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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months

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the unveiling

buttercup, chapter five

a/n: I mean, I just had to make him wear the black suit.... (said in a foreshadowing way)

summary: you only mustered two steps down the stairs before you spotted a surprising, yet familiar masked man sprawled out on the living room floor, unconscious and bleeding.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, injuries, kissing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3236

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Your eyes fluttered shut a moment as you felt the cool night breeze caress your features. You hadn’t bothered with a coat, so it was simply a woollen blanket you clutched around your pyjamas.

Jumping slightly, you whirled around as you heard one of the doors up to the rooftop creak open.

“Oh!” you clutched your chest as you discovered the identity of the intruder, “it’s just you.”

“Hey,” Matt closed the door that led directly down into his loft.

“I was just about to call you actually, or knock on your door, but then I figured that you were probably asleep,” you eyed the dark sweatpants he wore as well as the t-shirt that clung to his brawny arms as he stepped closer to where you stood, a vision that caused sinful thoughts to stir within your mind, “how did you know I was up here?”

“Uh, I didn’t,” his touch found your lower back as he reached you, “I just heard a noise.”

“Well, it’s just me,” you turned your gaze back to the night sky.

Tilting his head, he checked, “you okay?”

“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep,” you nodded, “but I’m okay.”

His eyes twitched slightly as the faintest of smiles threatened at his lips, “so you didn’t wanna call me because something was wrong.”

“No…” you bit down on your smile, “I was just thinking about you…” the smug smirk that then bloomed on his face caused you to instantly chuckle with regret, “oh, that came out sounding a lot more dirty than I intended it to,” the meaning behind your words had been dirty, but he didn’t have to revel in it. Curling his arm around you, his laughter mixed and mingled with your own as you soon exhaled, “man, I should probably head back to bed soon, try and give sleep another chance. I just–, urgh,” you let out an adorable groan and buried your face in his broad shoulder, “I don’t wanna leave now that you’re here.”

“I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want,” he suggested, his tone staying on the lighter side as to not build up any pressure, “you’re welcome to come sleep in my bed if you want to.”

“O-oh,” your gaze fluttered up to flicker across his face, “alright, sure.”

Stepping inside and descending the creaky staircase, the living room was lit up in bright fluorescent shades of lavender by the huge billboard directly outside. Letting the blanket around you drop to the coffee table, you eyed Matt’s dark bedroom before his hand found yours.

“What side do you prefer to sleep on?” you asked as you neared the dusty grey linens adorning his bed.

“I’m fine with either,” his fingers gently brushed across your knuckles before you let go of him.

“Alright,” you slipped in under the silky covers on the side of the bed nearest to you. As he crawled in on the other side, you drew in a sharp breath, “well,” tugging your knees up further towards your chest, you didn’t dare to twist and look at him even though you wished for so much more than a glimpse, “goodnight, Matt.”

His knuckles briefly found your back, caressing it just for a second before he uttered, “night.”

You had never been further from slumber than you were lying there in Matt’s bed. Just the knowledge of him resting right behind you had you hyper-aware of everything. Lying as still as a rock…your ragged breathing… your wild pulse… but mostly the throbbing between your thighs…

Turning slowly to lie on your back, your hand came down to rest on the mattress but landed instead on Matt’s gently closed fist. Instinctively, you yanked it back, recoiled from his warmth just a second before you carefully let your fingers shyly slide across the covers to find him again. The coy dance beneath the duvet was playful till his digits unravelled and welcomed yours.

“…Matt?” your voice came out no louder than a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Glancing over at his visage in the darkness, you asked, “are you very tired?”

With a gentle smile blooming on his lip, a soft shake tilted his head from side to side against the pillow, “no.”

Curling closer, his arms tangled around you in an instant. When your lips brushed against each other at first, for a while it was just this sweet and slow midnight kiss, nothing more, nothing less. But when you nuzzled in nearer, the simple peck grew into something much more heated.

Your leg curled up over his hip, gliding it lavishly against him as his tongue slid across your own. His strong arms felt so incredible around you, but you wanted more, you needed more.

On an exhale, he rolled onto his back, but you weren’t quite sure if he had dragged you with him or if you had clung to him, perhaps a mixture of both. All you knew was that now you were sprawled out on top of him, completely melted against his chest as his lips were still locked with yours.

When you adjusted yourself slightly and shifted down further, your hips instinctively rolled enticingly as you settled atop of his growing hardness, already straining against his sweatpants and desperate to be hugged by your warmth. He let out a low groan as his wide palms slid down the length of your spine and over the curve of your ass.

Parting briefly, you breathed, “Matt?”

“Hm?” he hummed as his lips nipped at your jaw.

“You sure you’re not tired?” your eyes threatened to flutter shut.

“I’m sure,” his hands slid back up to your waist as he let his kisses fade.

Blinking down at him in the darkness, you felt as if your heart could burst out of your chest at any moment, “do you wanna, maybe–, uhm… you know…”

“Do you want to?” his thumb soothingly circled your side and your hips unintentionally rolled once more.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

Your confirmation caused a smile to tug at his lips as he uttered, “okay.”

“Can I–…” your teeth briefly caught your bottom lip, “can I take your shirt off?”

A warm chuckle rumbled within his chest as he nodded lightly. Sitting up, your frame followed along as you didn’t shift to get out of his lap. As your fingers dug into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, he let you pull it off of him yourself.

You couldn’t make out too many of the fine details that decorated his physic, but perhaps that was a good thing, perhaps that’d make it easier. You could always study every millimetre of him later. Right now, the dim vision of him the night granted you was more than enough to turn you into a puddle.

Running your hands over his bare skin, they only stayed a moment before straying away from the warmth to yank your own top off.

One of his hands swiftly soared up and gently caught one of your boobs. A shuttering moan flew from your lips, inadvertently letting Matt know that his intuitive move wasn’t unwelcome, allowing his assurance to grow as he permitted his caresses to move more freely.

Seizing your lips as he softly squeezed your peak, his kisses then began to migrate and dance down the column of your neck till they reached your tits, his palm cupping one closer to his attentive mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered as his lips enclosed around one of your pebbly nipples, his tongue swirling over it before he nipped, causing your core to clench around nothing.

You couldn’t help but stuff a hand into your pyjama pants and offer yourself an ounce of relief.

Gliding his touch down to your bottom, his fingers fleetingly dug into your ass before they slid up to your hips, hooking his digits in the fabric. And with his face still buried in your tits, littering the soft skin with hickeys, Matt slightly tugged at your waistband, “do you want these off?”

Your answer came out sounding breathy, “yes,” before you stopped playing with yourself as he then helped pull both your pants and the soaked underwear beneath them off.

As you settled back down into his lap, he pulled you in and seized your lips. Fingers finding your glistening folds once more, his soon joined yours, digits briefly weaving before your own touch began to falter and you let him take over entirely.

Your head tilted back when he eased a finger inside of your creamy cunt, your juices swiftly coated his digit and dripped down his hand as he caressed you at an overwhelmingly slow pace. His touch made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud and you were already so far gone that when he filled you up with another finger, dreamily giving your eager pussy just a little bit more, you tumbled over the edge.

Eyes only half open as you watched him curve down to plant soft kisses all along your ribs, both of his solid arms wrapped around you and keeping you up as you panted, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “you wanna keep going?”

“Please,” your fingers then tried to push down the remainder of his clothing, “I wanna feel you,” he swiftly aided your efforts and slipped his dark sweatpants off, “I wanna feel all of you.”

Reaching a long arm over into the nightstand’s drawer, Matt fished out a little foil packet. Your foreheads joined and pressed up against one another as he rolled the latex on.

His fingers grasped onto the base of his girth, silkily stroking himself as you supported your wobbly balance on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself as you raised your hips further up. Reaching a hand down, your touch met his as he teased his tip against your puff, nudging at your swollen clit before parting your petals in a lush motion. Your palm briefly floated up to your mouth and collected a dollop of saliva before you lowered it back down, only taking a second to glisten his throbbing cock up with it before you dragged him down towards your entrance.

“Oh my god…” you moaned shakily as you slowly began to sink down upon him, shallowly at first as his arm tightened around your waist to support you, “fuck…”

Trailing his other palm up your quivering thigh, he groaned, “that’s it, take your time,” before his fingers settled where you united, “fuck, you’re doing so good,” he rolled your clit slowly under his calluses, your nectar dripping down his length as you gradually slid further down.

When his dick eventually settled so deep within you that you thought the night sky would appear on the ceiling of his bedroom, you pressed a breathless kiss to his lips.

As you gave his shoulders a slight push, his frame rested back down against the mattress and you followed suit. Tits smooshed down against his chest, his fingers had disappeared from your puffy pearl as you just stayed there a moment, frozen as you took in the staggering sensation of what he felt like buried so deep inside of you that it made you lightheaded.

“This,” you uttered thickly, “this is what I thought about earlier,” your laboured breaths fanned across his face, “and you wanna know what?”

“What?” his answer flowed from him swiftly.

A smile bloomed on your lips as your hips began to roll, “my imagination couldn’t even come close to how amazing you feel.”

As you found a gentle pace, a low moan escaped Matt’s lips as the details of his cock dragged against your silky walls, “christ, sweetheart,” he couldn’t help but buck up into you, an instinct that earned him a lewd whimper of approval.

Keeping up his own efforts, you briefly stole a sloppy peck from him before your spine straightened back up and you established a new and intoxicating rhythm.

“Fuck, that’s it, there you go,” he grunted as you rode him, the majority of his length never strayed from the warmth of your pussy as you electrically rolled and rocked atop of him, “atta girl,” his fingers dug into your hips, “god, you feel so good, fucking perfect.”

As your fingers lowered to find your clit, the bouncing pace you’d found slowly began to waver as you felt yourself begin to near the end once more. Your form then collapsed back down against his as your hips tried and failed to keep up the same euphoric pattern you’d found before.

But as soon as Matt’s hips thrust beneath you, effortlessly hitting a molten spot deep within you that you’d barely managed before on your own, all of your brief worries melted away.

“Matt-,” your face smooshed against his chest as you panted, “h-holy shit!”

Holding your hips steady, he ravenously bucked up into you, “please keep making those noises for me, sweetheart,” his low growl harmonised with the lewd melody of his desperate efforts, “you sound so fucking good.”

As you felt your pussy clamper around him so hard it nearly halted his movements completely, your fingers sought out your nipples in a harsh pinch, trembling above him and crying out as you came undone.

With how tight your cunt clenched down around his throbbing girth, even if Matt didn’t wish for the marvellous moment to end just yet, perhaps fantasise about dragging it out till the sun rose, he couldn't help it as your pussy milked him so perfectly of all of his worth and he joined you in the boneless tangle of satisfaction.

Sluggishly, you clung to him, utterly melted atop of his frame even as he carefully pulled out and nimbly snaked an arm between your limp forms to peel off the spent condom and toss it.

His chest rose and fell with every deep breath beneath your head as he eventually asked, “how do you feel?”

Letting yourself ponder a second and uncover the answer through your haze, you only found yourself thawing further down against him as you let your eyes flutter shut and uttered, “safe.”

Rain hammered against the windows as you rushed out of the door. The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, but your day had already begun.

As you locked your front door with a dull click, a worrying thud halted your feet from scurrying along.

Whirling your head around, you glanced to the source of the concerning crash, at your neighbour’s door, before slowly walking up and letting your fist softly collide with it. There never came an answer, not even when you tried again, that time more forcefully.

Unable to shake that unsettling concern off of you, your feet carried you up to the roof and the apartment’s emergency exit. As your fingers enclosed around the cold knob, you momentarily snapped yourself out of your unease.

Maybe something wasn’t wrong. Maybe Matt hadn’t hurt himself and desperately needed help. Maybe, even though your ears had interpreted the sound as something troublesome, it could have just been that he wasn’t alone, that perhaps you weren’t the only girl he let into his bed, perhaps one more prone to making a ruckus.

Either way, it wasn’t under any circumstances appropriate for you to not only invade his privacy, but literally break into his home, yet you still found your fingers slowly twisting the door handle.

Just one peek. If he didn’t need someone to call for an ambulance, then you’d slip right back out, even if whatever the true cause was broke your heart.

You only mustered two steps down the stairs before you spotted a surprising, yet familiar masked man sprawled out on the living room floor, unconscious and bleeding.

You scarcely breathed as you slowly neared him. Even in the low pre-dawn light, you were able to make out the slashes that tore up parts of his black suit. Carefully, you kneeled down beside him as your eyes scanned over his wounded frame.

You had to do something. The vigilante had saved your life, so the very least you could do was repay him the favour.

Spotting a trickle of crimson drip down from beneath his black mask, streaking down across his gruff jaw, with a trembling hand you pulled the mask further up to get a better look at how grave the injury was, only for you to discover who was hiding behind the disguise.

“…Matt?”

Settled on the couch and with a dark blanket draped over him, only covering some of the scars the darkness hadn’t let you spot previously, Matt stirred awake.

From one of the armchairs, you hugged your knees closer to your chest as you uttered, “hi,” your voice came out sounding small and fragile.

Freezing up, Matt’s head tilted toward you, “Y/n?” he cautiously spoke, “what–… when did you get here?”

“A few minutes before Foggy did,” his friend had shown up, concerned out of his mind when Matt hadn’t answered his phone after recklessly throwing himself into a stupidly dangerous plan. He’d stayed a while, for as long as he could till he eventually had to leave, “I heard a noise, thought something was wrong and you needed help…”

“You–… you know…” he stated, and you just let your crushing silence confirm it, “…did you patch me up?”

“No, that was a friend of yours that Foggy called–, Claire I think, but that was a while ago. You were out cold for a really long time,” you averted your gaze and stared down at your hands, letting the silence momentarily consume the space before you hesitantly opened your mouth once more, “…how do you–… Foggy tried to explain to some extent, but how do you–, how do you do it?”

“It’s complicated,” he said slowly, letting out a hushed groan as he carefully pushed himself up to a seated position.

“Complicated, how?”

A low exhale flowed from his lips before he uttered, “…I know that yesterday you worked with strawberries. You didn’t eat any, but I can still smell them beneath your fingernails from when you cut them up… I know you’re hungry right now and the only thing you’ve eaten since breakfast was an apple a bit ago. I can still taste it off your lips… and I know that me telling you all of that is making you uncomfortable… because I can hear your heartbeat… but I’m not scaring you.”

Blinking back at him, you saw your chest rise and fall rapidly in your periphery, “wow… I mean, Foggy did say that your senses were sharp, but that–… I can’t fucking believe it…”

Bowing his head lightly, his jaw clenched, “you have every right to be angry–”

“Angry?” you repeated, your eyes growing wide, “Matt… it’s you. It was you…” tears began to blur up your vision, “did you–… did you know who I was when I moved in here or was that first when I told you about that night?”

Staying quiet a moment, he eventually nodded, “yeah. I knew… I am so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Matt,” rising from the chair, at an instant, you’d crossed to his side and sat down on the couch beside him, “you helped me, you saved me. That was you. You’re–…” hands drifting up to carefully cup his scruffy cheeks, you uttered, “you’re him.”

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff

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porcelainseashore · 15 days

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Into the Ether (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Lots of blood drinking (+ its underlying issues), suggestive themes, mention of bodily fluids, and at least dubious consent for vampire turning ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Bury Me

Leon had reached a row of converted Victorian-style residential buildings in the Lower West Side of Uptown Raccoon City. Tall, stained glass windows lined their exterior, accented with a mixture of gabled and Mansard roofs. Pointed arches embellished with corbels and fretwork adorned the structures, detailing their rich architectural history. Despite them appearing frozen in time, harking back to the 19th century, everything else had been modernized for their inhabitants.

Scanning his keycard on the reader, he slipped in through the back entrance and hurried towards the rarely used service elevator that was stationed out of sight in a narrow corridor at the rear end of the building. He swiped his card again to gain access to his specific apartment floor, punching the button several times erratically, even though it had already lit up on the first try. Upon noticing that he had accidentally smudged blood from his hands onto it, he muttered a string of curses while using the cuff of his shirt to wipe it off.

Holding you close, he planted a desperate kiss against the crown of your head, as if by some miracle you would wake up from this nightmare, safe and sound in his arms. Your body temperature had dropped considerably, and with each passing second, he could feel your vitals waning as your life force ebbed into oblivion.

“Come on, stay with me,” he begged, his visage crumbling under the weight of grief, and out of habit, he thumbed at the gold cross pendant hanging from his necklace. If there was a god, he would let you live.

As soon as the elevator doors parted with a resonant ding, he sped out towards the only apartment door on the top floor. Feeling the side of the frame for a familiar indent, he pressed against it, and a matchbox sized cache slid out, containing a crescent shaped device. Attaching it to another metallic apparatus that he carried around in his pocket, he slotted it through the keyhole while simultaneously adjusting what looked like gears of an old-fashioned clock into place.

Despite all these years, he still had a penchant for puzzle solving, seeing as his former workplace, the Raccoon Police Station, had been a labyrinth in itself. And what better way to put his hobby to use than to invest into the security of his haven, by creating his own intricate lock mechanisms, complete with false walls and hidden passageways. It may seem a little over the top, but sometimes it was comforting to lose his nights designing and crafting the things that had made him human in the beginning.

With a satisfying click, the heavyset door creaked open on its hinges, revealing an immaculately kept and minimalist loft. He dashed in, shutting the door behind him before pushing the coffee table away and setting you down gently on the rug. You were the only blemish in the room, bleeding out from underneath him, staining the fabric in the pattern of angel’s wings.

He felt your pulse, weak and unsteady, and you were nearly gone. It crushed him to see you like this, your skin ashen and pale — the only shade of blue he never liked. As you lay there unresponsive like a corpse before him, he knew he needed to go through with what he had planned for you all long along. Even so, he had a hard time coming to terms with it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was meant to woo you, give you a taste of what the unlife had to offer, bring you over to his side and both of you would, what—? Live happily ever after?

Fucking hell, Leon. What the fuck were you thinking? he swore at himself internally. Ada’s words came back to haunt him. She was right, he had let his emotions get ahead of him again. Regardless, he had to fix this mess, and letting you die was out of the question, as was turning you into a mindless ghoul addicted to a blood bond. No, he would never do that to you.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, brushing the strands of your hair, which had clumped together in dried blood and sweat, out of your face. You were so deathly cold in your slumber…

Then, he broke the first of his promises and drained you dry. Images of you flooded his mind again as he latched his mouth onto your neck. He could feel your fears, your joys, and your sorrows. The first steps you had taken as a child, captured through the lens of an old home video; the family and friends you would leave behind; long, solitary walks in the woods; dancing your heart out in smoky nightclubs; ceiling-high shelves filled to the brim with musty books and DIY costumes you’d pieced together from scraps; every trinket and memento — all the signs of life that had made you happy.

There was no time for regrets. He could make you happier, he vowed. He will, he had to.

At the very last drop, he licked the bite marks close and let go, slashing his wrist against his teeth before placing it to your lips. His own sanguine fluid coated your lips in a cherry red stain, restoring a semblance of life to your otherwise waxen complexion, as it dripped down your throat. Slowly, your jaw began to move, lips puckering up as it suctioned against the open wound, the tip of your tongue licking across it over and over again like the sweetest nectar you’d ever savored.

“There you go, angel,” he panted, feeling the pressure grow taut around his wrist as he stroked your hair tenderly with his other hand. “Just a bit more.”

He concentrated on the act, investing the power of his vitae into you, passing on the curse of Caine which he had carried with him all this while. On top of that came the Bane and Compulsion of his clan, as well as its Disciplines and strengths.

You couldn’t explain why your body reacted so naturally to it, but your appetite for his vitae was insatiable, like an insurmountable tidal wave heading towards shore. Your eyes flew open and you caught his ocean blue gaze. Gasping for breath, you clamped down on his wrist even harder, earning you a gratifying moan that fell from his lips, as they twisted into an expression of excruciating euphoria.

Likewise, you felt the build up of sheer bliss with an underlying tinge of agony within you, as you continued drinking from him, unable to stop yourself, no matter how much you tried. Every fiber of your being burned like a warm, inviting flame. You were the epitome of a phoenix in a pyre, combusting and being reborn again, walking barefoot across searing hot coal unharmed, as the fire raged on. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, into eternal life.

And then he appeared before you like an ethereal, ghostly apparition, kneeling in the pews of a cathedral you didn’t recognize, praying fervently to a crucified man on a wooden cross. Subsequently, the scene switched to a hectic office space, permeated with the shrill sound of phones ringing and papers flying in every direction. There he stood in the center of the room, like the eye of a storm, a handgun secured in his holster as he moved the pins around on a crime board. One vision blurred into the other and it felt as if you were seeing his past, present and future all at once.

An immense rush of ecstasy filled your senses at the final image of you riding him like a horse, as if you were experiencing it for yourself firsthand. Sweat poured down your naked bodies as you rolled your hips back and forth against his lasciviously. His calloused hands squeezed the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to move faster as he thrust up into you. In the throes of passion, you threw your head back and cried out in excess, but found it muffled against his wrist as you abruptly returned to reality. Your eyes went straight to his, and the knowing look on his face gave it away, confirming that you had partaken in the last vision together.

The Beast was gnawing at the cage in his chest again as you suckled more of his vitae. A hunger arose within him and he was aware that the deed had been done. The primary hurdle was getting you to stop.

“Angel, my love,” he called to you softly, “That’s all I can give you.”

You had heard every word he said; they were crystal clear, but your head remained fuzzy, as if it were wrapped in layers of cotton wool, dampening your thoughts. He could see it in your glazed eyes that you were unable to register what he had requested of you, but he couldn’t bear to tear himself away.

“Please, angel,” he whimpered. “Let go.”

At that point, something in you clicked. Perhaps it was the sight of a broken man, crouched in the middle of his living room, weary from all the bloodshed and the cruel hand fate had dealt him tonight. You wanted to do everything you could to soothe his pain. The same pain that had crept up in his voice the night he put you to bed, and when he had wondered out loud in the park if you could accept him for who he was.

Loosening your grip, you tilted back, allowing him to retract his hand as you ingested the rest of his vitae in your mouth. Nothing could ever come close to the intensity of what you had just felt. Gradually, you came down from the high and your ragged breathing evened out. A numbing weight pressed against your body as your eyes fluttered before closing. Was this it? Was this the end? All you could think of was what a peaceful way it was to die.

A shiver ran down his spine as Leon caressed your cheek, watching you fall back to sleep again. Even his own Embrace hadn’t gone this far. Of course it had been the best thing he had felt in the world, but this, with you? It was on a completely different plane. The memories, the shared sexual intimacy, how—? Did he hallucinate that? He still hadn’t figured it out. It was something for maybe the Tremere, unfortunately, to advise on.

But he had bigger things to worry about now. This was only a temporary respite before you would awake in torment, and he needed to find a way to ease that as quickly as possible, despite being so ill-prepared. It would be the first lesson he’d have to teach you and one of the worst.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A set of steely arms wrapped around you the moment your body jolted upright as you came to. Disoriented and unable to think straight, you struggled to break out of their hold as you heard Leon’s voice in your ear, “Shhh… it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me.”

You tried to speak but only unintelligible growls escaped your mouth and you continued thrashing about wildly, as a gut-wrenching pain ripped through your flesh and bones. It felt like hundreds of rats were clawing their way out of your stomach as your eyes searched the room rabidly for the offending source that was driving you insane.

And then you saw him. A man in a fancy business suit, unconscious but propped up against the wall. His hands were bound with rope and a nasty bruise swelled at the side of his head. You let out a torturous wail when it finally dawned on you that the very substance you had been lusting after was his blood. It smelled incredible from where you were seated and you were frothing at the mouth like a deranged animal.

What the fuck was going on?! your mind screamed, while you made guttural noises in retaliation. Is this—? Oh god, no! What did he do to me?

There was a persistent throb in your corner teeth, as if they had been plucked out by force and something foreign had been put in its place. You ran your tongue over them, they were elongated and sharp. Just like-

Leon? He pulled you flush against his chest, trapping you in his iron grip, and with a sense of urgency, he spelled out, “Listen to me, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to feed on him.”

Shaking your head violently, your eyes rolled back as if you were possessed by a demonic entity, while you fought with all your might against him and your overzealous hunger. No, no, no, fuck that! I won’t—!

“If you don’t, you will lose control and murder everyone in your path,” he explained.

Noticing how you continued to resist him vehemently, he added, “You won’t have to kill him, I can show you how.”

You whined, scratching at his hands and crying like a hapless pup. There was no need for you to articulate it in words. He understood everything you were going through — the inner turmoil and mental dilemma at your first feed. Except, you had it worse off than him. At least back then, he knew what he was getting himself into and accepted it. You just didn’t have the privilege of time.

Shambling across the floorboards, he brought you closer to the man. “It’s not easy in this state, but you’re strong, and smart. I know you can.” He paused, shifting his grip on you so that he could point out an obscured trail along the man’s neck. “You need to hit one of the arteries or veins for a clean feed. Usually, you’d take it slow and be more careful, but we don’t really have an option tonight.”

Suppressing another painful whine, you tried your utmost to follow his instructions as a beast-like creature went berserk in your chest, bashing it way through your ribcage. Focusing on the area he had identified, you could more or less make out the veins protruding from his skin, like an ultrasound.

“Here, the jugular,” he indicated. “You can start with that, but don’t drain him fully. I’ll help you to stop, just remember to lick it close at the end, okay?”

Nodding, you sobbed out a vague agreement, though your feet were kicking out furiously, itching to be set free. It felt like your mind and body had been separated in two, and neither worked in tandem with each other. The scent of this man’s blood was overpowering, it was making you giddy.

As soon as he let you go, you lurched forward, grabbing the man’s neck roughly as you plunged your teeth into the vein you’d singled out. A viscous, intoxicating liquid enveloped your mouth as you had your fill. Raw energy flowed from one end to another, restoring function to your organs and limbs, as they began to come under your control again. The more you drank, the clearer your mind became, and the Beast within you quietened, satiated from the elixir that seemed to nourish your entire being and soul. Soul? Did you still have one, especially after this?

From a distance you heard your name, accompanied by an appeal to cut it short. Once again, you were thrown into the depths of a battlefield, where each side struggled for dominance as its victor. It felt too good to end it here. Why should you obey? a voice inside you sneered.

A pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind. Leon’s tone was stern and resolute: “Stop, lick the wound now.”

His command reverberated through your hollow chest, rattling your bones as you submitted to him. Swabbing your tongue over the puncture site, you released your prey as Leon pulled you away. Splotches of bright crimson covered the man’s attire as well as your own. It had been a messy affair.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.” His voice was tender again, as he turned your face to his. Dragging his fingertip along the spilled blood trickling down your throat, he scooped up the remains and sucked it into his mouth.

By now, he was an expert in cleaning up after his elders, having done his fair share of dirty errands. That’s what neonates like him were good for. At least it would come in handy tonight. The man was still alive, drowsy as hell, but his heart was beating. He had taught you well.

“You did this to me.” The accusation rang like the toll of a bell in his ears, as he watched your expression change into one of pure hatred and disgust.

But before you could continue on with the verbal onslaught you had been saving up for him, a debilitating pain struck, blinding you in the process as you clutched your abdomen and trembled turbulently. What—? When will this ever end?

You were physically dealing with the bitter aftermath of being snatched from the hands of death and flung into rebirth through abnormal means. Anything within you that didn’t need to be there anymore would be cleansed in the next few hours, as your body was dying and disposing of the needless waste. It was not like this in the movies. You wanted to laugh at the outright ridiculousness of it, but all you managed were terrified shrieks.

It was humiliating to be brought down this low in front of him — the man who went from someone you had started to fall for to the last person in the world you wanted to be in the same room with. You hated him for what he had done to you. The fire came back, but this time it was like being burnt at the stake; it was harrowing.

To Leon, you could never degrade yourself in his eyes. He stayed with you the whole time, rubbing reassuring circles on your back as you writhed in agony, dirtying his rug with vomit and piss.

Though she had cared in her own way, Ada never did this for him. He remembered his transformation like it was just yesterday. The serene peach walls of her bathroom, equipped with fluffy towels, aromatic diffusers, and soft music playing in the background, like a spa he couldn’t enjoy. He had been tucked away safely in the bathtub, the door locked on him, as he shivered uncontrollably like a junkie. She couldn’t bear to see him like this — his face covered in snot, stinking up the place with a vacant look in his eyes. It was a mess, but a controlled one.

With you, he wanted it all — the good and the bad. He couldn’t offer you the luxuries that Ada had with him, but he would be there beside you, taking care of you like the sire he desired to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was a sense of déjà vu when you awakened for the second time that night. Or was it morning? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Somehow, you had ended up on a double bed that wasn’t your own and in clothes that you’d never wear — not unless you were a lingerie model on the cover of a magazine spread, or one of those rich housewives looking to spice things up in the bedroom. In your last conscious moments, you thought you had soiled yourself, but now you were squeaky clean. Did Leon—?

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil.

You whipped your head in his direction, and saw him leaning against the banister of the stairs that connected the partially open, mezzanine-like level to the main floor below, which it overlooked. Out of a sense of self-preservation and modesty, you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.

Stifling a laugh, he smiled at you bashfully like a teenage boy in front of his first crush. “It’s, um, my sire’s.” He gestured towards your outfit. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anything else.”

Sire? Letting yourself go, you peered down at the fitting lace chemise that clung to your body, still feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze, as you speculated over what he meant.

“It suits you,” he complimented, either oblivious to your bemusement or attempting not broach the subject at this point.

The remark he had made, even if with good intentions, made your blood boil. “Does turning me into a monster suit me?” you spat, getting up from the bed as you strode towards him in fury.

A flicker of remorse flashed across his eyes and his breath hitched. He thought he could stall for time and reconcile with you before having the talk, but he had been blindsided by your astuteness. Despite that, he tried to pacify you. “Angel…”

But you weren’t having any of it. “Shut up!” you hollered, slapping him hard across the face. The blow was harsh enough to send his head snapping to the side, leaving a vivid red handprint marked on his cheek. “I’m not your angel, and never will be!”

He could’ve punished you for your insolence, but chose to suck it up and tolerate it. You were clearly struggling to accept your new circumstances.

“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, gingerly rubbing the side of his face where it stung.

You didn’t seem to care though, in fact, you were absolutely livid to the point where you couldn’t speak. Casting him a venomous look of disdain, you drew in labored breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid, heaving motions.

His watery eyes met yours, and you saw the pain and hurt brimming in them. “You would’ve died back there,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you withdrew from him, gripping the edge of the bedpost so intensely that a huge chunk of it broke off. Wait, just how strong were you now?

He glanced over at the damage and winced. Dammit, I liked that bed, he sighed to himself.

“I wish I did,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of metal in your hand skeptically before chucking it to the side. “You could’ve done your job and buried me.”

That was when he lost his cool. “Don’t say that,” he hissed sharply, his gaze smoldering like dying embers, as he marched forward, seizing your wrist to prevent you from backing away. “I just wanted to help—”

“Help?” you questioned testily, challenging him head on with a fierce glare. “You forced me to drink some guy’s blood!”

“You would’ve died,” he reiterated, using the same excuse in a loop as if he never heard you.

“He could’ve died!” you retorted, with the same stupid line of argument that Leon had been falling back on each time.

“Well, he didn’t, and he’s fine!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and huffed as he pivoted to one side, before turning back to shoot daggers at you. “A little anemic, but fine!” he expounded for good measure.

There was a slight pause until you fired back, “Go fuck yourself, Leon S. Kennedy,” letting every syllable of his full name roll off your tongue mockingly.

A low growl erupted from his sternum. He wanted to yank you roughly by the hair, throw you onto the bed and teach you a lesson. Jesus Christ, Leon, don’t go there. Get a hold of yourself!

Instead, he bottled up his anger and composed himself. Releasing a deep, slow breath, he evened out his tone, reasoning with you. “Look, like it or not, you need to come to terms with… what you are.”

You hadn’t backtalked him yet; that was a good sign.

“If you want to survive these nights, then I’m the best shot you got.”

Even though you held nothing but contempt towards him in your heart at that very moment, you realized that ultimately, he had a point. And so, you grudgingly raised the white flag. “Fine,” you relented. “But I will never forgive you.”

Another compromise. He could work with that, for now.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

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heyidkyay · 6 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: Use of French from someone's whose ability extends to that of the primary school level! Hints of past encounters with substance abuse, but not really.

Authors Note: Part two baby!! I'm really so glad that you all seemed to enjoy the first part of this and can only hope you'll like this one too! I can't believe I've actually decided to give this series a go, already onto starting part four! But I loved seeing all the reactions to it in truth and felt like I couldn't not. Hope you like it x

Masterlist

Adi @/AdelineWells_ 2m ago

Coffee acquired and headed into the studio! Who’s looking forward to today’s show?? #MouseOnAMic

“Did you see it then!” Adi exclaimed breathlessly as soon as I trudged in through the loft door, not even giving me the chance to settle in and perhaps start on a brew before she was invading my personal space.

“Well, have you?”

I dropped my bag onto the settee and then followed suit by falling heavily into my favoured armchair, the yellow one which sat happily amongst the rest of the sitting area we’d first set up in the studio.

“Seen what?” I questioned Adi, the sigh I added muffled by the tired hand I dragged across the lower portion of my face, before I then knuckled the edge of my jaw.

It had been an extremely long morning, what with Teddy not having wanted to leave my side since waking up and then deciding to throw an massive all-mighty fit when I’d had to drop him straight off at nursery instead of Finn’s like usual.

Finn had actually gotten a last minute project thrown his way, one he hadn't been able to say no to, being an commissioned artist and all, which had resulted in him being unable to take Teddy off my hands like planned and me running more than a little late.

That, plus the trains had been a complete and utter nightmare!

Another strike was set to start soon and so the trains were in constant delay. Not that I blamed the workers specifically for it all, to each their own and all that crap. But still, it took me a half an hour longer to get into work this morning than it usually should have done.

I let my eyes slip close at the very thought of it, merely hoping for a moment’s peace, but then heard Adi sigh dramatically somewhere to the left of me, seemingly oblivious to the weary state I was already in.

She was growing impatient with me and I could feel a headache brewing, the steady throbs of it pulsing high in my temples. I noted then how much I was in dire need of a rather large coffee, or maybe even something stronger, but simply resigned myself to the knowledge that the headache would probably only worsen throughout the day, seeing as though I’d forgotten to grab my migraine medication out of the cupboard in my haste this morning.

I didn’t even get the chance to centre myself before a phone was being shoved into my face. Immediately, I blinked my bleary eyes open at the intrusion and winced at the onslaught of unexpected bright light it gave as I lurched as far back as the shoddy armchair would allow me.

“Christ, Ads.” I muttered, but the woman only persevered and I was forced to squint and try to make sense of the many words she was presenting to me on the screen of her mobile. My eyes widened in disbelief.

Without a second thought, I snatched the thing out of Ad’s impatient grip and straightened in my seat, reeling. “Shit.”

The Sun

Tuesday, 08:23am

Drunken truths- or rather, tweets!

After yesterday’s whirlwind, caused by a recent segment on an up and coming radio show based in London, Mouse On A Mic, where the host shedded their honest opinion on the behaviour of none other than The 1975’s lead singer, Matty Healy, the online world has been divided. Since the show aired there has been a massive show of support for the presenter, many agreeing with the comments made, but also, and rather unsurprisingly, there has been the expected backlash from the band’s rowdy fanbase.

Mouse, a pseudonym used by the show’s host, managed to make it onto Twitter’s trending page in the early hours of yesterday evening, after the segment on the singer blew up, and it was there that many came to battle over the honesty of it all!

The award winning artist himself later touched upon it, hours after everything had actually occurred and some of the heat had died down, in a tweet of his own! In it Matty seemed to back the radio host’s claims, stating that we really should ‘listen to the radio’ and that he is an evident ‘liar’ as he’s been labelled many times before. He even went as far as to say that he was indeed very ‘sad’, which caused a mass hysteria of both confusion and emotion to spread throughout the media, some of it relating back to Healy’s previous stints in rehab and the many times he’s been caught in the firing line. Whilst others showed no sympathy at all.

No one from Matty’s band or team has yet to comment on it, but the tweet has since been mysteriously deleted! Our question is, where do we go from here?

“I know, right! How mad is this?” Adi gushed unabashedly as she threw her weight into the spinning chair beside my own. The wheels whined beneath her weight but Adi paid the noise no mind, either beyond used to the crappy furniture we’d procured since moving in or just too enthralled in the phone she’d since snatched back.

I figured it to be the latter.

“He was obviously so gone when writing it, but do you reckon it’s the truth then? That he’s probably getting shit for it right now?” She further queried, her voice filled with a childlike excitement that had me frowning.

“If so, why do you sound so pleased about it?” I shot back, tilting my head over towards her, “The whole thing’s more than a little messed up, Ads.”

Adi merely groaned at me in response, letting her head lull against the back of the chair before she then cast an exaggerated glance, a cheap look that clearly stated, ‘are-you-fucking-joking-me?’

I didn’t care much for it, in all honesty, and widened my own eyes in a mocking response, waiting for her to give me an actual answer.

“God, Mouse! Have you even seen the amount of subscribers the show has gotten since Healy’s tweet? We’ve already got a dozen calls lined up and we don’t even air for another hour!” Adi blew out excitedly as she pushed herself further up in her seat, the tight miniskirt which hugged her thighs rode up slightly but she made no move to tug it down, too caught up in her rant.

“We’ve gained over twenty thousand followers, babe! Twenty thousand! And it’s only grown since his tweet was deleted! Can you believe that?”

I scoffed. “It’s hardly something to be proud of, is it? Gaining traction off some guy who’s already got the world quick-firing at him. He needs help, not more fucking media attention. I mean, you said it yourself, he was clearly hammered whilst writing it.”

I got up to turn my back on her then, figuring it’d be best if I just got a start on setting up for the day seeing as we were already running behind.

In all honesty, I really could see what had Adi so ecstatic. The show had never received this much notice before and twenty thousand followers was a game changer for people like us. It would boost ratings and help garner the wider audience we’d been chasing for ages now. But I still felt guilty and was far from proud of the fact that we’d earned all of these so-called ‘followers’ off the back of somebody else’s torment.

Matty clearly had his demons, that much was evident. But in my opinion, he really didn’t need any more publicity. Especially on a topic which surrounded old habits and seemed so blatantly sensitive. At this point, I honestly wished I'd never opened my fat gob.

Messing about with the console, I silently wondered why I cared so much. Yeah the evident culpability was there, but the guy had it coming with the way he’d been acting. I’d just been doing my job. Right?

I withheld a frustrated sigh at the question, but then jumped an inch out of my skin when I felt a gentle touch brush against my shoulder, pulling me swiftly from my thread of chaotic thoughts.

Spinning around, I was met with the face of a guilt-ridden Adi, who’s glossy lips were pursed and deep brown eyes downcast.

“Sorry,” She said and then paused, “Didn't think of it much like that.” Her mouth twisted uncomfortably for a second before she finally smiled at me, clearly apologetic. “We should probably say something then, right? To the viewers?”

I dipped my head in a surprised nod before slouching into the booth’s chair with a defeated huff. “I mean sure, but what would we even say though? It’s all so fucked up. Thanks for following us but fuck you if you think we’re gonna chat shit about some band?”

Adi snorted, but her typical catty smile didn't quite reach her eyes, “Guess that could work. Sounds effective enough.”

I chuckled around a smile of my own, then hummed for a moment.

“Not really the big break we were looking for, is it?” I commented aloud, not really looking for a response. Then added, “You reckon he’s alright?”

“Who?”

A brief silence settled between us then as I scanned Adi’s bemused face, and she moved to settle against the edge of the table.

“Healy.” I murmured softly.

And Adi, apparently taken back by my answer, locked her jaw in thought before her eyes shifted towards something just over my shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago Highlights of today's show!

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 21m ago Mouse opened up today's show with ‘an oldie’, in her words, and played 'Morning Glory' by Oasis which seemed to please a lot of us! She also asked how everyone was today, briefly mentioning her long morning.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 19m ago The first topic was based around the Kardashian's newest season and was brought up by a listener who had messaged the show. "F*cking old news! We should have gotten rid of that show ages ago, I really have no idea how people can just sit around and watch it all honestly! So much unnecessary- and clearly fake- drama going on. Just seeing the influence that it has on so many young girls, as well as how much time people are willing to spend on that entire family, is just something I can’t comprehend or get behind, but have been very conscious of. I'm so lost on what it is exactly that has people feeling so drawn to them. It's mental!"

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 17m ago The show played this week's top 10 hits! Mouse making a very special shout-out to her son, who's current obsession is blasting Taylor Swift's new release through the speakers! (Don't worry, Mini Mouse, we're obsessed with it too!)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 14m ago The famous "Call Us!" segment makes a return this week! Mouse dragged Adi into the booth, as per usual, and the pair spoke to a few excited callers. The duo answered questions on the newest single’s out right now and what upcoming films they were excited to see! Adi even ended up calling out Ed Sheeran?! Of all people, after a fan phoned in to rant about their need for a new album!

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 13m ago A competitive game of "The Impossible Quiz" broke out, which of course was won by our ever merciless Adi, and Mouse followed through on the losing dare! (Check it out on the Show's website to see! Link in bio.)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 11m ago Lead vocalist and guitarist to Only The Poets, Tommy Longhurst, Facetimed the studio to talk about his band’s newest single, 'Every God I Pray To'. He's been a fan of Mouse and Adi since his first appearance on the show about a year ago now with the rest of the guys and it was so great to see the three of them together again! They ended up doing a Fan Q&A (which is up on the show’s Youtube channel now!) before they played the single for everyone listening in.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 8m ago When Adi headed out of the booth, Mouse decided to touch on the topic of yesterday's show. This is what was said, "I just wanted to bring up what went down during the last show, as it- I don't even know at this point, really. It just spread like wildfire across social media and has since been taken a little out of context. The topic of Matty Healy did come up after he'd made a recent headline, having been pictured again after taking a couple weeks away from the spotlight whilst on tour. I gave my honest opinion on the subject, simply shared my thoughts, and I do stand by what I said at the time- as all our longtime listeners will already know! But with that being said, on this matter I do feel as though I probably should have held back a tad and bitten my tongue. I don't know Matty well enough to dub him as this or that, or to comment on his life choices- I've never even met the guy! But it is my job to speak out on current topics and I was just doing what I'm paid to do. (Cont)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 6m ago

"… Adi was actually the one to show me the tweet Healy sent out last night, as well as the incredibly insensitive articles that were paired alongside it, and I see now that it's caused a bit of drama and sparked a few more unwanted rumours for him. I feel largely to blame. To all the new listeners, I just want you all to understand that, here and now, I do not intend on milking this particular cow, and I won't be saying much more on the matter. I only hope that he’s doing okay. And Matty, if you are somehow listening, I really do apologise for all the shit I said and for the crap I've probably caused you since. It wasn't my intention for any of this to blow up, but you seem like a good sort, so. You're welcome on the show or at the studio anytime, no judgement here. Now! That's enough said on that topic, I’m-" And with that, Mouse soon moved onto wrapping up the show.

[HOMESCREEN] 17:18

Facetime now Mam Incoming call

Messages 4m Finnleyyy Listened to the show on the drive home, you okay?

"Bonsoir, mon belle fille!"

I smiled softly at the warm and familiar sound of my mum’s voice, even through the phone it was always so tender, a massive reminder of home. Her accent was gentle but brought me an undeniable amount of comfort and reminded me of days spent just the two of us, stowed away in our tiny cottage by the coast.

Before I could even offer her a greeting in reply though, the soft smile I wore immediately brightened upon having a much smaller figure settle down onto my lap to grab at the screen.

My mother laughed when a set of familiar eyes and chubby cheeks took up the tiny box in the tophand corner and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling along quietly with her when Teddy greeted her buoyantly.

“Mémé!” Teddy exclaimed happily, full of excitement as he proceeded to crawl closer to the camera, all knees and elbows whilst he tried to better see his grandmother.

I honestly really did try to stifle every groan that wanted to escape me as he went, but I must've looked pained because I didn't miss the flicker of mirth that glossed the older woman’s ageing eyes once Teds had finally settled.

"Bonjour chérie! How have you been? Behaving, I hope." My mum spoke, her sharp gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary before she finally shifted her full attention back onto her already babbling grandson.

I let the two of them chatter back and forth for a while, tired from where the day’s antics had worn me down, but still listening quietly as I focused on my mum’s sweet smile.

It was days like these that I wished I could do more than simply phone her. I wanted to walk through the front door after a long walk by the harbour and see her standing in the kitchen. I wanted to hug her and smell the same flowery perfume she’d worn since I was Teddy’s age. I wanted to lay on the grassy fields which sat behind our cottage and talk about nothing until the sun finally set.

But just seeing her face would have to do, for now.

"So you have been good for your maman, non?" I heard my mum ask, and all of my problems suddenly seemed so trivial at that moment, especially in comparison to the beaming grin Teddy gifted the woman as he nodded his head vigorously in response.

I raised a hand to run my fingers through the toddler’s hair, fingertips tucking stray stands behind his tiny ears. "He's been fine- well, we had a little tiff this morning, didn't we Teds?" I alluded to and then laughed, closed mouthed and breathy, at the way Teddy's head snapped up to gape at me. "When a certain someone didn't want to leave the flat..."

Teddy's lips curved into an unhappy frown at my words and his eyebrows dipped to show how displeased he was with the fact that I had ratted him out. To his grandmother of all people.

I snorted to myself.

“Oh is that so?” Came my mum’s voice and Teddy’s eyes widened at her tone. Immediately the little boy whipped his head back around so that he could pout in the direction of the camera.

"No!" Teddy tried and I snickered, which only seemed to earn me a narrow-eyed scowl in retort. I had to, quite literally, chew at my bottom lip to hide my amused grin then. "I just tired, mémé! Need sleep! And Fin say no come over t'day. Gots to work. And I was sad."

“Ah, I see! So you were in a mood.” My mum hummed, eyes twinkling now. “And here I thought you adored mornings, Teddy! Or has it just been too long since you last visited me?” She gave me a pointed glance then, one I knew all too well.

Teddy, oblivious to his grandmother’s unsubtle attempt at chiding me, sat up straighter to once again grab at the phone I held. I sighed in reluctance but let him have it, trying not to linger too long on thoughts of grubby fingerprints and a broken screen.

Only recently had I had the stupid thing upgraded, not long after Teddy had violently destroyed the last one. The horrified expression of the young worker I’d shown it to in the shop still haunted me to this very day, as well blu-tack and parcel tape which had been the only two things holding the phone together.

"I do, I do!" Teddy rushed to reassure the woman, bouncing to further accentuate his point. I settled a hand on his shoulder to still him, grimacing lightly at the way his knee had suddenly been forced into my lower stomach. "Mornin’ I'm good! Mum makes soldiers like you! An' I see an'mals in the park when we walk to Finny's."

"That sounds like fun, mon cœur, and I'm excité to hear more, but that does not explain your tantrum." The older woman replied, and I felt the moment Teddy slumped against my chest, eyes downcast. "Alors pourquoi?"

Teddy shrugged silently at her, chin tucked into his neck. I tried to bite back my smirk and my mum gave me a sharp look for it, but it did nothing to dim the mirth I felt. Actually only encouraged me further, enough that I had to angle my face away.

The one thing I loved most about living in London was the fact that my mum could only scold me through the phone.

"Just didn't wanna leave, mummy." Teddy admitted, rather sheepishly in fact, which instantly caught my attention. But before I could get a word in edgeways, my mum was already there, saving the day. Like always.

"Edward. Your maman is there for you whenever you need her! You call and she will come running."

Her voice was gentle, face full of concern and assurance, so much so that I had to suck in a tight breath.

"Has there ever been a time that you have needed her and she wasn't there?"

Teddy shook his head, woeful eyes trained on the screen now, and I couldn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around him, desperate to have him closer. Teddy went without fuss and leant into the familiar gesture, resting his head against the small crook at my neck.

"See? She’s so wonderful, so very good to you, and she can only do her best, comprendre? So when she is not with you, when you are with Finn or at the nursery school with all your friends, she is working hard to make sure you have a happy life. It doesn't mean she loves you any less, chéri."

"And I do love you, Teddy." I added thickly, chin buried in Teddy's hair, "So, so much."

"I know. Just miss you."

My heart constricted tightly in my chest when Teddy tilted his head far back enough to peer up at me, his long lashes brushing against the line of his brow. I leaned in closer to press a kiss into his nest of messy curls.

“Miss you too, little man. Always. Things are never any fun without you around.”

"Really?" Teddy gasped loudly, as though he'd just that second heard that the Amazon rainforest had upped itself and decided to invade the UK.

"Big time." I faintly whispered, smiling when Teddy's face lit up.

He turned then, far too quickly for my liking, his entire mood having shifted upon hearing those simple words. "You hear mummy, mémé! You hear?"

"Oui, oui, chéri!" My mum replied with the same amount of emotion, tittering quietly to herself as she observed Teddy's catching excitement, "So lucky to have her, non?"

Teddy nodded vehemently and I just rolled my eyes at the pair, half in exasperation and half fondly.

"I think it's the other way around, I'd be beyond lost without this little monster." I quickly countered, tickling Teddy's sides and then laughing when the toddler squirmed in my hold, unable to escape.

"Stop! Stop!" Teddy pleaded in a fit of hysterics as I continued my attack. "Help, mémé! Tell!"

"D'accord, d'accord!" Came my mother's merry laugh, seemingly coming to Teddy's rescue even though she was more than two hundred miles away. "Le laisser. My poor baby!"

I relented but only pulled away once I had smattered a sloppy trail of kisses down my baby's flushed cheek. Teddy whined unhappily at the invasion and wiped lazily at his face with the back of his hand whilst I simply laughed.

"Silly babies." My mum scoffed without any heat, her smile radiant.

She looked just about ready to say something else but Teddy was already twisting in my lap. "Hafta go loo." He divulged to me in a not-so-quiet whisper, wriggling in his seat now with a strained smile.

I blew out a breathy chuckle in reply and immediately pulled the phone from his grasp, placing it on the arm of the settee so that I could swiftly pick him up and plop him down onto the floor. I nodded my head in the direction of the hallway and Teddy hurried on, but not before he kissed the phone screen goodbye.

I returned to the sound of my mother's sweet laughter.

"Je jure, il est une bénédiction."

My mouth pulled up at one side whilst I lightly shook my head. "A menace, more like."

"Ah! Do not speak ill of my gorgeous grandson!" My mum was quick to retort, wagging a finger at me, and even down the phone she could make menacing work. "He is magnifique, made up of all your best parts!"

I simply snorted in turn, rolling my eyes as I let my head fall back against the settee cushion. "I don't have enough of those to configure an entire being, even one that small."

It was my mum’s turn to snort then.

"Don't make such jokes." She scoffed, waving me away, "They forever fall flat.” Ouch. “You are beautiful, my love. Anyone with eyes can see that, and Teddy is so lucky to have you as his mother."

I couldn't really bring myself to reply then, instead I inhaled slowly and let my eyes slip close. It had been another long and tiring day, but then again, most days had me at the brink of exhaustion, in truth.

"Joli, talk to me." The woman murmured softly, her voice rang out into the now empty room, rousing my attention back to the phone. "I can see how tired you are, amour."

With another deep breath, I tried to give her the best smile I could muster. "I'm fine, mam. You don't need to worry so much."

My mum scoffed again, rolling her eyes with it.

"It's my job to worry about you! And you make it so much harder when you do not tell me what is going on. With you so far away, I can do nothing but call and pester until you talk to me!"

I sighed distractedly and raised a hand to rub at my cheek. I knew that she had a point, understood that she was always there whenever I needed her, but it was so hard to allow her that intimacy. She had spent the majority of my childhood caring for me, constantly worrying and fretting, so much it still often made me feel like a burden.

Moving to London had meant to be a fresh start for us both, somewhere far enough that I could give her the much needed space away from me and my many issues. But then I'd gone and cocked everything up by getting myself pregnant, and I’d only made things worse for us when Teddy had come along. It had taken weeks for me to finally admit to her just how terrified I had felt. How desperate I’d been for help.

But not once had she complained about my ability to open up, or lack thereof. Deep down, I knew that she probably understood my inner torment, my desperate need to not be a bother, but it didn't make anything at all easier.

Thoughtlessly, I threaded a hand through my hair, already feeling the knowing tell of a migraine that was starting to form just behind my eyes. I made a quick note to take something for it before I went to bed, otherwise I would be in utter hell come tomorrow morning.

And as I carefully mulled over the words that dizzied my mind, thinking on my mum’s own, I thought back to the last few days, about how hectic everything had been.

“Just a bit mental at work.” Was what I settled on, but couldn't quite stop myself from huffing as I knuckled at the inner corner of my eye. “I said something on the show that I probably shouldn’t have, and next thing I knew it was all over the news. Headlines and everything, can you believe that?”

Still in disbelief over it all, I just shook my head.

“I saw nothing. It wasn't anything bad, was it, should I start worrying?” My mum pestered with a telling expression, because we both knew just how quickly my mouth could get me into trouble. We’d had one too many experiences tucked under our belts with that, but what can you do really?

Instantly I waved her worries off, laughing lightly, “No, nothing too extreme. Well, not anything too vulgar or offensive, just shared an opinion on this guy.”

“Souris,” My mum dragged out the nickname lowly, a warning or maybe a plea, telling me not to add anything stupid to the rest of my explanation. “S'il te plaît. Do not tell me you said anything rude.”

I shrugged, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She quickly retorted, utterly exasperated it seemed as a hand flew hurriedly through the air. “Not really, she says!”

I had to muffle the snort I made in my palm, “I’m telling the truth!”

I blew out a breath and started to toy with the frayed hem of my jumper's sleeve, peering down at it. “Just, I’d been asked to talk about this one singer- Matty Healy, you might know him? From that one band.”

My mum merely blinked at me, before she ultimately shook her head, the name not ringing any bells.

I wondered, very briefly, whether that was a first for Healy.

“Well, I- I ‘spose I made an assumption on air, spoke before thinking really-”

“The usual.”

Barreling on, I ignored the sly dig of her interruption, “And probably didn't hold back. Apparently he has a rather large fan base though and a few of them heard what I’d said online, started talking about it. No wait, arguing is probably the better word.”

“Oh mon Dieu. Please don’t tell me you started arguing with these people! It’s not good for the show, for you! And what of Teddy, what if he hears the gossiping?”

“Maman, you sound almost as bad as me!” I chuckled, unable to hide my amusement at her worrying, “Stop assuming!”

She clucked at me in return, then signalled for me to continue with a roll of her eyes.

“See, the singer, well he must have ended up hearing it all because he replied to us on Twitter.” I revealed, peeking up to garner her reaction. “Reckon he was probably a bit drunk when he did though, and ended up admitting that what I’d said was mostly truth.”

My mum worried at her lower lip, letting a silence stretch between us before she broke it with a faint hum, “What else happened? Did you reply?”

“I spoke out about it a little more on today’s show; apologised.” I answered with a one-armed shrug, voice much quieter now. “But I don't know, I felt horrible. And I've never even met the man!”

“Try not to stress too much. I’m sure it will all work out. Besides, you have bigger things to fret about, like whether or not you’re coming to see me for Noël.”

I beamed at that, but still had to shake my head at her incessance. The woman really did have a way of rationalising everything though.

Just as I was about to add to that, I stilled and my eyes flickered up to the notification that had just come through at the top of my screen. An email. It wasn't too unusual to be receiving one this late, I supposed, and so I squinted my eyes at the notification box as I let my soft chuckles die out.

To: Mouseradio@/gmail.com From: Clientteam@/Primarytalent.org Subject: Scheduling/Meetings

Good evening!

Apologies for the late email, we simply wanted to write to you in regards to the recent claims made on your radio show, Mouse On A Mic, both yesterday and today, regarding the topic of one of our high profile clients.

We see it fit that all agencies involved should come to an agreeable arrangement now that the media have become more involved in the subject matter. Our team has since come together and written up some viable solutions, we believe it would be in both parties best interests if a time slot could be scheduled on your show within the upcoming days, in which we can gain an advantage and shed the right amount of light on the sensitive topic at hand.

We hope to hear back from you shortly and are wishing you all the best. Please do reply with a response and some available dates to this email address as soon as possible!

We are looking forward to hearing from you, the Primary Talent Team.

“Mum? I’m gonna have to call you back.”

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niuniente · 7 months

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Hey Niu~ Do you have any smaller wonders you'd recommend visiting in Japan

Sure!

OSAKA

If you go to Osaka around the end of a month, there's a monthly temple flea market in the Shitennoji temple yard. It's arranged on 21st and 22nd of each month, and regular people are selling there their old stuff, as well as booths selling vintage kimonos, yukatas, haoris etc., ceramics, decorations, lots of antique items, statues etc. Take a subway to Tennoji station, the temple is next it. Read more here!

In Osaka, near Tenma JR railwaystation, is a takoyaki shop owned by an 86 year old lady called Hiroko. She's been making takoyakis for 60 years in that shop. You might have seen this image set of Hiroko giving a piece of her mind about people complaining that her food is too yellow (if not, see it - it's hilarious!) Her shop is called たこ焼き寛子（ひろこ), Takoyaki Hiroko (Hiroko). The address is 5 Chome-6-3 Tenjinbashi, Kita Ward, Osaka, 530-0041, Japan. If you use subway, get off at Ogimatchi station to get to her store.

If you love toys and anime merch, there are two good spots for these in Osaka; one is the famous Den Den Town and other one is Kiddy Land in Umeda.

You can get to Den Den Town the easiest from Nipponbashi metro station. Just head towards south. You can also walk from Namba to Den Den Town as it's just right the next corner.

Kiddy Land is a bit harder to locate in the gigantic Hankyuu department store (which is like multiple building spreading across the whole Umeda) but you can get there the best from Umeda station. Kiddy Land has lots of toy stores, like Miffy, San-X, and a mixed store of everything cute, and also a Lego store. If you go out from the building from the door next to the Lego store, you can walk a few ten meters to a big Loft-store. It also has some merch, typically San-X and Sanrio and Disney stuff, but on the top floor of the same building there's an anime store. They sell lots of art books, replica swords and also special collectible statues like Japanese deities.

Special mentioning goes to the Namba Daiso (Namba Daiso Nansan-dori). It has 5 floors, all stuff with 100 yens. It's very near Namba metro station, easy to find! If you want to get super fancy and you've got a big budget, the Takashimaya department store is near this Daiso. You can find all kind of food items there, some with ridiculous prices. There's also Daimaru department store in Namba in close proximity - they sell fresh made taiyaki cakes in the bottom floor's food section.

KYOTO

Near Kyoto, you can find a small town of Arashiyama. It is the most well-known for its ancient wooden bridge and bamboo forests. People go just walk around into the bamboo forest. Many movies and TV series has been filmed in that forest. There's a direct train service to Arashiyama from Kyoto. Arashiyama is especially gorgeous at the end of November when the fall has arrived to Kansai area. It's apparently also super pretty during cherry flower season in spring. There are lots of temples in a small area, too, if you want to explore them.

(Here's the famous bridge).

In Kyoto, there's a design shop of SOU SOU. Now, SOU SOU makes and sells handmade tabi shoes, kimonos, yukatas, string bags, dishware, and wonderful print tabi socks but they also have their own, traditional Japanese café at their Kyoto store called Sou Sou Zaifu. You can get only coffee and matcha tea here - the order is hand made in order in front of you. It's very quiet and idyllic, intimate place. I accidentally went here to find shelter from a rain and it was so lovely. Even the shop itself is worth the visit, if you're interested in fashion and design! Read more here.

(Sou Sou Zaifu cafe. It seems the same guy is still working here. He was very friendly!)

TOKYO

If you travel in Tokyo, about 45 minutes by train from Tokyo is the city of Saitama. Saitama has a Sayama Hills at Tokorozama, which is also known as The Totoro Forest. Hayao Miyazaki has taken inspiration to Totoro from Sayama Hills. It was hard to find any information of this place in English (and even in Japanese!) in the past, but nowadays there's information in English. Read more here (with a Japanese map)

#japan #kyoto #tokyo #osaka #travel tips #travel guide #ask niu

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thefifthsister · 7 months

Text

CHB '23 #1: Warming Up

Post Series

The jostling of the bed and small hands shaking, grabbing on to her are what wake her.

“Mommy,” he whispers. “We can decorate now?”

“Daddy,” another voice pipes in. “It’s ‘tober now.”

And she laughs, rolls over and opens her eyes to find her boys perched on top of their father, her daughter sitting on the end of the bed.

“We have all day to put out the Halloween decorations,” Kate assures them, patting the bed and hoping Lily might join her for a cuddle before she’s ushered from bed entirely.

“Can we bake some cookies?” Lily asks. “The ones with all the colours?”

Kate smiles, tucks her daughter into her side and watches Castle rise from bed, throwing the boys on the mattress beside her and eliciting giggles from them.

“What’s the rule?” She hears her husband ask their boys.

“Nothing happens until Mommy gets coffee,” they reply in unison.

“Happy Halloween month,” he tells her, ushering the boys from the room and she listens to her boys make their plans for the Castle Haunted Loft while Lily starts to lay out her idea for their first batch of Halloween cookies. It was going to be a long month if this was just the Castle family warming up…

#castle fanfic #my fanfic #chb2023 #kate beckett #richard castle #lily castle #jake castle #reece castle

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writingfics-passingtime · 1 year

Note

Cry by cigarettes after sex + matt murdock x reader

Wait for Me to Stay

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Cry

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (romantic, no pronouns used)

Word Count: 1200

CW: This is about grief and PTSD and how the body holds onto emotional pain. Depictions of the snap/mass death. This one’s a little heavier. Swearing.

Note: Thank you for your beautiful request, anon! I’ve been thinking about grief for a while, and I’ve been wanting to write something about Matt coming back from the Snap so this felt fitting. Hope you like it 💜

Your bed still felt like a graveyard.

The feeling wasn’t one that existed despite the years, but because of them.

Still, your bed was like a final resting place for the life you’d had.

For his life.

The memories would swarm you, a choking embrace, a melancholic fatigue whenever you'd lay down; it was like you could touch everything that wasn't there. No more warmth stored in the thread count, no steady rise and fall of Your Love on those rare night he'd slept so soundly.

Except now, the graveyard was haunted.

Because he was back. Everyone came back, and their return was like their departure: shrouded in chaos.

It was disorienting and messy and too much, just like that day all those years ago when Matt's hand had tightened around yours to pull you out of the way of a bus swerving off the road.

The driver had disappeared. Turned to dust.

By the time you recovered from the adrenaline spike of nearly being flattened by careening metal, you felt an eerie lightness in your hand and Matt was gone before you had the chance to hear him choke out his last breath.

There wouldn’t have been much chance to hear it over almost every car colliding with something, be it another car or a mail drop box, a lamppost, a person who hadn’t evaporated, the side of a building. You’d never seen a city-wide pileup before. Never heard one either.

After all these years, the only piece of solace you offered yourself was that Matt didn’t have to hear the carnage.

A little more than five years later you found yourself sinking to the floor of your local coffee shop -It's happening again, it's happening again, it's happening again- was the only thought running through your head. Except it wasn't a coherent thought. More of a feeling, a guttural reaction. You sank deeper, holding your head to your knees, palms glued to your ears because the screaming had been the worst part the first time - when the Ones Left Behind had collectively grieved, wailing and clawing at the ground, at the air, at the scraps of the people they loved.

It was a stranger who'd managed to pull you out of your cocoon. You only started crying when you felt the touch of another person because as far as you knew until that point, the whole world had disappeared this time.

Except it hadn't.

There was a different kind of reassurance in this person's voice. "It's… okay," he'd said to you. You couldn't respond, remaining still and quiet in your shelter from the war zone.

Everyone was shaken but he sat with you. You never caught his name, but he stayed on the floor beside you until you managed to unfurl enough to listen, to realise that the cars had crashed because people had appeared in the middle of the road. Out of nowhere. That the screams were from shock when the street suddenly doubled in population because people were materialising out of thin air. "Holy shit… they’re really back," the man had whispered.

He only left you when his phone rang and he broke down into the sobs of a destroyed man about to rebuild.

You weren’t even sure how you’d found your way back to the loft. There was no memory of moving through the streets, only the distinct feeling of a shell-shocked weightlessness. It didn’t feel real, even when he burst through the front door.

To him, it’d been nothing. No time had passed, no loss had taken root.

To you, it had been over five years since Matt had died, and two years since you lost hope in the Avengers. That kind of grief burrows into your bones.

“I’m trying Matt,” you whispered when you’d struggle to fall asleep next to him, because you’d grown accustomed to sleeping alone.

“I know you are,” he assured you, and didn’t fight any time you had to sleep on the couch.

It's a pain tattooed on the tips of your fingers, staining everything of his that you touched. Because, now, when he leaves his shoes by the front door it doesn't feel like he'll ever put them on and come and go again - it feels like that day, some day more three years after The Vanishing, some day right after you lost hope, when a new friend arrived at your door and helped you pack him away.

“What are you doing up here?” Matt’s voice came from behind your shoulder as you looked up at the towering skylines. It was four in the morning and you couldn’t sleep again.

You shrugged. “I come up here a lot now.” To see the lights in the windows, to try and remind yourself that life was still being lived.

It was so weird seeing his things around the loft again. It should feel like a happy memory, or like deja vu at the very least, but all you can see are the things you sealed away in boxes.

Truth be told, you hadn't held onto them out of sentiment or pain or hope. It had been pure brain fog. Every ounce of your cognitive capacity was firing on all cylinders to just get through every day of this new life, you couldn't think about the boxes in the hallway closet or taking them to Goodwill.

“What am I supposed to do?” Matt finally broke, almost three months after he came back. You were in tears, having panicked when you woke up nestled into a warm body.

“I’m sorry, Matt, I’m so fucking sorry,” you choked out, pulling your knees into your chest as your vision became hot and blurred. “I’m trying.”

He knew you were trying.

He could feel it in the way you’d cling to him when car horns blared, or when there was any commotion on the street, really. He’d hear it in the hesitation on your tongue when he asked if you were okay and it was one of the times you weren’t. He knew you knew you were overjoyed that he was back.

Your mind knew it. Your body was still catching up.

All of the people you lost, all that love, that security, all those years… that doesn’t go away overnight. Your heart had atrophied, your capacity for companionship had gone so unused that you’d adjusted to this new life. To open yourself up again, there would be growing pains. But you were trying.

“Please don’t leave,” you begged, wiping your tears on your sleeve as the couch sank with his weight next to you.

As he’d grown to do, Matt waited until you came to him. After a few minutes you turned and laid your weary head down on his lap. After a few more, he gently caressed his fingers through your hair.

He couldn’t promise he would never leave again because, as he learned, that might not be up to him.

So as you fell asleep on him for the first time in over five years, he made you a promise he could keep:

“Your pain will not push me away.”

#matt murdock #matt Murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #no y/n #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #JJ’s Mixtape #matt murdock x reader #Marvel x you #matt murdock hurt/comfort #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you

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bellswlw · 11 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ all the lights (in new york city aren’t as bright as her) pt 1 ⇨ e. williams au

ellie williams x fem!love interest

wc: 9.2k

playlist | masterlist

summary: ellie is known for being non-committed, having a scruffy laugh, her favorite coffee shop, and a reputation when it came to her tattooing abilities and her passion for it. she wasn’t known for love. and she certainly wasn’t the first person you’d think of when it came to finding someone that put all of those things above all else. even herself. but… she was just that.

cw: these are overall themes for the series as a whole. grief, depression, angst, alcoholism, small age gap, -underage- drinking (wine) and drug use (weed), neighbor!ellie, complicated family dynamics, tattoo artist!ellie, written in third POV and love interest is given a name.

a/n: this is for all the hopeless romantics and loser lesbians. the big city lovers and small town fanatics, the ones who look at the midnight sky, the ones who can’t sleep, and the ones who don’t talk about the things that hurt. i see you, and the moon and the butterflies love you.<3

Ellie had never been big on romance; movies, TV shows, and especially dating. She never saw the need for it, and she never really saw the appeal.

She could never picture herself meeting someone just by chance, or some unconventional and hyper-specific reason just for them to end up being the love of her life for a few months and end with an inevitable heartbreak… yeah, no. That wasn’t worth it to her.

Although her friends seemed to have found people in the big apple, Ellie was still the same as she was. Herself.

And that meant being by herself. If not working or hooking up in someone’s apartment or loft or even up in the bathroom of some party, she’s preferably at home lounging about or drawing up sketches on her iPad.

She got around, yes, but she wasn’t a dick about it. She didn’t count on her fingers or keep a list of names somewhere. She just grew an understanding for when someone was giving her flirty eyes from across the room… and had looked up into the same ones that were rolling back while her tongue was grazing that sweet spot of a girl she didn’t even know the same of.

Or in an empty apartment with a roommate ‘out of town’, holding onto the hips of another girl, grinding her against Ellie’s jean-covered thigh.

These encounters were simple. Do-able. Relaxed. Ellie liked that, she’d admit it. Shit, she has.

“So… when can I meet her?” Dina beams from across the table, leaning forward to grab her glass and hold it in her hand, waiting to take a sip until she replies.

Ellie took a swig of her coffee and glared at Dina. “No— Dina, no. You do this every time. You get more attached than I do, and then you bitch at me when I tell you… you can’t meet her. ‘Cuz I’m not seeing her anymore… by the way.”

Her glass meets the table with a low thud, turning the heads of a few other people who were sitting in the outside section of the coffee shop along side the two of them. “What? Why.” the way she said it had an insult attached. Almost to say, are you fucking nuts?

“B’cus. She’s… because I said so. And she wants more than I can give her anyway so…” and she leans forward to lift her cup off the table again just as she feels Dina’s glare marinate in the corner of her eyes, making her flare up with a silent embarrassment.

“I’m not doing this with you. Stop asking to meet my one night stands. ‘Kay?” and Ellie takes a sip of her coffee, the dark rich flavor burning into her tongue like a hot knife.

Dina leans back in her chair, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “I just think it’s weird. They all like you. Why can’t you just try?” and she sounded a little more genuine this time, her brows knitted together as she tried to find the soft spot in Ellie’s eyes.

But of course it wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. They’d been hard for years, a rock coating over the emerald green like there had never been an ounce of fondness at all.

“Why try ‘n fix somethin’ if it’s not broken?” And she let the smirk find its way into the divots of her face and soon started relaxing in her chair, fanning her legs like Dina’s words hadn’t nipped a part of her that she wish they didn’t.

“Whatever.” Dina sighed as she rolled her eyes before her phone lit up with a notification, from Alex.

You guys still out?

“It’s Alex.” she says, lifting her phone from its place on the metal table top.

“Figures. Can’t go two seconds without him on your ass.”

That deserved the scoff she gave you. Ellie was being a dick. Her feelings were hurt. But of course, she’d never admit that.

“He wants to know if we’re still out.” she says into her phone, her fingers flying across the keyboard in response.

Yeah, what’s up? We’re at 787.

“Tell him we’re shopping or… I dunno, fucking.” and she laughed, amused with herself of course. She took another sip of her coffee before saying, “Bet he’d get a kick outta that.”

“Dick.” she murmured, and didn’t even look up from her phone.

Ellie just chuckled to herself. She knew it embarrassed Dina, becoming friends with the girl she had a crush on for months and after hooking up at a party… decided she liked her better as a friend. And Ellie liked Dina, and the mouth she had on her.

Muttering under her breath a thousand little “fuck”s while she helped Ellie move her couch up four flights of stairs… or after the job interview she had been stressing over for weeks and had cussed herself home six long blocks… or the time she had gotten so drunk that she accidentally slammed her hand in the door and was screaming strings of curse words while Ellie made her run it under cold water for what felt like 2 hours.

And the whole time… “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…”

Just wondering. You wanna come by later tho? Maybe we can talk??

“He said he wants to talk, again. Look.”

Dina is handing her phone over to Ellie as she reads the message, her face forming an unforgiving sneer.

“Tell him to fuck off.” Ellie glances up at her before her brows fly upward with inspiration. “No, actually— I’ll do it.” and her fingers begin to type the message out moments before Dina stands from the her chair to snatch her phone back from her.

“You’re pissing me off,” she admits, typing a reply while reading it back to Ellie.

Can’t. We’re shopping. Soon tho, promise;)

“Winky face?” she said, the look on her face a punch to the gut to Dina’s continuing embarrassment.

“Hey… don’t judge. You should be lucky we’re not actually going shopping.” Dina said with a finger pointing towards Ellie’s chest.

“Awe, we’re not? I thought you were gonna buy me that pink little thong? With the lace?”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m funny.”

“How about… crazy.”

“Witty?”

“Try on my last fucking nerve.”

Dina pushed herself up off the chair across from her, grabbing her things and expecting Ellie to follow suit… but she stayed put.

“C’mon.” she said and jerked her head back just enough to motion for Ellie to stand up along side her.

“I’m good here.” she said casually, resting her arms on the chair, even leaning on the back two legs with a smirk plastered on her face.

God, did she love to fuck with her. It was so easy.

“You’re infuriating, y’know that?” Dina stood there for a moment longer, betting how long she was willing to keep this up before she scoffed and threw up a hand. “Motherfuckin’ asshole,” and walked off with the sound of Ellie lowly snickering to herself ringing in her ears.

She texted her a few hours later, and for a second time that day, Ellie’s face had immediately scrunched at the sight of her and Alex’s messages.

Why can’t you just come over for like a few, just to talk

I’m really busy rn, we can soon tho

When is soon???

Hello?

Dina??

Yeah, I’m here. Idk. My schedule is a lot rn with work. we’ll talk. I’ll text you, okay?

Ellie read the message that Dina sent after the screenshot, firing back instantly.

Idk what to do

Tell him to FUCK. OFF.

But he’s really nice

bro

You literally went on like one date w him and he called you his girlfriend… and made you meet his parents at 7am on a Friday.. HE IS WEIRDDD

Idk

I should talk to him

Dina. U know he doesn’t just wanna talk. c’mon

Ellie’s phone goes stagnant for a new minutes, and she continues scrolling on her phone from the privacy of her apartment and the busted up couch she fell asleep on far too often.

Then another string of messages came in.

Seriously

Help

He’s coming ovsr

Over*

ELLIE

FUCK

Dude I can’t help you

You’re a lost cause

Wear protection or something Lol

Fuck u

Yeah I’d want to if he was the other option too

Sick burn

Yeah yeah I’m sure u will, don’t forget to pick up some Monistat LMAO

She chuckles to herself before there’s a slice of complete silence inside the walls of Ellie’s apartment, bring her back to reality when she finally tosses her phone aside next to her on the couch and slugging herself up and toward the kitchen.

Ellie had never been much of a cook. But then again, she’d never been much of anything, other than an artist. She didn’t like calling herself that though. She thought it was a little tacky and cliché. Artíst. Such bullshit.

But it was who she was. And artist, drawer, sketcher, painter… whatever, it’s all the same. Anyone who can see an idea in their mind and let it leave through the work of their hands is an artist by default.

That’s what landed her the job she has now, tattooing at a shop a few blocks over called InK & Sink.

It’s exactly what it sounds like. Kind of. It’s a place where a group of really high tattoo artists decided to open up a place that was the first tattoo and edible shop all in one place.

The edible shop is on the ground floor, mostly covered in neon signs and a cheesy bakery case near the front with a cash register. Tattooing was down a flight of stairs toward the back, in a renovated basement with the main wall painted a burnt-orange and full of a majority of previous tattoo stencils. And it was all run by a man called Drot. He has what’s left of a Romanian accent, ink covering his head to toe and a love for baking. (And a borderline criminal amount of stand mixers.)

Ellie absolutely loved her job. She loved everything about it. And she meant everything. It made her chest puff up with pride anytime someone came in specifically to get tattoo’d by her. Her work. They loved her work. They saw it online and needed to have it.

She loved talking to customers, and seeing the first timers (regardless of age) relax into her chair for sometimes hours at a time while she listened to their life stories. Knowing people. Learning about so many people. It fascinated her. It made her feel less alone, which she hated to think about, but loved to pretend it was normal to feel the way she did.

She sometimes wished she could record their conversations so she could one day playback all of them and keep them all for herself. The small group of people that she had this connection with, forever. But she obviously knew that was creepy. And weird… and a little stalkerish. But the sentiment was nice.

The pay was good too. She also loved that. And the fact that she had most holidays off. Drot didn’t like being open when it was any time the snow was past the welcome mat either, and he certainly didn’t enjoy the 45 minute drive every morning —especially if there was rain— from the shop to his house.

He was protective of his building, and his customers, and his staff. He loved them like his goddamn family. And as far as he was concerned, they were. His accent wasn’t only, but it was his past too. It was something that he didn’t talk about much, but the ink on his arms told that story well enough.

His parents came to the US from Romania, he was six. And he lived in Utah most of his life, up until high school when he went to Texas for college and stayed until his mid twenties. He met Mia here in New York within the first week… and now they have two kids, close to Ellie’s age.

Or so she guesses, he has their names on the back of his ankles with what Ellie can only assume is their birthdays just below them. She’s only ever seen it once, and has never met either of them. They don’t come around much.

She’s brought back into her kitchen now, the cold buzzing of her fridge sending a chill through her fingers as she pursed her lips together and slowly tapped lazily on the door, trying to decide what to eat.

She needed to go grocery shopping, badly. Her fridge was bare excluding some blueberries that rotted away in the corner, a tower full of sauces, old take out, and a pack of pudding she hadn’t opened yet.

She decided this was her dinner. Four chocolate pudding cups.

Ellie sighed, reaching forward into the cold box and pulling them back with an even heavier sigh. They’d expired. How that is? She had no idea. Seeing as they typically lasted over a year without going bad.

“Shit.” she said to herself, for some reason started looking around the room for something to eat… as if there would be a fully prepared dish hiding itself under all of her unopened mail.

Fuck, she did not want to leave right now. She wanted to stay in, to people watch from her window and then shower and go to bed. She did not want to go ou—

She went out. And she hated every minute of it. From her favorite corner store being closed, to some asshole not knowing how to drive and almost reversed into her… she hated all of it.

But it didn’t stop her from popping into the liquor store on the way back for some beer.

The bell rang above her head, the familiar ring to her reddened ears making her sigh. She didn’t want to let something so small bug her, but her patience was limited on an empty stomach. Probably why she was always fighting to urge to put someone in their place at any given time. Nerves running on nerves. Bone on bone.

“Welcome in,” the cashier said from behind the counter, finishing up checking out a group of kids half her age. Candy and soda and a bunch of other things trickled down into five different transactions. Counting pennie’s and dimes until they could cover it all.

Ellie took a breath in before making her way towards the back of the store, pulling the door open with a shaking hungry hand and grabbing the first 6-pack she saw. Her greedy fingers were wrapped around the cardboard carrier, and soon she was scanning the aisles for something to line her stomach for the night.

She landed on a Heath bar, some Pringles and a Cup-O-noodle. She also grabbed a bag of Skittles at checkout.

“You wanna bag?”

Ellie pulled her wallet from her back pocket and nodded, fishing out a twenty dollar bill as the cashier put her snacks and her form of a sleeping aid in the plastic bag.

She was soon rattling off a “Thank you.” as she stuffed her change into her front pocket and grabbed her things before nudging the door open with her elbow.

It didn’t take her long to crack open the shiny new 6-pack. At the next busied corner, she unclipped her carabiner from her belt loop and took her guitar shaped bottle opener and rather forcefully opened up her drink with a familiar and comforting hiss.

Pulling the glass bottle from its home, she put it to her lips and let it simmer down her throat.

Ellie drank beer, yes. She liked what she liked. She liked not only how it made her feel, but look. She thought it made her seem like the coolest person in the room sometimes. (she’d never admit that of course—although the smirk on her face nearly gave her away every time—) Plus, she wouldn’t be caught dead with a glass of wine in her hand if she could help it.

She hasn’t been drinking for very long (legally that is) and even before then, beer was always her go-to. And most available. It was light enough to make her feel buzzed and a little horny, but if she had a few more after that buzz… she nearly became unbearable.

She could still remember the good parts of the night, and block out the parts where she collapses to the ground with tears pooling in her eyes and curses under her breath until she’s crying so hard that the bottle in her hand fuzzes itself out of her grip with a loud, rippling crash as it hits the ground.

Ellie.

Beer.

They mixed; sometimes.

Tonight, it was the buzz of two to three beers. Her mouth was on the bottle until she stopped dead in her tracks to see a giant ass bed frame tilted halfway into the open door of the apartment diagonal from Ellie’s.

She scoffed under her breath, a low “Fuck,” falling from her lips as she stashed her drink in her bag and dragged her feet down the hall.

Who the fuck was moving in at… Jesus, it was only 7. She was a third of the way to a black out at 7pm on a Thursday, great.

“You have to move it, no— fuck! Seriously?” and that’s when Ellie had actually noticed him, coming out from behind the other side of the frame, throwing his arms up and yelling into the door.

“You have to move it! Don’t just stand there… Jesus Christ,” and Ellie pulls her brows together at the sound of his voice, all the alcohol pouring out of her and into the palms of her hands that had suddenly gone clammy.

She hears someone else, a softer voice compared to the scruffy shouts she had to ring out from her head. She seems upset. And rightfully so. This guy was being a dick.

“Can you just— for fucks sake, I’m trying!” and Ellie then see’s the bed frame shake back and forth with the emphasis of her words. It sent a shock of adrenaline through Ellie for some reason, and it made her spiral with a multitude of thoughts.

This must be her boyfriend, asshole. She should break up with him. Wonder if she likes girls. Wonder if she like’s mascs. Is she even gay? Bet she’s hot, her voice sounds kind of familiar, shit hopefully not… that’d be so awkward. What if it’s not? What if she—

“Dorin, can you fucking stop?! You’re gonna break it!” and she hears that same voice, and for some reason she tries to place it, slipping into the frames of faces she knows. She fails, but god, it was so distinct. So… familiar. She could’ve sworn she’d heard it before.

She was soon drawn from her endless daydream when he—Dorin, she could only guess— looked up at her, finally ceasing to take his hands from the metal and notice her standing there.

Ellie stood frozen in the hall, her eyes slightly widening when she realizes that he can see her, too.

“Sorry,” she spurts, remembering that her legs actually worked and used them to take a tentative step forward.

“‘t’s fine.” and he looks back into the door before taking a step back. He’s glaring inside the apartment, almost as if to say that it wasn’t actually fine at all.

But Ellie couldn’t move. She was afraid to take another step. She didn’t want to have to potentially face one of her hook ups… not if she could help it.

She couldn’t really walk anyways, because the frame was jutting out so far that it had blocked her path just enough to cut off access to her door. “Um, my door… it’s ah, the…” and she motioned her hand forward, god she was so fucking flustered.

He sighed, not even trying to hide his ire from her. “She can’t get by. We’re gonna have to fucking take it apart or something.” and he was leaning against it now.

The sight was an odd one, Ellie watching her new neighbor at a stand still with a gray metal bed frame and talk into his apartment. Even if she weren’t a little drunk, she’d be just as confused.

“I don’t have the directions! I thought you said it’d fit!” and Ellie could see the hazy vision of her set up, just getting ready for a tattoo. She remembered pulling apart paper towels, setting them down with the black haze of her gloves…

And she heard the murmur of her voice —or, someone’s— from what felt like a million miles away. She couldn’t fucking zero in on it. She needed to. She needed to know.

Without thinking, Ellie chirped up, walking a few more steps to see into the living room with boxes hoarding its corners. She couldn’t see her. “Might need to ditch it. These doors suck. ‘t’s gonna shred it.” and she looked to Dorin, trying to gage if he believed her.

She didn’t care honestly, she was fucking starving and needed to get inside her apartment and piece together this nightmare of a voice.

He pauses, looks back through the door and then back to Ellie. “…She’s right. Let’s just toss it. I’m too fucking tired for this right now.” and she can tell when he says it that she’s upset, but eventually she agrees.

And that’s how Ellie ended up tossing that stupid fucking bed frame down those same four flights of stairs until it was a sad pile of metal sitting on the curb.

Dorin had nearly demanded she stay upstairs, saying he didn’t need help, but Ellie wasn’t an asshole. He clearly needed help. In all honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know his left from right.

Okay, maybe she was kind of as asshole. Regardless, she wasn’t the type who just stood by and watched someone struggle to get their footing right when trying to throw a bed frame over the banister of the fourth floor.

Ellie had set down her bag by now, and stepped up to give him a hand. Which ultimately resulted in helping him carry it all the way back down and place what was left of it on the curb for someone to take.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans before reaching out to greet Ellie. “I’m Dorin.”

She glanced down at it before shaking it firmly. He wasn’t expecting, obviously. They never do. “Ellie.” was all she said.

When she climbed the stairs for a third time that day, Ellie had hoped she was standing outside the door or at the least, leaning against it frame before ducking behind a corner like a timid cat.

She wasn’t, of course. The door was closed shut for the night.

Probably for the best. Ellie didn’t want to be up late drawing sketches of her all night, she had work tomorrow. She was opening.

She had actually enjoyed the earlier shifts. Her body was still waking her as soon as the sun had risen, and not to mention… it had helped keep her schedule clear for the afternoons and evenings.

Although, it had been about a week or two since her last… escapade. She hadn’t really known why, but there was a flicker in her sex life that she had a hard time ignoring. Something had threatened to put it out.

She didn’t want to think about that right now. She just wanted to get inside her apartment and let what just happened roll of her shoulders with the help of what was inside her bag.

Ellie eventually trudged down the hall toward her door, unlocking it with a heavy sigh after failing the first two times. “God, dammit.” she swore under her breath before Dorin had come up after her and disappear behind his own door.

She pushed the door open, finally slipping inside. She was so tired all of this sudden. And her body had ached with something so deep that she actually lifted her shirt to feel around her ribs for a mark. There wasn’t one, but she felt it so much that she winced inside every time she took a step around her tiny kitchen.

In the matter of about ten minutes, Ellie was sitting in front of her TV with a styrofoam cup of ramen that had been devoured almost instantly along with an empty candy bar wrapper and an open can of Pringles, leaving her to lay down on her couch with an arm hanging off as she felt herself falling into a light sleep.

A few hours later, after her body had decided to fall deeper into the couch, she jerked herself awake with the sound of her phone pinging her back to the shrilling silence of her apartment. Followed by a starch in the air that was so thick, it had expressed a single dry cough from her.

“Shit,” she murmured, rubbing a hand over the side of her face and the deep marks that had left their presence with a red hue.

She looked down at the screen, reading the time. It was past nine.

I think I just met the love of my life.

He fucking held the door out for me when I was leaving Alex’s building and did that thing you know where they look u up and down

Holy shit fuck oh my god

Ellie blinked before replying, squinting when her fingers flew across the screen to message back.

Oh yeah? Should I order my tux? Do you need a flower girl???

No bc maybe

He didn’t even say anything to me but like in a hot way

Right…

Fuck off

He was hot

I hope he lives in the building maybe i’ll have to see Alex more til i figure out where he lives

Dina that’s fucking insane. How’d that go btw?

I assume he isn’t invited to the wedding??

Jesus, no

I’ll tell u tmrw, what time do you work?

Ellie rattles off her schedule to Dina for rest of the week and the following: four morning shifts and a closing.

She enjoyed working. Probably a little bit too much. But it was a good, stable job for her after all. And plus, it kept her mind busy; which was most important.

Dina replied a minute later with K sounds good before turning her phone on Do not Disturb, the notification popping up at the bottom of Ellie’s screen.

She eventually stands, her jeans suddenly feeling too tight on her legs as she made her way toward the bathroom to lazily peel them from her just before turning the shower on.

Ellie had hated nights like this. The ones that never seemed to end… no matter how hard she tried. Especially when she was fighting remembering. She wanted to forget. She so desperately wanted to forget and let it slip through the cracks of her brain down the shower drain.

But it wouldn’t, of course it wouldn’t. It was far too thick. Like a sludge that has coated the entirety of her before hardening around the biggest parts, cracking and blistering her skin like porcelain.

That’s what she was after all, something so fragile on the inside with a hard shell. And all it would take was some rain to wash it all away, leaving her exposed.

She rattled inside with every step she took, fear seeping through the bottoms of her shoes as if she were walking on eggshells. But can two of the same thing really break each other?

In the dead of night, after her hair had partially dried—or begin to sweat— she was gasping against the still air of her bedroom, shooting up from her position to let in small hiccups that somewhat resembled a single breath. Inout inout inout.

Her eyes were wide open, scanning for her darkened surroundings. Feeling around her bed for the blanket that had once covered her, her books on her nightstand, the sleeping pills she never took. And her journal. She felt for her journal and the old cover that was familiar enough to make her feel as though she was thumbing a baby blanket.

You’re home. You’re safe. You’re safe. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1234. 1234. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Her dreams had begun eating her in her sleep again. Always the same one. And always so fucking real.

The next breathe she takes is deeper. Shaky, but long enough to make her rest her elbows on her spread out thighs and pinch the bridge of her nose with one hand. She lets it out, the shaky rattle nearly making her whistle.

She tries to forget. She wants to forget. To um-burn this memory from her brain and fill it with the memories that she is trying so hard to hold onto. The ones she keeps between the pages of her journal, the ones that are marked in ink as to never be erased or wiped clean.

She wants these memories inside her head. To jam pack with good and rid of the bad. Get rid of this stupid fucking nightmare that makes her cry before she even realizes she’s awake.

Ellie tells herself it’s only that. “It’s only a nightmare.” But it wasn’t. Before, it was a memory. Something that has stamped her red anger and blue with sadness to mend a broken purple that no one ever sees.

Her breathing begins to slow, and the loud drum of her heartbeat floods out when she looks out her window to catch a glimpse of the sky.

It always felt so big— so… targeted. But yet she always found herself in this moment with the moon. Watching over her as she tried to sooth herself back to sleep.

She does, (eventually) and soon enough the ringing in her ears fades, leaving her to only hear the sound her shaky ribs are making, listening just close enough to hear them rattle from deep within her chest.

Ellie’s hand reaches out from underneath her covers one last time, making sure she could feel the familiar cracked up material of her book. She fell back asleep just a few moments later.

As soon as the moon says goodnight and the Sun begins to wake, as does Ellie. The blinding curl of its brightness makes her squint and throw a hang over her face, smudging her hair to cover her eyes too.

Ellie sighs, letting the sound relish for a minute before throwing her legs over the side of her unmade bed and look for some clean clothes. God, did she seriously need to get her shit together.

She should be more prepared honestly. Having the seasons changed had usually helped, but now it… it had felt different.

Like the sludge wasn’t just just coating over her, but eating her. Letting itself inside to soak through the cracks of her skin as if she was already dead, forming roots from her brittle bones as the earth enveloped her in and drained every last ounce of herself that was left to her name.

Soon enough she finds some pants to wear, a ripped pair of black jeans, torn at the knee. Ellie wasn’t much of a shopper, she rarely bought clothes until they shredded themselves from her body. And because she knew that, she kept her closet filled with identical replicas. Mostly black, but there were a few nice shirts she wore and even a pair of dress shoes.

She never wore those though. She never had anywhere nice to go… still, she had them; just in case.

And as she pulled the jeans over her lose boxers, Ellie had heard the low murmurs of that same voice, and she thought maybe she was dreaming.

But no. She had heard it right. The muffled sound becoming less as she opened her bedroom door to hear her through the thin material of her apartment wall, followed by the striking sound of what Ellie could only guess was her banging —or kicking?— at her own door.

“Motherfucker!” she heard her say, and the way it rang in her ears tunneled so deep she got stuck in her tracks.

It was so fucking familiar. Where has she heard it? This was going to drive her absolutely fucking insane. But she tried to ignore it anyway, finding herself actually shake her head out of the daze and squint when she peeped through the hole in her front door.

She could see her standing there with some of her things including a large cup with a handle and her bag. But… no shoes. Or keys, by the looks of it.

Shit, she thought. That must suck. But where was her boyfriend? Bet he’s passed out. Dick.

Ellie stood there for another moment before the growl of her stomach had peeled her away from the peephole. She made an empty promise to find something on the way to work, knowing she wasn’t going to stop. And that she’d eat on her lunch. Knowing she had over a 2 hour session at noon today.

But this is how it always was. This is what the sludge did. Take and take and take. Give, then take some more… and take a little extra. Just giving her enough to keep her alive.

Eventually though, she finished getting ready. And that meant combing through her hair just to pull it back and doing the same with a T-shirt that hung loose on her cracked ribs. She slid her converse on and grabbed her Ipad and the rest of her things before slipping them into her black messenger bag and out the door.

She tried not to notice how her eyes were glued onto her as soon as she finished locking her door and turned to see the backside of her, and how suddenly she had the urge to pretend she left something inside and climb out the fire escape. Or how fucking pretty she was. Her hair was done nicely— nicer than Ellie’s— and had pieces that framed her face.

Jesus she was getting dizzy. She looked away, hoping she hadn’t seen the utter shock on her face.

Holy shit. Oh my god oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

“Morning,” she said, and it was then that Ellie had to pretend she wasn’t shitting bricks while she stared hard enough trying to get the key out of her door that it might melt under her gaze.

She turned. Played it cool, because this was so cool. Totally nonchalant.

“Morning.” she replied, then, because she was totally chill, she tilted her head up toward her and spoke again. “Locked out?”

She looked down then, avoiding Ellie’s eyes before a dry chuckle left her lips. “Yeah, I uh.. guess you could say that. Think it’s jammed or s’mthing.” she looked embarrassed, crossing her feet that displayed her socks.

Ellie took a step toward her down the hall, trying to pluck her words to form a sentence over the raging sound of her heard pounding inside her chest, threatening to burst right then and there.

“Damn, that sucks. You tried uh…?” and Ellie fell short when she looked her in eye, suddenly losing all the air from her lungs and every ounce of blood from her veins.

Jesus, what the fuck.

“If you’re gonna say opening it, then yes. And I tried my key, it won’t work. I also don’t have my phone.” and it was then that somewhere Ellie knew she should offer to help.

There was a slice of herself that was open, ready to help and offer up her phone to call someone, but it shrunk before her voice had found it’s way up her throat to say it, sinking a thousand feet into the depths of her stomach with a gulp.

“Shit. Well I hope you figure it out.” and she didn’t say another word before making her way past her— ignoring the smell of her perfume radiating off of her and staining Ellie’s nostrils with the hint of honey— toward the stairs.

As soon as she was out of ear-shot, she swore under her breath. “Fuck!” leaving her lips as her feet had stomped down all three remaining floors and onto the street where she pulled a hand down her face with a low groan.

“What the fuck,” she said to herself. She had been a fucking asshole, for no reason. No reason at all. She could go back up there, offer up her phone, shit she’d even give her her own shoes. But she knew she wouldn’t. She knew that. Ellie would move out if it meant never having to go through that again.

And jesus, what had gotten into her? She felt… nervous. But not the same kind of nervous she felt before taking a girls shirt off… Something that felt unfamiliar and uncertain. Like she was about to jump off a cliff with nothing but a paper clip to help crash her fall.

As if she really were falling, and the pavement underneath her feet had shattered and begun giving out beneath her converse. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t.

Ellie snapped her eyes shut for a moment, breathing in the air that had already began warming with the rising sun.

You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re in control. 1234,1234.

She only let herself stand there for a moment longer before she curled her toes inside her shoes and managed to begin walking. Jesus, she was losing it.

Soon enough, Ellie makes it inside the door of InK & Sink with a few minutes to spare. She hated being late, but today by some miracle she had actually managed to make it in time. She had an early appointment —just after 9:30– so she had made her way downstairs after saying a quick “Morning.” to Drot in passing.

He waved her off a silent greeting, his phone pressed to his ear listening closely. “And you tried it again? Well… fuck, can’t you just… okay. No. It’s okay, it’s fine.” And he sighed, running a hand over his face just as Ellie had taken her first steps downstairs.

“Hold on a second, hold. Hey! Ellie? C’mere for a minute.” And her lips had tugged in a straight line, just before she wiped it off and let her brows turn ‘casually’ as she made her way back to him, leaning against the archway.

“Would you um, mind working the cash register for a bit? Just a bit… my um.. my daughter locked herself out, she uh… yes I gotta— No, I’m not going to break… yeah, yes, yes. Okay.” And it was then that he looked toward her, waiting for her response that she had failed to form inside her head.

She said something, not realizing until the words echoed through the thunder washing over her ears.

“Uh… I have uh… yeah. Yeah, sure.” and that’s all she said as she watched him say a few more words into his phone before swapping places with Ellie and making it out the door in the matter of about thirty seconds.

His Daughter. His. Daughter. She was his daughter. Oh god she was so screwed.

No. No. That could be anybody, a really weird coincidence. There’s a lot of people in New York, in her building. Not a chance it’s the same person.

But her voice. Her voice. She heard it through the phone. Somebody’s. Someone must’ve given her a phone to use. Fuck. That’d be a nightmare if she’d given her phone to use and her dad’s contact was already there. Jesus.

No, can’t be her. It’s not. Why is this such a big deal? Why can’t you just let it go, roll off your shoulders. C’mon. You’re not gonna get fired for being an asshole to his kid. No way.

This is what the inside of Ellie’s head was thinking the whole fifteen minutes she was working a cash register she had little to no experience working, all while greeting customers and playing Baker in her black head-to-toe outfit.

“$6.24 for ya’.” and she held the small parchment paper bag across the counter, swapping it for cash and pressing for the till drawer.

“Have a good one,” she echoed, just before the door had opened and the soft bell rang in her ears.

“Welc— oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Drot said, dropping his head between his shoulders and chuckling low.

Ellie could see the slow shake of his head with each quiet laugh, and with each second she grew more anxious.

“This mornings’ been interesting, no?” He looked up now, a grin planted on his lips as he patted her on the shoulder that would’ve been hard enough to shatter the bone there if she let it.

“Interesting? Uhh… guess so.”

He leans back against the opposing counter— a little to Ellie’s right, and nods her away from the cash register.

“My daughter. She just moved. Forgot her keys. inside and had no shoes on. No. She had her old keys.” he was smiling at her, inviting Ellie to do so along side him.

She offered up a small chuckle followed by a raise of her eyebrows and a single. “Ah.”

He sighs to himself before standing up straight and making Ellie’s eyes jump up to meet his gaze.

“She’s you’re age. A little younger. You should meet her. She’s… like you.”

“Like me?” and she says it before fully realizing, letting it slip right past her lips.

“Yeah… she uh.. well, you know. Eh, forget it. Go, go.” Drot is ushering her away from his register and toward the small swing king door near the end of the counter.

She grabbed ahold of her bag with a fist, turning to look back at him before she made her way down the stairs.

Like her? What did he mean like her? She couldn’t let herself think on it. She had a job to do. Work to do. She couldn’t let her mind fall out of her head on the clock.

Which is why when she met Dina for coffee after work, she was all Ellie kept thinking about.

“And then— while he was fucking on top of me he tells me he loves me?! Like are you kidding? So then after that I was li— Ellie, are you listening?”

She wasn’t. Her eyes were narrowed in on the small lights that were strung up above both of their heads, counting and watching the bulbs flicker until she was blinking back into reality when she heard her own name.

“Yeah, yeah. I am.” and she clears her throat and shakes the thought of her out of her head.

“What’d I say?”

“He said he loved you… like a fucking weirdo.” and that cracked Dina a little bit. Before she collected herself and took a sip of her drink.

“What? Like I’m wrong? Alex is weird; and I mean that in every extreme way possible. Yeah sure whatever he’s ‘nice’… but Dina. You can do better. You know you can.”

“I— I feel guilty okay?”

“Don’t! You shouldn’t. I’m serious.”

“Ellie…” she tilts her head with a stare.

Ellie does the same, mimicking her time when she says: “Dina. Really though. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, but I’m not giving you that ego boost.” and she shakes her head as she leans back into her chair.

Ellie smirks. “You already did.”

They sit outside bickering back and forth like this for another hour, cracking jokes and mostly pissing Dina off while Ellie spreads her legs wider to try and fight the shake she feels inside them. She was running on this coffee alone, and it was starting to finally become noticeable.

“You cold or something? You’re shaky.” Dina has her forearms pressed against the table, leaving the pattern against her skin when she reaches across to try and feel for herself.

Ellie pulls back when they make contact, shrugging her off with denial. “No. I’m good.”

“You eat today?” and the pull in her brows is one that Ellie doesn’t like.

But she laughs it off, tries not to notice how shifty and full she’s filling with guilt alone. “Yes, mom. I stopped somewhere this morning.”

“Ellie… it’s after four.” and she looked away from her to reach inside her bag for something— her wallet. “Here, let me—”

“I have money. I’ll just go get something inside. That make you happy?” Ellie was already planting her feet on the ground before Dina could answer, and she was pushing back from her chair to make her way inside to order.

She was pissed at herself. Pissed that her hands we’re shaking so badly at only 4 o’clock, that Dina had noticed, that she hadn’t noticed and can’t make them stop.

She’s also pissed because she wasn’t watching where the fuck she was going, and she bumped right into someone hard enough to spill their coffee on the tile.

She’s reaching out to land a hand on their arm before drawing her feet back away from the forming puddle. “Fuck, I’m-”

Her. It was her. Ellie’s eyes are glued onto hers, noticing the deep hazel and the mascara on her lashes. And her wispied bangs that fell a little too perfect on her face. And her face; she noticed her face. The three freckles that connected around her right eye in a constellation of a tria—

“You’re good…” she said, dipping her eyebrow in recognition. “Oh, hey. It’s you.” and she goes to point a finger, but her arm is still in Ellie’s grasp.

Ellie let’s go when she realizes. She didn’t even notice it there at first, but now, the feeling is vast and leaves her bicep with a map of goosebumps. Almost like Ellie had taken the heat right from her and placed it into her cheeks that were the color of a ripening tomato.

When her hand falls, Ellie lets the scene before her unfold for a moment. Taking in the spilled drink on the floor— and noticing she finally a pair of on. Without thinking, she tells her that.

“Finally got shoes on huh?” and she looks down at her own feet, wearing a pair of black Dr Martens that had now made her an inch or two taller than Ellie.

A little confused, she agrees. “Yeah, I do.”

And for some reason —unknown to her— Ellie perks up to specify. “From this morning. No shoes… You were uh, locked out…”

Soon there’s recognition in her voice, making her eyebrows raise and a laugh to stumble from her lips as she speaks. “Oh! Yeah… yeah, I got in. Yeah. Surprised you remembered honestly. You seemed.. in a rush.”

There’s a beat. One serged with electricity that would shock the two of them if they touched.

“Sorry.” Ellie says. She can’t help but wince when she says it.

She looks at her, still lost in the conversation. Ellie doesn’t know why she keeps fucking this up. Even when she’s apologizing.

“About your coffee. And this morning… and last night. I was an asshole. I— I don’t know why I did that. I don’t- I’m not usually… like that.” Liar.

She waves Ellie off. The ring on her middle finger glistens against her hand when she moves into a sunspot. “No worries. Shit happens.”

Shit happens? She thought about it for a second. Yeah. Shit does happen. No worries.

“Still. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I swear I’m not always that… much of an asshole.”

She laughs a little. “Sounds like something an asshole would say.”

Ellie pauses when she says this, a little struck by her words; a little guilty. It doesn’t last long when she breaks and says: “I’m fucking with you. Everyone’s a little bit of an asshole sometimes.”

To this, Ellie actually sighs in relief. She fucking sighs. Just fucking with you.

“Right. Well.. I feel like one. Do you want another drink? On me.” she’s pulling out her wallet from her back pocket before she can even object.

She takes a moment to consider it; furrowing her brows in thought before she begins to actually… grin. “You always buy your neighbors coffee?”

Ellie’s cheek swell with a red hue she is hoping to hide with a snarky remark. “Only the cute ones.” she shoves one of her shaky hands in her back pocket.

She blows a breath from her nose, a half-laugh. “So you do this pretty often then huh?”

“Nah… you’re the first.” and that’s true. She’s never done this before.

Of course she hasn’t. Because if she had— she wouldn’t be so fucking nervous.

“Lucky me then.” and she pauses, looking at Ellie for a beat… almost like she’s hesitating. Almost like she’s waiting for Ellie to make a move.

The moment passes, and she pipes up again.

“Well, what if I wanted to buy you coffee?”

Ellie shifts in her stance. She was getting lightheaded, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was starving… or flirting in the middle of a coffee shop with her brand new neighbor. Who was also her employer daughter. (Possibly.) [Definitely, without a doubt.]

“Why would you wanna buy me coffee?”

“Do I need a reason?”

She’s faultering, cracking and smudging, about to melt into a puddle next to this spilled coffee that was soaking into the grey tile. “…No. Guess not.”

She smiles. And of course it’s incredible. “Alright. Good. So, what do you want?”

“Well what do you want? You gonna let me buy you something?”

By now, she is reaching over to grab a handful of napkins, crouching down to begin wiping away the mess.

“Eh. I’ll think about it.”

Ellie scoffs. She shakes her head. And she can’t fucking believe she’s doing this in broad daylight.

But… what was she doing? She’d flirted in public before, and she’d done even more than that.. so why was she getting so shy? Why was the sludge melting away with the heat of her cheeks and the sweat of her palms when she reaches to grab some tissues and begins to help clean up.

And because Ellie is secretly terrified this feeling will go away.. she fights to make more conversation. “Sorry about your bed. The doors are pretty shit.”

She mops up her drink, wadding up the napkins and tosses them without standing. “It’s alright. I kinda fuckin’ hated that thing to be honest. It was a bitch to put together.”

She’s watching Ellie, her slender fingers and shortened nails were a sight. And this Ellie could pick up on. The sudden feeling of her eyes darting down to watch this very mundane but intimate moment.

Jesus, it just felt like the two of them.

Like the world had fallen away, the music muffled out, chatter quieting to a white noise. The only thing Ellie saw was her. She could feel the scratchy material of the brown napkin and the weight of her hazel eyes on her movements.

It was so… bold. So full and alive. Light. Simple. Delicate.

Ellie had to say something. Shit. Her brain was scattering with her eyes on her. Her neighbors eyes on her. Her neighbor who had a boyfriend. Maybe.

Fuck, it didn’t matter… she had to stand back up and make sure she didn’t pass out from whatever was going on.

Eventually she does, straightening her knee’s from her squat and adjusting her jeans that had rode down to reveal her boxers underneath.

Ellie is standing and looking down her feet when she notices the coffee has stained the laces of her shoes.

Not that she minds, they were already dirtied from wearing them everyday; that was a given. And even if she did mind: Shit happens. No worries.

From the corner of her eye she see’s her stand back up too… and it’s then that she realizes she never asked her name.

So she does.

Her head is shooting up with the thought, rushing to find her eyes that were already looking at Ellie. Her hands go clammy again. God.

“I uh, I never.. Oh my god I can’t even talk. What’s your name?” and Ellie shakes her head with disbelief. Her game is way off.

She laughs. Not mean, Ellie can tell. She cracks a smile when her eyes line with a shine from the sun.

“Poe.”

Poe. Poe. Poe.

It had suited her better than she had even begin to think, slotting it into place and sighing when it clicked there.

“Cool, cool. I’m Ellie, by the way.” she breathed out something pathetic, a sliced up nervous laugh.

But Poe was smiling at her, Poe.

Poe… was smiling at her.

“Nice to meet you, officially.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The thick hum in the air felt like a barbed wire, zapping Ellie’s skin when Poe spoke up again.

“So, Ellie, you gonna buy me some coffee or what?” and the grin on her lips was wide enough to make Ellie slip from the reality back into their banter.

So much so that she’d completely forgotten about Dina, leaving her to text Ellie a string of messages and a pissed tone scorching through the screen.

But Ellie couldn’t be worried. Because Poe was sitting in Dina’s freshly abandoned chair. Smiling.

At her.

She was so fucked.

Later that night— after Poe had made her order some gluten free lemon poppy bread (which Ellie said: “Shit tastes like dirt. Dirt if you pissed in it.”) and then laughed at her when she tried to wash it down with her coffee but ended up with a mouthful of what tasted like burnt shit.

Then offered up her own drink to be told it was “Milk and ice. A shittier version of vanilla ice cream.”— Ellie had made it home and was tucked into her bed with her journal and pen.

Her hand was scribbling across the page, racing her brain for the details before they slipped and tugged through the cracks after sleeping on it.

She fills up another page, talking about all the things that choke up her sobs… and finally sketches a dragon on the back, covering up the nightmare from last night— soaking it into the scales of the monster.. letting it’s fiery breath burn the memories that fuel the rot in her brain.

Ellie sighs before she wipes her face with the back of her hand, pulling the cuff of her sweatshirt over her palm and sniffling.

The routine is coming to a close when she sets her journal back on her nightstand and gets to her feet, trudging to the bathroom to get ready for bed and make sure she is still the same person in the mirror.

It never comforts her when she see’s herself… part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe, that one day she will flip the light switch and won’t recognize herself.

But of course she does. She knows the freckles on her face and their placement on her skin, the scar on her temple, her stoned over green eyes; turned dark and cold over the last few years… she see’s it all, and she wishes she didn’t.

She see’s something else that night… when she’s asleep in her bed after the clock passes 1AM.

She see’s Poe, standing in her doorway, with her hands crossed over her chest and a closed lipped smile across her face. She was the moon, and she was brighter than all the lights in New York City.

#all the lights 1 #ellie williams tlou #ellie x fem reader #bellswlw #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #tlou 2 ellie #ellie the last of us

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chaotictarlos · 1 year

Text

🤍 white 🤍

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos and paperstorm | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings / Tags: Canon Compliant, Bottom TK Strand, Lace Panties, m x m smut, TK Strand in panties, m x m smut,

Summary: He sets his breakfast down, taking a sip of coffee before he gently pulls the box closer to the edge of the table. He lifts the lid and finds himself a little breathless, for a moment, as he sees what’s inside. Laid out neatly against white tissue paper is one of the most beautiful and delicate things Carlos has ever purchased for him. The white lace seems to glow up from the box, taking TK’s breath away as he reaches out and ghosts his fingers over the material. It’s soft, with that slight roughness that Carlos knows TK loves so much. It’s perfect, a beautiful piece of clothing that for a moment TK doesn’t think he deserves to own but that thought is quickly replaced by how lucky he feels to have a fiance who buys him pretty things like this. It’s perfect for TK in every meaning of the word. TK lifts it; the bodysuit unfolds as he does so that he can see the full length of it, in all its softness and delicately stitched patterns.

Part 5: Wedding night

Author's Note: Writing with Andie has been such a joy. There is something that is so elegant about her writing that pushes me to write on another level and I think this series has helped me to become a better writer. This series was something I needed and I've had the most fun writing it and getting to chat and become friends with Andie. We wrote this fic together, you'll see touches of both of us throughout the fic and I am so excited to see what everyone thinks about it. @paperstorm I can't wait to see what we create together again. Thank you for the joy of writing and thank you for writing with me.

Read: Turquoise | Pink | Yellow | Purple

TK stretches as his eyes slowly open. He inhales deeply, pushing his arms down and rolling his shoulders and then relaxing back into the mattress. He’s warm and still half-asleep, and for a moment or two he floats on that cloud. Then he inhales again, and a little more with it, he notices he’s alone in the bed.

Mid-morning sunlight streams in through the windows, creating patterns on the quilt, and TK lifts his head enough to catch a glimpse of the clock radio on Carlos’ side of the bed.

It’s almost 9:30. Carlos had to work today; TK didn’t, and TK is a heavy sleeper but not that heavy. Not heavy enough to sleep through Carlos’ entire morning routine. Carlos must have taken great care to be quiet as he showered and got ready and ate breakfast and left the loft, so that TK could sleep.

TK is stuck halfway between grateful and disappointed. Grateful because he’d worked overtime yesterday and needed the extra rest, and it’s sweet that Carlos hadn’t wanted to wake him. Disappointed because every moment he doesn’t get to spend with Carlos still feels like a waste, and he would have liked to have been kissed goodbye. TK can’t believe, after all this time, how much he likes his fiancé. How much Carlos is still, unwaveringly, the person TK would rather do absolutely nothing with than do the most exciting thing in the world with anyone else.

He stretches again and feels a pleasant ache of his muscles. They’d made a deal. No sex the week before the wedding. Carlos had laughed in his face when TK had pointed out some people abstain for weeks or even months, just to heighten their desire and anticipation so their wedding night is one to remember. Carlos bet TK couldn’t last one week, let alone more than that. TK had grinned at him and made that bet. It doesn’t really matter. Either he loses, and he gets sex sooner, or he wins, and their wedding night is spectacular. TK feels like they both come out on top either way.

The night before, Carlos had made such tender, passionate, thorough love to him that TK sort of does think he’ll be able to make it to the wedding, because he thinks he’ll carry those memories with him in every step he takes for the next seven days. He smiles to himself, blushing even though he’s alone and momentarily burying his face in the soft cotton pillowcase, and the phantom memories of the way Carlos had looked at him as he fucked TK through three orgasms. There haven’t been many in TK’s life who can make him blush. Carlos can. But TK returns that favor.

It’s then that he notices the little piece of paper folded and resting in the center of Carlos’s pillow. TK presses his lips together and reaches for it, propping himself up on his elbow and unfolding the page. In Carlos’ characteristically neat handwriting, it says Morning baby. Hope you slept well. One week – ONE WEEK!!! – until I get to call you my husband. Enjoy your day off. Pamper yourself for me.

READ MORE ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltk @firstprince-history-huh @brouill3r @sanjuwrites

#chaotic fics #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk strand x carlos reyes #true colors series #911 lone star #911 ls #911 lone star fan fiction #tk strand fan fiction #carlos reyes fan fiction #tarlos fan fiction #andie and t

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be11atrixthestrange · 2 months

Text

The Loft 9

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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x Hermione x

The smell of burning toast wakes Hermione up from a deep sleep, and panic sets in. She once read somewhere that smelling burnt toast could indicate that one is having a stroke. Instinctively, she wiggles her fingers on both hands to assure that both are working, opens her mouth a few times, and winks twice, once on each eye, letting out a sigh when everything seems to be functioning as normal.

Smelling burning toast could also mean that Harry is cooking breakfast, which is much less disastrous than having a stroke in her twenties, but still not ideal. She rolls out of bed and reaches for a robe to wrap around her pajamas before making her way to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, everyone else is awake. Confirming her suspicions, Harry is standing in front of the stove scraping burnt eggs from the stainless steel pan. On the countertop next to him lies a plate of blackened toast.

“You should really season the pan before adding the eggs,” says Hermione. “Let it heat up before adding cooking oil, then cool it down a little—”

“Good morning to you too, Hermione,” chirps Ron. “Also, maybe Harry likes burnt eggs. Ever consider that?”

Hermione rolls her eyes and reaches into a cabinet for a coffee mug. Seamus is pouring himself a cup, so she patiently waits behind him at the coffee maker.

“Excuse me, Granger,” says a groggy Seamus as he brushes by her, squeezing between Hermione and the counter. As he passes, Hermione feels something hard brush against her thigh. She immediately looks down at Seamus’s robe, only to regret it instantly.

“SEAMUS!”

“What?”

Hermione slams a hand to her eyes to block her view of Seamus’s morning wood. “Your penis, Seamus.”

“Oh gross,” says Neville from the living room. “Not again.”

“Again?” says Hermione. “Has this happened before?”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.” Seamus wraps his robe more tightly around his body. “Stoppit,” he whispers to his pants, as if scolding a puppy.

“You just brushed your dick against me,” says Hermione through gritted teeth.

“I really didn’t do it on purpose, sometimes it just pops out, you know,” says Seamus.

“We call it his pogo,” says Harry. “And if it makes you feel better, we’ve all been pogo’ed once or twice.”

“Yup,” say Ron and Neville in unison.

“Wait a minute. You talk about this?” asks Seamus as he sits on a barstool at the kitchen counter.

“Hard not to talk about,” says Ron.

Seamus shrugs. “You know, you all have your own pogos. And having a large penis is the best of the pogos.”

“Douchebag jar.” Neville points a finger to the cash jar on the coffee table. Begrudgingly, Seamus waddles over and stuffs a crumpled dollar bill into it.

“What exactly is a pogo if not a penis?” asks Hermione.

“It’s the thing that we all talk about when you’re not around.”

“Hmm. What’s my pogo?”

Ron, Harry, and Seamus exchange glances. “You don’t have one,” says Ron.

Although Hermione knows he’s lying, she lets it go. “What’s Harry’s?”

Ron reaches for Harry’s plate, and tosses the burnt toast at Hermione like it’s a frisbee. Hermione doesn’t even try to catch it, instead letting it bounce to the ground with a thud.

“My pogo is that I can’t cook,” clarifies Harry.

“Yeah, I got that,” says Hermione. “What about Neville?

“Toenails.”

“Oh yeah. That makes sense.”

“Hey!” says Neville, examining his feet. “They’re not that bad!”

“There’s a reason we call them clickity clacks, dude,” says Seamus. “Also, please put them away, we’re eating.”

Neville scowls and shoves his feet back into his slippers.

“Wait, what’s my pogo?” asks Ron.

A heavy silence fills the room, and Ron’s ears turn beet red.

“I don’t know,” says Harry, his voice slightly robotic. “It’s nothing at all.”

“You don’t know, or it’s nothing?”

“Look at the time!” says Harry. Even though he’s not wearing a watch, he glances at his wrist. “We’re all late to something, I’m sure.”

Harry hurries out of the kitchen to his bedroom, leaving the stove burning, and the rest of the boys follow suit, muttering to themselves.

Ron turns to Hermione. “Do you know my pogo?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“Depends,” says Hermione, shrugging. “Are you lying about me not having a pogo?”

Ron pauses with his mouth agape, his eyes shifting as if looking for an answer. “No.”

“You totally are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Ugh, you’re infuriating.” Hermione picks up her coffee mug to bring it to her room. She turns around immediately to prevent Ron from seeing a smile flash across her face. “I have a date with Viktor, and I have to get ready.”

“Don’t forget to use a condom,” says Ron. “That dude has a huge head.”

“And you have a shift at the bar.”

“I wouldn’t want to push his baby out of me—”

Hermione rolls her eyes and shuts the door to her room, effectively muffling Ron’s voice to a murmur.

Hermione watches as Viktor bites into his burger and a slew of ketchup slides down the corner of his mouth. He uses his napkin to brush it away before diving in for more. She glances down at her half eaten burger and uses her fork to slide her side salad around.

“These really are the best burgers in town.”

Hermione shrugs. Maybe Viktor’s right, but she’s had so many burgers here that it’s hard to tell at this point. Did they have to go to the bar where her roommate works?

“Thanks for agreeing to come here again,” Viktor says between bites. “I know you probably eat here a lot.”

Understatement of the century. “No problem.”

Hermione glances toward the bar, where Ron is restocking clean pint glasses. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows revealing his muscular forearms, and his red hair looks extra bright under the bar light.

Viktor’s phone buzzes on the table, and he snatches it up immediately. His eyes narrow as he flips through his text messages.

“Everything okay?” asks Hermione.

Viktor nods, but Hermione can tell he’s tensing up. “Yeah. It’s just my ex.”

“Oh?”

“Not a big deal, but she still has some of my things at her apartment that I want back. Like my old record player.”

“I see,” says Hermione. “Why hasn’t she given them back?”

“She keeps evading my attempts to get them. It’s been six months.”

This is the first Hermione’s heard of his ex, and she’s relieved she doesn’t feel the jolt of jealousy that might be expected. “I’m sure she’ll come around—”

“She just drives me so crazy,” interrupts Viktor, slamming his phone on the table so hard that a splash of beer catapults from his pint glass.

Hermione cocks her head at Viktor. She’s never seen him like this. “Oh wow.”

“Sorry,” says Viktor. “Didn’t mean to shake the table.”

“It’s okay.”

Krum continues. “Have you ever dealt with someone who drove you insane? Like they ignited something really primal within you?”

“Um, I don’t know,” says Hermione, who can’t help but steal another glance at Ron behind the bar.

“Well there’s good and bad to it. When we were good, we were really good. There was a lot of passion. But sometimes that passion turned to anger and we would fight for days. And even though we broke up, we’re still fighting.”

“Sounds tough,” says Hermione.

“It’s okay that I talk to you about this, right?”

Hermione nods. Surprisingly his mention of passion doesn’t ruffle a feather, even though she clearly pictures what that passion must be referring to. Sure, sex with Viktor is good, but she wouldn’t necessarily call it passionate. It doesn’t ignite anything primal, or however he put it. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Things with you are just… so much more serene. I feel safe, you know? It’s nice.”

Safe. Nice. Those are good words. She should be thrilled to hear them. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to go order another drink. Want one?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you.”

While walking over to the bar, the tiny knot in Hermione’s stomach tightens. It doesn’t bother her that she doesn’t spark the same passion in Viktor as his ex. She doesn’t feel that kind of passion either. But is she his safe choice? Is Viktor hers?

There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

As soon as they sit at the bar, Ron whips his head around. “Another drink?”

“Yes please,” says Hermione.

“Under one condition,” says Ron as he lays his elbows down onto the bartop and props up his head. “You tell me my pogo.”

“Oh my god, Ron, I don’t know your pogo,” groans Hermione. That tiny knot in her stomach grows bigger. Hotter.

“I know you know.”

“What’s a pogo?” asks Krum.

“It's that thing that everyone talks about when you’re gone,” says Ron. “You know how Seamus’ dick sometimes pops out in the morning?”

“Oh yeah, I know,” says Krum. “And Neville’s toenails?”

“Yes!” says Ron. “So you must know my pogo then? What do they talk about when I’m gone?”

“I have no idea,” says Krum. “Does your dick pop out in the morning too?”

Ron laughs. “Not that I know of. Plus, literally everyone in the loft has seen my dick so apparently that’s old news.”

“Everyone?” asks Krum. His eyes dart towards Hermione.

“Everyone,” repeats Ron. “Even Granger.”

“You’ve seen his penis?”

Hermione can feel her cheeks heating up as she clenches her empty pint glass. “Yes, I have. It was an accident—”

“Well, Hermione,” says Krum. His voice takes on a formal tone. “Was it a nice dick?”

Hermione freezes, unable to answer the question. How the heck does one answer that question, anyway? “Um…”

Krum bursts out laughing. “I’m just kidding, Hermione. You don’t have to answer that. I know there’s nothing between you two.” Viktor turns back to Ron and slides his empty glass across the bar. “Another cream ale?”

Not one ounce of jealousy. Interesting.

“Coming right up.”

Hermione watches Ron pour another pint for her boyfriend, a smug smirk on his face. She wishes she could just wipe that grin off with her bare hand. Even the thought of it makes her palms sweat.

“I’ll have a whiskey sour,” says Hermione, as Krum makes his way back to their booth.

“Pogo.”

“Are you freaking serious, Ron?”

“No pogo, no drink.”

“Fine. Your pogo is that your dick is ugly.”

Ron hits his chest with his fist miming being stabbed in the heart. “That’s not what you said when you saw it.”

“I was being nice.”

Ron laughs. But then his face turns serious as he begins mixing her drink. “Sure, Granger.”

Hermione raises an eyebrow at the glass Ron’s working on. “Whiskey sour, not an old fashioned.”

“This is a whiskey sour.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” Ron slides the glass across the bar to Hermione. “Enjoy.”

“Ugh, fine.” Hermione leaves her glass at the bar and storms back to her booth.

“Testy, today,” she hears Ron call behind her.

And he’s right, she is. That, and he’s just so easy to argue with.

Krum smiles warmly at her when she returns to the booth. “What should we do for the rest of the day?”

Hermione shrugs. “There’s a new museum I was hoping to see.”

“That sounds nice.”

There’s that word again. Nice. “Or we could do something more fun.”

“I think the museum sounds fun. Let’s do that.”

“Okay,” said Hermione. After all, an afternoon with Viktor is the perfect way to get her mind off the annoying redhead behind the bar.

Hermione returns to an empty loft later that evening. She drops her purse onto the entry table, and heads for the sofa in the living room. The date was fine. Fun, even. It was a textbook good date. Eating lunch, exploring a new museum, holding hands in the park, ice cream…

So why does it feel incomplete? Viktor had obligations with friends afterward, which is fine, because she didn’t really want to embark on a twenty four hour date today. Should she have wanted to? Should she be missing him right now?

Hermione props her feet onto the coffee table and turns on the TV. It’s a rare moment of quiet in the loft, as Ron is still at the bar, and the others are out and about engaging in their own Saturday night shenanigans. She flips the channel to a rerun of Friends, and lets herself get lost in the relationship drama of fictional people.

But the show makes her head spin. Sure, she can’t look to a sitcom for a model of real-life relationships, and she often feels that television glorifies unhealthy dynamics, but maybe there’s something to be said about the way the interesting relationships show up on tv. She’d much rather watch Ross and Rachel drunkenly get married in Vegas than watch them stroll through a museum and eat ice cream in the park. Is it wrong to want a little bit of drama? Or passion?

Eventually, the door to the loft swings open, and Hermione’s red-headed roommate shuffles in. Ron hangs his jacket on the coat rack by the door and kicks off his shoes. He makes his way to the sofa and plops down beside her.

“They were totally on a break, don’t you think?”

Hermione laughs. She’s not going to have that debate with him. Instead, another question escapes her before she can think it through. “Ron, do you think I’m nice?”

For some reason, Viktor’s use of that word won’t stop nagging at her. Why is that bothering her? It’s a compliment, right?

Ron looks at her, his eyebrows narrowed as though lost in thought, replaying memories of past interactions. Then, he laughs. “Nice?”

“Seriously, Ron.”

Ron turns back to the TV, but still answers her question. “Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe you. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re fun. Maybe a little bit infuriating.”

“How am I infuriating?”

Ron shrugs. “You’re just you.”

Hermione knows she should be offended at that. Nice is a compliment, infuriating is not. Why isn’t she mad?

“So you don’t think I’m nice?”

Ron groans. “I don’t know what to tell you, Hermione.” With that, he rises to his feet and marches to his room.

Hermione feels her heart sink when he disappears, but he’s only gone for a moment before returning from his room with a basket of clean laundry.

“Do you mind if I watch with you?”

Hermione hopes her smile is subtle enough for him not to notice. “Are you going to fold your laundry?”

“Yes.” “Who are you and what did you do with Ron—”

“Shut up.”

Ron plops back onto the couch and dumps the basket of laundry onto the coffee table. Hermione removes her feet from under his cascading clothes and rolls her eyes. He works in silence, his attention split between the television and his laundry. Hermione watches him out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re folding that sheet wrong.”

Ron pauses with his hands tangled inside two corners of a fitted sheet. “What did you say?”

With a groan, Hermione grabs the sheet from him. “You want to put the two opposite corners together first, form a new corner—”

“Jesus, Hermione.”

“What?”

“Do you want to know your pogo?”

Hermione frowns at him. She thought he didn’t know. “Yes, Ron, I would like to know my pogo.”

“Really?”

“What is it, Ron?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you, but you’re forcing me. It’s that you’re a goddamn know it all.”

Hermione scowls at him. “That’s not true!”

“You’re correcting my sheet-folding.” He grabs the sheet back from her and crumples it into a little ball. “I’m going to fold this sheet however I damn well please.”

Hermione can’t help but notice that he cracks a smile as he packs the sheet down.

She forces her face to remain expressionless. “I’m just helping you.”

“You also told me how to do my job today.”

“You were pouring my drink wrong!”

“You can’t tell the difference between an old fashioned and a whiskey sour.” Ron tosses the crumpled up sheet back into the basket, and starts working on a t-shirt. He tucks the sleeves in unevenly, but Hermione holds her tongue.

“Sure I can!”

“Okay,” says Ron, as he throws his newly folded shirt into the basket. It partially unfolds before landing, but Hermione resists the urge to pull it out and fix it. “Then what’s the difference between an old fashioned and a whiskey sour?” he asks.

Honestly, Hermione doesn’t know. But she’s not going to let him know that. “One of them is sour!”

“Wow, are you looking for work? Because I’d love to hire you as a bartender! You’d be so great!” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Shut up Ron!” She can clearly hear how her smile twists the words around, and she hopes he does too.

“Do you even realize how condescending you sound sometimes?” His face is red, but Hermione can’t tell if it’s from actual annoyance, or if he’s just playing with her. He clarifies her silent question by tossing a sock at her face.

Her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, I know what your pogo is!”

“What?” says Ron, his voice hopeful.

“You’re annoying as hell, that’s your pogo.”

An uncontrolled burst of laughter escapes Ron. “We’ve already established that being annoying is yours.”

“You said mine was being a know it—”

“Which is code for being annoying as shit. Like you’re being right now.”

They stare at each other, eyes narrowed. To an outsider, they might look like they’re deep in a fight. But to Hermione, it feels like a game.

“Why are you like this, Ron?”

“Because you make me like this!”

Hermione reaches for a pair of Ron’s underpants, knowing full well that it’ll put him on edge. “I make you completely insane?” she asks, as she folds them up. “Maybe that’s your pogo, that you’re insane.”

Ron watches Hermione handle his boxers and his cheeks glow red. But there’s something else in his expression that she can’t quite place…

“How does Viktor put up with you?” he asks. His gaze shifts to her, and the directness of his eye contact makes it seem like he’s looking deep inside her, almost reading her mind.

Hermione doesn’t banter with Viktor like this. He doesn’t put up with her, because he doesn’t know he needs to. The words that come out reveal so much more than she means. “He thinks I’m nice.”

Ron maintains his eye contact, and Hermione doesn’t flinch under his gaze. “Is that right?”

She nods.

“Then he doesn’t really know you.”

He might not realize it, but his words hit the nail on the head. Viktor doesn’t know her, and not for his lack of trying. She could have been her real self with him all along. She’s had many opportunities, but this always happens. Before she knows it, she’s deep into a relationship with someone who doesn’t understand her.

Ron’s right. She’s an infuriating, annoying, know it all. Why would she show that to the person she’s dating? Wouldn’t they just leave? Why be herself when it makes more sense to just be nice?

Hermione drops Ron’s underwear into the basket. She knows his gaze is still on her, but she doesn’t care. There’s more meaning in his words, and maybe he doesn’t intend for it to be so clear, but it is. Viktor doesn’t really know her, but Ron does. He sees her, and he willingly sat down with her to watch Friends. He takes her bullshit and dishes it right back to her. He’s still sitting beside her, loading up a pair of underwear to fling at her face like a slingshot.

“I should go to bed. Good night, Ron.” The words come out hastily, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Good night, Hermione.” Ron releases his slingshot, and a pair of boxers hit her in the face before sliding to her lap. “Sweet dreams.”

Hermione avoids looking at Ron as she makes her way to the bedroom, but she’s fully aware of his eyes on her the entire time. And unlike Viktor’s, Ron’s gaze feels like a laser target, causing her heart rate to spike and her hair to stand on end.

#be11a loft #ron x hermione #romione #ron and hermione #hermione granger #ronweasley #hpromione #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #ron weasley #muggle au

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literatureatthebowofnails · 10 months

Text

A/N: Finally got around to finishing this one.

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: The Avengers conspire to keep love alive

You stand on the train exhausted, travel mug hanging from one hand, your second cup of coffee gone before its time. Head lulling against your arm, you're jostled against fellow commuters as you mentally review your "To Do" list.

Two weeks left to decide whether or not to renew your lease. You're seeing a couple of places after your shift. One's in the South Bronx, just a few stops down from your current place. It would make these early morning commutes direct and reduce travel time to Avengers Tower, where you spend most nights when Loki's between missions.

The second place is higher rent, but it's waking distance to the cafe and about half the ride time to the Tower. If you manage to get either, it would be an improvement, though moving is always a headache in and of itself.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the shop and turn on the lights. You make yourself a third cup of coffee before beginning the morning routine. Ovens preheating, kolaczkis waiting on their baking sheets, register filled, counters and tables wiped down. You're just sliding the first sheet of pastries into the oven as the owner, Bramborslav, arrives.

The warm, stocky man greets you in his jovial manner. His Slavic accent is thick, and you have yet to witness him in a bad mood. On the whole, he exudes the comforting nature of well-seasoned potatoes.

"I have someone coming in for a meeting about an hour after we open. I trust you can handle the end of the rush on your own?" he asks.

"Of course," you slide a second sheet of kolaczkis in the oven with the first. "What's the meeting about?"

"Some sort of proposal. He hasn't said much beyond that." He unlocks the front door and sets out the sign before disappearing into the back to continue food prep.

As things slow down, the last person you expect saunters into the cafe. "Tony?" your greeting is rife with confusion. "Is there something I can get you?"

"Ah, hey princess. Thought I'd find you here."

"You know I work here, right?"

"Exactly. I'll take a double expresso, and you can tell Mr. Kaschak I'm here."

Your eyebrows draw together. 'Bram's meeting with Tony? What on earth could they have to talk about?'

"Uh, sure, I'll go get him." You poke your head into the back. "Um, Bram? Tony Stark is here for your meeting?"

☕

A couple hours of hushed muttering pass before the men stand and shake hands.

"I'll extend the proposal to our third partner today," Tony gives Bram his signature charming smile. "Assuming everything goes as planned, the notaries should have the paperwork signed and sealed by the end of next week."

Bram seems pleased and Tony takes his leave with a wave in your direction. "Later, princess!"

"What was that about?" you ask Bram.

"He's investing in the business."

☕

After work you walk to the Yorkville apartment. The manager, a curvy woman in her early 30s, keeps a running monologue as she shows you through the building and into the unit.

A tiny studio that hasn't been updated since the 70s, the industrial space features original hardwood floors and slanted ceilings. A slim loft for storage, efficiency kitchen, and a bathroom in dire need of scrubbing.

The barred windows look into an alley, providing an impressive amount of natural light. You'd be able to keep a few plants on the sill; might even squeeze in half your living room setup.

When you get up to the South Bronx, you find the unit there is almost twice the size of the first. The owner is brusque, walking you through the unit, asking about your credit, listing the rent and amenities as though he's late for a much more important meeting.

The space is recently updated by comparison, sporting late-90s granite countertops and a subway tile backsplash in varying shades of brown. Commute aside, it would be significantly more comfortable than the Manhattan suite.

You're still pondering your options with a yawn as you unlock the door to your apartment. A text beeps from your phone.

Loki: Mission concluded early. See you tonight?

You grin despite your exhaustion and tap in your response. Just need to grab clean clothes and a few necessities.

☕

Upon your arrival at the tower, you find a construction crew working on the ground floor. You wave a hello and make your way to the elevators, wondering what Tony's latest addition entails.

FRIDAY lets you out on the Avengers' common floor to find the whole team standing around a transparent projector screen.

"Hi?" you look around at the group, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, darling," your lover strides out from around the display.

"We have a proposal for you," Tony announces, pulling up a model of the tower. Two points glow orange against the otherwise blue display.

"It's come to my attention," he continues, "that the tower is lacking. Missing something coffee pods cannot compensate for."

Pepper cuts in, swiping all but the ground floor from the screen. "I've had some designs worked up, which I think you'll be pleased with.

"We would like you to open a Domácí Kuchyně location here." She expands the view of the lobby.

"A cafe?" your eyes widen and you turn to Tony, "Is this what your meeting was about?"

"That's right, princess. And you're going to manage it."

"Now, if you accept the proposal," explains Pepper, "we'll of course have to work out all the details. We spoke with Mr. Kaschak, and he's agreed to make you a partial owner."

"This is," you gape. "An owner? I can't believe you did all this for me."

You walk around the model to get a better look. After you've had a moment to get a sense of the design, Loki comes up behind you. He holds one arm around your waist, the other reaching out to pull the upper floors of the tower back into view.

"Darling, I do realize the business Stark has proposed would significantly lengthen your commute. I've been thinking about this for a while," he expands the other orange area, "and I'd like you to move in."

You turn to face him. "Loki, I..."

"We've set aside space on the 43rd floor for you," Pepper notes, drawing your attention back to the screen. "The two of you can design it to fit your needs, and when you're ready, we'll send a team to help you move."

"A team?" you laugh as heat seeps up your neck. "I don't know what to say. This is...thank you! Thank you so much." Tony pops behind the bar and you throw your arms around Pepper.

A/N: Thanks as always for reading. Feedback and reblogs are the greatest blessings.

@peaches1958, @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog, @lovelysizzlingbluebird , @cakesandtom, @ladymischief11, @km-ffluv, @coldnique, @glitterylokislut, @eleniblue, @lokiprompts, @lokisgoodgirl, @muddyorbsblr

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

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do-it-for-the-fandom · 1 year

Text

Post-series • AU • Kate and Rick have a 5-month-old son. (named Teddy because my brain literally cannot think of anything else. Real name, nickname, I don't care).

Daddy’s Jealous

When those first, sleepy cries echoed through the baby monitor as the sun rose, she groaned and gently nudged his shin with the heel of her foot.

She expected his usual mumbled “S’your turn” - especially so considering he had volunteered himself for the 2am bottle - but he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before slipping from the sheets and plodding upstairs.

After several quiet minutes, soft grunts and coos filled the sleepy silence of the loft. She pried her eyes open, one at a time, and looked toward the door where her boys stood in the soft glow of morning sun, smiling brightly at her.

“Good morning, Mommy,” Castle whispered as he waved their son’s hand in the air.

“Morning,” she sung back as she shuffled upright in bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“I wasn’t going to wake you but I figured, seeing as his last feed was bottle…”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” She unbuttoned her pyjama top before slipping it out of her way and reaching out for Teddy.

"Ah, I remember the days when I had to actually put a considerable amount of effort into seeing your boobs," Castle reminisced as he passed his son off to his wife.

She laughed heartily. "Now they're just out... all the time."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," he assured her with a beaming smile. "Have you got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I'm good." She looked up at him, smiling, once Teddy was latched and settled. "Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll be right back."

***

He came back into the room fifteen minutes later with a tray of breakfast: coffee, a slice of toast and an assortment of fresh fruit cut up into easy bite-sized pieces for her.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly as she watched him place the tray on the bedside table.

"For me?" she asked, still awed by all these little things that he does for her.

"It certainly is," he said with a smile, tilting his head as he took in the relaxed state of his wife and son. "Is he all done?"

"Yeah, think so." She looked down at their beautiful boy's face and bright blue eyes looked back at her. "He's just kinda nuzzling now."

"Good job," he praised Teddy, taking him from Kate's arms. "You eat your breakfast, we'll go get dressed."

He turned and began to walk away, cooing and talking to their son. "We're going to try on a new outfit today. I think Mommy is going to love it."

***

When Castle returned, he held Teddy's back to his chest so that the boy had a perfect view of his surroundings. As soon as his eyes landed on Kate, he grinned a wide, gummy grin and jerked his arms and legs around excitedly.

"Hey, Baby," she greeted him enthusiastically. "Look at you!"

She laughed, taking in the new outfit: a fluffy white bath robe with matching white slippers.

"That might be the cutest thing I have ever seen," she mooned.

"Might be?" Castle gasped theatrically, cupping his palm over Teddy's ear. "Don't you listen to her!"

"As adorable as this is, don't you think it's a little warm for him to be so wrapped up?"

"You're totally right," he agreed - too easily in her opinion - as he laid Teddy down on the bed in front of Kate. "You should unwrap him."

She raised her brow at him, knowing him well enough to know that he was definitely up to something.

Slowly, she reached out for the neatly tied bow of the teeny tiny robe and pulled on it. Teddy kicked and squealed excitedly.

"Is there a surprise under here?" she asked, as she gently poked at the boy's chubby thighs. "Hey? Have you got a surprise for Mommy?"

Teddy squealed again, flapping his arms around. Kate opened the robe to reveal a onesie she didn't recognise. After quickly reading the words printed on it, she shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't stifle her grin.

My Daddy is jealous... I had BOOBS for breakfast.

Kate leant down and placed an exaggerated kiss on Teddy's cheek, pulling back with a loud pop of her lips that had the infant giggling hysterically.

"Your daddy is so silly," she cooed.

#story request #picture prompt #caskett #my fanfic #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #my drabbles

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bigfootsmom · 1 year

Text

WIP friday/fuck it friday

Rules: Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names. Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post! After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

I was tagged by @ebdaydreamer, @homerforsure, @swiftiediaz, @alyxmastershipper, @rottenmarigolds, @shortsighted-owl, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, @honestlydarkprincess <3 <3 <3

eddie does not journal and he does not cry into his pillow at night

rough sex whump

werewolf eddie does FUCK

lawsuit dom/sub

buck why does eddie call you babygirl

Here's a snippet from my first wip (i'm not typing that title out again):

“You want a beer?” Eddie asks, already heading for the fridge like he’s the one that lives here. It certainly feels like he does sometimes — The loft just an extension of his house.

He can see remnants of himself and Christopher scattered through the space. There’s one of hoodies hanging over the back of a chair, a stack of Christopher’s comic books spread out on the coffee table. Both things left behind from one of the countless other evenings spent in Buck’s apartment. There’s more, things that aren’t immediately noticeable, like a few of Eddie’s tshirts mixed in with Buck’s laundry, dates first Christopher’s upcoming field trips and events penciled into the calendar hanging on the fridge. It makes Eddie’s chest feel light, bubbly warmth heating him from the inside out until he can feel the contentment tingling in his fingers.

The easy domesticity of it all is dangerous. It’s too good — Eddie feels he’s constantly at risk of falling in too deep, always riding the edge of getting addicted.

Buck looks over his shoulder with a smile, his hands full with dishes left over from their dinner. He had wanted to try his hands at another one of Bobby’s dishes — a chicken broccoli bake. It had been good, Eddie can tell that Buck had worked hard to prepare it. There’s still a flush of pride coloring Buck’s cheeks. The sight of it makes something in Eddie’s stomach twist, a warmth that has threatened to fan into flames for years, but Eddie has refused to put a name to.

“Yeah, thanks— like you read my mind,” Buck says with a grin, setting the dishes down in the sink with a series of soft clinks.

It is no longer friday in my timezone oops. I'm tagging anyone who is still awake and wants to post something!

#wip friday #fuck it friday #tag game #molly writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 #911 fox #911 abc

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kharonion · 1 year

Note

🎲

KISS ROULETTE

24. A sleepy kiss. I chose Vikt and Kerry for this one... and, y'know. Boys will be boys.

Kerry snickers as a snore rumbles from beside him. The rays of the sun stream through the windows, gold and warm, glowing across the expanse of the loft. Curiosity gets the better of him; he checks the time. 10:45AM. Fuck, Vikt must be exhausted. Normally, the man is fresh out of the shower after a whole-ass exercise routine and working on a second pot of coffee by now.

He’s reluctant to at first, but eventually, he gently jostles a freckled shoulder. “Vikt,” he purrs with an airy lilt. Kerry’s hand roams to the unruly ombre hair, playing with the strands of red and black as his nails scratch the scalp lightly.

Vikt stirs, complete with a muffled groan from the pillow his face is buried into. And Kerry chuckles because goddamn, is he adorable. “Rise and shine, pretty boy.”

Kerry doesn’t stop his movements, even adding an occasional kiss to Vikt’s temple or forehead. Those groans mold into hums. His head shifts to face Kerry with a sigh. Eyelids flitter, though there’s no effort to actually open them.

The only real sign of Vikt returning to consciousness is a lazy, wistful smirk. “Pretty boy is unavailable…” he drawls, weighed heavy with sleep.

“Well… I can make an appointment,” Kerry daringly offers. And that seems to pique Vikt’s interest enough to gradually roll over, prying his eyes open.

Kerry gets lost in the image a little bit—the raw and natural Vikt that only he gets to witness. The blanket has ridden down to the dip of his hips, showing off most of his terracotta skin that’s gleaming an irresistible bronze. And it’s impossible for Kerry to keep his hands off; he’s quickly letting his fingers roll along the divots of muscle and curves of Vikt’s frame. All the while, unpainted, hooded eyes watch him.

“Hmm. Think I can fit it in my schedule.” Vikt closes his eyes again—clearly still in protest to actually get the hell up—but beckons him with a crook of a finger, and Kerry obliges with ease. Stooping down into Vikt’s space, sharing their breaths. Until Kerry feels strong arms drape around his neck, guiding him in closer still. Sees Vikt peering up at him, a sleepy smile irking up a corner of his mouth.

“Can I convince you to rush it?”

Vikt chortles deep in his throat, under his breath. “Hm… you can try…”

Though Kerry knows damn well he’ll succeed. Call him pompous. But he knows the man; he knows the game that is the banter of bark with no bite to back it up.

So, he presses his lips to Vikt’s, leaving none of his intent to imagination. To his credit, Vikt attempts to reciprocate with drowsy, languid motions. The kiss is sloppy, messy, and everything Kerry wants and craves.

That fucking ringtone suddenly blares, and though he growls in Vikt’s mouth, Kerry doesn’t move a goddamn muscle. But neither does Vikt.

“You gonna get that?” Kerry asks in a series of pants, between continued clamps of their lips together.

“No,” Vikt answers so matter-of-fact. “I’m busy…” All he does with the phone is mute it, tossing it aside afterward. Laying back down, looking up with a bold expectancy. As if to ask what the fuck Kerry is waiting for. “I’ve got a meeting in about an hour, Mr. Eurodyne.”

Make it count is heavily implied.

#finally starting to write these - sorry it took so long kjshdf #i absolutely LIVE for these two waking each other up with smooches okay #khar writes #oc: vikt #kerry eurodyne #x: dark matter in our space #cyberpunk 2077 #.asks #thank you for sending one in!

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deliriousfangirl61 · 8 months

Text

Calla Lillies [Jake "Hangman" Seresin] Chapter II

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Hailey Dugan

Masterlist [~~~~]

18+

Series Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, smut (later on in the series), age gap? (like 6 years because I feel like Jake is around like 32/33, lemme me know if you disagree), cursing. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT 18+ content in later chapters.

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

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was finally settling into his new posting in North Carolina. He is back up in the air after his last mission and back to raising hell like always. Yet he can't help but miss The Dagger Squad and after watching Liv and Rooster tie the knot he is feeling just a tad bit lonely and longing for something more. Not that he would ever admit it though. However when he gets some new neighbors in the form of a stunning 26 year old plant-shop owner and a 7 year-old boy, Jake just might feel that tiny little whole in his chest filling. His new neighbor is kind yet fierce, and as she struggles to navigate the new realm of guardianship over her younger brother her next door neighbor is more help then she could have every imagined.

-2 Months Later-

The loft is incredibly quiet, I sit at my kitchen counter sipping on coffee as I flip through the latest inventory report. Lucas has yet to stir, but he doesn't need to be up for another 30 minutes. My phone dings but I know who it is. Matthew has been trying and failing to come up with a half-decent excuse to see me. I ended things two days after I brought Lucas home and Matthew quite loudly told me I was ruining my life.

Asshole

Lucas also decided then and there that he hated Matthew and had 'accidentally' sent his little rocket toy straight into his groin. I had laughed so hard I nearly cried and I had yet to see Matthew for more than a few minutes at a time. Once when he came to get his things and I returned the engagement ring and another when he cornered me in the shop. I had threatened to hit him with a shovel until he left. I had no want to see him then and I have no want now.

"Can you make pancakes for breakfast?" Lucas' voice is soft and groggy and I turn to the curly mop of hair that is truly a sight to behold after he first wakes up.

"Sure bub."

Lucas grins and climbs onto the high barstool of our kitchen island and rubs the sleep from his eyes. His cast is still a bulky annoyance on his wrist but he gets it off in a week and I'm sure he can't wait.

I had packed most of the kitchen things away for the move but I pulled the things out that I needed and started to make the pancakes. Lucas and I found the perfect house for both of us and since I've saved up a lot I was able to snatch it up pretty quick.

The savings was supposed to be for a wedding but fuck that

So I was able to put the down payment and pay most of it off. I've spent the last week decorating Lucas' room. He said he has always wanted a baseball-themed room so with the help of Maura we did a baseball-themed bedroom. It's not too kiddish so when he grows he isn't too embarrassed.

If you win custody and he can even grow up in that room.

I push that thought away and busy myself with the pancakes.

"Can we get a cat?"

I glance over at Lucas who is staring at me. He is resting his chin on his non-broken hand.

"That seems a bit random. What makes you want a cat?"

"It's not random," Lucas says in a serious tone I rarely hear from him. "I love cats and so do you. They are very easy and I saw a book at Dr. Kelter's office about how some animals can help with stress and anxiety. Plus! We are moving into a whole house so plenty of room." I want to laugh at the amount of thought he put into this but his comment about stress and anxiety snags my attention.

"Are you feeling a bit anxious again bub? That's okay but I want to know so I can help."

"Not really. Dr. Kelter helps a lot and I feel really safe with you."

My heart melts and I lean over kissing his forehead.

"I always want you to feel safe Lucas."

"I really like staying with you." He says softly.

"I really love you staying with me bub." I take a deep breath. "You know there's always a chance I can try to make it permanent."

Lucas peers through his curls.

"Really? Like I wouldn't go back to Arizona?"

"Yeah, but that also means you would stay with me, and you might not get to see Mom as much as you'd like." I want to be honest with him despite my feelings towards our mom.

Lucas is quiet for a moment. "I don't feel safe with mom though I feel safe with you. Do you think she'd be mad if she knew I wanna stay here with you instead of with her? I don't know if I wanna make her mad"

"I don't know honey. But I also wanna make sure you don't feel confused. So why don't I ask Dr. Kelter if you guys can talk about it in your next session?"

Lucas nods. I finish the pancakes and cut them up for him.

"Alright, here you go bubs."

His eyes light up as I push the plate in front of him, temporarily forgetting our previous conversation.

"Thanks, Hails," Lucas mutters.

"No problem bub, I'm gonna go get dressed and get your things together for school. Whenever you're finished get ready please."

"Mkay." He mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes.

I ruffle his hair and place a kiss on the top of his head before heading to get ready. I take a deep breath when I'm out of his view.

Holy crap

I wasn't expecting that conversation today. I have been trying to figure out how to bring it up. I followed Erica's advice and I got a lawyer as soon as I got back to North Carolina. I hadn't told Lucas, he was dealing with a lot of emotions and I didn't want to confuse him.

My phone starts blaring Taylor Swift in my pocket. Luckily that is not Matthew's ringtone but it is Maura's. It does snap me out of my little stupor though.

"What are you doing up so early it's not even past 8 yet." I joke as I answer and I can practically see her roll her eyes.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Lucas and I were gonna watch a movie and eat popcorn in a fort with all the boxes."

She huffs. "Crap do you think it's too late to get a babysitter?"

I laugh softly. "Probably, but why would I need a babysitter?"

"There's a new bar opening and I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a Navy bar, so some of the guys from the base should be there and you know I am a sucker for that uniform."

I laugh.

"Not that I'm in love with that idea but I think Collin's mom mentioned a sleepover on her weekend with him and I think that's this week. I'll ask her at drop off today."

"You're the best! Oh, you should wear that blue dress that you ..."

"I gotta go Maura."

"Love you!"

I pull on some of my work clothes, which mainly consist of old T-shirts and jean shorts. Or the occasional overall or leggings. Owning a plant shop isn't exactly clean work.

"Alright, Lucas hurry up bud! We're running early for once let's not squander it." I call after him.

"But I like our mad dashes to the car." Lucas calls back."

"Please."

I hear his sweet giggle and then I see his curly mop of head appear.

"I should probably fix your hair first."

Somehow Lucas and I managed to keep ahead of the time today. I pull into the school parking lot at the perfect time when all the other moms are actually there too. Normally I'm scrambling in with Lucas towed behind me and Mrs. Thunton is the only one left.

"Oh wow everyone is here," Lucas comments as I pull his bag out of the back seat.

"See this is what happens when we're on time. Isn't it cool?"

"Sure." Lucas sounds completely uninterested but I appreciate the effort.

I don't miss the surprised looks of some of the moms as we approach. Yes, I am that guardian who is constantly scrambling, but 90% of them have husbands who help or they've been doing this longer than 9 months.

They can suck it up and stop being so judgey.

"I see Collin!" Lucas exclaims as he yanks his backpack from my hands and bolts to the playground.

He completely ignores his principal Mrs. Thunton as she greets him. I wave to the woman and send her a smile. Now to find Collin's mom.

"Kelly!" I call and the woman glances up from her phone and a smile spreads on her face.

"I was going to wait for you but look at you being on time." She jokes.

"Don't get used to it. Are you still offering to have Lucas over for a sleepover? He and I talked about it and he doesn't seem too anxious about it, he's made a lot of progress and honestly, he absolutely loves playing with Collin."

"Oh my god yes! That's what I waiting for you for. Collin has also been struggling and I think their friendship is such an anchor."

I nod. " I completely agree he's been so amazing to Lucas."

"Oh great, do you want me to just pick him up from school today?"

"I need to get his things together but I will meet you here and see if Lucas wants to ride with you or with me. Driving still makes him a bit nervous I think."

"Completely understand."

I grin. "Thank you so much, Kelly. I will see you at 4:00."

"See you at 4:00!"

Once I'm back in the safety of my car I call Maura. She picks up on the second ring.

"I am free tonight."

"Yes! It's party time bitch!"

What a freaking dork

Alrighty folks! Yes I know I finally updated but listen I have been one stressed spaghetti with school so I am sorry but give me a break lol.

Just comment below if you wanna be on the tag list.

I hope you guys enjoyed it.

[~~~~] Next Chapter- Coming Soon

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newgenog · 11 months

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REVENGE

Notes: This is part two of chapter five. If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

This #Batwoman AU is based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. In this fic, Ryan Wilder believes she has nothing to lose, and revenge is the only way to get anything back, whish she's willing to do absolutely anything in service to, or so she thinks.

Another hefty chunk of words for part two. A little warning: we're in our angsty season. At least it's not cold outside, though! And I promise to keep it fun when I can.

CHAPTER FIVE - CHARADE (Part Two)

Ryan’s double life continues to challenge her as she’s confronted with the realities of her choices, and the potential for everything she’s worked for to slip through her fingers.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5TH, 6:00 AM, THE LOFT

Ryan wakes up feeling like hell, because she’s hardly had the equivalent of a nap. She’d succumb to taking the night off, not by choice, and let herself feel for the first time in a long time. She hated every moment of it, but once she’d opened those flood gates, they were hard to seal back up. The past and the present had collided and knocked her back so hard that she couldn’t get up from her bed. Eventually, she passed out, but the sun was rising by then, and she woke up from an internal alarm that reminded her of everything she had on the line. It was more important than ever that she got things back on track.

Ryan Cell: Luke, we have a problem. How quickly can you get here?

Luke Cell: Will 10:00 work? It’d be tough to be there sooner.

Ryan Cell: We’ll make it work. I’ll get started in the meantime.

Luke Cell: Copy

She climbs out of bed and does little more than brush her teeth and pull on the same jeans and plaid shirt she’d barely managed to slide out of before collapsing into bed when she walked through the door. She makes coffee, but nothing else, because the idea of food makes her nauseous. And then, she opens up her laptop, as she should have done last night.

A quick search on Tyler and his time with The Crows gives her some comfort. He’d grown up at the organization, starting as an intern, and had basically moved up by outlasting several of his peers and being a sidekick to Jacob Kane. He’d never accomplished anything earth shattering for them, though. So it would be a bit of a leap for him to crack this case.

This might explain why they needed Sophie’s help. Whether it was because Ryan didn’t want to know more than she had to, or because she had too much respect to pry, she had never done a deep dive on Sophie. Even after quick glimpses at her social media pages from moments of weakness and temptation, she’d quickly swipe out when she remembered she was exposing herself to a life she could never entertain. But she couldn’t put it off anymore. She had to prepare.

Unsurprisingly, Sophie is a real threat. She absolutely was on her way to being the best investigator National City had ever had, until she’d left for Gotham. She’d uncovered some monumental unsolved mysteries, and dismantled criminal organizations that seemed untouchable before she’d decided to take them on. Her instincts and determination were unmatched.

A part of Ryan is proud and in awe. Nonetheless, allowing herself to even feel that is way too close to what had wrecked her in the first place. Ryan’s reality is that Sophie Moore is definitely going to be even more of a problem than she’d already become. And worse, Ryan’s usual methods of taking people down before they could get to her won’t work this time, because they are in direct conflict with her promise to protect Sophie at all costs.

~~~~~

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5TH, 7:00 AM, THE CROWS HEADQUARTERS

Tyler walks into Jacob Kane’s office. He’d put a meeting on the calendar at the end of the day on July 3rd, and Jacob had accepted. He didn’t supply much context, but he did use Leak Update as the meeting’s subject.

It’s been less than a week since he’s been working with Sophie Moore and he’s frustrated, because he doesn’t see the point in being assigned to this case anymore. She has more clearance than him, and he’s basically become her assistant. He’s at her beck and call, searching for whatever she wants him to on The Crows’ database, or retrieving old files from their storage and archives.

She was able to set up a face ID and fingerprint scans for materials being provided to her. He’d dig them up, and the information would appear to be redacted on his end, but he’d add them to a shared drive that she could access, and when she logged in, she had permission to see what he could not. She’d even sent him on errands to look up old news clippings at the library, and he feels like he’s taken ten steps backwards in his career.

He’s surprised to see that Russel Tavaroff is already in Jacob’s office when he arrives. It looks like they were just having a laugh, and Tyler feels like he’s interrupting.

Tyler: “Apologies, sir. I didn’t realize you had a meeting scheduled before mine.”

Jacob: “I didn’t. Russel and I ran into each other downstairs, and were just finishing up a conversation.”

Tyler: “Do you need me to reschedule, or is now still a good time?”

Jacob: “No, it’s fine. Tavaroff, find time on my calendar, so we can continue this, alright?”

The idea that Jacob Kane was plotting or bonding with Russel Tavaroff has Tyler clenching his teeth, as if he needed more reasons to have this conversation with his boss. Tavaroff was a dirty cop, and he took this job because it paid better. He covered his tracks well, so it was hard to pin any of his wrong doings since joining The Crows on him. Tyler doesn’t subscribe to his methods, so he keeps his distance. If doing so was going to become more difficult, The Crows might not be the organization for him anymore.

~~~~~

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5TH, 8:00 AM, KANE MANSION

Beth: “Why do you look like death, sissy?”

Kate: “Because my outsides match my insides.”

Kate’s sitting at the kitchen table with her sisters and only a cup of coffee in front of her. She was going to take the day off of work, but would rather keep herself busy. So she’s decided to make her way into the office, even though it’s proving to be a struggle. No one else should be there, because she declared the week a summer holiday. So she’s dressed in her designer distressed black jeans with holes in the thighs and knees, and a boxy black t-shirt.

Mary: “What happened to you last night? You totally disappeared? I thought maybe you’d passed out in your room, but when I went to check on you, you weren’t there.”

Beth: “Did you phone a friend girl to create some fireworks of your own?”

Kate: “That probably would have been a better choice than the one that I made.”

Catherine walks into the kitchen with the exact opposite energy that her daughters have. None of them are demonstrating the tendencies of morning people, or seem thrilled to be up and about the day after a mid-week party. And yet, for one reason or another, they’re all dressed and preparing to start their day. They look at Catherine as though she’s insane.

Mary: “And why do you look like you got a visit from your fairy godmother last night, mom?”

Catherine: “Because we all have a choice to greet each new day as if there’s endless potential for it to be a perfect one. I’ve decided that everything will go my way today.”

Beth: “Oh great. That means she’s come in here to give us orders.”

Catherine: “You’re not wrong, Beth. Sunday is your father’s and my 20th anniversary dinner, and I’ve come to set some ground rules.”

Mary: “Wait, you’re still going through with that sham of a celebration.”

Catherine: “I’ll beg your pardon. We are still very much in a marriage, and have raised three grown daughters, while running successful corporations. I’d say that’s plenty of reason to celebrate 20 years of partnership.”

Beth: “She has a point, Mary. Contractually, they’re still bound together with all of their assets and things. So, why not throw a party to look happy about it and hide all of the internal collusion and corruption?”

Catherine: “And that’s exactly the kind of talk that I’ll have none of at our dinner. I’m expecting you ladies to be on your very best behavior, and I’d really like it to be something intimate. So you’re not entitled to bring more than one plus one, which I need to approve in advance. Kate, I believe yours will be Tommy, so yours is approved. I’ll need the two of you to confirm who you’re bringing by the end of day tomorrow, so we can reach out to them regarding their dietary accommodations.”

Kate: “You sure Tommy’s not your plus one?”

Kate says that under her breath, but both of her sisters catch it and snap their heads to stare at her in shock. She waves them off, and drinks her coffee, not in the mood to explain.

Catherine isn’t interested in any discussion around her instructions. So she leaves the kitchen before anyone can argue, as per her customary last-word having exit.

Mary: “Kate, seriously, what is going on with you?”

Kate puts her coffee mug down and looks at Mary with the seriousness she's demanding.

Kate: “I’m done with all of the charades. I’m not going to this dinner, and I’m not going to argue about it. You know I only live here because you two do, and I can barely stand it. I’m going to do my best to steer clear of both of them from now on. I need a break.”

Mary: “What did my mom do? I know she’s a bit of a bitch, but that’s not new…So, is all of this because she’s not leaving dad, or something?”

Kate looks at Beth for a while, and then back at Mary.

Kate: “Mar, she’s been hiding a lot more than their shitty marriage. In fact, covering things up in plain sight is kind of her thing. This is a pattern, and I’m done being a part of it by proximity and association.”

Mary: “What are you talking about?”

Kate: “You never wondered why they sent Beth away in the middle of the school year our junior year?”

Mary: “I mean…Beth was always getting into stuff. I figured they were just making her someone else’s problem. No offense.”

Beth shrugs. The facts were the facts. Whether she’d accepted fulfilling everyone’s expectations of her, decided this way of life was more fun, needed more mental health support than she’d received or was receptive to, or was screaming for something that felt like love in the form of attention, she was who she was.

Kate: “And what about how I was around that time…? What did you think was happening there?”

Mary: “They sent your twin away, and you’d already lost your mom. You being angry and withdrawn kind of made sense.”

Beth: “ Mar Bear is making some good points, Katie. The Hamilton women are on it this morning. And, you have to admit that you’ve always been kinda broody.”

Kate looks at her sister with utter exhaustion for being no help at all.

Kate: “Those things might have been true, but that wasn’t all of it.”

Mary: “Well, what did I miss?”

Kate sits back in her chair, not sure if she really wants to dig up this really old story. Beth is more detached, and enjoying the morning tea. So, she decides to finally tell on herself.

Beth: “My friends and I were involved in a very tragic accident, and mommy dearest covered up my part in it. After doing so, they wanted everyone to forget about my existence, so they sent me far far away to a boarding school that must have been inspired by Fort Knox. And, it seems my twin sissy was so disgusted with the whole thing that she went off to military school, to become a better human, just as soon as we turned 18. She also might have been running away from me, since she conveniently left the day before I got back, but we’ll never know the answer to that part, will we Katie?”

Kate rolls her eyes, and then sits forward to lean over her coffee, before taking one last drink.

Mary: “Wait, I remember this. That was the woman who ran our kitchen. Ms. Lewis? She was shot or something, right? You were there when it happened?”

Beth: “I was indeed.”

Mary: “But you didn’t-”

Beth shakes her head no, to interrupt Mary’s thought.

Beth: “I’m more the type to bring a knife to a gun fight. It wasn’t me.”

Mary: “I can’t believe she did that. What the hell is wrong with our parents?”

Kate: “I don’t know, but like I said, I’m done. If she’s hidden that, and this stuff with my dad, who knows what else she’s capable of. She offered Tommy a job, by the way, without bothering to say anything to me. And I probably wouldn’t care, but I found out he’s been hiding things, too. So, it sounds like they were made for each other. I’m just over all of it.”

She gets up from the table, and walks out of the room, leaving Mary and Beth to work out the rest on their own.

~~~~~

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5TH, 9:00 AM, THE HOLD UP

Sophie walks into The Hold Up, and she doesn’t rush to remove her sunglasses. She thought she’d be walking into an empty bar, but her sister is already behind the counter, rolling silverware. Sophie is on her way to the office, but she stops at the bar to inquire. She places her laptop bag in an empty seat, and takes the one right next to it.

Jordan: “Coffee?”

Sophie: “Please?”

She takes her shades off, and sets them down. She runs her fingers through her loose braids, and rests her eyes in her hands, pressing them back into her head. Her sister returns with a mug filled with blonde coffee, just the way Sophie likes it. Jordan usually teases her about being more into the sugar from the flavored creamer than the caffeine, but she senses today isn’t the day for that. She sets two advil down next to the mug, too.

Jordan: “Assuming you haven’t done that yet?”

Sophie: “Thank you. Why are you here?”

Jordan: “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

Sophie: “That, and I have a meeting.”

Jordan: “Another undercover Crow convo?”

Sophie: “You know you can’t tell anyone I’m working with them, right?”

Jordan: “Duh sis. I don’t speak on your business.”

Sophie: “Oh, so we’re lying to each other now?”

Jordan: “Huh? What’d I do?”

Sophie: “Told Mary you think I like Robyn.”

Jordan: “Oh, that…”

Sophie: “Yeah, that…”

Sophie takes the Advil and drinks down about half of the coffee at once.

Jordan: “I’d say I’m sorry, but then I’d be lying on purpose. I hope Mary told you to get it together before you lose that girl.”

Sophie: “Oh, she did, and Luke, too. Apparently, you’re all in this together.”

Jordan smiles, smugly, proud of herself for pushing her sister. Sophie shakes her head ‘no’ in response.

Sophie: “Na-ah. You don’t get to celebrate.”

Jordan: “What? Why not? What happened?”

She leans in, eager for tea. Sophie drinks the rest of her coffee down, and slides the mug back to her sister with a glance that states she’d need a refill if she was going to get into it. Jordan speed walks to the coffee pot, quickly refills the mug, grabs the creamer out of the small fridge under the bar, and does her sister’s heavy pour, rushing back right after. The whole thing takes less than a minute. She puts the cup in front of Sophie and picks back up where she left off.

Jordan: “Spill.”

Sophie locks her jaw as she exhales, and then grimaces.

Sophie: “She gave me her number at dinner last night. The dinner was shitty, and she left earlier than everyone else. So, I came back to the bar to invite her to talk, and she actually showed up.”

Jordan’s leaning in with her forams on the counter and her fingers woven together, really engaged, and smiling brightly.

Jordan: “Sis! I’m so proud!”

Sophie: “Nope. Remember, I said you couldn’t do that.”

Jordan: “Wait? Did it go bad or something?”

She frowns, not sure how to answer.

Sophie: “I don’t know…”

Her head is back in her hands, and she looks like she might pull out her hair.

Jordan: “Sophie. Spit. It. Out. What do you mean you don’t know?”

Sophie doesn’t look up, and talks to the counter she’s not looking at, because her eyes are shut tight in her palms.

Sophie: “Kate was in her loft. She came to Robyn’s, drunk and unannounced. She fell asleep on her couch, and Robyn decided to come down and talk to me when I invited her. I think we were about to get somewhere, but then Kate came down, and ran off all hurt from finding us together. Robyn ran after her. That was the end.”

Jordan: “Damn. Talk about crazy timing. But, you think you were getting somewhere…?”

Sophie: “I think? I don’t know. Nothing made sense. Like, she seemed into it, but she also kinda looked like she wanted to run away, too. And then she got the chance to, and didn’t come back. Maybe I’m just forcing this whole thing.”

Jordan: “Nah, the vibes are definitely there. Trust me.”

Sophie: “Wait, what do you know?”

Sophie sits up then, to look her sister in her eyes.

Jordan: “Well, besides the way she looks at you, like there's a halo surrounding you or something, you two just don’t see how you are when you’re in the same room. It’s almost like the rest of us are background noise that you’re tuning in and out of. Like you’re sharing a private moment, even when you haven’t said anything to each other, yet. I just think…she might be the kind of girl you have to fight for.”

Jordan seems honestly sympathetic, and Sophie inhales deeply and slowly. The door opens, and there’s a different suited white man than she was expecting walking through it. She drinks down the rest of her coffee, and stands up.

Sophie: “When I come back, I want to hear about why you couldn’t sleep, but I gotta find out why there’s a new Crow in our bar.”

He starts walking towards Sophie, and she nods in the direction of her office, communicating that he should follow her. She grabs her bag, and they continue the short trip together. On the way, she sees a text from Kate come through on her phone.

Kate Cell: Going into the office today. So, we'll have to find another day for lunch. I'll let you know.

~~~~~

Sophie: “Who are you, and where’s Tyler?”

Tavaroff: “I'm Russell Tavariff. Tyler couldn’t handle working for a woman of your stature. So I’m his replacement.”

Sophie sits in her chair, and looks up only slightly surprised.

Sophie: “I knew he’d be a punk about it. So, what’s the deal, then? Are you filled in, or do I need to debrief you? Do you have all the things you need to step in where he left off?”

Tavaroff: “My boss filled me in, so I’m good. I’m mainly here to introduce myself, and because you two had a meeting today, though the topic for it was unclear.”

Sophie: “Hm. We were going to set the strategy for the rest of the week. I’ve been stringing together the common denominators between Candice Long, Arthur Brown, and Roman Soionis. Arthur and Roman were actually kind of easy, but Candice is harder. Really, the Kanes seem to be the only thing all 3 of them share.”

Tavaroff: “Hold on, back up a minute. I thought you were brought on to find out who leaked Sionis’s video. How did these other people come into play?”

Sophie: “Because there’s no such thing as a coincidence. My gut says the fact that these three people are friends with the Kanes, and were recently at events with them before something happened to ruin their careers and reputation didn’t happen by accident.”

Tavaroff: “Okay. Could be a stretch, but also sounds interesting.”

Sophie: “The good news is, it’s not your job to determine what is and isn’t a stretch. But, it is your job to help me dig up every interaction the 3 of them had with Catherine Hamilton and Jacob Kane since the start of their friendships.”

Tavaroff: “That’s one hell of an ask.”

Sophie: “Sounds like you have plenty to keep you busy, then. I want email exchanges, pictures from events, text messages, literally anything you can get me. Save everything to the drive in folders with each of their names, and I’ll let you know if I have follow up instructions or questions.”

He raises his eyebrows, somewhat understanding of how someone like Tyler could struggle with Sophie Moore’s confidence in exerting her authority. He, on the other hand, liked to let people feel powerful, even though he never did anything more than he wanted to do. For now, his curiosity is piqued, so he’s choosing to move forward with her plan.

Tavaroff: “Aye aye, Captain.”

He salutes her, and then turns to walk out of the door. On his way out, his eyes land on a brunette behind the bar that he remembers that she’s Angelique Martin almost instantly. He’d thought she was cute when he arrested her for carrying when he was a beat cop. She’s busy drying glasses, and doesn’t notice him. He doesn’t stop or slow down, because he knows they’re trying to limit the people who are aware of this project, but something tells him her presence here isn’t an accident either. He might have to agree with Sophie on her point: there really wasn’t such a thing as a coincidence.

~~~~~

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5TH, 10:00 AM, THE LOFT

Ryan is rereading the same article that she's been staring at for 10 minutes, because it's taken that much to digest the story. It's as if she's unlearned how to read, because she seems to only catch every third word, making the sentences incomprehensible. In truth, the new information is struggling to overpower the words her mom said to her in her journal.

Initially, when she'd found this article, she'd closed her laptop, overwhelmed by its existence. She'd pushed herself away from the table and hurried to her mama's box, hoping she'd find something that could wrap her up, and remind her of her mother's hug. Last night, before the visits that led to her coming undone, she was just starting to read a letter that would help her with her decisions. On the way to finding that page again, she came across the name Andy, and stopped. She'd only read this letter once or twice, because she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced a love like the one her mama had lost. Suddenly, she felt like those words deserved more contemplation.

Dear Daughter, I had so much fun with you tonight. I love when you watch my Denzel Washington and Danny Glover movies with me. You like to tease me and say I like bad boys who look like good guys, and men with a little bit of power, because they always have some sort of badge or official title. I usually just laugh, and defend my favorite characters. I tell you they only do bad things when they believe it's for the right reasons, or that men with that much potential will always be given a second chance to turn over a new leaf, because they're so few and far between. You're not entirely wrong about your mama, and based on these girls you keep talking about at school, I'm thinking I might have found a way to rub off on you. I know I haven't told you much about my deceased husband, because even after all of these years, thinking too long about him can send me into a tailspin, and I can't really afford to give that much concentration to those feelings, because I have you to take care of. But you should really know more about the man that could have been your father, if the universe had been a bit kinder to us. We both turned eighteen before we graduated (a Taurus and a Gemini), and were married with little more than his older brother present as a witness. He was also in the military, and agreed that this was the right strategy for us. He shipped off the day after graduation, and even while I knew he was still mine, in every sense of the word, I felt like I'd given him away at the same time. I'd have to learn to live without him, for his safety and for our future, and I'd just have to pray he'd come back to me. He did come back once, for a beautiful three weeks after basic training, and it felt like no time had passed between us. But then he was deployed, and…I didn't see him again after that. I sent him away to protect him and lost him to something worse. In the time he was home with me, we'd conceived a little boy, that I named AJ, Andrew Junior. Sadly, he didn't make it either. They called it failure to thrive. You see, I'd received the news about Andy, and gone into delivery at 22 weeks. I hadn't even told him we were expecting, because I didn't know how to fit the words into the brief, occasional conversations we'd had when he could call, and when I tried to write, I didn't know what to say, because what could he do from so far away? He was the type to risk everything for me, and it felt selfish to let him come back for me like I just knew he would. I used to wonder if our baby died from my broken heart. After losing so much at once, I wasn't sure I could ever bear to risk loving someone again. And, I had to find a way to take care of myself… I'd received a little something from the government from being his wife, but not enough to sustain me. So, I began growing my cooking skills, and spent the rest of my time at church, praying for mercy every single day. Eventually, the women who would help out got tired of watching me sit by myself, staring at the paned glass, and said if I was going to be there all the time, I might as well put my hands to good use. They gave me a purpose again, and I threw myself into those two things: cooking and the church. Andy's brother called me on my birthday the next year, and told me about a woman who was looking for a good mother for her daughter, who'd be born in a couple of weeks. I was angry with him at first. And then I started hurting all over again…But one day, when I was back on my bench praying, one of the women asked me to consider the possibility that every ounce of pain I'd endured was leading me to this moment. To the chance to be this baby girl's mom. I liked to cuss the lord out for being so dramatic. I could have had you and them. But if you were destined to be mine regardless, how could I not show up for you?

Whether I knew it, or even liked it at first, God had a plan for me to have healing love and for us to save each other, my blessing of a daughter. And so, no matter how frightening it can feel to love you as much as I do, and let you go out into this world filled with risks each day, I walk with faith that this is the love I'm meant to have, for however long I'm meant to have it.

I love you, daughter.

Your mama,

Cora

Ryan had placed her hand on the page, as if she was resting it on her mama's hand, and closed the journal while it was still there, not wanting to let go of her. Her throat felt swollen with unshed tears. Her mama wouldn't have changed a thing. She'd still have let the love of her life go to protect him. She'd known that away was the safest place for him, even with him being exposed to every other risk she couldn't control. Sometimes loving someone meant you had to let them go.

She'd put the journal away, and returned the box. Then, she'd taken a few minutes to collect herself. Finally, she'd returned to the article, determined to move forward and accept her fate.

Now, Luke knocks on the door, announcing ‘it’s me,’ right on schedule, and Ryan calls out saying ‘it’s open,’ unwilling to break away from the article on her laptop to greet him properly. She hadn’t realized she’d left the door unlocked overnight until just then. She'd really been a mess.

Luke walks in and takes in the scene. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ryan so un-put together. It wasn’t the ensemble, itself, but there were tells everywhere. Her hair was up in a lopsided bun. She had no makeup on, and remnants of not completely washed off eyeliner darkened her eyes, which were puffy and swollen too. As if the SOS at sun up hadn’t already had him concerned, seeing someone he'd come to think of as his unbreakable little sister look so worn down shot a spark of protectiveness through him that he rarely had to experience with her.

Luke: “You keep the door unlocked now?”

She doesn’t look up from her computer.

Ryan: “Not usually. Guess I forgot to lock it last night.”

Luke: “You forgot to lock your door? And then didn’t realize until now? Where’s Ryan Wilder and who are you.”

Ryan: “That’s a good question.”

Luke sits at the table in something other than a three piece suit for a change, but not entirely far from it. He still wears a collar in the form of his Polo shirt, and dark blue, structured jeans. He's staring at her, even though she’s yet to look in his direction.

Luke: “Welp, I’m officially worried. What’s going on?”

She turns her laptop around, and shows him an article about Sophie Moore apprehending Eve Teschmacher, member of the elite, underground Leviathan Society and spy for the DOD's biggest threat, Lex Luther.

Ryan: “This is our problem.”

Luke: “Sophie? Did you text me at 6AM with a dating emergency?”

The mix of emotions that cross her face in less than a second tells him he’s not entirely wrong.

Ryan: “Jacob Kane has her and his number one, Tyler, working together to find out who leaked the Sionis videos.”

She gives him a moment to put that together. They were good at what they did, but they might not be better than Sophie Moore.

Luke: “Okay. That explains some things… But, we can figure this out, like we do everything else. Am I supposed to believe this is why you resemble post-release Ryan right now?”

It was a little harsh, but it was also accurate, and he needed her to be clear for once. She got up from the table, taking her mug with her, and went to the coffee pot to replenish.

Ryan: “Want some?”

Luke: “Sure, but I still need an answer.”

She doesn’t respond immediately. She makes their coffees and returns to the table with them. She sits down, holds her mug with both hands, and takes a drink from it. When she sets it on the table in front of her, she stares into it when she speaks.

Ryan: “I knew Sophie…before.”

At first, Luke has to say it back to himself, because he heard it like it was spoken in a language he only understands a few words of. Then, he pieces it together, and so many things start clicking into place that he feels inundated with an overwhelming amount of information and questions at the same time. Not to mention frustration for being excluded from this crucial detail.

Luke: “Knew her in what way?”

Ryan takes a deep breath and answers on an exhale.

Ryan: “In high school...We were really young, but…I think I loved her.”

Luke: “Wow…okay. Ryan, that's the kinda thing I probably should have known sooner."

She doesn't move, just continues looking lost in her cup, as if she's watching the past replay in the reflection of the black liquid it contained. She doesn't just look tired or worried, but honestly sad. So many moments pass that he starts to feel a little like an insensitive ass, but just a tiny bit.

Luke: "Alright, I see it's not the time for a lecture. So…you loved her. And…she doesn’t remember you?”

Ryan finally looks at him, and offers a small shrug.

Ryan: “I don’t know. I mean, she hasn’t up until now. It was a long time ago, and kid Ryan and Robyn Wilde don’t have a lot in common on the surface. But…last night…”

Her voice cracks, and she cuts herself off. She clears her throat and drinks from her cup, as if the liquid will wash the threat of falling apart all over again away.

Luke: “But your ruse isn’t working on her.”

She gives him an unhappy, glassy eyed, side smile.

Luke: “And now she’s on a mission to find…you, even though she doesn’t know it’s you. Damn, this just got really complicated.”

Ryan: “Right.”

Luke: “Ryan, level with me here. Would it really be the worst thing if Sophie knew who you were?”

Ryan: “Are you kidding me? She is Miss Law Enforcement. And nothing about what I’m doing is legal.”

Luke: “Is that the real reason you don’t want her to know, though? Because you think she’ll alert the authorities?”

Ryan doesn’t know the answer to that, but she also would never want to put Sophie in the position to have to make that decision. Regardless, she's made up her mind. Sophie isn't meant to be mixed up in this life of Ryan's. The best thing for both of them is still to keep Sophie as far away from this as possible.

Ryan: “Luke, she can’t know.”

Luke: “How can you be okay with hiding so much from someone you feel this way about? And don’t feed me that bull about you trying to protect her, because clearly Sophie is someone who can take care of herself.”

Ryan: “Luke, this isn’t up for discussion. Either help me figure out what the hell to do, or don’t, but we’re not changing the plan. She can’t know.”

Luke shakes his head in clear disagreement. He knows this is going to blow up in their faces, but he also knows his charge is to stand by Ryan’s side, no matter what. So, of course he’s going to help her.

Luke: “Just let the record reflect that I said this was a bad idea.”

Ryan: “Noted. Now, please use that big brain of yours to find out how close they are to figuring me out.”

Luke's watch lights up and vibrates. His eyebrow peaks at what he reads. He taps it with his finger to read the rest of the message, frowns, and then looks like he makes a choice, sighing audibly.

Luke: "Your angels might be looking out for you, because I think we just got a shot at a Hail Mary."

He chuckles at himself for his double entendre, and Ryan scowls at him, in no mood to decode his lame humor.

Ryan: "Luke. What does any of that mean?"

Luke: "Mary just invited me to The Kanes' for her parents' 20th wedding anniversary this Sunday. She said Catherine wants it small and to approve everyone's plus one. She figures I'm likely to get approved."

Ryan squints at him, thinking there was probably more to Mary's choice in company for the night than limited resistance from her mom, but she didn't have the energy to dig for information about an additional set of people at this time. So she decides to table that for now and focus on their mission."

Ryan: "What are you thinking?"

Luke grins the way he does when he's about to nerd out about some new tech he's excited to try out, and Ryan prepares to be inundated with a different explanation than the one she's really asking for.

~~~~~

THURSDAY, JULY 6TH, 9:00 AM, THE CROWS HEADQUARTERS

Tyler sits at his computer, sorting through someone else’s files, and wondering how he got here. After all he’s given to this organization, how did he go from a stint as Sophie Moore’s lackey to being downgraded to Russel Tavaroff’s fill-in? As much as he’d toyed with the idea of giving Jacob Kane an ultimatum - to establish that he was Sophie Moore’s superior and grant him equal access and clearance, or for them to begin discussions about his future with The Crows - he didn’t anticipate that informing his boss that he was dissatisfied with the situation would get him temporarily demoted. Sure, on paper, his role and level hadn’t changed, but he knew that these cases were at least two levels beneath him.

He was instructed to review Tavaroff’s drive on the server for cases where he might be able to make headway more quickly; since Tyler had more experience, perhaps he could clear some things off of his desk, so that Tavaroff could take on this bigger, stretch project, and help out Sophie in his stead. Of course Tyler could do that, but this was the equivalent of being given admin work after you shot a firearm at someone. It felt like retaliation.

Russel sorts is folders by last modified. So, when Tyler is finished looking through one file, and decides it’s not the one he wants to start with, he goes back to the main folder and sees a different one at the top of the list than what he remembered being there before, named Martin. He’s supposed to be working Tavaroff’s older cases, but he’s wondering if he just overlooked this one. In transitioning things over to Tyler, maybe Russel added some information to something he’s supposed to handle now. Realistically, it's more likely this is new, because Tyler is really good at keeping track of what he’s seen.

Tyler’s retention and recall is actually his competitive advantage. He knows some other detectives are skilled at piecing together information, and uncovering hidden details, but to retain all that they’ve collected, and call upon it when it’s most useful - that’s where others tend to drop the ball. He benefits from being nearby when information is learned or needed, and reminding everyone about the right thing at the right time, which is often what it takes to make sense of a case. So he knows in his gut he didn’t miss this folder.

If Russel is working something new, when he’s supposed to be working the Sionis files and helping Sophie, this might be what Tyler needs to demonstrate he’s not more cut out for the role… And, if this is something Sophie has asked him to work on, then he can’t help but be curious about it. Even though he didn’t want to work for her, he’d always wanted these answers too. Not being a part of this case has the potential to haunt him after all of his contributions towards it.

He gives in, and opens the folder. He finds records for Angelique Martin, who has had a run in or two with The Crows: a birth certificate, foster care records, different transfers of guardianship, school admittance records, sentencing to Gotham’s juvenile detention center and release paperwork, arrest records for small carrying charges, apartment applications, job applications, I-9s, and termination records, and a folder labeled photos. There aren’t many pictures, but there is a yearbook picture from her freshman year of high school. Russel had also tracked down a few images from facial scans of different news articles from events, where she’d simply been in the background.

In one picture, she was standing next to a woman he gets the feeling he’s seen before, but she also looks different enough that he’s not sure if he’s wanting to find familiarity in someone where it doesn’t belong. They’re standing in the background, and it’s blurry, but he can tell it’s O’Malley’s bar, and the clipping from the newspaper dates back to 2014. It’s a photo from the police department’s Holiday Happy Hour, where they were also bidding farewell to one of their retiring officers who wasn’t returning in the new year. They’d done a small piece on his contributions to the city. Martin was behind the bar, and the familiar woman was sitting at it. It looked as though they’d turned towards the camera automatically, probably from several bursts of flash occurring in their peripheral.

Tyler’s retention and recall has never failed him. He stares a little longer, and then remembers a folder he’d started weeks ago and never went back to. Jacob Kane had asked him to look into Robyn Wilde. He wasn’t finding anything very worthwhile, and when things started going south with the Sionis case, he’d let that request fall to the back of his mind, until now.

He clicks into his folder, opens it up, and finds the badge photo he’d saved that granted her access to Jet Tower. He puts the two photos next to each other on the screen, and sure enough, there were enough similarities between the two women that it’d be hard to argue they weren’t the same person. Wondering what history Angelique, who had also just moved back here from Freeland and now worked at Sophie Moore’s bar, could possibly have with the current CEO of Jetirian, someone who he hadn’t found any records of having lived in Gotham before this image, he decides to look into Angelique himself.

It’d been a while since he’d had any field time. Stretching his legs, and getting outside of this office might be exactly what he needs to re-energize him about his choice of career. If he can come back with something noteworthy about Robyn Wilde, maybe he’ll even be able to remind Jacob Kane why he is his number one to begin with.

~~~~~

THURSDAY, JULY 6TH, 10:00 AM, KANE MANSION

Mary is on the back porch, looking for old news articles about Cora Lewis's death. Even while her family was involved, which really should have made this big news, there was minimal coverage. She doesn't know if that's because the deceased was a Black woman with little family to advocate for her, or if it was because her family kept others quiet.

Catherine walks out, happy to find one of her children. She's still floating around as though she's planning for the most joyous occasion, and the overcompensation is nauseating to observe. Mary wants to sympathize for the woman who created her and sacrificed everything in the early years of her life to ensure she had absolutely every opportunity, because she honestly can't imagine what it must feel like to have your husband participate in an affair and have that become Gotham-elite news. Unfortunately, the realities of who her mom is has Mary leaning towards Karma being a bitch instead.

Catherine: "Good morning, Mary!"

Mary: "Hey."

Catherine: "Goodness, it's really turning out to be a lovely summer. We've hardly had a cloud in the sky…"

Mary: "Did you seriously come out here to chat about the weather?"

Catherine: "Partially. I've decided I want Sunday to be a brunch, starting at 11AM. Why waste these beautiful days having dinner inside? And maybe the sobriety and energy will be different if your sisters haven't had a whole day of dramatics to engage with."

Mary: "Sure, like they're the only ones who engage in dramatics."

Catherine: "And that reminds me. Have you decided who your plus one is?"

Mary: "Luke, if he's still available with the new time. Figured he was safe enough."

Catherine: "Are you two an item?"

Mary: "Are we really going to pretend we're the Gilmore Girls and we share intimate details around our love lives? You try to pretend you and dad are picture perfect with me, just like you do the rest of Gotham."

Mary hasn't made eye contact with her mother. She's continued scrolling through headlines, and trying to decide if she's ready to confront her mother about what she knows. The temptation is strong, but she's not feeling quite informed enough to go toe-to-toe with Catherine Hamilton, a more than formidable opponent in any confrontation.

Catherine: "You're right, but maybe we can change that. You know, I could really use a spa day. Care to join me?"

Mary: "Thanks, but pass."

Talk about way too little too late. Catherine stares at her daughter for a moment and Mary resists the urge to look over at her for equal fear if caving or exploding. The latter seems to have a few more pebbles weighing the scale down, though.

Catherine: "Alright, well, you'll tell your sisters about brunch? 11 o'clock?"

Mary: "Sure."

She pulls up the iMessage app on her Mac and starts typing. Catherine quietly excuses herself. Mary finally glances up, watching her mom leave, and then returns to her keyboard.

Mary Cell: Sunday's dinner is a brunch now. Mom says we're more likely to show up sober if she can get us before we even leave the house. Who cares about all of the people who have to adjust their lives on short notice? 😒🙄

Beth Cell: Brunch is so boring!!!

Mary Cell: I think that's the point.

Kate Cell: I'm still not going.

Beth Cell: That might make it a touch more interesting, but I'll miss you Katie Kat

Mary Cell: I don't blame you, but I do hate this for me. She's going to be even more of a pain.

Kate Cell: You know you're not required to appease her?

Mary Cell: Easier said than done, but I'm close to following your lead.

Beth Cell: Maybe I'll claim your seat, Kay Kay, since you aren't using it. And they'd be entitled to your plus one, of course.

Kate Cell: Whatever. I won't be there to care.

~~~~~

THURSDAY, JULY 6TH, 11:00 AM, THE HOLD UP

Jordan walks into the office while frowning at her phone. Sophie looks up at her and watches her text someone, looking uncertain. She observes her sister for almost a minute before her curiosity is too strong to continue waiting.

Sophie: "J, did you need something?"

Jordan finally looks up at Sophie, her expression unchanged.

Jordan: "I think I need Sunday off."

Sophie: "Okay…is something wrong? You don't seem thrilled about it."

Jordan walks around to the chair at Sophie's desk and sits down tentatively. She sets her phone on the desk, face up in front of her, and then grimaces. She blinks a few times, but eventually decides to talk.

Jordan: "I was invited to the Kanes' anniversary."

Sophie raises both eyebrows and sits back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

Sophie: "That's different."

Jordan knows the unsaid question Sophie's awaiting an answer to.

Jordan: "Um…I'll be Beth's guest."

Sophie: "Wow. Did not see that coming."

Jordan: "Well, technically, I'm Tatiana's plus one, and she's Beth's guest, along with Jonathan Cartwright."

Sophie: "Her little boy toy? Wait…am I tripping or…does this sound like-"

Jordan: "A double date?"

Sophie's eyes grow three sizes, and now Jordan's elbows are on the desk in time for her head to collapse into her hands.

Sophie: "What is happening right now? I'm too smart to be this confused. Is this a date, Jordan?"

Jordan: "I don't know…maybe?"

Sophie's eyes tighten, trying hard to follow along, and really needing the details to this story.

Sophie: "She's who you hung out with last night, right? Is she gay?"

Jordan peers up, presses her lips together, and nods yes. Sophie's confused forehead creases are only becoming more prominent, and it's clear she's not sure if she should ask what she wants to ask.

Jordan: "We just hung out on her cousin Ocean's boat all night, waiting for the fireworks, and talking. We talked a lot more after the fireworks… for hours... We have a few things in common, like overachieving sisters we have a hard time living up to, and familial responsibilities that feel like they're more important than the unserious lives people our age tend to live. And, eventually, she kissed me."

Sophie takes a beat to process everything her sister just shared and manage her own reaction. She leans forward, placing her elbows on her desk, and weaving her fingers together.

Sophie: "What was that like?"

Jordan: "I didn't hate it…Look, I know what you're thinking and yes I still like guys, I just…I don't know, sometimes I like girls too, I guess."

Sophie reaches over to take her sister's hand, and Jordan sits up enough to let her.

Sophie: "You know that's okay right? Why does it sound like you were worried for me to know that about you? Me of all people?"

Jordan: "I don't know, Sophie. Being gay is kinda your thing. Like how ridiculous am I…the world's most literal copycat?"

Sophie: "My thing? You make it sound like a hobby, like reading books versus gardening. And even if that was the case, it's not like only some people can garden or anyone would think less of you for also liking to garden if I liked that too."

Jordan: "Oh, I can think of one person who'll think less of me…"

Sophie squeezes her sister's hand, fully understanding why Jordan would be worried about their mom's reaction to this information.

Sophie: "Mom definitely doesn't make this specific thing easy, but I just try to sit with gratitude that we're both able to find enough middle ground to stay in each other's lives."

Jordan: "And you think that'll be easier if she feels like we're both hellbound?"

Sophie: "Honestly, I think if she has a problem, it'll be with me, for the 'example' I set. But I'm not worried; I've got a lot of practice dealing with her. I just want you to know everything is going to be okay, no matter what…But wait, so this is why you couldn't sleep?"

Jordan was feeling slightly less nauseous before Sophie brought that last part up.

Jordan: "Kind of. I wasn't worrying about mom, or even telling you, I just…"

She inhales deeply and holds onto the breath. She takes her hand back so she can return to cradling her head.

Sophie: "What happened, sis?"

She releases the breath to talk, but doesn't return her eyes to Sophie's.

Jordan: "I did like kissing her. And I just went with it at first, but at some point, I got really hot, and overwhelmed, and I pulled away, and…I um…I guess you weren't the only one who had a girl run away from you..."

Sophie: "Oh, J…"

Sophie is filled with sympathy, watching her sister torture herself with regret, and it makes her wonder if Robyn is somewhere feeling similarly.

Jordan: "So, I texted her apologizing in the morning, and asked her if we could have a do over or something, and she took until just now to respond with this invite."

Sophie: "And you want to say yes?"

Jordan sits up again, looking at her sister with a bit of pleading in her eyes.

Jordan: "I think so…"

Sophie: "Then I think we need to also make time for a little shopping, because you can't wear just anything to the Kanes', and especially not if you're going to help this girl feel motivated enough to shoot another shot."

Jordan's entire face lights up, not expecting that response from her sister whatsoever. Sophie pushes the phone towards her and looks down at it, encouraging Jordan to accept the invite, and she quickly complies.

Sophie grabs her own phone and texts Mary.

Sophie Cell: I think I'm going to need your help.

~~~~~

To be continued...

Sooo...things are happening. We're learning more... What's on your mind? Tell me your thoughts!

I added this note after the fact last time, and am repeating it in case you missed it: If you pay super close attention and noticed that the season changed in the high school memory with Angelique before, that's the tricky part about posting as you go. Sometimes, things you wrote before fully ironing out what you plan to write don't fit as neatly as you need them to. It was a tiny edit to the text that made a significant difference in the story. But yes, originally, Angelique defended Ryan earlier in the school year and I changed it to closer to Christmas, because it worked better for this part and more that's to come. Thanks for going with it.

Currently, the goal is to put the next part/conclusion on Ao3. I've been writing, so it's entirely possible, but stay tuned to find out.

For #PrideMonth, the #SaveBatwoman campaign has all kinds of fun topics to chat about on Twitter. Join the conversation.

#wmw23 #wildmoore week #wildmoore #batwoman #fanfic #ryan wilder #ryan x sophie #sophie moore #save batwoman #lgbtq #pride month

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