it fulfilled its use.
But no one expected it to be a massive headache as Ekaterina and her colleagues went through each one of them.
“When will this end?! There’s too many,” Felix breaks the silence with a groan, then slams his head down on the table.
“I feel like I’ve already read the same report a million times now, just worded differently.” Vlad rubs his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Every single day, they eat lunch together at Chef Mao’s, go to Yun Jin’s plays, or sometimes to Third-Round Knockout and finally crash at either one’s home for dinner, did I get that right?”
“You’re correct, except for one thing. Everything and everything is paid by Lord Tartaglia,” Felix responded, seemingly recovered from his exhaustion.
Everyone hums in union.
To be fair though, the mora used by Master Childe on his outings weren’t really his, but Lord Pantalone’s. Hell, even Ekaterina would exploit 9th Harbringer’s mora (if she had a higher standing in the fatui, of course)
“Lets not forget these.” With the most deadpan expression, Vlad tosses pictures of the “dates” their boss and his “friend” had, but many many cropped pictures of Master Childe’s chest framed perfectly by his leather harness, stood out from the stack.
“Who took these?” and “Why?” was left unsaid amongst them all.
Nadia choked suspiciously on air just then. Nervously shifting her eyes around.
Thinking to save her friend from embarrassment, Ekaterina tries to change the subject. “Ahem, anyway, since all the reports are basically the same, let’s just summarise it.”
“Umm something along the lines of … Master Childe is a sugar daddy for Mr. Zhongli and they act like a married couple?” Felix says while rubbing his chin in deep thought.
“Let's… At least try to rephrase our wording, not so straightforward.” Vlad smiles, or at least tries to.
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chapter 3
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Childe . @ tartaglia
Why did I receive an emergency summon from her majesty?
| Signora . @ thefairestlady
Replying to @ tartaglia
Idk, you probably did something. Again.
| Pantalone . @ theregrator
Replying to @ tartaglia and @ thefairestlady
Only one way to find out.
| Lumine . @ thebettertraveller
Replying to @ tartaglia
GL, I hope you don’t get your ass kicked.
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Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Phew! Mission successfully completed and with a generous reward too! I’m glad all that stalking of Master Childe paid off.
| Childe . @ tartaglia
Replying to @ katyaaa
You were spying on me? Don’t tell me this is the reason why I’ve been summoned…
| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Replying to @ tartaglia
Spying ? hahaha what spying ? I don’t know what you’re talking about :DDD
| Felix . @ felixis
Replying to @ katyaaa
You’re so fired. Stupid ass.
[ insert facepalm GIF ]
| Childe . @ tartaglia
Replying to @ felixis and @ katyaaa
Oh don’t worry, you’re both in trouble, and so is Nadia and Vlad ;)
| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa
Replying to @ tartaglia
Please have mercy, my lord!
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Meanwhile, in the privacy of Zhongli’s home, an elegantly written note addressed not to Zhongli, but Morax, materialises right in front of him.
“You shameless old dragon, get your broke ass to Snezhnaya now! We need to talk”
Never in his life did Childe feel as nervous and scared until today. He was shaking in his boots as he looked back and forth between her majesty and Mr. Zhongli (alternatively Rex Lapis, as he just found out… but that can be discussed later). He didn’t think that he’d get summoned by The Tsaritsa nor did he expect Mr. Zhongli, who was supposed to be in Liyue doing his job, to be invited to her majesty’s garden for tea.
Tea? Nope this isn’t tea, this is basically an interrogation session!
“Now, let me get this straight. You gave the boy a pair of marriage chopsticks and he accepted it?” Tsaritsa raised her teacup to her scowling lips slowly.
Hold on, wait a minute… Marriage chopsticks?
“That is correct–”
“And you thought that my youngest, born and raised in Snezhnaya would understand the meaning behind this act? You didn’t think this through did you, Morax? How embarrassing, I suppose Barbatos is still right, you ARE a stone blockhead.”
Mr. Zhongli coughed discreetly to disguise his embarrassment, before taking a sip from his cup, “Now please, Tsaritsa, there’s no need to chastise me for it.”
“I must, with how you shamelessly court my youngest Harbinger without my knowledge.” Tsaritsa’s eyes narrow down at Zhongli, like a mother ready to scold.
Childe watches the entire exchange in shock– courting ? Mr. Zhongli and courting ? Just what in Celestia is happening ? He must have looked like a dumbfounded monkey, staring at them, until her majesty’s words interrupt his inner turmoil.
“Well,” she says curtly “Has the wedding date been set? If not, I shall take care of it.”
Sputtering and hacking on his tea, Childe replied, “W-What!??”
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Bonus scene
“Lord Tartaglia! Congratulations, we heard you’re getting married–”
“My my! What good news! I can feel the tears of joy in my eyes already”
“How shocking… It feels as if just yesterday you were but a little boy running around the palace”
#genshin impact#tani writes!!#zhongli#childe#childe x zhongli#zhongli x childe#tartaglia#childe tartaglia ajax#childe tartagalia#zhongli genshin impact#childe genshin impact#genshin#zhongchi#tartali#zhongchili#genshin social media au#fatui#la signora#pantalone#tsaritsa
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Part 3, Chapter 8
Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?
Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!
Also available on AO3 and Wattpad
Masterlist
Reference pics
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PART 3
Chapter 8
Calina crouched down, circling the opponent in front of her.
A kick came at her left flank but she rolled to the right, dodging the strike. She sprang back to her feet, her hands up in front of her face in a classic defensive pose. She darted away from another lunge, using her quick, agile grace to duck and dance away from the danger.
That’s when her attacker started to get frustrated. Sloppy. The next punch was so telegraphed that Calina had time to follow up her side-step with a kick of her own. The top of her foot whacked the outer thigh of the woman opposite causing her to stumble back with a muttered oath. “Dammit, Calina.”
Calina just shrugged.
Katya rubbed at her leg, and turned to complain to the other Widow doing stretches in the training room. “She’s no fun to spar with.”
Yelena raised her eyebrow. “And this is news to you? Its been like this since we were kids. She’s too quick.”
“You always managed to get some hits in,” Katya reminded her.
So did Matt, Calina thought, before banishing the memory of the fun they’d had fighting together in Fogwell’s. She didn’t need a reminder of that place. And she was trying her best to push all thoughts of Matt to the deepest recesses of her mind.
Otherwise she’d curl up on the floor and start crying.
Which she couldn’t afford to do right now. Not when they were so close to finally putting an end to Volkov’s operation.
To keep her self sane, she’d suggested training to Katya...but it wasn’t doing the trick. She needed a better opponent - someone who would keep her mind more engaged. Someone she always had a hard time besting.
She needed Yelena.
“I don’t know,” Calina said to Katya, goading the woman in the corner. “That was a long time ago. Maybe she’s gone soft.”
Yelena took the bait. She sprung up from the floor and strode over to the sparring area. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Calina took up her defensive position again. “Bring it, shorty.”
Katya sucked in a sharp breath. “You’ve done it now, Calina.”
Calina just grinned. She knew what she was doing. Taunting Yelena about her height was a sure fire way to rile up the other woman and bring out her vicious side.
And that’s just what she wanted.
Yelena launched herself at Calina, catching her around the waist and wrestling her to the ground, where she had her pinned in seconds.
Calina shook her head as she got to her feet. It was always the same with Yelena - no preamble, no easing in to a fight. Just straight to brutal offence.
Calina met Yelena’s smirk with a wry smile. “Beginner’s luck,” she commented.
Yelena shook her head. “Nope. I’m just better than you.”
The next round ended when Yelena tumbled to the floor after Calina sweeped her leg. “You were saying?” Calina taunted.
Yelena’s glare signalled a change in the tone of the fight. Banter was replaced by steely-eyed focus. Punches that were pulled now landed with full force. It took all of Calina’s concentration to dodge and evade Yelena’s attacks...and she wasn’t always successful.
There was a reason Yelena was their best fighter.
As Calina took another bruising tumble to the floor, she wondered if this was what she really wanted. Not the distraction from her thoughts, but the pain.
A punishment of sorts, for ruining things between her and Matt.
I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.
She tried out her mantra as she ducked a left hook from Yelena. But the words crumbled into dust in the face of the truth:
She’d lied to the man she loved, again and again. She’d hurt him with her deceit and her dishonesty.
I’m a shitty person; I’m not worthy of anything.
Her knee exploded with pain as Yelena managed to land another hit while she was busy berating herself. She staggered back on the mat and pressed her gloved hand to the throbbing joint.
“Ouch,” Katya winced.
“Yeah, sorry, Calina,” Yelena said, still bouncing on the spot. “You tapping out?”
Calina shook off the pain and raised her fists again. “No. Let’s go again.”
“You sure?”
Calina just nodded and started circling Yelena. Pain or distraction…it didn’t matter. Either way, she needed this.
As she met Yelena in the centre of the mat for another round, she tried to block out all thoughts of Matt. She focussed all her attention on the attacks coming her way.
And she was oblivious to the silent ringing of her phone…
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Matt was pissed.
It was now 48 hours since the fight with Calina, and his emotions had come full circle. The despair and fear were gone, and his hopeful optimism had faded, leaving him boiling with rage again.
Because Calina wasn’t picking up her fucking phone.
It was deja vu all over again. Just like after the aborted kiss in the gym and the misunderstanding in the bar, Calina had disappeared and was ignoring his calls.
Matt hated it.
He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to mature, healthy relationships, but even he knew that you needed to actually talk to the person you loved to make things work.
Matt threw the phone on his bed and pulled on his mask. He’d spent all evening dialling her number and listening to it ring incessantly. Now it was time to act.
He didn’t know exactly where the Widows’ hideout was, but he knew where they were planning to be. And if he had to scope out that carpet warehouse for the next six months just to get a glimpse of Calina, so be it.
Determination fuelled his run across the rooftops of the city and across the river into New Jersey. Determination, and frustration. As well as the ever-present simmering anger, and a healthy dose of self-righteous condemnation.
She needed to stop doing this. This…silent treatment, cold shoulder thing. It was driving him crazy. Especially since she had all the power in their current dynamic. She knew where to find him. She knew how to contact him. She could show up to his office or his apartment, or climb into his goddam bedroom window at any time of the day or night…but he couldn’t do the same.
She was off the grid, and he had nothing but a phone number she wouldn’t answer and a vague geographic location.
Which he was approaching now.
He slowed down as he reached the derelict industrial park where she’d found him the other day. He stuck to the shadows as he stalked through the abandoned lots on his way to the warehouse, intent on not giving himself away. He may not agree with the Widows’ plan for Volkov and his men, but he wouldn’t jeopardise it.
He’d come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t his fight. It wasn’t his place to pass judgement on how the Widows’ claimed their freedom and their safety. He wouldn’t interfere. He-
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Matt froze as he picked up the sound of muffled gunfire. He crouched down behind a rusted-out delivery truck and sent his senses out into the night, trying to pinpoint the location.
It was coming from the warehouse.
Pop. Pop.
More gunfire.
And the unmistakeable sound of flesh hitting flesh.
Then shouts in Russian - both male and female.
It looked like tonight was the night the Widows’ took on Volkov.
Matt started running again, heading for the site of the battle.
He wasn’t going to interfere with the Widows’ fight. But he couldn’t just stand idly by while they faced danger.
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It happened while Calina was recovering from her fight with Yelena.
The two of them lay side-by-side on the mat, panting as they caught their breath from the exertion.
Yelena tapped her hand against Calina’s thigh - the closest part of her she could reach - and grunted out, “Good match.”
Calina huffed out a laugh. Only Yelena could face off against someone with a deadly look in her eye and fight no-holds-barred, just to turn around afterwards and call it a simple ‘match’ - as if they’d spent the last hour playing tennis or chess instead of pummelling the crap out of each other.
“You too,” Calina replied, not without affection. She and Yelena might butt heads more than any of the other Widows, but she still loved her. In the way you’d love an overbearing, stubborn older sister.
After several minutes of rest, they both clambered to their feet, Calina wincing as her left leg protested the movement - Yelena had walloped her knee again with a hook kick during the third round. Yelena rubbed at her side as she gulped down her water bottle and Calina held back a smile. It looked like she’d done some damage too, which was always cause for gloating when going up against Yelena.
Katya shook her head in exasperation. “Satisfied now?” she asked Calina. “Did you get everything out of your system?”
Calina let her smile loose and rolled her neck. “Yup.”
“I hope it was worth it. The two of you are going to be in pain tomorrow.”
Yelena opened her mouth to reply when Inessa barrelled through the door of the make-shift gym. “Volkov just arrived at the warehouse. He’s here!”
The other three Widows exchanged a look, then they all set off running at once. They sprinted across the hallway, through the main room, to the control centre - which was a fancy term for a few desks and a bank of monitors displaying the feed from the warehouse.
Anya was sitting in front of said screens, barking out information to the rest of the Widows in the room. “…three in the docking bay. Nine more in the room with Volkov. That makes 18 in total.”
“18 men?” Yelena clarified as she leaned over Anya to peer at the footage.
The seated Widow twisted around to greet the team leader. Then did a double-take at the sweat soaking Yelena’s hair and the burgeoning bruise over her left jaw. “What the hell happened to you?”
Yelena waved her hand. “Nothing. Did you say 18?”
“Yes,” Anya replied. “Plus the two lackeys.”
‘Lackeys’ was the term they’d come up with for the scientific staff recruited by Volkov’s team. From what they’d been able to determine from their surveillance, they were little more than broke science majors from the local college looking to make some extra cash by setting up the lab.
“18? That’s Volkov’s entire faction, right?” Katya asked.
Anya nodded. “Based on our intel, yes.”
‘Our’ intel was really Anya’s intel. The tech wizard had spent weeks glued to her laptop, diligently researching every single person captured on the footage from the warehouse. Between her facial recognition software, the information from Ranieri’s laptop, and her illegal backdoors into the databases of the CIA, KGB and Interpol, she’d managed to ID Volkov’s entire gang.
A few were previous operative from the Red Room - part of Volkov’s original team. Some were family members, converted to Volkov’s cause. But most were hired guns - murderers and Bratva mafiosos smuggled out of Russian prisons and onto US soil with the promise of freedom in exchange for a little light kidnapping and brainwashing.
And they were all in the same place, at the same time.
“Volkov’s gotta be either stupid or supremely confident to amass everyone in the same location,” Calina commented.
“I don’t think he has a choice,” Yelena said. “We took out most of his top mercenaries in South Carolina - this is all he has left. And he’s paranoid enough to want as much firepower around him as possible.”
“18 of them against 9 of us? That’s doable,” Katya commented.
“That’s more than doable. Its a cake-walk,” Yelena replied. She straightened up and crossed her arms before addressing the room. “Okay, everyone, it’s go time. We have the chance to end this tonight, and we’re not going to fail. We’ve been training for weeks for this, so you know what to do - tranq and remove the lackeys unharmed, and take out everyone else. Leave Volkov to me. Be ready to move in 5.”
Calina turned to leave with the other Widows but Yelena caught her arm. “You up for this?” she asked.
Calina rolled her eyes. “I’m a little sore, but you didn’t do that much damage, Yelena.”
“I’m not talking about that. I heard you talking to Katya earlier. About your fight with Matt.”
Calina bit her lip. “Oh. That.”
“I know what I said in Maine, but if you want to bail on this, you can. You have nothing to prove to us.”
Calina shook her head. “I’m coming. I can’t just sit here while you guys are out there fighting.”
“Okay then. Go get ready.”
Calina nodded and ran to her bunk. She slithered into her Black Widow suit, zipped up her boots and quickly re-braided her hair. Then she slotted her guns into her thigh holsters…and took a second to breathe.
This was it.
After tonight it would all be over. One way or another.
She glanced around the room and watched as her sisters geared-up and checked their own weapons. A sudden bolt of fear hit her at the thought of one of them being injured.
Or worse.
It never used to be like this in the Red Room. Back then, they’d been teammates in name only. Just individual soldiers going into missions side-by-side. Another pair of hands. Another set of skills. Useful back up…but nothing more.
Now, these women were her friends. Her sisters.
There was Anya, with her logical brain and lack of filter.
Inessa, with her weird sense of humour and bubbly personality.
Viktoria, with her quiet, stoicism.
Yelena, with her fearsome loyalty.
Katya, who she was closest to out of them all. Kind, thoughtful Katya.
She didn’t want to lose any of them.
So she would fight tonight. Not to kill - if she could help it. Not out of vengeance or anger.
She would fight to protect.
She would fight to make sure every single Widow made it back here safe and unharmed.
She would fight for her sisters.
Surely Matt would understand that, she thought. Then she shook her head, trying to quell any further thoughts of Matt. She couldn’t go into this battle with any more fear running through her veins.
Like the fear of never seeing him again. Of leaving things between them in such an ugly, dreadful state.
She didn’t hold out any hope that they could still be together - not after all her lies and with all the blood on her hands - but they deserved some kind of closure, didn’t they? She wanted to see him again, even if it was just to say goodbye.
And that could only happen if she survived tonight.
So she took a deep breath, adjusted the straps on her Widows’ bites and shook out her arms, trying to loosen the tightness in her muscles. As she did, she met Katya’s gaze from across the room. She saw the same hint of fear in the other Widows’ dark brown eyes. Calina smiled to reassure her. “We’ve got this,” she mouthed.
Katya nodded. “We’ve got this,” she mouthed back, and a small smile formed on her lips.
“Hell, yeah, we’ve got this,” Inessa said out loud, having followed the silent conversation. “Do you hear that, everyone? We’ve got this!”
The tension in the air around the Widows’ suddenly transformed into excited anticipation. A few of the others whooped and joined in, “We’ve got this!”
Yelena just shook her head. “Did that really need saying?” She grabbed her rifle and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
--------
At first, everything went to plan.
Upon reaching the warehouse, the Widows had split into three teams of three - one group snuck around the back to the delivery bay, the other took up position near the front, and the third scaled up to the roof.
Yelena was on the roof team, and it was her role to snipe Volkov with a tranquilliser dart. The aim was to take him out of the equation early on, but leave him alive for interrogation after the fighting was done.
The other two member of Yelena’s group - Viktoria and Sanvi - had the task of infiltrating the lab and extracting the lackeys.
And that was the part that went to plan - sort of.
“We’re out,” was the whispered status update from Viktoria that came through Calina’s ear piece. “But we were spotted.”
At the same moment, Calina heard shouting from within the warehouse, and the sound of gunfire suddenly pierced the night.
“There goes the element of surprise,” Anya said before rising out of her crouch and racing for the docking bay doors.
Calina just shrugged and followed. It had always been an acceptable risk. From the moment they’d identified the lackeys as innocent pawns, they’d always planned to get them out first, no matter the consequences. It was a line in the sand which separated the Widows from Volkov and his faction - innocent civilians were not going to become collateral damage tonight.
And if that meant they had to go in hot - instead of taking out Volkov’s men with stealth - so be it.
Anya and the rest of their group reached the door first, and Calina cursed her earlier sparring session with Yelena for slowing her down. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her knee and kept running, finding an extra burst of speed when the soft pop-pop-pop of a silenced handgun drifted from the open door. She entered the docking bay moments later to find three guards sprawled on the concrete floor, all felled by single bullets to the head.
“Clear,” Anya reported.
“Clear,” repeated Katya from her section. “Nice of you to join us, Calina.”
Calina rolled her eyes and checked behind her. No one was following. “Clear,” she called out.
“Let’s go,” Anya said, moving further into the building. They could hear the sound of fighting from the main section of the warehouse, so they all picked up the pace.
Calina breathed steadily as they checked and cleared each corridor and room on the way, the four of them working in perfect synchronicity, their movements honed by years of training. Her earlier anxiety was gone, replaced by a calm determination. The muscle memory of countless previous missions guided her actions and she slipped back into ‘solider’ mode seamlessly - like donning an old, worn-in coat.
This was the life she knew best. As much as she struggled against that concept, her ease and composure in this situation proved it.
All thoughts of Matt, and his opinion on this operation, were forced deep into her subconscious. There was no room for moral quandaries here. Self-recrimination and guilt could come later.
Right now, there was only the gun in her hand and the teammate in front of her.
And a plan that was about to go to shit.
————–
Chapter 9
Tag list: @hollandorks @chezagnes @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyy
If you’d like to be added - let me know!
#daredevil#daredevil fic#tabula rasa#daredevil fanfic#daredevil fanfiction#daredevil x original female character#matt murdock#marvel's daredevil#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock x oc
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as helga aged, her final performance was fast approaching. it was held at a ball at the local hortense opera house, which the whole family of course attended. katya adored her grandmother and her talent, and although she was sad to see her retire, she was glad the hardworking woman could finally get some much needed rest and relaxation.
also in attendance at the ball were the crowleys. both katya and nathanael's parents strongly suggested they dance with each other, which they ended up doing, wanting to please them. it had been a while since katya had seen nathanael. he had grown into a tall and handsome young man, who intimidated her - far from the giggly little boy he once was.
the dancing was pleasant enough - he was clearly trained in it - and katya could feel herself getting lost in the music.
"i believe i have something i must tell you," he suddenly said. curious, katya responded. "what is it?"
nathanael moved behind katya, continuing the dance. "do excuse me for being so forward," he leaned in closer to her ear, speaking quietly. "i fear our parents wish for us to marry."
katya felt shivers go down her spine. "marry?"
"yes, marry," he responded. "i've heard my father discussing a merger, and well, yours works in publishing too, does he not?" he continued. "besides, what must all this mingling be for?"
katya was very confused. "marriage is done out of love, is it not?" she asked. nathanael scoffed at her. "are you really that naïve? arranged marriage has been happening for centuries." katya felt a queasiness growing in her chest.
"my parents wouldn't do that to me, they would never!" she exclaimed, her eyes filling up with tears. "please, let me go and stop with this nonsense!" she ran off to the balcony of the opera house and began crying - in her heart, she knew it may be true, as much as she tried to deny it.
#AGAIN apologies for the long post....#*ehrling legacy#*ehrling 1900#*ekaterina miotke#*nathanael crowley#*helga lammi#simblr#sims 4#ts4 gameplay#decades challenge
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🐋 — [ Tartaglia. ]
👤 — [ gender neutral reader. ]
🏷️ — [ enemies to lovers, good ending, fluff. ]
📜 — [ fic. ]
You had a mission. Kill the Eleventh Harbinger, through any means necessary.
You had heard the tales. He's a monster, a killing machine that brought with him devastation and ruin. The Vanguard of the Tsaritsa, and someone who crawled out of the Abyss.
It was insanity. Your higher ups must have known that sending one person to kill Tartaglia was a death sentence. But you would carry it out, regardless.
You didn't know what you expected, but it certainly wasn't this lanky, awkward young man, talking with the confidence of a Harbinger. Your organisation had managed to sneak you into the Fatui as a new recruit, and you had been posted to Liyue, which was apparently under his jurisdiction.
"I wish you all glory; glory to the Tsaritsa, glory to our motherland, and glory to yourselves. Dismissed. Your captains will tell you what you will be doing, and Y/N? A word, please?"
You pushed past the crowds, uncaring of how all eyes were on you. Tartaglia was waiting for you, a small smile on his lips. Again, you wondered how he could seem so young.
"You weren't listening at all, were you? Did I bore you?" Tartaglia leaned forward, his tone one of mild curiosity.
You fought the urge to reach for your weapon, instead focusing on keeping your breathing even.
"No sir. Sorry sir, it won't happen again." You replied crisply.
To your surprise, Tartaglia threw his head back and laughed like he'd heard the joke of the century.
"Sir? Why so formal, recruit? Call me Childe; everyone here calls me that." Tar- Childe said, his eyes dancing with mirth.
"Understood, Lord Childe." You said carefully, testing the word out on your tongue.
Childe clicked his tongue, looking pleased. "Okay, that's a start. I know exactly where you'll be working. Katya!"
A Fatuus hurried over, turning to Childe.
He turned to you with a conspiratorial grin and whispered loudly, "Ekaterina here takes care of the shady side of things at the bank, so I can go out and play Harbinger without the metaphorical blood on my hands."
"Need I remind you of the times you appeared in the bank with blood all over you, sir?" Ekaterina replied drily, and you noticed that she didn't seem to use that reverent tone of respect most recruits did.
"It's just blood, and it wasn't mine."
"Blood doesn't wash out of carpets easily, and you're lucky it was closing time then." She turns to you, and despite how her face was obscured by the mask, you got the feeling that she was sizing you up.
"Is this who you want, sir?"
"Give them an office at the bank, okay? I'll be going now, I just came back from Inazuma!"
The two of you watched Childe hurry away, his figure shrinking into the distance.
"Good luck."
"What?"
Ekaterina turned to you, her voice dripping with pity.
"Childe isn't an easy boss. Come with me."
-
Your days at the bank were long and dreary. It wasn't so bad, but there was a lot of work to be done. Mostly it was just the Qixing nitpicking some small detail or other, and your days were filled with passive aggressive letters insisting that the other party was far too kind, and that you would remember this.
All well and fine, until Childe crashed into your office like a dust devil.
"Y/N, can you fight?"
Your first thought was that the bank was under attack. Your second thought was that your cover had been blown, and your hand twitched towards the polearm that always remained just out of arm's reach.
"A little. I'm not too good at it, though." Technically not a lie, since you specialized more in subterfuge and assassination.
Childe seemed appeased by this response, gesturing for you to follow him.
He left the bank at an easy pace, exchanging greetings and words with people on the street. Vendors seemed particularly enthused to see him, and some even asked him where their "source of income was", whatever that meant.
He always replied with a sunny smile, and more than a few times you had to remind yourself that this was a bloodthirsty creature you were dealing with.
He brought you to a wide, empty field, and you suddenly remembered something.
Being the secretary of the Eleventh Harbinger, you heard things.
Things like how he would wheedle his way into spars with recruits, and he would always leave the field looking refreshed while the recruits all looked haggard.
To be picked for a spar with Childe was to have all the flaws of your technique pointed out with a smile. But it was also a good way to see how he fought.
So you let him tug you into position, and you watched as he pulled his bow into existence, seemingly giving you the first move. Not one to let go of an opportunity, you dashed forward, drawing your sword and aiming for his chest.
You longed for your polearm, but it was unwise to show your hand so early. The sword was shorter than what you were used to, but it would be fine.
Childe sidestepped, using his bow to send quick flickers of water at you, throwing you off. All the while, he was watching you intently.
You kept attacking, and he kept dodging. This frustrating game kept up until his face lit up. Then, with a casual gesture, your sword went flying out of your hands.
"You've got a strange style," Childe commented, catching your sword and inspecting it. "I think you would be more suited to a polearm, not a sword. Or, you were trained with a polearm, anyway."
"You barely fought me." You gritted out, glaring at Childe.
He shrugged and passed your sword back. "I didn't have to."
-
And just like that, another event was added to your repetitive routine. Paperwork, think of a way to murder Childe, and occasionally, indulge him with a spar.
When you took out your polearm and fell into a familiar stance, Childe's eyes lit up, and he actually did trade blows with you this time, though you could tell he was barely using his strength. But he disarmed you easily enough, which put an end to your plans of facing him in head on combat.
You wondered if he checked his food for poison, but then you dismissed it. Too risky, and if he didn't die, he would know who you were, and the mission would be ruined.
As you plotted in circles, you became aware of Childe's tells. How he lied, how he smiled when he never meant it. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and you wondered how anyone could fail to kill this bumbling man.
Childe's behaviour was becoming erratic and strange. Some days, he would be cheerful and bubbly, always chatting incessantly and overly generous. Those were his most common moods.
But recently, he had been moodier of late. More volatile, easier to provoke. He lost more of his spars like that, but he didn't seem to really mind. In fact, he seemed happier after those defeats, often treating you to a meal.
It happened during lunch. The two of you were at Wanmin, and Childe was regaling you with a particularly tall tale about a sea snake and a fishing rod when suddenly, his hand shot out.
Your head was snapped down, and Childe let out a hiss of pain. You scrambled out of your seat, looking down at the neat round hole burned into his arm and the smoking bullet bobbing in your soup.
Childe stood up, ignoring how his arm hung limply. His eyes were cold and dead now, scanning the rooftops and balconies.
"Lord Harbinger-"
"There." Childe hummed, and in the blink of an eye, something zipped past you. You only survived because he wasn't focused on you, but you felt the touch of electro-charged water against your cheek.
Electro? But how did he…
"Y/N, we have to go."
This was your chance. He was injured and distracted, you could easily plunge a fork or your knife into his chest and shock his heart to a standstill.
You grabbed his bleeding arm, ignoring the startled hiss. Of course he'd forgotten about the wound.
"Lord Harbinger, you're injured. Perhaps you should recuperate before tracking them down." You murmured. "People are looking."
"Fine." He snarled, summoning some Hydro to wipe up the blood and pick up the bullet.
He didn't let you touch him all throughout the walk back to the bank, and when he reached the bank, his murderous expression kept people from asking after his arm.
You retreated to your office to get a medical kit and returned to Childe surveying the bullet, turning it this way and that in its watery prison.
"Interesting build." Childe's voice was conversational, and you pulled up a chair to him and started working on the wound.
"What is, sir?"
Childe made a dismissive noise. "Just call me Childe. And I was talking about this bullet. It has been imbued with pyro energy, so touching it would burn very badly."
You tried to school your expression. That sounded like the work of your organisation. Bullets that cauterized the wound as it went, with a dense knot of pyro energy that would dissipate after a while.
But why would they steal your kill? You were promised Tartaglia. This didn't make any sense, so you just made an affirmative hum and continued to bandage his arm.
-
"Is that all you got?" Even pinned under your weapon, Childe still had that cocky light in his eyes, and he pressed his throat closer to the tip of your spear. A spar. that was all it was supposed to be, until he let slip that he knew your intentions and all of a sudden, it had become far more dangerous.
"Come on," he cooed. "You can kill me right here, right now. Unless you like seeing me helpless like this?"
"Shut up, Harbinger."
Childe sighed heavily, sounding very put upon. "I thought we were getting along swimmingly. What's with the sudden change in attitude?"
"Don't play dumb."
Childe snickered. "But it makes you so mad."
"You're not scared?"
"Why would I be afraid of you?" He cocked his head, sounding genuinely confused. "You were a spy sent by an organisation to do an impossible task. But you still tried anyway. Isn't that enough?"
"I-"
"There's no use arguing." Childe pushed your spear away from his throat and sat up. "I did my research; the organisation simply wanted an easy way to get rid of you."
You gritted your teeth. You had long suspected it, but hearing it laid out so simply… it stung. Discarded like an old tool in order to make way for others.
"So? Are you going to kill me now?" You asked.
Childe burst out laughing. "Ha! I'm not letting myself get used like some attack dog for an enemy organisation. My loyalty belongs to the Tsaritsa alone. Of course I'm not going to kill you."
"What?" You were baffled. Was he really going to let an enemy live like that? But Childe didn't seem to sense your disbelief, his brow scrunched in an adorable furrow.
"I don't see why I need to kill you. Ekaterina already spent so much time training you to be my secretary, and it'd be a shame to put all her hard work to waste."
"I…"
Childe grinned. "Of course, you can still try to kill me. But I will try my best to continue thwarting your efforts."
Well. Who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?
#🖋️ — [ outgoing. ]#tartaglia#childe tartaglia ajax#childe genshin impact#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#gender neutral reader#childe x gender neutral reader
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You may have already made a post about this so sorry if so, but what are your headcanons regarding how Matt and Katya met? And how they kept touch over the years?
Love your content btw!!
Thank you! And actually, somehow, no one has asked me that on any of the blogs! I had to think and coalesce some thoughts. This got long so I am going to split it into two parts but their meeting!
The Trans-Canada railway was completed in the 1880s and finally opened up what was called the ‘last best west.’ Between the Canadian Rockies in the far west and the western edge of the woodlands that define eastern Canada in Manitoba, the prairies stretch out in what looks to a child of the eastern woodlands like a vast treeless void. Grasslands and steppes are incredibly ecologically important, but I am ethnically a clinker-built canoe lover, and they scare the shit out of me. Judging by settlement patterns, most French Canadians agreed. As the American West closed, some Americans were willing to join Canadians and take land ripped from indigenous peoples too. Alberta was a result. Concerned about American settlement, in 1896, the Dominion of Canada’s federal government coordinated with the foreign office of the British Empire to look for more settlers. At the same time, in what was then the Austro-Hungarian empire, Galicia was likely the poorest place in continental Europe, with the only other comparable example being famine-era Ireland. The other Ukrainian-speaking areas of the Austro-Hungarian empire (75-80 of that territory was held by the Russian Empire) weren’t much better off. Each government found a solution in the other. Britain, representing Anglo-dominated Canada, and the Austrians shook hands, and the flow began. The US saw the largest share of Eastern European immigration in this period, but the majority who sailed to Canada were Ukrainians. And even before immigration, the region's international ties were based on Canadian financial interests. So, what does this mean for Katya and Matt?
The scene I imagine is that while the powerful wheel and deal, two products of empire crossed paths. One of these meetings may have taken place during a summer folk festival. Girls wove wreaths of flowers into their hair and floated others down the river. Songs were sung, vodka and wine flowed, and dancers joined hands. While the Austrians and the British bargained, a young man not so far removed from his peasant roots and his own saint’s day celebrated with fire and river wandered into the edge of a valley clearing at the end of the longest day of the northern year. As a maple or spruce was decorated, the sun sank, and the last light of day fell like fire light onto a Carpathian river valley. Bonfires were lit. Against a world on fire, a child of the woodlands looked upon the silhouette of his future, crowned with birchwood silver woven into her braids. Katya sensed him, a being like herself from across the world and turned. She looked at him a long moment, with eyes belonging to a world since passed set in the face that would one day be the image that sprang into Matthew’s mind when he needed to summon a memory of home that would not cleave him in two. She bid him to approach and, with one gesture, changed their fates.
Later, he would find out she spoke the court French of his earliest years, but this night, there is only Katya’s outstretched hand and burning blue eyes reflecting fire and Matt’s fingers lacing into hers to spin in the dance of all the other young men and women. There is no discussion of soil and wheat, nor opportunity and affection. There is only alcohol, laughter, music, fire and spinning, his mouth full of her language, unknown but already familiar. There is only a lightening of her eyes as she enjoys herself, her head flung back in laughter as he chokes on pear horilka stronger and sweeter than any whiskey he’s ever made. Her wreath topples out of her hair, and she bursts into laughter as he snatches it up and runs, calling over his shoulder, and she hikes up her skirts and follows, hand outstretched, only to grasp onto him and run, stride long and confident as they leap together to make it over the bonfire.
Still, together, hands clasped, his right her and left and left touching the laurel wreath, the last symbol she indulges from her Varangian roots. Eye contact, a significance, a weight that will one day balance the heaviness of history. She will press his heart into the shape of hers with that weight. He will give it back in every way he can, the ballast of whatever love she’ll let him give. But for now, in the last light of day, there is only a young man and a young woman hand in hand, circling a fire under a night sky. Here, they are under a star-streaked Milky Way that gives way to a mead moon rising over the mountains. Someday, save them; that moon will be the only witness to this night when mortality leaves alive only a man, a woman, and their most human memory.
#the ask box || probis pateo#canukr#katya || бо лишало на серці сліди#matthew || my country is winter#katya and matt || the soil of our souls#hws ukraine#hws canada
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questionable government spies (but better written and 5 years late)
chapter 1: surely the macarena has not been playing for the last 2 minutes without me noticing
words cannot even begin to describe how excited about this i am lets GO :D
___
words: 2800
edited: yes !!
ship: well its either going to be sprace or ralbert and you're all along for the ride
warnings: character death but the death is not real, minor injuries, mentions of the famed walgreens au, deep dish pizza slander, emotionally stubborn race
tags: @jack-kellys @ainti-pretty @boygirlctommy @jack-whatsyourangle @getchapapes @sun-kissed-star (let me know if you want on or off the tag list !!!)
again, big thank yous to katya for bullying me into writing this and my sister for beta-ing and providing chapter titles that have nothing to do with the story
read it on ao3!!
___
Even before Albert crashed his own funeral, Race was having a bad day.
For starters, there had been the paperwork. Always so much paperwork when someone died during a mission. And for what? This was the FBI for fucks sake, there were interns who could be doing this, not him, one of the best field agents in the country.
And there had been the eulogy. What even was a good eulogy these days? A heartfelt poem? A quote from The Fault in Our Stars? A melancholy tiktok dance? Race should have probably known the answer at this point, given that he had written a grand total of seven for Albert, only one and a half of which he had delivered.
Because that was the thing about Albert. He couldn't quite stay dead.
It was the one thing that drove Race absolutely crazy about his best friend. Well, maybe not the one thing. He did have a particularly dreadful habit of chewing all of Race’s pens. But anyway. Race felt bad every time he got the dreaded phone call and shrugged Albert’s death off. For all he knew it could be real this time and he was going to go up in front of his best friend’s casket to renegade while telling everyone what an idiot he had been. But then again. This was his eighth eulogy.
Jack, the newbie field agent that Race and Albert were supposed to be training, did not find Race’s lack of sadness even remotely acceptable. But then again, that was probably Race’s fault for not telling Jack that Albert didn’t like to stay dead.
“I still can’t fucking believe you,” Jack muttered, taking half a glance in Race’s direction as he merged into the exit lane. “Your best friend is fucking dead, you’re going to his fucking funeral, your eulogy is a fucking tiktok dance, and you're playing a fucking fish game.”
In the passenger seat, Race shrugged. “What? I have to feed them or they get sad. And I never actually said I was going to do the renegade.”
“I swear to fucking God Race,” Jack groaned, tears brimming in his eyes. The kid had been crying for the last week, Race was thoroughly impressed that he hadn’t run out of tears by now. “He was basically your brother. At least show some respect.”
Race rolled his eyes. “He’s not my fucking brother. Hell knows I have plenty of those.”
“You know, I’m glad he’s not here to see this,” Jack spat. “If he knew this was what his best friend was really like he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. Fucking sick of you to do this.”
Race continued feeding his fish. They may be silly, but least they weren’t yelling at him.
“I’m going to request a placement change after today, I can’t work with someone who doesn’t even give half of a shit about th-”
Thankfully he was cut off by Race’s phone ringing.
Not so thankfully, it was none other than Race’s arch nemesis on the other end.
“Racetrack Higgins.”
“Davey Jacobs.” Head of the NYC Branch of the FBI, resident asshole and general stick in the mud. He had had it out for Race and Albert since they had been in training and accidentally almost blew up his prized weapons lab.
“I need you and Dasilva to get your asses into my office ASAP.”
“Mmm, see, that might be a bit of a problem.” Race ran his fingers through his hair. “Ain’t nobody tell you that Albert’s dead?”
“Ain’t nobody tell you that I don't care?” Jacobs said, mimicking Race’s accent. “Just because one of you dies doesn’t mean crime stops.”
Race rolled his eyes as Jack pulled up in front of the church. “Ah Davey, good to know despite all your years of work, you still don’t have an ounce of sympathy.”
“You little-”
“And I assume you want me to drive from Chicago to New York cause your ass is too cheap to purchase a plane ticket?”
“If you don’t watch your tongue I’ll have you fired in two minutes flat.”
Race laughed. “My ass will be in your office after my ass goes to my partner's funeral, capishe?” Race threw his phone on the floor and rubbed his temples. He envied Jacobs’s ability to give out headaches like candy. Albert better be fucking alive cause there was no way he was going to New York City by himself.
Jack pulled the key out of the ignition and crossed his arms, staring straight forward. “What was that about?”
“Someone who wanted to talk to me and Albert.”
Jack said nothing.
Race fiddled with the edge of his shirt. Maybe he should say something. But what if Albert was dead? Then he would have gotten Jack’s hopes up too and then Jack would really never forgive him.
“I…I know you’re upset with me,” Race began lamely.
Jack snorted.
“But consider letting me finish your field training?” Race asked. “I know you still got a little ways to go and you got every right to be mad at me but you understand a computer better than I ever will and you’ve been really good backup and-”
“I’ll think about it okay?” Jack interrupted.
Race nodded, staring at his phone on the floor. Boy he sure hoped that Albert was still alive. He did not want this argument to come back and bite him in the ass later.
“Here.” Jack threw a crumpled bow tie at Race. “Put this on.”
“Why?”
“Because even though you may not be acting like it, we are still going to a funeral and you should at least look presentable.”
“Yeah,” Race rolled his eyes but still reluctantly tied the bow tie around his neck. It looked ridiculous with his t-shirt but he didn’t feel like upsetting Jack any more. “Cause this is gonna make all the difference.”
“Just shut up and get out of the car,” Jack muttered. “We’re already almost late.”
•••
The funeral itself was pitiful.
Aside from himself and Jack, the only other people were a handful of elderly women who looked mildly annoyed that their daily rosary praying had been interrupted by the untimely death of a twenty six year old. Race had not held a rosary since he was seventeen, but he was fairly certain one of the ladies was holding it upside down.
And out of all the seven people in the disproportionately massive church, including the priest, Jack was the only one who seemed like he wanted to be there.
Though, the lack of government officials and the fact that it was in a hole in the wall church in the middle of Chicago was a good sign. Perhaps Race wouldn’t have to renegade after all.
Twelve o’clock came and went and no one else entered the church. In fact, a few of the old ladies went as far as to inch further towards the door, hoping that they would be able to sneak out. Race did not blame them.
Whether the priest was waiting for more people to turn up or for the actual casket to make an appearance was hard to say.
“Aren’t there supposed to be government officials here because he died in the line of duty?” Jack whispered. Still, it managed to echo around the church.
Race winced at his lack of discretion. “We forfeited our rights to a fancy funeral when we almost blew up a weapons lab.” It was not the truth, but Jack did not need to know that five years ago Albert had gotten “blown up” and there was a full FBI sponsored funeral done for him, only for him to appear in a tiny hospital in the middle of Arkansas three days later. After that the FBI refused to give Albert a full funeral unless there was a body due to budget cuts. But that was irrelevant.
Jack’s face fell. “Albert always said that he would tell me that story.”
“He was never going to tell you that story.”
“Race,” Jack’s voice was firm. “Would you stop-”
“Thank you for gathering here today in the memory of Albert Dasilva,” the priest began. “Unfortunately the hearse seems to have gotten stuck in traffic and in the interest of making sure our later services start on time, we will just do an abbreviated service with no eulogies when it arrives momentarily. Unless anyone has any objections?”
Jack tries to raise his hand but Race held his arms down. Hearses didn’t just get stuck in traffic. This had Albert’s handiwork written all over it. The priest gave them a mildly amused look but ultimately said nothing.
Jack squirmed out of Race’s grip. “Don’t touch me, Race.”
“Jack I-“
“I said don’t fucking touch me, Antonio.”
Race grit his teeth. He already had to see Jacobs later today and he didn’t want a lecture from him on how you’re not supposed to deck the trainees at fake funeral services. How had Jack even known his name?
Moments later the door of the church slammed open and a ridiculously shiny gold casket was wheeled in. Race barely glanced at it. Maybe he should have told Jack. He liked the kid. This was the first trainee he and Albert had been given and he wanted to do a good job, be to Jack what Blink and Mush had been to him.
Albert would know how to fix this.
Race really hoped that he was outside.
He spent the rest of the hilariously brief service running through every possible outcome of the situation. At worst, Albert was indeed dead and Jack would abandon him. At best, Albert was not dead as Jack would forgive him for the misunderstanding easily. And in between there were seventy three other situations.
Something pointy jabbed Race in the ribs and he looked up to see Jack standing and glaring down at him. Fuck, the processional had already started.
Race wandered out of the church behind Jack in a daze. He fought down nausea as he trudged, absently wrapping and unwrapping his fingers in the chain around his neck.
The sun was blinding. Race squinted through it, trying to scan the parking lot for a familiar blob of red hair, but Jack jumped in front of him.
“Here “ Jack threw the keys to the truck at Race. “I’m done. I’m not getting back in that car with you after whatever just happened in that church. I can’t work with someone who can’t show an ounce of emotion when their best friend dies. You’re a fucking asshole, Race. An absolute, grade A premium-“
“Whoa there cowboy, I don’t condone arguing at my funeral.”
Jack jumped three feet in the air at the sound of Albert’s voice. A weight that Race hadn’t felt before lifted off of his chest at the sight of his best friend.
“Al,” he breathed a sigh of relief and opened his arms to hug Albert.
“Oi! Careful!” Albert warned. “I’m only mostly in one piece.”
“You can never come back to me in perfect working condition can you?” Race felt his stress evaporating as he gently hugged Albert to his chest. He looked like shit and smelled worse “What happened this time?”
“I don't know, I woke up in some fucking Canadian National Park to a moose trying to eat my socks and my shoulder was dislocated. I scared the park ranger shitless then had to hitch hike to the border and almost got stuck there cause they thought my FBI card was fake.”
“...Did the moose dislocate your shoulder?” Race stepped back to examine Albert. Sure enough, he had sloppily tied a shirt around his left shoulder to immobilize it. It didn't look completely correct but Race supposed he should be happy that Albert wasn’t in a hospital. Or even worse, moose food.
Albert half shrugged. “Hell if I know Racer.”
Race tilted his head. “Well then how-”
“Dude what the fuck is wrong with Jack?”
Race turned to see Jack opening and closing his mouth like a fish, eyebrows raised so high they were nearly touching his cornrows.
“Um-”
Albert crossed his arms. “You didn’t tell him, did you.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
Race glued his lips together. He’d known Albert for long enough to know that it was better to just say nothing.
“Fucking christ, Antonio.” Albert half kicked him and walked over towards Jack, shooting Race a We’ll Be Talking About This Later Look.
“Hey Jackie-boy, good to see you buddy,” Albert said in the same voice that people use to talk to small children or scared animals.
“Everyone said you were dead,” Jack muttered, eyes wide.
“Who is everyone?”
“Race,” Jack lifted his eyes from Albert momentarily to glare at Race, “The priest, the guy who called Race, I don’t know.”
“Alright buddy,” Albert said. “Lesson one-”
“Lesson one is never leave the house without a weapon,” Jack interrupted.
Albert sighed. “Fine then, lesson two-”
“Is always scan your surroundings.” Jack nearly cracked a smile at Albert’s annoyed facial expression. “You’re up to lesson fifty three.”
“Fine. Lesson fifty three. Never believe anyone is dead until you see a body.”
Jack nodded. “I think that’ll be an easy one to remember.”
“Good.” Albert opened his arm. “Now bring it in buddy.”
Jack flew into Albert’s embrace. A distinct sinking feeling started in Race’s stomach when he saw Jack’s shoulders shaking.
“Everyone always leaves.” Jack’s words were muffled but Race could still hear them. “I’m so glad that you didn’t.”
Albert laughed but Race could see the strain in his eyes. “This is like the fourth-”
“Eighth,” Race whispered.
“Eighth time this has happened. I don’t think that I am going anywhere anytime soon.”
Jack nodded into Albert’s shirt and gave him one more light squeeze, which Albert tried and failed not to wince at before pulling away.
“Now that we got that settled,” Albert said, turning to Race. “I would love nothing more than to go to Walgreens and get some advil, the good cold medicine because Canada’s fucking freezing and I think it’s going to catch up to me soon and a real sling, some mediocre deep dish pizza and to go back to the safe house and sleep for three days.”
“Yes to the first two but you’re going to have to sleep in the car,” Race said.
Albert dropped his head back and groaned. “Don’t tell me they reassigned us already, I only just came back to life.”
“Mmmm no its far worse.” Race placed his hand on Albert’s good shoulder. “Jacobs wants us in his office.”
Albert blinked once, twice, three times before giving in. “FUCK.”
“Yeah,” Race said. There was nothing else to say about that.
“Don’t tell me he wants us there tomorrow.”
“He wanted us there today.
“Who the hell is Jacobs?”
“Not now Jack,” Race and Albert said at the same time.
“And we have to drive?” Albert asked.
“And we have to drive.” Race confirmed.
“Well fuck me sideways with a fucking spork.” Albert groaned again for good measure. “Doesn’t he think I’m dead?”
“This is Davey Jacobs,” Race said. “Death means nothing to him.”
“Is no one going to tell me who this guy is?” Jack asked again, louder this time.
“Jackie,” Albert said, “When we’re on hour thirteen of this drive you’re going to be regretting asking that question.”
“He can’t be that bad.”
“He is,” Race said.
“You owe me at least a whole pizza for this,” Albert said, jabbing Race in the chest with his finger. “With extra meat.”
“I didn’t expect anything less,” Race smiled. Sure he was not happy they had to go deal with whatever crap Jacobs was going to throw at him, but at least he had his best friend back.
“And another one when we get to the city!” He yelled over his shoulder as he followed Jack to the car. “I’ve missed my 99 cent pizza.”
Race rolled his eyes. “You can literally get it for free cause Vinny loves you.”
“Wait, we’re going to New York City?” Jack asked
“I thought you wanted a placement change?” Race said, crossing his arms.
“I- Well- I guess I-“
“Look buddy,” Albert said. “Race is shit at communicating. He will never admit it, but he is. But you can’t blame him for not wanting to get your hopes up. This is a hard field to be in, nothing is guaranteed and nothing is ever as it seems. That being said, we would love to have you on whatever Jacobs has planned for us cause I can guarantee you it is going to be one absolute hell of a ride. And even though Race won’t admit it, he likes having you around.”
“I never said I didn’t,” Race muttered.
Jack considered. “I’ll come, but only mostly because my best friend is training in New York. I’m still kinda pissed at Race.”
“Welcome to the club, buddy,” Albert laughed, giving Jack a fist bump.
Race just rolled his eyes. It was pointless to argue at this point.
“This better be a relaxing ride, Race,” Albert said, ignoring Jack. “I want no shenanigans.”
“I make no promises.”
___
AHHH WE ARE SO BACK BABY !!!
stay tuned to see the boys entering the city :O
#saphie scribbles#spies 2.0#newsies#newsies fic#newsies fanfic#racetrack higgins#albert dasilva#spot conlon#sprace#ralbert
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A sneak peek already? Whaaaaaaaaaat?!
Chapter 45 Sneak Peek
That's right. As per usual, when I release the next chapter to Io for editing, I try and post a sneak peek. This one was hard to decide what I wanted to post because I wanted it to be a good one and I already did a mini one in the comments of the last chapter... 👀
Viktor handed Yuuri another glass of champagne when he came off the dance floor from dancing with Sara. His and Chris’s plan to get and keep Yuuri buzzed once a lot of the more staid officials and sponsors left was working pretty well. The music was also slightly more tolerable than usual, which was nice. Except for the fact that they'd played the Cupid Shuffle earlier for some reason.
Yuuri just looked at him and shook his head and took the glass but did not take a sip. “I don’t need more to drink, Vitya.”
Viktor frowned. “Oh? Chris said that was your glass and that I should hold it for you until you came off the dance floor when he went to go and find Matt to dance with.”
Yuuri looked at Viktor suspiciously for a second before sighing and taking a sip from the flute. “You two are so transparent, it’s ridiculous. Just so you know.”
Viktor laughed. “Not nearly as transparent as Katya is being.” Viktor motioned toward where Katya was talking with Caro. Her head kept turning to look at Kai who was seated with a group of coaches, talking, but mostly listening, ignoring the looks that were shot her way. “Katya’s been on edge all night since Kai called her Lisishka. I thought Katya might literally melt for a minute there. I mean, that was a good pick.”
Yuuri hid most of his laughter with another sip of champagne, but not quite all of it and Viktor looked at him, one eyebrow delicately raised in question.
“Fine, I’ll take the credit. I convinced Kai that it would be a great pet name for Katya because I needed to get revenge.”
Viktor’s bark of laughter in response was quiet but sharp. “For what?”
“Katya called her Malysh without any explanation, and Kai was trying to ask me what it meant, but I was distracted so–” Yuuri broke off with a shudder. “Nooooo.”
“I see. I don’t think Malysh suits you anyway.” Viktor leaned in closer. “I like Lapochka for you much better.”
Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t.”
Viktor couldn’t help the pout. That wasn’t a very nice response. “And why not?”
Yuuri looked at him for a moment and took another sip before answering. “It’s too… expected, generic. It’s not nearly surprising enough coming from you.”
Viktor smiled and pressed his shoulder to Yuuri’s as he grabbed another glass of champagne off a passing tray and took a sip. “Ok, I can do better.” Viktor hummed in thought. “Luchik.”
The tips of Yuuri’s ears were going red, but Viktor wasn’t going to say anything that would ruin this moment. Yuuri was delightfully flushed and there was a small smile on his face as he sucked in a breath. “All right, that was better. I definitely like that better. Unfortunately, you’ll probably never call me that again.”
“I don’t know, Yura, I think I could get used to calling you Luchik.”
“I could probably get used to you calling me that as well, but you need a lesson on how to properly give out nicknames, ◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️”
#yuri on ice#yuri on ice fanfiction#victuuri#yuuri katsuki#viktor nikiforov#bysoti(d)#sassy writes#yoi fanfic#bear your soul on the ice#katsuki yuuri#Yep I censored the nickname#You're just going to have to wait for the chapter to be posted to see#I personally think it's hilarious#Hilarious and appropriate#And I hope you will all love it as much as I do
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9 Ship Songs 2.0
Some time ago I was tagged on this one, and by that time I have had no enough songs for any of my beloved ships.
Now that my brain is spinning Lann and Katya like a rotisserie chicken, I am finally able to list nine songs for them at least lol
(And I just followed the shuffling order of Spotify. Check on their playlist here)
Be There (Seafret)
You've got me surrounded
It feels like I'm drowning
And I don't want to come up for air
I lost everything
I threw myself in and you took me when no one was there
Well you can take what you need, take the air that I breathe
And I'll give away all that I own
Whatever I lose, is put back by you in a way that you'll never know...
Sunlight (Hozier)
I would shun the light, share in evening's cool and quiet
Who would trade that hum of night?
For sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
But whose heart would not take flight?
Betray the moon as acolyte
On first and fierce affirming sight
Of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
I had been lost to you, sunlight
And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight
Oh, your love is sunlight
Oh, your love is sunlight
But it is sunlight...
Honeylight (Amber Run)
There's nothing to it
You just exist
Then you die
I'm under no illusion
That things get better
But I'II try
'Cause you know it goes down like honey (honey)
So open wide, open wide
You don't have to say you're sorry (sorry)
You only tried, you only tried
It comes in waves, it's red like rust
And in the stream you see the dust
I would like to bathe in honey (honey)
In honey light, in honey light...
Creep (Radiohead)
When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here...
Hello My Old Heart (The Oh Hellos)
Hello, my old heart
How have you been?
Are you still there inside my chest?
I've been so worried
You've been so still
Barely beating at all
Oh, don't leave me here alone
Don't tell me that we've grown
For having loved a little while
Oh, whoa, I don't wanna be alone
I wanna find a home
And I wanna share it with you...
War (Poets of the Fall)
Do you remember standing on a broken field
White crippled wings beating the sky
The harbingers of war with their nature revealed
And our chances flowing by
If I can let the memory heal
I will remember you with me on that field
When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me a reason to try...
Colours (Billy Raffour ft JJ Wilde)
It's the smartest thing I ever did
Opening my heart to let you in
You taught me that despite the evidence
I'm still worth a damn, you'd still take the risk
Oh, stay with me, don't ever leave
Where I was broken, you made a home in
Where I had nothing, you gave it all
Where I was hardened, you grew a garden
Your love, it hollers down my halls
I've got your colours on my walls...
Golden (Harry Styles)
Golden, golden, golden
As I open my eyes
Hold it, focus, hoping
Take me back to the light
I know you were way too bright for me
I'm hopeless, broken
So you wait for me in the sky
Browns my skin just right
You're so golden
You're so golden
I'm out of my head
And I know that you're scared
Because hearts get broken...
Sirens (Pearl Jam)
Hear the sirens, hear the sirens
Hear the sirens, hear the circus so profound
I hear the sirens more and more in this here town
Let me catch my breath to breathe then reach across the bend
Just to know we're safe, I am a grateful man
The slightest bit of light and I can see you clear
Oh, had to take your hand, and feel your breath
For fear this someday will be over
I pull you close, so much to lose
Knowing that, nothing lasts forever
I didn't care, before you were here
I danced in laughter, with the ever after
But all things change, let this remain...
#lannya#I WAS SO EAGER FOR THE LAST ONE GRR#though every one of them means a lot to me ;-;#ekaterina grushankaya#lann the mongrel#pwotr pals#pathfinder wotr
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THE HOLY BEGINNING……8 years ago…
Katya gives instructions, Able and Doctor of the plague say goodbye to Miss Swettie, soon after Katya opens the portal and all agents cross it and stop in Bairro do Brasil, São Paulo.
The place was a little strange for Abel and Doctor of the Plague, they saw houses made of wood and brick, with and without color, some houses had roofs and others had slabs, some houses were built close to rivers with an unbearable smell. and others were in the hills, what impressed Able was the way the people behaved, he never saw anything like that, some were fighting, others were praising and others barbecuing and dancing… on that walk Abel felt a strong presence, a voice pronounced the words ''winged blade'' but no one was close until Katya notices and approaches Able.
-Able, is something bothering you? Did you feel anything? - Asked Katya.
At this question Able ran away and other agents and the plague doctor went together Able ran to a dirty alley full of garbage, he saw a dead creature and a boy appears to be 22 years old, with black hands and black pupil and his blue eyes Katya was behind I was already scolding Able.
-ABLE WHY YOU RUN…AGENT ELIAS? HEAVEN……..as the Black Queen said……these church people…
-Well…if we've found him, I can prepare the first aid for the boy-said the Plague Doctor when I opened his bag.
Able approaches the boy who was still bewildered and extends his hand to him: - Need help getting up?
Elias looks at the boy for a few minutes and extends his hand and gets up and leans on Able and who takes him to the plague doctor and says:-thank you, Miss Katya could you take my instrument in the trash can he is stuck with my suit .behind you
-Of course, it looks like you were caught after you left the service in ?!- Katya said after picking up the instrument.
-Visit, a soul was disobedient, I made the visit but you know……whenever there is reconciliation, it's always up to me….but there's nothing to do…who are these 2?- asked Elijah.
-Well, they are Abel and the plague doctor but known as scps049 and scp076. Katya says with the biggest smile on her face.
-Fucking hell, really? The legendary ones?-Elijah's face was scared and surprised after all he had heard of them, but he thought it was a legend.
-Legendaries?!, my dear colleague I've been outside the walls of the foundation for some time I've noticed that many feel a certain admiration for me I'm happy with that, finally I've finished seeing you but I need deeper exams in the wanderer's library.-Doctor of the plague he keeps his objects in the bag, and the soldiers take the creature's body to burn it.
-Well I'm a few months out of the foundation… and I've seen everything, drawings, fanfics, some I even liked, but others made me laugh…..but do you believe they even shipped me with agents?hahaha…… .but I like that attention.-said Able with a not so happy face.
-Well, surely you shouldn't call the shipps? Because I imagined you would be… furious- Elias said with a little fear.
-I don't care about that, I don't care and that they talk about me, but talk about me.hahaha-Able ended up giving a loud and extravagant laugh until Katya interrupts them:
-Well, we'll have time to talk in the library, and we'll be safer. I opened the portal. said Katya entering the portal and soon after others enter and Able wondered if with another 6 it would be the same friendship he had with Elias Ferrer the Eagle of Death.
#scp 076#scp 049#scp 2396#incorrect scp quotes#scpfoundation#serpent's hand#the black queen scp#scp fandom#scp fanart#scp containment breach#scp community#brazil#brazillian artist#my art#wanderers' library#the serpent's hand#hollyhollynigthmare#scp ocs#cancelstupidhater#stop bullying
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28+10 for all!!
(@ge-noxide)
HII. HELLO. SO.
10. what kind of music do they enjoy?
helix: the thing about them is that they canonically are so constantly overworked for most of their life that they simply do not Have a music taste bc they have no time to listen to it Ever. were that not the case, however, i think theyd enjoy classical music simply because it has no lyrics and also many pieces are like half an hour long which means More Song Per Song. helps them relax....
flora: she is listening to the most eardrum shattering head hurting shitty breakcore songs. and by shitty i mean not like "niche but kinda good" i mean like just truly Bad Music. goofy ass beats. and also kpop but girl bands Only because it likes to look at the music videos and watch cool looking women dance. it knows all the Band Lore because she has fucking nothing to do with her free time and i mean literally nothing
katya: depeche mode girlie. i dont know why she just is. not true i do know why. i feel like she would enjoy the fact that the songs in black celebration specifically are pretty unafraid to Say What They Mean, Mean What They Say since she never gets a chance to do that really. confidence boost
charlie: He Is The Hit Band Have A Nice Life. but no genuinely im not even trying to project i think she would just really like all of their albums. sea of worry especially. satan and his devils try to take his hand and the angels on his shoulder try to tell her that they understand!!!
28. is your OC a dog or cat person?
helix: a cat person... theyre Always tired so they just prefer to chill out with cats. plus they cant get hurt from being scratched (due to being metal) (as in literally being made from metal)
flora: a dog person!! especially after gaining a physical body. that thing is experiencing The World for the first time so she needs to be moving all the time lest she start throwing rocks at people
katya: also a dog person! she actually grew up around one (a golden retriever, although it bought at her little brothers' request) so her preference for them comes mainly from that
charlie: a cat person. like flora, hes a very physically active person, but unlike it, she actually needs to cool down after running around with a sword half her size the entire day
#look at my ocs boy (gender neutral)#THANK YOU BOTH FOR THE ASKS. BTW.#asks#oc tag: helix#oc tag: flora#oc tag: katya#oc tag: charlotte#gorebestie#evil twin#<- custom tags
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Tonight, probably.
Trixie was awake. It wasn’t uncommon anymore, between the late nights after shows and dj gigs, but this night was different.
“The end of an era,” Brandon kept saying, and Trixie knew he was right. He talked to Katya countless times about it, how this tour was absolutely too much, how they’d never do anything like this again, how they both had some solo things they were excited to do, and were also excited to be spending some time at home.
And truly, Trixie had meant it. This tour was so fucking much. The effort, the schedule, the amount of people it took to put on one of these two-hour monsters.
But he was having a moment now, out of drag, in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin and light dancing through the curtains from the hotel parking lot.
He was going to miss Katya.
He hated himself with every movement it took to reach for his phone on the nightstand and pull up Katya’s name, pressing the call button and holding it to his ear.
It rang twice before Katya picked up, his voice low.
“What in the hell, Tracy?”
“Hey.”
“You never call me at 3am anymore.”
Trixie let out an amused sound. Anymore.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No. Tired as fuck, though. You see me dancing out there tonight?”
The cast and crew had taken over a local bar, closing the place down as they played an eclectic mix of music from the bar’s old jukebox. Katya, as always, spent most of his time on the dance floor, which always made Trixie smile.
“Mama, who didn’t. You were JoJo Siwa out there.”
“Is that the only dancer you can think of?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
Katya wheezed on the other end of the line, and Trixie heard him shuffling around.
“What’s up, mama?”
Trixie swallowed, annoyed with the fact that he needed to hear Katya’s voice after seeing him an hour ago. “I think it’s finally hitting me. The show being over.”
Katya hummed in agreement. “It’s wild, isn’t it?”
“And of course we still have all of our other stuff, but this was a whole year. One entire year of our lives that just ended.”
“Yikes,” Katya said. “I mean, sure, that’s one way to look at it. But that means another year is beginning.”
Trixie could hear the amusement in Katya’s voice, the lightheartedness he was trying to bring to the moment. Trixie couldn’t blame him. Katya was sentimental about a few things, but never about work. And that’s what this was, just another project ending.
“I guess I’m just going to miss you, Brian.”
Katya was quiet for a moment. “I am literally seeing you in two days—“
“I know, I just mean in this context.” Trixie felt his chest starting to hurt. “It’s fine, I know you don’t care that much about it ending—“
“Oh no no, hold on there,” Katya interrupted, his voice suddenly serious. “You don’t get to call me on my cellular telephone at three in the morning and tell me I don’t care. We are not doing that.”
Trixie swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, you need to know that as excited as I am to have some time at home and to relax and do other things, that doesn’t mean this wasn’t the best year of my fucking life.”
Trixie sucked in a breath. “Really?”
“You bet your ass, Mary. I am so tired and my hips are about ready to fall off my decrepit body but I have loved every single show we’ve done together. It’s been hilarious and stupid and fun. I’m going to miss it.”
Trixie felt a tear fall and quickly wiped it away in the darkness. “Me too.”
It was quiet for a minute, both of them breathing into the phone, trying to find the words.
Trixie cleared his throat. “Brian?”
“Yeah?”
Trixie took a deep breath, but his words still came out in a whisper. “Would you ever do this again? With me?”
“You mean tour?”
“Yeah.”
Trixie’s chest pounded, his heart heavy with sharing this vulnerability and the weight of a very fresh ending swirling around him.
“Trixie?”
Trixie sniffled. “Yeah?”
“I’d do pretty much anything with you.”
Trixie pulled the phone away from his ear, a deep, shuddering sob wracking his body. He took a moment, breathing deeply, the weight of what he was feeling starting to ease, slowly, as he took in Katya’s words.
He pulled the phone back to his ear. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m a mess.”
Katya chuckled, his voice gravelly, thick with exhaustion. “You’re ok, diva.”
“Two days, huh?”
“Two days. Back at it, money never sleeps, yadda yadda.”
“Will I see you tomorrow before your flight?”
“I’m getting up at 7am to work out if you’d like to join me.”
“Gross, ew, no thank you. I will meet you for breakfast, though.”
Katya laughed. “Alright. Go to sleep, mama. We can cry in the morning.”
Trixie rolled his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”
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I Hate To Love You, Chapter 1-Happy Fucking Holidays (Biadore)
A/N: So this started out as a mindless drabble and at some point turned into a whole oneshot. It’s a little different to what I usually write but I love how it turned out. Hope you enjoy!
Summary: College senior Bianca finds a freshman Adore intrinsically annoying, if only she wasn't so damn charming. At a Christmas party, Adore formulates a plan to get Bianca's attention, and it works a little too well.
Click here to read on AO3 or after the ‘Keep Reading’ to read on Tumblr.
It was Christmas Eve and snow was settling on the garden. It was cold, and Bianca would have much rather been cuddled up on the sofa drinking a hot chocolate. House parties weren’t exactly Bianca’s idea of fun at the best of times, much less at Christmas. Normally even the cast parties were a little too much for her, but she’d been dragged there by her friend and surprisingly she was actually having a really good time. Nearly done with rehearsals for her final project and her holiday theory work, she needed an excuse to let her hair down and actually have some fun. She’d been working so hard. She’d earned this.
So there she was, half way to drunk in the frat house of a guy she’d never met or heard of more than hearing his name from Courtney, with a bunch more people she’d never met. It wasn’t terrible though. At least Adore wasn’t there. Adore. Bianca didn’t know what it was about her or why she hated Adore so much. She was just irritating, to say the least. Regardless, she was pretty sure the frat guys wouldn’t let in a freshman anyway.
Adore was ridiculously charismatic and weirdly captivating with her long dark hair and piercing eyes. The only problem was she was just a fucking nightmare. She lacked any sense of professionalism, always turning up late to rehearsals or eating in the studio, and whilst her vocals were probably the strongest of all the first year students, her acting and in particular her dancing needed an insane amount of work. She found the most basic choreo a challenge and with the final project being directing her own show, it had become Bianca’s problem. Bianca, lacking in patience and tact, found herself frustrated at having to teach the same thing over and over again when they should be so much further ahead in the script by this point. The Christmas break came as only a relief, but she wasn’t looking forward to January.
Bianca sat with Courtney in the kitchen, pouring another shot of vodka into a glass. She got even bitchier when she was tipsy and all the shots were really starting to go to her head.
“She’s just so fucking annoying, and what’s with that blonde bitch? Are they dating? She’s not a theatre kid, that’s for sure.” Bianca observed.
“The Russian? Katya?”
“Yeah, is that her name?” She downed the shot and immediately poured another from one of the giant bottles lined up on the side.
“I don’t know, maybe? Why, you jealous?”
Courtney had been Bianca’s best friend since they started college three years ago. They’d been roommates in their first year and they’d surprisingly bonded. Bianca didn’t necessarily expect to get along with someone like her, blonde and perpetually perky, but she’d surprised her. She trusted her more than anyone else, and she was probably the only person who knew everything about her, able to read her better than Bianca could read herself.
Bianca scoffed at the audacity “Of course not.”
She wasn’t quite drunk enough to talk about her undeniable attraction to Adore yet.
Dani. ‘Adore’, she went by. Who did she think she was anyway?
Adore walked into the house, looking divine in a black bodysuit and fishnets, a red oversized tee thrown over the top. She’d pre-drank, so she was already pretty tipsy as she headed into the dining room, which was currently functioning as a makeshift dance floor. Adore knew Bianca would be there, and she was hoping the slutty outfit would entice her. She’d seen how she looked at her during rehearsals. That little glint in her eye that hid behind the annoyance and the glaring. She might be loud-mouthed and at times, a total cunt, but she was still hot. She held herself with a certain amount of confidence and grace, and it made her utterly irresistible. Adore wasn’t above admitting she wanted her.
“Of course not.” Courtney mimicked her, her little giggle more high pitched than ever. “I’m not convinced that’s true Bea, you seem to hate her a little too much.”
Bianca shoved her playfully. They were both pretty drunk now, Courtney staggering backwards despite barely being pushed. She cackled and extended a hand to her friend.
“I’m gonna go pee.” Bianca said. “You coming?”
“I wanna talk to Brody, find me in a bit?”
Bianca rolled her eyes. There’s no way Brody was good for her. “Sure. But be careful.”
“You worry too much.”
Bianca headed down the hall. “Someone has to.” She shouted back. It was no secret that she was the sensible one of the duo. Sure, she had wild moments, but she knew how to carry herself better than Courtney did. Regardless, at least she had some time to kill, able to pee in peace and grab some water.
She was just about to walk up the stairs when someone crashed into her, nearly falling and taking Bianca down with her. Bianca half caught her, the frame and flash of dark hair strangely familiar even in dim lighting. As she pulled herself back, the realisation set in.
It was Adore. Because, of course it was.
She giggled, the sound alone making Bianca grit her teeth. Her eyes narrowed. What was it about Adore that had so much power over her? Her eyelashes fluttered as she played the game.
“Isn’t that dress a little slutty for a senior?” Her smirk was dangerous. Challenging even.
Before Bianca even knew what she was doing, she had Adore pushed up against the wall. Her body pushed against her, fingers wrapped around her wrists, pinning her down.
Adore squared up against her, pushing her shoulders forward as much as possible to hide how worried she was. Bianca was far stronger than she looked, that petite body packing a surprising amount of strength, and she didn’t know whether Bianca wanted to kiss her or punch her. Bianca wasn’t exactly sure herself.
“Go fuck yourself.” Bianca spat.
“Why don’t you do it for me?” She came back, a knee flying between her thighs instantly. She pressed it up against Bianca’s cunt, grinding it against her.
Adore grinned as Bianca gasped in shock. She couldn’t help but feel a sizzling arousal below the surface. Bianca couldn’t help but want to fuck her senseless until that smile fell right off her face.
Adore only pressed her knee further up, Bianca slapped it away, digging her nails into a soft thigh. She took her hand roughly, dragging her wordlessly into the upstairs bathroom and locking the door. She pushed Adore up against it before sighing heavily, resting her head against the door whilst rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“What about Katya?”
“What about Katya?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. What did Katya have to do with any of this? She was too aroused by the whole situation to think straight.
“You guys aren’t dating?” Her surprise was genuine.
“She’s just a friend.” Adore confirmed. “God Bianca, you’re such a fucking idiot.”
Bianca didn’t seem to like that. She pulled at the other woman’s hair, hard. Adore yelped, trying to keep her head up, trying to maintain dominance, but she was fighting a losing battle.
“I’m smarter than you, darling.” She whispered against her lips before they crashed together.
Adore felt red hot all over as Bianca kissed down from her lips to her neck. She bit down hard, making Adore yelp. The line between pain and pleasure was a blur as Bianca sucked at the teeth marks she’d left. That was definitely going to bruise. She alternated between wet, open mouthed kisses and sucking more hickeys on to her. Adore couldn’t believe how worked up she was before she’d even stripped her of her clothes. She had to do something, refusing to let Bianca win, she pulled hard at her hair, forcing her to look up.
The surprise made Bianca accidentally loosen her grip on Adore, who took advantage of the situation. She pulled herself off the door, spinning around to pin Bianca up against the wall by the shower. Bianca struggled but Adore had height on her side and despite the fact that she was stronger, she couldn’t quite manage to push Adore off of her from this position.
“I- Adore.”
Having the usually loud-mouthed, outspoken Bianca pinned up against a wall was more than enough of a victory for Adore, but her losing her words was a huge triumph. Bianca always had a comeback for everything, but it turns out there was a way to shut her up after all.
There was a lot of tugging as Bianca tried to pull Adore’s shirt off. She threw it aside, sliding the straps of her bodysuit down her shoulders slowly.
“No bra? You’re an even bigger whore than I thought.”
She watched intently as Adore’s breast spilled out from under the bodysuit. They were small but so pretty, tanned skin framed with dusky pink nipples. She took one into her mouth, running her teeth over it roughly.
Adore prayed to a god she didn’t believe in that Bianca couldn’t hear her tiny whimpers. Bianca’s smirk against her skin however told her that she heard her loud and clear. That made her mad, dropping a hand down the front of Bianca’s shirt, annoyed when she had to push lace aside to pinch at her skin.
“Didn’t exactly come dressed for the occasion.” She taunted. Winding her up was just far too much fun.
“Well, I didn’t exactly expect to be fucking anyone in the bathroom when I got ready, did I? Especially not you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She scoffed.
Bianca raised one eyebrow as she looked up at her. “Bitch, please.”
Those long legs were plaguing her and she hadn’t even gotten to see what laid between them yet. She couldn’t help but imagine how they’d look wrapped around her waist. There was really no point in denying herself, the pride starting to fall away to the purest form of desire.
“Jump.”
She roughly carried a half-dressed Adore to the sink, leaning her against the countertop. She was grateful for the spacious counter space in there. She certainly wasn’t about to put her back out for this fucking brat.
The marble counter was cold against Adore’s bare ass, fishnets doing absolutely nothing to protect her skin. She fidgeted slightly as she leaned back instinctively to let Bianca pull the bodysuit down her legs, raising her hips slightly with her feet up against the edge of the sinktop, legs spread enticingly. She hesitated when Bianca reached for her underwear, her bodysuit immediately discarded to the floor.
“Wait!” She said, holding Bianca’s hand in place just as her fingers ran under the waistband of her thong. “Bianca, is this really a good idea?”
Bianca rolled her eyes. Her face deadpanned “No.”
Adore’s eyebrow furrowed as she looked at her in confusion. Bianca shook her head. “No?”
“No, it’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s actively a terrible idea. Now, do you want to get fucked or not?”
The frankness was weirdly attractive, but Adore was so flustered she wondered if she’d find anything attractive right now. I mean, she was in this scenario in the first place. Really? She questioned herself. Bianca Del fucking Rio? You should really know better.
“Make a decision or I’m leaving.” Bianca sighed. That tone was so similar to the one she often heard in rehearsals, and it renewed Adore’s passion.
“Fuck me.” She affirmed, nodding her head as if her words weren’t clear enough already.
As soon as her words left her mouth, Bianca yanked her panties down her toned legs, tossing them on the floor with the rest of her clothes.
“Be quick. I don’t need Courtney to come looking for me.” Bianca said, diving straight in to lick up the length of her folds.
“Fuck.” Adore muttered under her breath.
“Something to say, darling?” Bianca mocked her relentlessly. She couldn’t believe how soaked Adore was, how wound up she’d gotten before Bianca had barely even touched her.
Fingers spread her apart, lips closing around her clit. Bianca was talented with her mouth, knowing exactly how to pull a woman to the brink and back. She sucked at the sensitive bud, pausing every few seconds to lick, flicking her tongue up and down for variety.
It was working well, Adore coming undone underneath her made her feel smug. Adore coming undone because of her. There was no denying the evidence as her hips writhed, desperately trying to hump Bianca’s face. She leant an arm over them, pushing her further into the counter.
She ran her fingers around her hole, pressing two in roughly after a slap. It wasn’t hard, but Adore groaned regardless, half in arousal and half at the audacity. She started pumping the fingers in and out, searching for that spot inside her that would have Adore seeing stars.
The moan she let out was guttural, taunts falling away to gasps and moans. She couldn’t trust herself to talk. Bianca was just so good, and she was certain she knew it too as she radiated in cockiness. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, pushing her to the edge embarrassingly quickly.
“Bianca, please!” Adore begged, her head thrown back as she approached her orgasm. Having this beauty beg underneath her was intoxicating, and she wanted more from her, to push her to the absolute limit.
“Stop whining.” Bianca barked, punctuating her words with each thrust of her fingers inside of her. “Are you gonna come for me or what?”
Adore shook her head but they both knew it was a lie. Adore could feel the best building in her stomach and Bianca could feel her cunt twitch around her fingers. Bianca shoved her other hand over her mouth as she came hard. Her body fell limp, but Bianca didn’t stop.
She’d forgotten this was supposed to be quick as she pounded into her with even more force. She just had to hear those pathetic moans again.
“Bianca, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like? You know it really is a good job you picked theatre school, you never would have gotten into a real college.”
The way she managed to keep her fingers moving in time and not miss a beat was honestly a skill. She rubbed relentlessly at her g-spot and her thumb joined the action to rub her clit. Her arm burnt, but she was almost certain Adore was getting close again.
“Fuck you.” She bit back, but it was hard to maintain an insult whilst she pushed her hips impossibly closer to Bianca’s hand.
“That’s kinda what we’re doing.”
“Then shut up and get on with it.” She rolled her eyes, pulling her leg up over Bianca’s shoulder.
“Judging by your reactions I think I’m doing more than a good enough job. Or were all of those moans just for some other reason?”
Bianca had got her there, and she could feel another orgasm starting to build. How quickly Bianca could push her to the edge was honestly becoming a bit of a problem. She desperately wanted to hold off, prove to Bianca that she wasn’t as good as she thought she was, but as her tongue was added back into the mix she had no chance. Her hips twitched as she came again, her body falling limp against the back of the counter as Bianca helped her ride out the aftershocks.
She withdrew her fingers, immediately wiping Adore’s juices off of her hand and pulling her dress straps back up. She’d smudged her lip gloss beyond repair, so she just blotted it off with a piece of tissue and hoped no-one would notice. It was dark enough.
“Wait, what time is it?” Adore asked as Bianca did one last check over in the mirror. She was still in a post-orgasmic haze, moving from the counter seeming like a chore. She hopped down, finding her clothes from various corners of the bathroom.
“12:30.” Bianca said after a quick glance at her phone.
“Merry Christmas.” Adore said, leaning in to kiss the older girl with that stupid grin plastered on her face.
Bianca backed away with a smirk, rolling her eyes at the younger girl. “Merry fucking Christmas to me. Wait a second so it’s not suspicious will you?” She closed the door behind her.
Adore pulled her shirt over her head with a sigh. She really was going to have her work cut out for her if she wanted to capture Bianca Del Rio’s heart.
#biadore#Bianca del rio#adore delano#smut#hate sex#enemies to lovers#college au#christmas#house party au#lesbian au#my writing#writing#rpdr#drag race#rpdr fanfiction#dorothea#I hate to love you
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Bringing Back Early 2000’s Gay — 05/16/2023
watch here | listen here
join me on a journey back in time as I catch up on the pod
Omg the voice work 😂
How many stars do I get if even gay men won’t fuck me? Thank you, thank you
She & I hung out last night We did. She & I You & I hung out last night
My favorite thing about you living by me & having a car is that I get a ride
I haven’t gotten us into an accident
It’s giving major Jacques vibes — Trixie agreeing with this & for a second I was like when the fuck would Trixie have gone to Jacques?? Then remembering that Trixie visited Katya when she still lived in Boston. How could I forget?!
I am lovinggg the two of them talking about this show they went to together 🥺
The two of them being the first ones there ahaha
putty with cum on it
spiraling out of desirous control
The vibe of this pod episode is 💯
It’s like she’s here. Not because of the singing, because of the age
Me trying to remember if it’s currently the Wang or the Boch
Katya grabbing Trixie’s ankle though
I think it’s crazy I think it is too! — idk why but this gave such sleepover vibes the way Trixie said that lol
Weird to have three names … are we … are we not going to talk about Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova
I was right Were you right? Was she right?
Do you know what I bought you? I bought you a Cameo from Marnie
I quite literally have no idea what they’re talking about but the two of them talking about media they’ve both consumed is my fave
Ask me a question
I think everyone is so stupid — same
Wait wait wait I need to know what Trixie thinks of Dolly’s new song now!!
It all comes back to Watchmen 😂
I love that Trixie is still talking about I Hope You Dance
If you’re gonna pretend to be a person try having some integrity
#kimmy watches#the bald and the beautiful#dostoyevsky in the sheets#oh honeyyyyy#trixya#trixie & katya#katya#katya zamo#katya zamolodchikova#trixie mattel
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Does Alfred know about all the deals Arthur made/all the work Brighid, Rhys, and Alasdair put into spells to protect him and such? And if so, does he believe that it was needed, or does he think it was just them being superstitious? I guess the overall question is - he can't see the fae stuff, so does he know/believe he's ever been at risk from it? Or does he have no idea why he gets those superstitious urges beyond "it's how I grew up"?
He has this... very vague inkling. Not very much in the context of the supernatural or even the incredibly disturbing incidences of horror the tungsten baby attracted just by existing but in this very abstract way. Things were done for him because he was loved. He doesn't really think about if it was real or not, he doesn't want to think about if his eternal soul is tainted by magic and... existence as a nation. But he knows because Brighid has mentioned it in passing. When he's upset, especially in his somewhat rare moments of self awareness when she lived with him at various points, she's mentioned spells older than the language they are speaking woven into his very cradle. Hand on his cheek, still hoping for his future, looking him in the eye she speaks what is something like a spell in its own right. "You aren't just like your father. I've loved you since the moment I met you, it was as much my magic as your uncles that protected you. Don't forget that as you take my people and make them yours."
He attributes his childhood beliefs to his people. Early Americans were extremely superstitious and much of that superstition is what marked them as witches to the Calvinists who rejected most spirituality in their worship. Alfred is scared shitless of most magic, I think. He won't even use a ouija board and probably decried spiritualism and the mediums as unscientific heathenry. When his brother dances with the peasants on the eve of the solstice, jumping over fires hand in hand with Katya, Alfred does whatever the protestant version of crossing himself is. He would very much not like to believe in fae or witches or wizards, but he's an immortal dirt fuck who's caught glimpses of his father and uncles carving blood runes into the floor before the door was shut. It's something there, a part of him if he ever wanted to look for it. But his perception of himself is counter too all of that so he doesn't dig much.
#fairybait || baby alfred being chunky and cursed#alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies#historical inaccuracy? in my historical fantasy? more likely than you think#askbox prompts
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