#* Not sure what part of the plot they interrupt as any option could be funny

[theladysunami]

I had a very odd dream where a train (or bus?) I was on got yanked into another world. While my dream had nothing to do with SVSSS, it did have my waking self thinking about how hilarious and/or horrifying such a thing could be as an AU.

Imagine Shen Yuan riding the subway, train or bus one day, when something happens and his whole car gets yanked into the world of PIDW. Nobody else in the car knows anything about PIDW, so Shen Yuan finds himself with the self imposed task of keeping this eccentric group of strangers alive in a weird world full of demons, monsters, and aphrodisiac plants.

The group’s first assumption would probably be that they’re still on modern earth, and just got teleported somewhere. Their second assumption, if they come across common folk, might be they somehow ended up in the past.

Then they run into some monster, or people riding on swords with specific uniforms, or a commoner mentions a name or event only Shen Yuan recognizes. The rest of the party debates what sort of Xianxia or Wuxia world they’ve ended up in, while poor Shen Yuan sweats bullets. He knows exactly what world they are in, and they are so screwed.

I have this image of poor beleaguered nerd Shen Yuan successfully protecting and leading this group of primary school kids, their cute teacher, and a handful of grannies and grandpas, while all the other adults and older teens keep wandering off and getting themselves in trouble.

[folkloreguk]

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Seven

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Seven

Now in Kribirsk, East Ravka, the Crows and Arken sat around a table in a pub, mindlessly eating and drinking, thinking about the past days events. Kaz had left them there, leaving Elham in charge of making sure everyone stayed put while he scoped the city out, finding out what he could.

Arken was grumbling, slamming a flyer onto the table. “The Little Palace winter fete. There’s just no way he can find a way to the Sun Summoner without Nina. Especially during this ridiculous party, the place will be crawling with Second Army.”

Kaz suddenly approached the table, in an immensely better mood than the rest of them, despite his disheveled look. “We’re in luck. There’s a good chance we can crack on. Now that we’re three days’ travel from the capital, the next play is finding a way inside the Little Palace. It turns out the Kribirsk archives house the Little Palace blueprints. But, they’re kept under lock and key. Far from the prying eyes of the masses.”

Elham scoffed. “As if that’s ever stopped you.”

Jesper had perked up, high fiving Elham. “Yes.”

Arken looked confused, suddenly uneasy around the group. “What does that mean?”

“Time for a heist!”

“Jesper, I don’t think you could sound any more excited. Excited to get that kruge, finally pay me back all you owe me?”

“Oh, but Elham, isn’t my company a good enough payment?”

She threw her head back laughing. “Oh, honey, you’d have to be around me the rest of your life to pay off your debt. Honestly, I don’t get it, Kaz pays you as much as he pays me, how is it that you’re always asking me for more kruge? I must say, though, the satisfaction of watching you lose almost makes it worthwhile.”

Jesper gasped. “Elham! Rude!”

“It’s my money you’re losing anyways. Now come on, let’s go say goodbye to the goat, and get this show on the road.”

---

Elham stood next to Arken, watching Jesper hand off the goat that he had dubbed Milo, to a barmaid, giving his tearful goodbye. She rolled her eyes, and called out a goodbye to Milo, turning her attention back to Kaz, who was giving Arken instructions. He handed him a wad of money.

“I have a job for you. We need to hitch a ride east to the Little Palace. Make friends.”

Arken nervously chuckled. “But that’s the hardest job.”

Kaz tapped his cane to the back of Elham’s leg, signaling her to follow him. Over his shoulder, he called back to Arken. “You managed to win us over, didn’t you?”

Once out of earshot, making their way out the door, Elham muttered. “Hardly. He was our only option. I still don’t like him.”

“I’m not asking you to like him, I’m not overly fond of him myself. But he’s our only shot. We aren’t getting in the Little Palace without him.”

“Oh, come on Brekker, not with that attitude we aren’t. Now, what’s your big plan here, where are we going?”

He almost smirked. “You’re not going to like this.”

Kaz led them over to the alley Inej and Jesper were standing in. “Alright, Royal Archives heist, here’s the game plan. Watchmen are on guard around the clock. We want to get in and get out as quietly as possible. That means the hardware stays in the holster, Jesper.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Inej, the dome on the roof is directly above the repository where the blueprints to the Little Palace are kept.”

“Got it, that’s my way in.”

“I’ll set a trail of phosphorus that will lead you straight to the target. The repository is secured at all times behind a two-part lock mechanism. So Inej, you have to leave the way you came in. Two hours after sunset is when you’ll go in, Jesper. You’ll need to blend in.”

“Easy.”

“The lighting valves are on the second floor.”

Inej nodded. “I’ll take my cue once I see the lights go out, and then follow your trail straight to the blueprints.”

“The archivist has to pull them a number of times a day, so we can’t steal them or they’ll know something is up.”

“So? Make a copy.”

“But careful, if you're heavy handed, you'll bleed the ink.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Elham listened to the Crows talk back and forth, and then interrupted. “Well, I don’t. What am I supposed to be doing this whole time?”

The smirk crept back onto Kaz’s face.

“Well first, you’re coming with me to plant the phosphorus. I’m going to need you to keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum while we’re there, you are going to hate this part of the plan, though. I’m sure Jesper would love to hear them after we’re done. After we leave the archives office, I need you to distract the guards if Inej or Jesper get stuck...maybe take out one or two if necessary.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t distract anyone. Kill, yes, but that seems like a bad decision.”

“It’s a last resort. Now, do you speak Suli? Zemeni?”

“No, I grew up in Kerch, I only learned Ravkan before coming to Ketterdam.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t come across any guards then, otherwise you’re going to have to fake it. Now let's go, everyone get into place. El, you’re with me.”

---

Kaz and Elham stepped out of the carriage in front of the archives building in town. Kaz was dressed in clothes he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in the Barrel. His usual hat was replaced by a beret, his black coat for colorful drapes. Elham, however, definitely got the shit end of the stick. She was wearing a knee length poofy dress, bright fabrics and Suli silk adorning it. She wore a matching drape around her neck, the same one Kaz was wearing.

Elham was grumbling, rolling her eyes. “What, I don’t get a hat too? Honestly, Kaz, I look ridiculous! Not as ridiculous as you, but still, you had to pick this?”

“You have to blend in, El.”

“Blend in? I look like a wedding cake! At least you get to wear something semi-normal.”

“You’re supposed to look like a foreign artist, El, one good enough to be working for the King. You couldn’t show up in your normal attire, could you?”

She huffed, smoothing down the folds and fabrics of her dress, and Kaz stifled a chuckle.

“Oh, this is funny to you? Is that why you brought me, just needed a good laugh? Bastard.”

“I brought you to play the part. You’re here for the guard. Men fall for plots like this much easier when there’s a woman in a dress around.”

“Well, if you’re wanting me to seduce someone, you seriously missed the mark. Should've let me pick the dress.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, sighing. “You’re here to be the distraction. He’s not going to pay much attention to me if he’s looking at you. I don’t need you to seduce him, hence this dress. Stop grumbling, let’s go.”

---

They stepped inside the office, and Kaz greeted the man at the desk. Elham looked around, uncomfortable after having to pass so many people on the way in looking like that.

“Good day to you, sir! My name is Ivanovski, the sculptor.”

Kaz turned and motioned to Elham, who stood awkwardly behind him. “This is my wife, she’s the artist, a very good one at that. She doesn’t speak any Ravkan, she’s Suli, but she wanted to come along and see the archive building, right, love?”

Elham stifled her shock, and gulped, turning to the man at the desk, who, as Kaz predicted, only had his eyes on her. Elham hesitated, before slightly bowing, and nodding her head towards the man.

The man seemed to lose his annoyed attitude, smiling at Elham. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? Exotic, there seems to be a lot of pretty women at the capital this year, it must be the winter fete. You’re a lucky man, Ivanovski, aye?”

Elham fought the heat that rose to her cheeks, stepping from foot to foot, flustered. Kaz’s face had gone cold for a second, his jaw clenched. He quickly recovered when the man turned back to him.

“Yes! Yes, she’s very beautiful, I’m the luckiest. Actually, the winter fete is what we’re here for. I am in desperate need of your assistance.”

Elham tilted her head towards the floor, no longer able to look in Kaz’s direction. She pretended to fiddle with the ribbons of her dress, lost in thought, while listening to Kaz talk.

“I am working on a real showstopper for the winter fete. I need the dimensions to the Little Palace entrances. The grand piece may be too grand to fit through the door frame. The King will have my head if his statuary must be parked in the courtyard. Can’t leave my wife here alone, can I?”

The man sighed, looking at Elham, before heading into the archives room to retrieve the prints. “Damned fete. I have to pull the blueprints every day. Wait here.”

Elham watched Kaz reach into his pocket to pull out the phosphorus, and so she shuffled in front of the man, stepping closer to Kaz, a bright smile on her face. She nodded again in the man’s direction, and he smirked, turning to head through the door. Kaz dropped the phosphorus to the floor, using the end of his cane to sweep it under the man’s foot, and it stuck to his shoe as he walked through the door, leaving a trail for Inej to use later.

Once through the door and far enough away from earshot, Elham let the smile fall from her face, whipping around to face Kaz, who looked very pleased with himself.

“I hate you. I can’t believe you made me do this. That man stared at me the entire time, eyeing me. You’re lucky I took my knife off of my thigh for this dress, otherwise I would have been tempted to use it. You weren’t much help either.”

“That was the plan. Can’t say I didn’t want to stab him for having to listen to him speak like that, though, but it worked, didn’t it?”

The sound of footsteps slowly approached them, and Elham quickly moved back behind Kaz as the man walked back in, handing Kaz a piece of parchment.

“Ah, may the Sun Summoner bless you!”

“Oh, I’m not a believer.”

Kaz leaned closer to the man, like what he was saying was supposed to be a secret his wife couldn’t here couldn’t hear. He eyed Elham, before turning back to the man. “No, truth be told, neither am I.”

The man chuckled, leaning in as well. “Why would you, you’ve got enough to believe in standing right behind you.”

Elham saw Kaz go rigid, and she stepped closer to him, getting his and the man’s attention. Remembering she was supposed to not know the language, she spoke brokenly, sounding unsure. “Ready? We go?”

Kaz was relieved to be leaving, placing a fake smile on his face. “Yes, love, we go.”

Elham waved goodbye to the man, smiling. He waved back, eyeing her as she and Kaz walked back out of the building to the carriage.

---

An hour later, and Elham had changed back into her regular clothes, knife strapped back onto her thigh. Kaz had decided the dress was too risky if she were to get caught on the grounds, and opted for the pair to both wear guards uniforms. Still, Elham was to remain scoping for other guards or for Jesper and Inej in trouble. If she had to, she’d attempt talking her way out. The knife was still a last resort.

Kad had also decided to keep her within eye shot near him, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. Elham was stealthy, but she was no Wraith. And truthfully, although Kaz would never admit it to himself, after today’s events, he wanted her close. He didn’t very much like her being the distraction.

They were heading to their positions, Inej already inside, Jesper soon to follow. Kaz and Elham were slowly patrolling, on opposite sides of the courtyard, making their way to the meeting point outside the exit Inej would come out of.

Thankfully, Elham didn’t run into any guards. She had seen one on the way around, and quickly ducked behind a wall, clutching her knife. Kaz had held his breath watching her, but he remained at the door Inej would come out of, releasing the breath when the guard walked away. Elham made her way up the courtyard to where Kaz was standing. She took her place by his side, and hoped that if any other guards came by and saw them from a distance, they would just assume the two had been placed on watch together as an extra security measure.

It was a waiting game at this point. Elham every once in a while glanced at the door, scanning the windows and balconies for any sign of trouble. She let her thoughts shift away from the heist, knowing Kaz would be alert.

She had felt something on this heist.

She always felt something around Kaz, but she so often pushed it away.

She thought about how long she had known Kaz, when he brought her in at 14. He had told her about the girl he met when he was a kid, who turned out to be just another part of Pekka Rollin’s scam on him and his brother. He at the time had thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. He refused to say much else about it, it taking years for Elham to piece together the story.

But when they were 14, and Elham had been part of the Dregs for a few months, he met another girl. Elham couldn’t even remember her name, but she remembered how she felt around her when she would see her on a rare occasion. Jealous. The girl could hold her own in a fight, she was confident around the other members of the gang, and she had gotten Kaz’s attention. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, she was a year older than them, and she showed interest in him too.

The one thing about her that was distinct in Elham’s memory was the girl's walk. She walked like she owned the very place she stood, exuding confidence. Like she knew something you didn’t. Elham by now had grown into herself, she could be confident as well if she wanted to, but it took some time. Imogen was long gone, a fleeting moment in their past, but she left enough impact for her to stick in Elham’s mind.

While lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed Kaz’s gaze set on her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. He grew frustrated, finally just asking in a hushed tone.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve got that little crease in your brow, like when you’re really concentrating on one of those books you leave in my office. You’re distracted, so spit it out.”

Elham hesitated, before speaking. She knew he wouldn’t let it go. “Do you remember that girl from when we were younger, who had a kind of sidle when she walked? She had smashed that bottle over that one guy’s head for getting too handsy?”

Kaz stiffened, unsure of where she was going with this. He cleared his throat. “Imogen.”

That was her name. It fit her, Elham decided.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking about her. You...you--”

Elham stuttered, and Kaz grew uneasy.

“What, Elham? I what?”

He had turned to face her completely now, and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze, like she wanted to shrink away.

“Today, when the man was looking at me, saying all of that stuff...you looked at me like I would see you look at her.”

Kaz said nothing, but he was fighting to keep the heat from rising to his cheeks, his posture becoming rigid.

“And I was just thinking about where I had seen that look on your face before, and it was when you’d look at her.”

Kaz stayed quiet for another minute, just staring at Elham, who was beginning to regret speaking up in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t--”

Kaz interrupted. “You know, you don’t walk like her.”

Elham’s face scrunched up, confused. “What?”

Kaz continued, eyes glancing over her. “She walked with confidence and her hips forward, but it was too cocky. She’s going to get herself killed, if she hasn’t already. You don’t walk like that. You walk with your knees slightly bent, like at any moment you could get into a fighting stance. And your weight pivots to whatever side you have your sword on. You walk like a Valkyrie.”

Elham knew she was blushing now, unable to hide it. She couldn’t think of a response, just staring back at him. She was growing and more insecure under his gaze, and he had picked up on it, of course he had, he always did.

He couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t thought about the earlier events of that day, the rage he felt watching the man eye Elham and talk about her like that. He felt a pit in his stomach watching her smile at the man, and fiddle with her dress. He had noticed Elham’s glances at him in the archives office, studying his face.

He couldn’t pretend like, even though he had picked one of the most outrageous outfits he could find for her to wear, that she hadn’t looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, even with the cuts and bruises on her face from just the events of last week alone. But he had never seen her in a dress, even if it was that dress, and she was a sight to behold.

She was supposed to be the distraction for the guards, but she ended up distracting him. He hadn’t decided whether or not that was a terrible thing yet.

He looked at Elham a moment longer, sucked in a breath, and broke the silence.

“I remember Imogen. She was pretty. Would’ve been good in any gang. But she’s not here. She didn’t stick with me all those years, did she? She’s not my Valkyrie. That’s you, El.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes, and she gave him a nod, her voice shaky. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She stared a bit longer, and then broke their gaze when she heard the door open behind them, immediately getting into a stance ready to attack if need be. Inej walked through the door, Jesper following after her.

Elham cleared her throat. “Are you both alright?”

Inej nodded, sending her a smile, Jesper coming up next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

“One step closer to paying you back, love.”

She laughed again. “I don’t know, Jesper, might not be enough. I may just have to settle for your company.”

“Come on, we have a heist to plan.” Kaz nodded at the Crows, motioning them to follow him off the property and back into town.

Elham took a deep breath, and Kaz turned to her, watching her collect herself, getting more comfortable again. He nodded his head towards the path once more, and she stepped in stride next to him, Jesper and Inej on the other side of her.

---

A/N - hi everyone, this is a longer chapter. i'm starting to put in some elements from the books, mostly involving kaz's backstory, i hope that's ok and not too confusing for those of you who haven't read it and have only seen the show. i'm a little unsure about how to feel about this chapter, so let me know your thoughts. feel free to comment or message me with anything, and thanks for the support!

[astheroid]

A Friend’s Confession

Randomly generated stories: in which Honi attempts to cure her writer’s block with a random word generator and character wheel.

Plot words: escape, platform, negotiation, trivial, public

Character: Oikawa Tooru

Genre: Fluff (enemies to kind-of lovers)

Word count (not including texts): 2,420

You sighed, head down on your desk. School was a nightmare, and there was a dull throb forming in between your eyes. The asshole behind you wasn’t helping, either.

“Y/N! Y/N, hey.”

You buried your head further into your arms. Luckily, your teacher was too busy playing Candy Crush at his desk to pay attention, so you could get away with slacking off. As of right now, you attempted to escape the hellhole that is 7th period social studies.

“Y/N, I’m being serious. Please.” You lifted your head to glare at the boy behind you.

“Not the right time, Trashykawa.” He grinned.

“When is the right time, considering you’ve told me that every single day since our first year?”

“Never.” You were back to resting your head on your desk, too tired to deal with him.

“Like actually. I talk to one of your friends once and you’re dead-set on hating me.” He said, tapping your desk with his pencil.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re an ass.” He let out a soft huff and you swear you can hear his frown.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Mhm, I don’t care. Please shut up.” His chair creaked.

“Fine.”

You were rudely awoken by the shrill screaming of the school bell. As you sluggishly zipped up your backpack, shoving your half-finished notes into your binder, you felt an irritating presence loom over your shoulder.

“My day’s been shitty already, I don’t need you bothering me right now.” His shadow wilted a bit.

“Kind of rude, don’t you think?” He replied snarkily. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“Why do you need to talk to me?” You were packed and ready to go, but Oikawa was blocking your way.

“I want you to watch our practice. The Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club hasn’t had enough spectators recently.” He grinned. You scoffed.

“Yeah, no. Now get out of my way.” He shook his head. After a few seconds of wondering whether you should punch him or not, you decided to shove him out of the way and continue walking. Right before you could, however, he sighed.

“Look, I really need you to be there. It’s important.” You grimaced.

“Why? I don’t want to watch sweaty man-children hitting a ball back and forth.”

He snorted. “I don’t need to tell you.”

“Ok, then I’m not going.” You tried to side-step him, but he blocked your path once again. You pushed your hair behind your ear with a frustrated sigh.

“Let’s make a deal. Have a negotiation, if you will.” You raised your eyebrows as he continued speaking. “Someone on the team likes you, and I-” he ran a hand through his hair, “am the one assigned to be their wingman. Come to this practice and I’ll tell you who afterwards.”

You considered it. “Are you sure they like me?”

He held up a peace sign. “I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.”

You shook your head lightly. “Fine. Fine, I’ll go with you.”

He beamed. “Great! You won’t regret it.”

Following him out the door, you grumbled “Of course I won’t…”

As soon as you entered the gym, Oikawa pulled a flustered Iwaizumi to the side and whispered something in his ear. Iwaizumi nodded and shot you a wide-eyed glance before turning to address the rest of the team.

‘Oh. So it’s probably Iwaizumi then, huh. This is… good, actually. Not what I expected, but good.’

You had a few classes with Iwaizumi, but you’d never really spoken to him (save for a few times he’d dropped his pencil under your desk in Language Arts). Sitting on one of the lower bleachers, you examined the boys on the team.

There was Oikawa, of course, with his side-swept hair that looked kind of like a walnut. Despite his snobbish attitude and annoying persistence, he was kind of attractive and his volleyball skills were impressive. You smiled when Iwaizumi hit him in the back with a volleyball. Iwaizumi. In your opinion, he was the best out of all of them. Short, dark hair and muscular arms with a stern attitude. You especially appreciated how he made fun of Oikawa.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were cool too. You’d seen them around and always thought they were pretty funny. Kyotani was a bit scary, but not too bad-looking. Yahaba was hard to judge, but he seemed pretty nice. You wouldn’t mind if any of them had a crush on you. Except for Oikawa, of course. He was the only one you couldn’t stand.

Time passed quickly with very few interruptions. The most interaction you got with the team was a few side glances and some waves (and Oikawa winking at you, but you returned the favor by glaring at him).

You made idle conversation with the team manager as you waited for them to leave the locker room.

The Great King™ and his entourage arrived shortly, chattering away as they approached. Oikawa smiled and you made a noise of disgust.

“Heyo! Are you down to take a walk around town later?”

“Absolutely not. If you’re not gonna tell me what you promised you would,” you emphasized, “I’m leaving your bitch ass and never talking to you again.” Makki and Mattsun burst out laughing at Oikawa’s offended face.

“Dude-” Makki hiccuped, “you just got completely shut down.” They doubled over wheezing, and Iwaizumi shook his head in disappointment.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at you. “Well I can’t tell you here,” he said, waving at the gym, “said person is present. If it makes you feel better, Iwa-chan can come too.”

“I never agreed to that.” Iwaizumi said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh come on, it’s just for like two hours!” Oikawa pleaded, turning to look at his friend. “If you come I’ll do your clean-up two turns in a row..”

Iwaizumi looked at you and then Oikawa, contemplating his options. “Fine.” he grumbled. “You better not make me late for dinner, though.”

You stared at them. “I still haven’t agreed, you know.”

“If you go with us, I’ll tell you and even maybe set you up.” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned.

“Let me think about this first, I need to decide if it’s worth it or not.”

He nodded and you walked out of the gym, glad to be free of the stuffy air.

Sitting down on a bench, you weighed your options carefully.

Agree to go with them and find out who has a crush on you, but be forced to spend time with the one person you genuinely dislike

Or

Deny the offer and have wasted your time at his practice

Your thoughts were interrupted by Oikawa, who was tapping his foot impatiently next to you. “Are you done now?”

You stood up. “Yeah. I guess I’m going with you, but if you cheat me out of my answer or pull anything, I’m punching you and leaving.”

“I won’t, I swear on Iwa-chan’s inevitable beating-of-my-ass.” Oikawa promised, putting his hand over his heart.

“You still haven’t told me what this deal is about…” Iwaizumi muttered, trailing behind you as Oikawa excitedly led the way into town.

It took 30 minutes and an awkward bus ride before you arrived at your desired location. It was a part of town you usually avoided due to the mass amounts of schoolgirls (in your experience, every teenager attracted to men simped for the guy you were currently standing next to). Although quite populated, you had to admit it was nice.

The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the murmuring of shoppers drowned out Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s trivial bickering. You were led into multiple stores by the boys, trying in vain to switch the topic to your secret admirer. Oikawa dodged the questions and Iwaizumi tuned out of the conversation before disappearing entirely.

You looked around, suddenly all-too aware of Iwaizumi’s lack of presence as Oikawa dragged you into another shop. “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa looked at you, and then at your surrounding area. His eyes widened. “Uhhh… I don’t know?” He offered sheepishly. You grimaced.

“We need to look for him.”

“Why? We’re having so much fun.” Oikawa teased. “Iwa-chan’s responsible, he probably just went home.”

“It couldn’t hurt to at least text him. I don’t want to watch Iwaizumi yell at you for losing him in public.”

He shrugged and pulled out his phone. “That would be quite embarrassing.”

He scrolled for a bit and then showed you texts Iwaizumi had sent around fifteen minutes ago, explaining that he was getting bored and went home. “See? Told ya so.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ok, so now that that’s out of the way, can you tell me who has a crush on me?”

“Hmm… maybe later. Let’s keep shopping.” He said with a smile. You weren’t so amused.

“You literally promised to do it after your practice, but you dragged me on an hour-long shopping trip and refuse to tell me. You haven’t even bought anything!”

“All things come with time.” His tone was serious, but the mischievous smile on his face was not. You shook your head and decided to walk away.

“Wait!!” He called after you, speed-walking to catch up. “I’ll tell you, I swear. Just be patient.” You didn’t take this well.

“I’ve been patient for three hours. Tell me or I’m leaving.” You don’t know why you haven’t left already.

“Just do one thing for me, and I’ll tell you, alright?” You glared at him suspiciously.

“What do you want me to do?”

He waved at the shelf behind him, populated with plushies of all kinds. “Pick one!”

You stood there, confusion and suspicion mixing in the pit of your stomach. “What?”

“I said pick one. I’ll pay.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be a nice gift for your secret admirer, don’t ya think?” He beamed, prodding at one that vaguely resembled a duck.

You nodded, still suspicious. After around a minute of browsing, you picked up a small stuffie. He hummed in approval, plucking it from your hands.

“Off to the cash register! Don’t get lost now, you’ve almost discovered my secret.”

You waited in silence as he talked to the cashier cheerily. Despite his demeanor, you noticed his hands shaking when he took the bagged animal. He must have check-out anxiety.

Oikawa reached out to you, looking at you for approval. You shrugged your consent and he patted you on the head while slipping the bag into your hands. “C’mon, let’s get out of the store. I can’t properly confess someone else’s feelings to you in a place with so many people.” You followed him out, noting how he fidgeted with the edge of his shirt.

He led you through an intricate maze of pathways, adorned with soft pink trees and flowering bushes. You made a few snide remarks about how far he was going for someone else’s confession and he replied with teasing gestures of his own. The air, now slightly colder, carried the smell of spring.

At the end of the many paths he had led you down was a small pavilion made of old (slightly musty) wood. The raised platform had a border of carefully carved patterns and a few potted plants on the side. The trees filtered light in an intricate pattern, highlighting the natural themes. There were a few benches near the outside, moss-covered and looking like they had been popped out of a storybook. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), there was no one there but you two. It was the ideal place for a confession.

You stood in the center as Oikawa brushed his hands through his hair and fumbled for words.

“So… you’re probably wondering who’s crushing on you.”

“Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m here.”

“Right.” He muttered meekly. “Anyways, uh… you know what? I’m just gon- I’m just gonna go for it.” He took a deep breath. “It’s me. I like you. I know you kinda hate me and that kinda sucks, but I wanted to prove that maybe I can be okay sometimes. It’s like totally fine if you don’t feel the same way and everything, but do you maybe want to get to know each other better? And you can keep the stuffed animal. That was for you anyways.” He paused at the end of his rant, blushing profusely. “So, yeah. Um. That’s it.” You just stared at him, mouth slightly parted in shock.

This was the last thing you’d expected. Before, when Iwaizumi left, you thought it would be weird for him to avoid the person he liked. Because of that, you figured it was someone else on the team. Or Oikawa was lying to you as some sort of cruel joke. Never in your 18 years of living did you ever think Oikawa Tooru could be attracted to you. And you didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to like him, either.

He was annoying and stubborn and pushed all the wrong buttons, but during his practice you couldn’t help but notice how he gave such specific praise and advice. You’d heard of his infamous rejections, due to him having tons of confessions daily, but he never left his fangirls crying. Despite his playboy attitude, he took the time to let them down easy and encourage them to go for someone else. His sarcasm and jokes were well-planned and rarely had sinister intentions (save for when Ushijima or Kageyama came around, his disdain for them was barely concealed).

All in all, he wasn’t the worst. And he was most definitely the prettiest guy to ever show interest in you. You couldn’t be completely sure of anything, though.

“Do you actually like me?” You asked.

He gasped. “How dare you assume I don’t! Of course I like you, I wouldn’t lie about something this important.” Behind his joking, you could see the glimmers of sincerity peeking through.

“Okay then. Uh, I don’t really know you all that well because… y’know I’ve hated you for a long time, but maybe we could be friends. I want to know you before we like, date and all that stuff.” He nodded eagerly.

“Sure! I kind of expected that, to be honest.” His eyes were lighting up and he bounced back on his heels a little. “Thanks for tolerating me today.” He winked and you sighed, but you couldn’t stop a small smile from making its way onto your face.

“Yeah, yeah. Want to exchange phone numbers so you can convince me you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met?”

“Gladly.”

This was actually really fun OvO my original plan was to write an enemies-to-lovers Oikawa story for my close friend @calicocatwrites (who coincidentally hates Oikawa lmao), but I got stuck on the plot so I used random words to form one :D I think I’ll write some more stories like this eventually. And this is my 100th post, woo!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Mingjue and Wen Ning as conscious fierce corpse buddies

ao3 link

By everyone’s agreement (except his own), Wen Ning was the sect leader.

Of course, practically speaking, Nie Mingjue actually ran everything; he was the one with the experience in it, after all, and he claimed he was no good at teaching, which was the other thing they generally did.

This was, of course, a blatant lie – the few times he did agree to take on some classes, they were by far the most popular – but Wen Ning had yet to figure out how to get Nie Mingjue to do anything he didn’t want to do, and anyway he really was very good at all the work that went into being sect leader, so it all worked out quite well for everybody in the end.

How they ended up with a sect in the first place, Wen Ning will never know.

The school had been Song Lan’s idea, though; that much was certain. Or, well, Wen Ning supposed it was actually Xiao Xingchen’s idea to start with, or possibly both of them, but Song Lan had been the one to make it an operational proposal and anyway Xiao Xingcheng had been a scattered soul at the time so Wen Ning felt pretty comfortable ascribing the idea to Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen’s back now.

So was Xue Yang, but that was unfortunately unavoidable – their souls had become so intertwined by the time they’d both died that there was really no bringing one back without the other, much to Song Lan’s annoyance. Out of lack of better options, Xue Yang was currently being kept very firmly under control, even lock and key if it seemed appropriate - he didn’t object as long as it was Xiao Xingchen applying the locks - and they hadn’t entirely decided if he was going to need to be executed for the good of society at some point. 

Still, at least for the time being, he was being useful. No one could say that Xue Yang wasn’t a genius when it came to inventing new things, even if he wasn’t as good as Wei Wuxian, and their school was as much about research as it was teaching.

After all, demonic cultivation was pretty new. There was a lot out there to discover.

A lot out there to teach.

It wasn’t like not having anyone around to teach them stopped there from being demonic cultivators in the first decade or so after Wei Wuxian’s death, especially given how easily it could be picked up. Unfortunately, most of them weren’t very good at it, and there were pitfalls for any cultivation path, much less such a dangerous one, reviled by the whole world.

Song Lan, who’d picked up the basics during the time that he’d been controlled by Xue Yang, had argued that it was cruel to allow people to pick it up out of desperation and to charge ahead with no guidance – that without a firm hand to show them the way, most people would end up getting corrupted, or just mess something up and end up in a qi deviation.

(Nie Mingjue was understandably a bit sensitive about those, so that was the argument that had worked on him. Wen Ning, for his part, was a little bit bitter about everyone, and hadn’t much cared what happened ot them, but on the other hand what else did he have to do?)

So they’d started the school.

Only about a quarter of their disciples so far were there willingly – most of the others were dropped off by Jiang Cheng, who had some trouble dropping his habits of finding them wherever they were, and everyone agreed that their school was a better place for them than his dungeons – but the number was steadily growing as their reputation got out there.

Their reputation as teachers, that is. Everyone knew about the other thing.

The whole…fierce corpses thing.

Hard to avoid everyone knowing, what with Wen Ning, the Ghost General, being the sect leader.

Obviously in a perfect universe, Wei Wuxian would be the one in charge – of the school, of the sect they formed to support the school, of the whole demonic cultivation path that he invented – but he was busy in Gusu doing…something.

Mostly his husband.

At least he came by to visit on a regular basis?

Though actually now that Wen Ning thought about it, he didn’t actually like the times when Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang would get drunk together and came up with new ideas – it’d been Nie Mingjue who’d figured out how to restore a sense of taste to a fierce corpse, though he refused to divulge where he got the idea or how he’d come up with it but no one really cared to pry too much because it worked – because the ideas were invariably fascinating, innovative, and uniformly awful.

Also, Wei Wuxian visiting usually meant that Wen Ning needed to sit with Lan Wangji all night to make sure he didn’t accidentally liberate any of their staff, usually in the guise of keeping him company, and he knew the man didn’t like him. He always had a look of a man sucking a lemon whenever he visited.

…maybe that was just the name of their sect that he object to.

In their defense, neither Wen Ning, Nie Mingjue, nor Song Lan were especially creative people, Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang hadn’t yet been revived, little A-Qing hadn’t yet been reincarnated nor revived her memories – they’d just picked the most straightforward name they could think of.

And, well, they were all gui. What was wrong with calling it the Gui Sect?

Sometimes Wen Ning thought that Lan Wangji was unnecessarily judgy.

“What are you brooding about?” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Wen Ning looked up with a smile.

“Sect business,” he lied, and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him, clearly not believing him for a moment.

“What about sect business? The trade disputes?”

Wen Ning frowned. “We have trade disputes?!” He hadn’t even heard about – oh, no, Nie Mingjue was laughing. “We don’t have trade disputes.”

“We’re supported by all four of the Great Sects, between Wei Wuxian at Gusu, Jin Ling at Lanling, Jiang Cheng – as a favor to the former two – in Yunmeng, and last but not least my brother. Who’s going to start a trade dispute with us?”

That was comforting. Sort of comforting?

“Are we bullying people with our resources?” he asked, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

“Of course we are,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding satisfied. Ugh, sect leaders. Somehow – with some admittedly fairly major variations in style – they were all the same, always looking for an advantage for their sects.

Wait, he’s a sect leader now. Does that mean he’s like that?

No, he’s a terrible sect leader, which means he’s exempt. A bit like Nie Huaisang had been all those years, as the Head-shaker…on second thought, that was part of a giant plot that had in fact ended with the Nie sect ascendant above all the others – the Jin sect in tatters, the Jiang sect isolated as always, the Lan sect putting all their attention on having to corral Wei Wuxian – so maybe it wasn’t the best comparison.

Ugh. Why is this Wen Ning’s life?

“Stop thinking about running away to be a rogue cultivator again, it’s much too late for that,” Nie Mingjue advised him, not unkindly. Wen Ning hadn’t even said anything. “Besides, you like teaching juniors. Even delinquent juniors.”

“They’re mostly not delinquents anymore,” Wen Ning objected. It was really amazing how being forced to attend a class taught by Xue Yang was enough to drive most young people far away from the mere idea of being a delinquent again lest they risk turning into him – and to help identify the remaining ones that needed to be kept under very close supervision. “Speaking of teaching, when are you taking another class? Your training sessions with Baxia don’t count.”

“From the number of people watching, they should.”

“It still doesn’t count,” Wen Ning said firmly, even if it really probably should – watching Nie Mingjue, a fierce corpse, working seamlessly with a spiritual weapon specifically designed to eradicate fierce corpses was truly a fascinating sight.

Of course, most people were more fascinated by the fact that Nie Mingjue usually did his training shirtless – including Wei Wuxian, irritatingly enough, though interestingly Lan Wangji, who was usually the first one at the vinegar jar, didn’t seem to object – but nothing much could be done about that.

(Fierce corpses did not need to worry about the heat, or sweat, or any of the usual motivations for going shirtless, but Nie Mingjue claimed it was a psychological need based on years of habit-building. For anyone else, Wen Ning would think that they were vain and secretly enjoying the attention, but with Nie Mingjue…it probably really was just habit.)

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Give me one of the basic seminars; I’ll do that. Not one of the musical ones.”

Wen Ning had learned by now that there was no point in smothering smiles – after all, he was a sect leader, and no one had the right to criticize or yell at him for smiling too much or for taking too much attention to himself.

Take that, Wen Chao.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten that you’re nearly tone-deaf.”

“At least one of you hasn’t.”

“Xiao Xingchen means well,” Wen Ning said, even though honestly by this point it was pretty clear he was just forcing Nie Mingjue to try out new and increasingly exotic instruments for his own (and everyone else’s) amusement. “It’s a little funny.”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes again, looking long-suffering, but he had a pretty good sense of humor about these things.

Also, if he was ever actually upset about something, Nie Huaisang would have fixed it.

No one would have enjoyed Nie Huaisang fixing things, but he would still have fixed it. He always fixed things that affected his brother. 

(Example number one: Jin Guangyao, his eventual demise, and everything that happened after that.)

“I actually came here to give you news,” Nie Mingjue said. “Would you like to hear it?”

Wen Ning had politely requested – a little desperately – that Nie Mingjue check first. The other man had a way of just saying things without any consideration for the anxiety of the person he was talking to, with things like “we’ve misplaced a student” or “don’t worry it wasn’t a student we actually liked” or “Xue Yang is on the loose and he’s summoned something again” or, one memorable instance, “Baxia decided to summon a dozen of her close friends and family and they may or may not be attacking the staff rooms, but honestly she’s having so much fun that I don’t really feel like stopping her, thought you should know.”

Wen Ning took a deep breath that he didn’t need, firmed up his emotional resiliency, braced himself, and said, “Yes.”

“A-Qing thinks she found your sister’s reincarnation,” Nie Mingjue said, and the air shot out of Wen Ning’s lungs as if he’d been punched. “You know that she’s been sensitive to these things ever since her rebirth, we did some investigating, and we’re pretty sure. How would you like us to handle it?”

Wen Ning scrubbed his face. “I – have no idea. I thought her spirit was still haunting the place where her ashes were?”

“Just one of her souls, and the new body is one short. They’ll have to be reunited eventually or else she’ll suffer the physical effects of missing a soul, but there’s a way to do it that maximizes the chances of her recovering her memory from her previous life and a way to do it to minimize it.”

Wen Ning put his head down on his desk. “I…I don’t know. Our life was pretty awful, so maybe she’d be better off not remembering? But I also want my jiejie back…I hate decisions. Why did I become a sect leader again?”

“We told you that you didn’t have a choice and you lacked the spine to resist.”

“…thanks.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Sometimes I really do wonder what you did in a previous life to deserve this one.”

Ouch. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Nie Mingjue said. “Come out and spar with me, it’ll help you think it over.”

“I don’t have time to think about anything else while we spar, though…?”

“Exactly.”

“…do I get a choice about this?”

“No. Get a move on.”

Wen Ning let himself be dragged over to the training fields. “You do remember I’m sect leader, right?”

“So is my brother,” Nie Mingjue pointed out and – fair.

“Your brother is one of the most terrifying people in the cultivation world.”

“And he still lets me boss him around. What’s your point?”

…fair.

“No point,” Wen Ning said, and waved to some of their more promising students, who immediately perked up at the thought of getting to watch them spar. “No point at all.”

In the end, he thought, his life hadn’t turned out that badly after all.

[haikyuucute]

Don’t Call It A Crush (Ushijima Wakatoshi) [Part 2]

Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi is convinced he doesn’t have a crush on you

Warnings: Implied smut, angst, smut in future parts

Word Count: 2.5k

[A/N]: Okay so Tendou acts a little bit as the villain but I needed him to further the plot, so unfortunately he doesn’t seem like the best friend to have in this. Also kinda messy but I’m just gonna chalk it up to my lingering writers block

Part 1

—————

”Waka-kun!” You sighed out dramatically as soon as you approached his seated form in the cafeteria. You draped yourself against his back but he made no move to push you off.

“(F/N),” he said, before continuing to eat his lunch while Tendou greeted you from across him.

You sighed again, a pout on your lips as you sat down beside the ace, “I think I left my jacket in your dorm last night.”

He hummed, “I’ll check after practice—“

”You came over!?” Tendou exclaimed.

”Yeah!” You nodded, “Where were you—“

”The gym— you should’ve texted me.”

”Well, I didn’t know!”

He frowned, sprawling his arms out on the lunch table, when he realized something. He looked at Ushijima, “Is that why you were working on homework at one in the morning?”

”Yes,” he simply answered, making you gasp.

”You had homework!? Why’d you let me interrupt you!”

”You wanted to come over.”

You pouted again, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the fact he dropped everything just so you could hang out, “Idiot, you could’ve said no.”

You huffed to yourself. Every once in a while Ushijima would pull stupid shit like that. There had even been one time a couple months ago now where he had even taken the fall for you when you were caught skipping out on class duties. He told the teacher he convinced you to come to his volleyball practice, and what was worse was that you didn’t even find out until he was missing from practice due to detention.

And there was another time about a month ago now where a stray volleyball had hit you hard in the leg and he insisted he leave practice to help you to the infirmary even though there were plenty of other capable players to take you— the captain left practice. Sure it was only for a short while but the coach still didn’t appreciate it (Tendou even told you he made him run laps after practice).

He didn’t do stuff like that too often but every time he did it made you feel really guilty and you hated to admit that it was why it made it that much more difficult to get over him. Every incident gave you some hope that there was a slight chance he really did feel something for you, but that hope was easily crushed when he never made any move to return the affection you’d give him.

Tendou’s eyes were narrowed on Ushijima as he tried to figure him out.

”What were you two doing?” He asked.

”We watched a crappy horror movie cause I thought it was funny,” you frowned deeper, “It was definitely not worth staying up til one in the morning to finish homework.”

”I enjoyed it,” Ushijima said, taking another bite of his lunch.

You raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t even understand half of what was happening.” You said, to which he simply shrugged.

”You watched a bad horror movie without me!?” Tendou shouted, clearly offended.

”I thought you’d be there!” You shouted back.

”Well I wasn’t—!”

”Then we’ll watch it this weekend, so shut up—“

”You two are yelling already?” A new voice interjected.

You looked up to find Semi and Reon, Semi taking his seat next to you while Reon walked around the table to sit next to Tendou.

”Yeah, well, Satori’s being a baby,” you muttered, answering Semi who asked the question.

”About what?” Reon added.

”Nothing, he’s just upset because Ushijima and I watched a movie without him.”

Semi hummed, before grabbing an article of clothing out of his bag and dropping it on your head.

With furrowed brows, you pulled it off to find that it was the jacket you thought you left at Ushijima’s.

”Is that your jacket?” Tendou suddenly asked, eyebrow raised.

It was as if your heart stopped in that moment as you turned to look at Tendou. There was always just something about his face when he was thinking, that made you anxious.

”Yeah,” you nodded, brushing it off as you tucked it away in your own bag.

”You were at Semi’s last night?”

There. You pinpointed exactly why your anxiety was justified when it came to Tendou.

”Uh— yeah, I went over to study,” you answered coolly.

You snuck a glance at Semi, whose eyes were now widened in surprise, looking like a dead give away.

You quickly stomped on his foot, making him hiss, but he quickly got the gist, and nodded, “Yeah, we were studying...” he trailed off, glaring at you.

Reon frowned, “You were? You should’ve called, I could use the extra studying.”

”Sorry,” you answered bashfully, “We’ll do that next time— Tendou stop looking at me like that,” you snapped at the red-head, his piercing gaze sending chills down your spine.

He glanced back and forth between you and Semi, before his eyes landed on Ushijima, who looked the same as always, but a smile curled at the corners of Tendou’s lips anyway.

”Sorry, sorry~” he practically sang, “Tell me more about that movie now.”

You eyed him warily, but if it took the focus off of you and Semi then you’d take it.

The rest of lunch felt off from that moment on, and you knew whatever Tendou was thinking wasn’t good.

If only you truly knew what he was planning.

The thing about Tendou was that just because he was a strange guy, it didn’t make him stupid. After all, he was able to keep his grades high enough in a school like Shiratorizawa in order to continue playing volleyball.

He also hated being wrong.

Unfortunately, it happened a lot more often outside of volleyball but he still had unmatchable observational skills.

So when he first had the hunch back in second year that you had a crush on Ushijima, he did everything he could to figure out if he was right.

And he was. Making him and Semi to be the only two people that knew about your crush on Ushijima.

At the time you forced him to promise not to tell Ushijima and as much of a little shit he could be, he did cherish your friendship, so he kept his mouth shut.

But almost a year later he had noticed little things here and there that Ushijima would do for you, subtle enough for pretty much everyone to miss, including you, but not for Tendou.

So he was hell-bent on figuring out if those gestures Ushijima did meant something more.

But the male was as dense as ever and prying any information about his love life was useless.

However, a new factor had entered the equation that made Tendou’s brain start working overtime.

Your jacket.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on between you and Semi, and Tendou was more than intrigued.

After the jacket mix up in lunch he started paying closer attention to both of you. Noting every time one of you left and the other followed only ten minutes later, watching the way you both interacted in each other’s presences, and the terrible cover up’s when one was asked where they were.

After about two weeks of watching and observing silently he was originally going to confront you about it, but a much more entertaining option had come up one afternoon.

Unfortunately, it started a bit of a shit storm.

Ushijima, Tendou, you, Semi, and Reon all decided to meet up and study in the library on one of those rare days that practice ended a bit earlier than usual.

It wasn’t unusual for the five of you to study together whenever you had the chance, especially for Ushijima’s sake who wasn’t exactly the smartest ​​​​​​​person outside of volleyball.

The plan was to head to your dorms and grab your books and meet up in the library, but Ushijima and Tendou had made it down first.

With no sign of you and the others yet as the two got settled down at a table, Tendou decided that now would be the best time to try and figure out again if Ushijima liked you.

“So, (F/N) and Semi...” Tendou started, gauging if the two names together sparked any kind of reaction from the ace.

It didn’t.

Ushijima looked up at Tendou, waiting for him to finish, but when he didn’t he asked, “What about (F/N) and Semi?”

”Oh nothing~” he sing songed, leaning back in his seat, balancing the chair on its back legs, “Do you think they like each other?”

Ushijima looked mildly confused at this, “Isn’t that why they’re friends?”

Tendou laughed, “I meant more than friends Wakatoshi.”

”Why are you asking?”

”They just seen closer than usual, don’t you think. I’ve seen the two sneaking around together a lot~”

Ushijima didn’t understand what Tendou was getting at and it showed. But he supposed that the two of you had grown closer, however it didn’t really make him think anything of it. You still snuck into his and Tendou’s dorm on a regular basis and hung out with the two as usual so he couldn’t specifically say he thought there was something going on between you and Semi.

But there were two words that Tendou had said that stuck out to him.

”Sneaking around?”

His smile widened upon seeing more of a reaction from his friend, “I’m pretty sure (F/N) and Semi are sleeping with each other,” he bluntly stated.

Ushijima didn’t know what to make of the accusation, but he did know he felt....offended.

“(F/N) isn’t like that. If she was in a relationship with Semi she would’ve told us.”

”Unless it’s just sex,” he suggested, leaning forward and resting his chin upon his crossed arms on the table. He looked up at Ushijima who looked even more offended now, “Think about it, she was at his dorm the night she thought she left her jacket at ours.”

”She said they were studying.”

”They seemed very panicked for two friends just studying.”

Ushijima narrowed his eyes at Tendou, “(F/N)‘s not sleeping with Semi.”

Tendou hummed, “What makes you think that?”

”Because (F/N)‘s not like that,” he reiterated.

”But what if she was? Maybe you don’t want to believe it because of your little crush on her~”

His eyes narrowed further, “I’ve told you before Tendou, I don’t have feelings for (F/N).”

”Are you sure?”

“Enough Tendou,” Ushijima said, getting annoyed now, “I told you before, I would never date (F/N).”

Tendou sighed, it seemed that he wouldn’t be getting anything out of him today, and besides, he also spotted Reon making his way to their table, “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.”

“Hey,” Reon greeted, taking a seat beside Ushijima.

”Where’s Semi?” Tendou asked him upon noticing he hadn’t come down with him.

”He’ll be down soon, he misplaced one of his assignments so he’s looking for it right now. He said we can start without him. What about (F/N)? Is she here yet.”

”She was helping Shirabu stretch before going to her dorm,” Ushijima answered, “She should be down soon.”

”Will she mind if we start without her?”

”No, she won’t care,” Tendou said, pulling out his study guides as he reluctantly started studying.

Though unknown to the three of them, and especially Tendou and Ushijima... you actually were there.

Your back was pressed against one of the book shelves, out of sight but definitely not out of ear shot.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Tendou knew about you and Semi.

He told Ushijima.

Ushijima admitted he’d never date you.

It was one thing when you just assumed he didn’t feel the same but hearing it was completely different.

You were mortified, embarrassed, and heart broken.

Tears blurred your vision and you quickly made your way out of the library, using the farthest exit so they wouldn’t spot you.

Only one thing replayed in your head: Semi was still in his dorm.

Your legs moved on their own accord as you made your way to the boys dormitory. At this point you had been a pro at evading the hall monitors and you easily snuck in. The next thing you knew, you were standing in front of Semi’s dorm and knocking.

He swung the door open, his neutral face turning into one of worry when he saw your tear-stained face.

”(F/—“

He couldn’t get your name out before you were pulling him towards you, lips crashing against his. You then pushed him back into his room, shutting the door behind the two of you.

You broke the kiss briefly to pull your shirt over your head, and Semi decided to take this as his opportunity to figure out what was wrong.

”(F/N), why are you crying—“

His mouth fell shut at the glare you sent him once you had your shirt off— he had never seen you like this before.

”Ushijima doesn’t and will never like me and Tendou figured out we’re fucking, so right now I need you to make me forget everything.”

His eyes widened, “Wha— how—?”

”It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, going to close the distance between you two again, but he gripped your jaw, holding you back.

”We’re supposed to be going to the library, they’re gonna notice we’re both gone.”

”Does it even matter?” You snapped, “Tendou told Ushijima anyway.”

Semi looked conflicted but you could see he was going to give in.

”Fine,” he relented, “But Reon might come in to check on me if I’m not down there soon, so we’re doing this quick.”

”Whatever— just fuck me already Eita.”

His jaw clenched as he shook his head, “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

With that he was pulling you towards his bed.

—

What happened then was a series of unfortunate coincidences that played out back to back.

First it was when Tendou had been too loud down in the library.

The second was when the librarian kicked the three of them out because of the noise.

The third was Reon suggesting that they go back to his dorm to study, since Semi was already there and they agreed to just send you a text.

And then you didn’t acknowledge when your phone vibrated with a text from Ushijima.

The last was when the three boys walked in on the middle of Semi fucking you.

Their reactions all differed at the scene in front of them. Reon turned away wide eyed, Tendou grinned widely because he was right, and Ushijima stood frozen.

There were a few moments before you and Semi realized you had an audience and scrambled to cover yourselves up.

And Ushijima was sure those few moments were going to be engrained in his head for a very long time.

He was also sure the way his stomach turned and heart sank would accompany the memory every time he thought of it.

Because the sight of your legs tossed over Semi’s shoulders while he fucked you, the way your face screwed up in pleasure, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack as a high pitched moan of Semi’s name left your lips. Well— it was not going to be easy to forget.

Hours later when everyone was back in their own dorms and Ushijima finally had enough time to figure out why the image of you with another man rattled him so deeply, he finally admitted it.

“I like (F/N).”

And Tendou grinned.

~~~~

Taglist:

@ushisama @ro-ro-noa

[bossbex]

5x06 Reaction

JARCHIE!!! I missed their interactions so much... like honestly in S4 they barely spoke.  I’m loving the “roommates” dynamic.  

Ok the kevin/fangs/toni apartment(?) is... amazing!!

I love how they hired actual teenagers (or close to it) to play the high school kids... since all the “teachers” were playing high school students, what, 3 episodes ago?? 

Ok mechanic Betty is SO HOT

DORITOS I AM CRYING AT THIS PRODUCT PLACEMENT

Veronica’s taking over the Blue Velvet!!! Why not reuse that set lmao

Thoughts on this initial barchie interaction: 

I’ve seen all the discourse about it seeming like Archie doesn’t care about Betty’s problems, or not taking them seriously, and people comparing Archie’s “oof - that sucks” to jughead’s “white noise” speech in 1x08 (which I thought was cringy AF and I even liked b*ghead at the time) and here’s what I’ll say: 

His “oof - that sucks” comment as MATCHING Betty’s tone - she says it kind of matter of factly and with a bit of an eyeroll, she does NOT seem very upset about it, and she is a grown ass adult who DOESN’T need Archie’s condolences in that moment - and Archie knows that. 

She then brings up Polly, and Archie ASKS A FOLLOW UP QUESTION: “didn’t your mom say she does this? Takes off for a couple of days” which shows that he is referring to a previous conversation about this - they’ve BEEN talking about it and he DOES care (not to mention they showed that he had texted her about Polly at the end of the last episode)

She says she’s trying not to panic - because she knows this is something Polly does and may not actually be in danger - SO HE OFFERS A DISTRACTION during a time when she is basically asking for one, and then SHE COMES UP WITH THE IDEA OF WHERE TO GO HAVE SEX

Anyway I have argued with enough people on twitter about this lol.. I feel strongly.  Also, this scene was super cute and both Archie and Betty look so good in it.  

I love Tabitha.  Smart, enterprising, witty... I’m all for the Jugitha pairing. (seriously though, is a ship name decided for them? I’ve seen Tabhead and Jabitha as well, lol.  

Uhhhhh ok this car sex scene? It somehow feels even more explicit than the shower scene?? The moaning and breathing?? HOW DARE THESE STONEWALL KIDS INTERRUPT THIS

LMAO NIGHT JOGGING

Is it just me or is Sheriff Keller looking really hot? Silver fox??  

I have to note that Archie’s hair colour looks SO BAD in this whole episode but especially this football scene with the Reggie confrontation.  It’s like, almost burgundy? But somehow bright orange at the same time? I hate it.  

Ok Cole is absolutely nailing this “down on his luck, beaten down” adult Jughead.  His character is funny all the sudden?? I love that he kept the money in the tip jar like OF COURSE

Ok Chad coming into Veronica’s class HE’S THE WORST!!! And then SITTING AT THE BACK I HATE HIM SO MUCH FOR THIS

Alright, now we have another scene that has people talking, which is where Archie meets Chad.  My thoughts: 

Archie clearly sizes up Chad.  I mean, he dated Veronica for 3-ish years (in the show’s timeline) so yeah, it’s normal to meet your ex’s new partner and size them up.  It read more like “he thinks Chads a douche” as opposed to “he’s jealous of Chad because he wants to be with V”.  

They show makes a point of showing Betty’s reaction to them meeting.  THIS SHOT IS NOT RANDOM.  Yes, I’m sure the show will go there, she’ll get jealous of V at some point.  Betty thinking that Archie is jealous of Chad is not the same as Archie actually being jealous of Chad.  

I kind of loved how Chad just jumps in here to join in the karaoke night - he didn’t redeem himself from the previous scene where he SAT IN THE BACK OF HER CLASS WHILE SHE WORKED but I like how they’re not playing him completely evil

Next scene: BETTY AND TONI ARE TALKING!!! I REPEAT!!! BETTY AND TONI ARE TALKING!!! Seriously, it’s so refreshing that they’re actually letting all kinds of new dynamics and character interactions happen this season.  

Also, NEDSLIST!!!! THIS SHOW!!!!

I am living for Cheryl being completely beautiful whilst yelling at construction workers.  

So like... she actually doesn’t have that much money. She couldn’t really afford the donation for the school... I kind of wish that once she says “I can’t afford it” people would like, not keep pushing? I’m looking at you Toni, whom I absolutely adore, I just wish the writers didn’t make it like Cheryl’s being squeezed dry.  I get that it’s needed for plot purposes but I don’t love it.  

Kevin and Betty are friends again!!! Love it!!! 

Karaoke night thoughts: 

At no point is Jughead hanging out or interacting with the rest of the group.  He stays separate from them - with Tabitha, which I appreciate, but I am just noting this because I’m sure it was done purposefully. 

“She probably forgot it’s Gekko now” uhhhh didn’t Toni announce V as “Veronica Gekko” in the last episode?? LOL THE SHADE

I love Veronica’s voice

Ok so Chad actually comes off so great in this scene?? I guess this is part of his manipulation - come off as such a great guy in front of all her friends to get them to like him? 

Jughead’s reaction to the duet is so me every time I’ve watched people do karaoke lmao

During the “or do you need more? Is there something else you’re searching for” they cut to Archie’s and Betty’s reaction.  Archie is not thinking about V in that moment.  

I am not seeing one iota of jealousy from Archie.  He looks genuinely happy for them.  

This Chad and Veronica bed scene makes me uncomfortable.  But I’m glad they’re showing their softer moments! 

The Archie/football recruitment sequence... Chad in the back of Veronica’s classroom again??? HOW IS THIS HAPPENING I HATE THIS!! Also, this is another scene where Chad looks jealous of Archie... not the other way around. 

Britta!!! I love her.  And I feel like the writers inserted her in specifically for Britta Lundin, former Riverdale writer and acclaimed author (read her book Ship It, seriously, it’s so good), and I love that. BUT THE WAY ARCHIE LOOKS AT BETTY IN THIS SCENE IS THAT EVEN LEGAL

We get the first glimpse Toni’s “Operation Bring Cheryl Out Of Hiding” plan here, when Archie asks her for funding for the football team and says its earmarked for something else (hmmmmmmm... this plan has been in the works for a while... and I’m here for it) 

Ok. This scene where Archie goes to ask Cheryl for money is... a mess.  My first reaction is that it was so OOC for Archie to bring up Jason in that way.  Then I got to thinking... Archie probably would want to honour his dad in that way and was genuinely suggesting that as something that might actually be helpful to her, as opposed to purposely trying to manipulate her.  He knows what it’s like to lose a family member, he just didn’t realize that Cheryl doesn’t grieve in the same way. The boy doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body.  Anyway, now he’s been banished from Thornhill! But don’t we see him (and everyone) there in a bts photo from possibly 5x08? Isn’t that at Thornhill? Will this be addressed or will the writers just forget it ever happened?

I love Betty and Kevin investigating together. It’s so refreshing. 

Ok this place Jughead is going to is legit the creepiest shit I’ve ever seen.  I am having trouble making myself care about this “Mothmen” plot??

Betty’s “Straight to the Point” interrogation style is actually effective in this truck stop stakeout scene.  

Alice again with her wine... I wonder if there will actually be an “Alice is an alcoholic” storyline or is the wine just part of her personality now?

Ok like it’s so inappropriate for a teacher to be wearing an HBIC shirt BUT I AM HERE FOR THIS DRAMATIC VIXENS HALLWAY WALK!! And Toni is correct, Cheer is a sport so sit down, Archie.  Notably Toni adds in “not even Cheryl managed to do that” - I’m thinking she new Ms. Bell would be eavesdropping ;)

WHY IS THIS PORTAIT OF JASON WORTH SO MUCH?? 

Is this Minerva character going to be important?? I keep seeing people talking about how she and Cheryl are going to hook up but is that just because she’s a female character who interacts with Cheryl? I’m not seeing it yet but hey, it’s Riverdale.  

JUGHEAD BRINGING UP THE EPIC HIGHS AND LOWS OF HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL I SCREAMED

Seriously though, since we know Jughead wasn’t there when Archie said that, there’s two options: Either Archie told him he said it, or (my preferable theory) Archie used to just SAY THAT REGULARLY and has said it in front of Jug lmao.

Chad again seems legit supportive when she tells him about her jewelry store plan?? THEY’RE SO UP AND DOWN!!! 

Ok, so Betty is an FBI agent (trainee, whatever) and she JUST NOW THOUGHT OF TRACING POLLY’S CELL PHONE

This scene... when Veronica finds out Chad has been talking to Hiram behind her back... this is where she decides she’s done with Chad. 

Another scene with Archie - I am still getting zero vibes that he’s into Veronica? And zero vibes that Veronica’s into Archie? It makes complete sense that Veronica would want to help the bulldogs.  Chad is a total dick here and is definitely threatened by Archie... again, not the other way around.  Side note: Chad, if threatened by Archie, is a TOTAL IDIOT for suggesting Archie renovates the Pembrooke - like, he’s going to be working? All the time? Where Veronica is staying? And probably taking his shirt off because he’s sweaty from all the working?? WHYYYYY WOULD CHAD ENCOURAGE THIS

This little flirty scene between Jughead and Tabitha (and it’s the first that I would say has any flirty undertones whatsoever) is pretty cute.  

THIS BARCHIE PORCH SCENE I HAVE THOUGHTS

The fact that people are suggesting Betty showed up there because she wanted to talk to Jughead is SENDINNNNGGGGGG

Let’s be clear, she only asked about Jughead so she could make sure he wasn’t home so that she could bone Archie. There is no other interpretation for this. 

THIS IS THE BEST BARCHIE KISS TO DATE

They are playing the song from the porch scene in the pilot... DON’T TELL ME BARCHIE IS MEANINGLESS WHEN THEY ARE USING THIS SONG

I think the fact that this is the first time they had sex and we didn’t see it is meaningful - they are showing that the relationship is deepening and they are more than “just sex”

As Betty leaves, Archie looks like he wants to reach out for her and then stops himself - he is definitely falling hard and he’s afraid Betty isn’t feeling the same way

Ok, Cheryl is straight up wearing lingerie in Toni’s office!!! And the red lipstick is back - notably, throughout the entire show, she has worn the red lipstick as a kind of shield - she never has it for her “vulnerable” scenes.  Seems like that is still happening. AND this is where we see Boss Toni’s plan come into fruition - she started up the vixens and MADE SURE CHERYL FOUND OUT ABOUT IT because she knew that was the one thing that would make Cheryl come out of her Thornhill hiding spot.  Well played, Toni.  

Archie and Veronica announcing the bulldog funding... again, I’m not seeing ANY “romantic/attraction” vibes here? He does react when she says her last name is Lodge again but like, anyone would? 

MS. BELL YOU GOSSIP I’M OK WITH YOU REPORTING TO CHERYL BUT I DRAW THE LINE AT HIRAM

Is Reggie... filing his nails? Lmao

I really hope Polly isn’t dead?? Like I very much want a Polly redemption story!! 

Sooooo I guess Archie and Jughead are both going to die in this fire? Lol... well... they’re main characters so I’m sure they’re good.  

I’m doooone for this week! So far really enjoying the timejump? Obviously because of barchie but also, everyone is just - better. 

Well this turned out to be a novel.  If you made it this far, thanks for reading :) 

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - Autistic Love

After I wrote Autistic love, I discovered that there are barely enough fics with autistic characters. Since some of you asked for a second part, here it is! You don’t have to read the first one to understand this, they are different fics with just autistic! Peter in common. I’m thinking about doing a section in this blog about Autistic love, with fics like this one. What do you think?

As said before, please understand that I’m trying my best and I’m sorry if I’m wrong in some aspects. Let me know, respectfully, if I’m doing something wrong.

Plot: Peter and you have decided to meet your mother for lunch, and he’s going to discover how much you and your family care about him.

“This is… this is a really fancy restaurant”

You looked back to Peter, who had stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide and hands tugging at the end of his sweater. To you, he looked handsome and adorable, but to some of the people that were on the closest tables to you looked quite weird, according to the looks he was receiving. So you went back to where he had stopped, your short heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Pete” you called out his name, taking his hand against yours. It was a boundary you had overcame barely a month before, even though sometimes he rejected your touch. But he didn’t complain, and let you envelop his fingers with yours. “It’s fine. I’m not gonna leave you, and we don’t have to talk to any of this people”

“Just with your mother, hm?”

The words weren’t meant to be hurtful, but it still stung. You felt as if you were forcing Peter to walk out of his comfort zone coming here, even if he had reassured you the night before he was eager to meet her and that he wanted to do it. That he was fine.

You had chosen the most comfortable sweater he had, not wanting a sensory overload in public, and had pocketed two slim toys for him. You had taken Peter for a walk and had stopped in front of said restaurant, to make sure he was really okay, and he had talked to your mother before. It had looked good, at least until you had stepped inside of the restaurant and Peter had become as white as a sheet.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry” he squeezed your hand. “You know – I’m just nervous, I didn’t mean to blurt it that way. I just… I’m still working on the rules of social interacting and the tone of voice”

You chuckled, and Peter smiled. Sarcasm and jokes were still a hard topic to work on, because they just flew over Peter’s head, but he was starting to understand how people worked thanks to the endless series you were watching with him.

“It’s fine. What are you worried about?” you tried to make him talk, not caring about being in the entrance of the restaurant and receiving weird looks. As long as Peter didn’t care, you didn’t. “You’ve met her before, it’s gonna be fine”

“Yeah, but we’ve never sat down to eat before. What if – what if I say something incorrect? Or – if she likes me and starts joking with me?”

“Worst case scenario, my mom is allergic to jokes and sarcasm, so don’t worry” you tried to reassure him. When you were sure he was looking at you and you had his attention, you shifted on your feet. “Can I kiss you?”

You had learned the hard way that when Peter felt overwhelmed he had to be alone. So, when he grimaced and tried to nod, you just shook your head with a smile. That he always wanted to please you because he had heard in highschool that that’s what boyfriends do was becoming a problem, as he said yes even if he didn’t want; which could lead to breakdowns. Thankfully, he still didn’t master the facial expressions, so it was easy to say when he was lying.

Without saying anything else, you pulled Peter towards the back of the restaurant where your table would be. He wore a small, worried frown the entire way – your words obviously not enough to assuage his concern. Peter was so concentrated looking at the wooden floor and its uncoordinated darker spots that he almost collided with you when you stopped walking.

Looking up, he saw the familiar red hair with blonde ends that your mother wore in the videocalls. Instead of the scowl he had witnessed so many times when she was around the tower, Natasha was wearing a kind smile.

“Hey Peter” she greeted him as he took a seat on the opposite side. “It’s nice to see you”

“Miss R-Romanoff” Peter did some kind of shy wave, thankful that she hadn’t made any attempt of shaking his hand or hugging him; he was sure he was pool of sweat. “How… are you doing?”

He remembered you telling him that ‘how are you doing’ didn’t have anything to do with how was what she was doing, what Peter had thought until you explained it to him. So he repeated it, not really sure what he was saying. You sat between him and your mother, leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek.

“Hungry, actually. Hi baby” Natasha smiled, and even if Peter’s brain was telling him that she was complaining, he convinced himself it wasn’t that way. She smiled at you and gripped your arm to squeeze it as a greeting.  “How have you two been?”

Conversation flowed easily in the table and Peter didn’t feel left out. You talked about highschool, telling your mother how Peter had gotten the higher mark in the physic test and making him blush. It surprised him how the black widow praised him and made an effort to talk slower and without any metaphorical phrases so that Peter could follow the conversation.

He relaxed in his seat and even dared to leave his sweater to take again your hand under the table, feeling as if his heart could just burst from love. You looked at him as your mother talked about something and smiled, happy to see him so relaxed.

Being with Peter wasn’t easy, but was the most rewarding relationship you had ever had. You had read about autistic people when you started dating him, to know how to take care of him in the best way, and you prized every hug and touch as if it was the most special one you had ever had.

Even though everything was perfect, you were still in a public restaurant and Peter’s anxiety came back.

“Sorry” he chuckled awkwardly, making the waitress glare at him. “I still don’t –“

“We’re going to need another minutes, thank you” your mother talked, with a tight smile and hard eyes.

The waitress that so rudely had been standing behind Peter, pressing him to choose something already, left with his head low, and you thanked Natasha with a look. Peter hadn’t looked up from the menu, and you knew the more time he was spending looking at it the less he understood.

“There’s just so many food” he whispered, sounding panicked. “I don’t – I don’t understand h-half of it… and… I don’t – I can’t –“

“Have you decided what you’re going to take now?”

He was back, asking again the same question and looking at Peter while doing so. It was the third time the blonde boy came to your desk, ignoring how your mother and you had told him to wait. While it was true that you were rounding the thirty minutes just sitting there, the pression was making Peter uncomfortable. He couldn’t just order anything, he needed his time and that waitress wasn’t giving it to him.

“Are you deaf?”

Both Peter and you looked up to your mother who wasn’t smiling anymore. The words hadn’t been loud, but they were strong and the waitress took a step back.

“I thought that –“

“This is the third time we’ve told you that we need a minute” she interrupted him. “So either you leave and wait until we call you, or next time you come you can do it with your boss, so I can have a word with them”

The guy, who couldn’t be older than twenty, nodded quickly and left the table. It was quiet for a while, Peter staring with wide eyes at your mother and you looking between the two of them, trying to guess if he understood what she had done or if he was uncomfortable with it. Eventually, Peter looked back at his menu, but you saw a small smile on his face. You scooted closer to him and got ready to guide him through the menu, looking at the details of every choice. Just when you pointed to the first option, you heard him mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ to your mother, who smiled warmly at him.

-

You blinked confused when something cold touched your nose and cheek. Looking at the person in front of you, you saw Peter with a cheesy smile focused on his own ice-cream. You rolled your eyes and brushed your nose with the back of your hand, taking the pink stain of your strawberry ice-cream off. Instead of being mad, you were proud of Peter smashing your ice-cream against your nose.

“That’s really funny” you teased him, making sure he knew you weren’t angry. He looked at you hesitantly for a second, then chuckled. “If you do it again, you’re buying me another ice-cream”

“Well, I already bought you one since you didn’t bring any money” he stated, licking his chocolate one.

“Not my fault that you craved ice-cream” you said, and after a pause, you talked again. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah” Peter nodded without looking to you. “Your mother – she’s really nice. I think… I think she likes me?”

“She does”

Natasha had gone back to her car after you had seen Peter looking towards the ice-cream place in front of the restaurant. He didn’t need to say anything, you just told your mother that you had things to do and she said her goodbyes. Apart from the waitress, the lunch had been nice – Peter had even forgotten one of his slime toys in the desk, not using it since the middle of the lunch. He had thanked her for the meal and for what had happened with the boy, in a quieter voice and blushing. After hugging you and smiling at Peter, she left and you went to order your ice-creams.

“Do you think we could do it again?” he asked, and you blinked surprised at him. “Just if – if she wants, or if you do. I liked being her. She doesn’t, you know, treat me as if I’m… that”

“Peter” you stretched your hand over the table, and let him decide of he wanted to take it or not. “She’s a spy who sleeps with a gun under her pillow and repeats all the breakable bones on her head to calm down. And I could charge a phone of I touched the plug”

“Yeah, and I can stick to walls and lift a car” he scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him. The cup of ice-cream laid in between you, besides your stretched hand. “But I wasn’t – you can understand sarcasm and have normal conversations. I don’t – “

“I can’t understand anything about nanotechnology, can’t get an A+ in science or memorise a math function only looking at it once” you interrupted him, hating how he thought of his autism as something bad. “I’m dating you, because I love you. If you make stupid jokes or not, doesn’t matter”

Peter looked at you through his eyelashes, not convinced at all of what you were saying. Even if he had spent a good time with your mother in the restaurant, he wondered if it would have been even better if you were with someone normal and not him. He wasn’t stupid – he noticed how you were on edge most of the times she said something, and how you were keeping an eye on him. Before he could say how you didn’t have a boyfriend but a baby, you seemed to read his mind.

“No one is normal Peter, and normal is boring” you said, not moving your arm. “Peter Parker is not his autism. He’s just a nerd who liked apple juice and slamming ice-creams cones on my nose. And my handsome, intelligent boyfriend who I love lots”

A shy hand made its way to yours, and finally Peter looked up to meet your eyes. His were wet, but you knew he wasn’t sad or overwhelmed. He was just happy. You knew the moment he moved that he was going to do something unexpected, because he always had the same face of hesitation when he did. As if he wasn’t sure if you were okay with any of it.

Getting up and leaning towards you, you were sure you were going to be slammed again against the strawberry cone, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead of a cone were his lips against you. You could count with one hand how many times he had initiated contact in the nine months you had been together, and it was always as good as the last.

Peter turned his head so that your noses didn’t touch and you closed your eyes, hiding the smile on your face. When he pulled apart, his pupils were widened and the tips of his ears were red.

“I love you lots too” he said, leaning to kiss you again.

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[chimtaesty]

fake friend 2

pairing: OT7 x reader | 1.7k words

plot: you have to take back what’s yours

a/n: hi there, i accidently deleted this post so here i am to post it again!

After all the shit they’ve done to you, you should’ve killed them right there and then together with their little slut. They hurt you multiple times, not taking the business serious they are in, which makes you sick to the core. You are on your way to the base to teach them a lesson. You wouldn’t accept the fact that Namjoon still wears the badge of the leader of the Mafia Organisation Venom. It doesn’t seem right and you won’t allow it. Your car bends and roars underneath your control as you arrive at the parking lot.

You turn the engine off and grab your gun. With one swift kick to the door you leave your car. As you walk towards the entrance you see their cars they are here, good. 

The door opens as soon as you kick it for someone to open up. The man bows to you and follows you submissively. You march in there just to interrupt Namjoons speech. He stops and his eyes widen as march towards him. The crowd parts and makes space for you to continue your walking. “Get down” you grunt towards Namjoon and he shakes his head. “I’m the leader” he barely whispers too afraid of what might comes next. You smirk and look at him with angry eyes. “Get down while i’m still friendly” he gulps and shakes his head once again. You chuckle and look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Y/N, calm down” Taehyung tries to grab onto your arm but you are fast to yank yourself free and shoot a few centimeters next to his right foot. “Back off, little bitch” you grunt. He backs off and lowers his head. 

You’ve always been a little bit harsh towards them, but it’s nothing compared to how you are acting now. You would’ve never dared to call your precious baby Taehyung a little bitch and almost shoot his foot to shreds but time changes people, right?

Namjoon steps back and leaves his spot for you. He scoots further to Jungkook to give you space and you nod in approval. You turn around towards your hundreds of members “My dear dumb assholes of members, listen up. Things are going to change around here. Namjoon is no longer in charge because he proved to not being able to lead The Venom how it should be lead so i am going to take his role and lead The Venom to be the biggest organization the world has ever seen. Does anyone have something against it?” You look at them and no one dares to say a word.

“Now that that’s settled, i would like to have a talk with the seven top members. The others can leave.” You jump down “Ah, Jeahyun. Please get my Mr.Yoon in the questioning room by three pm today. He still hasn’t paid his debt as Jimin assured he would last week” Jaehyun nods, bows to you and takes his leave. “You seven dipshits, come with me” you give Jungkook the angry side eye. They follow into the big conference room two corridors away from the big hall.

You lay your gun down on the big table as Jungkook clears his throat. “Was that really necessary, noona?” you blink angrily as you chuckle. “Guns on the table” you order with a bare whisper. They don’t react and remain stiff. “Lay your fucking guns on the table, I’m not going to repeat myself again” you grunt lowly. They lay their guns on the table with shaky hands. You sit yourself down next to Jimin. He gulps and lowers his head. “Noona, please” He pleads with a shaky whisper. “You know what’s funny? I sounded exactly the same when they had me on the floor beaten, wringing for air.” He sniffs he’s crying. “I’m not hurting you, if you’re worried about that. But you disgust me, i thought you should know that” Jimin slumbs down at you words, absorbed by his sobs. Taehyung watches you pushing Jimin away as you look down on Jungkook. “I would like you to accompany me with Mr.Yoon later” he nods “Gladly, Noona” you frown “Stop calling me that. I don’t like that anymore” And he  sniffles as well. You never said a harsh word to Jungkook, you always were his precious lovely Noona he could shed his heart to. He never imagined you could ever refuse him calling you his Noona.

“I’m not anyone's Noona anymore. I’m a leader now and i need you to see me as that. I moved my shit out of the villa too since i found a quite nice plac-”Why are you doing this?” your gaze snaps to Yoongi. Your left eyebrow lifts and you nod to yourself. “Well Yoongi, let me tell you. I’ve been left alone and abandoned and-”We know that and we are terribly sorry” you huff and stand up to leave to the end of the table. “No you are not. And the worst part about all of this isn’t that you forgot about the deal, it’s that you forgot about me!” You scream the last part, your voice breaking as you let the hurt feelings out. “You were ready to leave me dying for a girl who wanted to bring our hard work down. For a girl who was ready to kill me. And i can’t wrap my head around the fact that i’m just some person you wouldn’t even hesitate to kill.” Taehyung grunts with a whine.

In your furry you grab Jungkook’s gun and point it to your temple. Jungkook and Jimin reach for you with petrified looks. “What if i shot my brain out right now? Would you even mourn? Or would you tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault? I would shoot myself for you, i would kill every person on this godforsaken planet for you but you wouldn't do the same and that hurts. It eats me alive” if you weren’t crying by now, you for sure were now. Tears coat your cheeks as Yoongi’s wide eyes pent from the gun pointed to your head and your eyes over and over again. “Y/N, baby. But the gun down. You know, you’re wrong. I would bomb this whole universe just for you. I would give my all for you, and you know that. We are sorry for what we did and we can’t change that now but nothing changes when you pull that trigger. We need you.” He whispers as he reaches your side and you sink to the ground in a ball of sobs. 

Before his hands touch you, you jerk away “Don’t fucking touch me” you grunt. He takes a step back and complies. “I don’t any of you to touch me right now” you say under gritted teeth. Yoongi sighs and leaves you alone. You stand up as the doors fly open. A young man covered in blood and who knows what else body fluids, panting for air. “Where is Y/N?” He shouts and you turn around slowly reaching him with a dead stare. “The mission you sent us on was a suicide mission. All of my friends are dead and that’s your fault” He screams as he stumbles to where you are standing. You roll your eyes and grab the gun which graces Jimin’s hip. With one swift punch you send the man to the floor. He grunts and tries to shield his head but you were too fast as you punched down on him with such force that his nose cracked. The rage doesn’t step as the man reaches unconsciousness. You punch on his fragile form until his dead and the whole floor is covered in blood including your whole face and body. 

With shaky and uncontrollable breaths you hover over the dead body. You send the gun flying across the room. “Now you are too” you whisper with your throat going raw.

No one says a single word, too scared to spark another wave of anger.

But you turn your back to the other and get yourself some scotch which rested there on Namjoon’s table. You take the whole bottle and settle yourself on the top chair of the table. “Y/N” Jin whispers and you glare at him. “Why?” Jungkook whispers You chuckle, seemingly insane “You know baby, there’s a reason i survived that night. I’m the insane one of us and i won’t let anyone, not even Gaeun, come between us. I won’t move out, you can call me Noona and i’ll forgive you a little bit. But, i’ll stay as the leader and i want you to comply to my orders from now on. No one will ever be as good as me, ever. I hope that was clear” in unison “Yes” came back. “i’m sorry i was this harsh, we went through too much for a little bitch to come between us. And Tae, i’m sorry for what i said and the shot.” you smile. 

You down the rest of the alcohol and walk towards Taehyung. “Give me a hug, baby.” you whisper but he takes a step back “You’re gross” you roll your eyes. “I hugged you when you fell into a pit of intestins you idiot, give me a hug” he chuckles and gives you one. “Promise me to never forget me ever again” Tae nods and strokes your back. “The next thing i want is Yixing’s head in my hands” you fume. Hoseok chuckles next to you while Namjoon hugs the both of you. With your eyebrows knitted together you turn around “And for the love of god, please get the body out of here” you shout and Jimin laughs at you. “I suggest you clean yourself too, than we can plan how to rip their asses apart” you nod.

Anger still lingered and maybe that would never change but you would never be able to push your family away, never ever would you be able to turn your back to those seven men. You would die with them in battle or live with them until you drop dead. That was the only option there was and the only you would ever accept.

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Part 18

Enjoy everyone!

4 months earlier:

Regis scanned the fragment of paper spread out across the table before him. Not even a month ago he was a desperate man chasing the shadows of his lifelong mentor. What he’d found in the jungles of South America had been nothing short of a profound revelation. The ancient words inscribed held the key to changing humanity. From the very beginning, he had believed deep within his soul that what Professor M spoke of was true. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew it. Though he’d never have suspected that the place which possessed what he sought was merely some speck on a map. A hamlet of small-town America. In the end, though the where didn’t matter. What mattered was that he attained his goal. Failure was his greatest fear. After what he’d sacrificed to get this far he wasn’t about to fall short an inch away from the finish line. Like Professor M had. When he stumbled upon he’d found a broken sickly old man barely clinging onto life. Filled with regret and sorrow that though he literally held in his hand the culmination of his life’s work, he would never live to see it. Regis had vowed that would not be his fate.

Fate, however, was a funny thing. Previously Dr. Blackgaard had possessed adequate resources yet lacked the knowledge he required. Now just when he had attained the necessary knowledge his funds were depleted. Alas Professor M had died, weighed down in debt, and without any assets to further fund Regis’ research. Dr. Blackgaard was one to keep his research away from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was to inform anyone of his discovery. Who knows what might happen. Word could spread to the general public if that happened it was game over. Blackgaard was well aware however that the little venture he was starting in Chicago wouldn’t provide him with the funds he needed. The choice was before him. Either choose not to share his work and lose any chance of funding or take the chance and inform potential investors of his findings. When put that way there was only one option - the latter. “Blast” he muttered under his breath.

He rolled up the parchment and stood up from his chair, grasping his walking stick as he sat up. Pacing back and forth on the wooden floor he tried thinking of someone who would work as a potential investor. Blackgaard’s mind raced. Too many people had their motives and agendas they were trying to serve. The last thing he wanted to be was someone’s puppet. He’d rather give up his work altogether than be a pawn in someone else’s game. It has to be someone who has enough resources yet can be easily fooled. Someone obsessed with power and ambition that they’d do anything to obtain it - even trust a complete stranger. A person who is so full of themselves they’d never think anyone could bring them down. Sasha meowed, interrupting Blackgaard’s thoughts. He stooped down and picked up his faithful feline companion. Softly, he stroked her neck and behind her ears, prompting a deep purr from Sasha. “Oh, Sasha…Now, who do we know who’d be aware of someone like that.” 

Blackgaard had a long list of reliable contacts. Men and women spread across the globe. People who were aware of plots and schemes of power and the people behind them. Blackgaard’s polished shoes thudded on the packed earth as he circled the jungle cabin, left exactly as it had been when Professor M died. Professor M’s research notes and documents were packed carefully in boxes that were neatly stacked. His personal effects and clothes were strewn throughout the room. 

Regis placed Sasha down on the floor and walked to where Professor M’s trunk was located in the corner of the small hut. He opened the lid and searched through it until he found a notebook. He scanned over the pages looking for a particular name. An old contact of theirs who Professor M had known even before he met his esteemed mentor. They had come to value her greatly. Every secret or scheme going on she always found a way to find out. Finally, Regis' eyes landed on the name he was searching for. Blackgaard knew she was the answer. 

…..

4 months earlier:

Liana stared blankly ahead. She was busy pouring coffee yet her mind was somewhere else. Today would have been Erik’s birthday. She tried to push it to the side and carry on waitressing, but the memories would come flooding back. Picnics in the park. Splashing each other in the lake. The way he’d shower her with flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. 

Liana had known she’d never be able to have peace until her father and all those responsible answered for their actions, but she at least thought with time she’d be able to have a sense of healing. Instead, the more time passed the more angry she became. She should be spending these years with Erik. If he was here she was certain they’d have been married by now probably with children. Living a happy and beautiful life. She’d been robbed of that life and forced to live a cold and lonely one. 

“Liana!”  Hearing her name, she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Uh sorry. Millie. What is it?”

“You’re pouring coffee all over the counter.” Liana glanced down and saw she’d overfilled the coffee cup, causing the liquid to flow all over the countertop. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She set the decanter down and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.” 

She wiped up the spilled coffee. “I’m fine.” Liana picked up the coffee cup and walked to a table by the shop window. 

She set the piping hot coffee on the table. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks so much” the man graciously responded.

“Would you like anything else?”

“No, this is good for me. Thanks.”

“Of course. If you need anything please let me know.” She forced a smile and began to walk to another table where two women were waiting to order. Halfway to the table, she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to the television mounted in the corner of the room. An image of a man’s face caught her eye. His familiar features, grey hair, wrinkled skin, piercing black eyes, matched the image she’d seen in person on multiple occasions. One of the faces seared into her head for the last nearly five years. There was no mistake, the man was none other than Davit Dalmar. Below his image was the headline “Breaking News: Davit Dalmar, CEO and founder of Dalmar Petroleum, announces run for Krudian parliament.”

Liana found herself chilled to the core seeing his face. It took her back, back to that night. The worst night of life. She holding her dying boyfriend in her arms, knowing there was nothing she or anyone else could do. She bit back her lip and took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t break down, especially in a Budapest cafe. 

What was that expression? The past has a way of catching up to you. She’d always planned to go back. To go home. Deep down she knew what she had to do. That pain. That anger. That overwhelming feeling of loss. It was still there. Burning in her soul stronger than ever.  She knew she’d never be able to move forward unless she went backward. Nevertheless, when it came to confronting her past she’d find herself paralyzed. Unable to go back. Memories of Krudia, her father, Eric haunted her. Every street or shop in Bulin came with some painful reminder. The very thought of stepping off the airplane filled with her dread and terror.

But now seeing Dalmar had served to remind her of the men she’d left behind. And of what she’d lost. He was a monster. Him and her father both. She felt another wave of anger surge through her. In what world was it fair that Erik was dead and Norvan and Dalmar were still breathing? How could someone be so heartless as to take him from her without a second thought? How could people, like her father and Dalmar, find pleasure in killing others? She may have thought the removal of some malevolent individuals necessary but never took pleasure in their demise only in the justice being served. One thing couldn’t be denied: her father and Dalmar were insane. They had to be brought down. Any reservations or fears she had, Liana knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She was done running from her past. 

…..

Present-day:

Jason woke, tied to a chair. Ropes dug into his wrists. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, or perhaps blood, though he wasn’t sure which one. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. He appeared to be in some type of warehouse. Above him, warehouse pendant lights flickered the only source of light in the room. 

It all came flooding back to him—what he'd prayed had been only a nightmare—The car chase, men shooting at them, Tasha slumping forward on the steering wheel ….

Tasha. His heart began to race and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Where was she? He prayed she was still alive. He frantically glanced around him but saw no one. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if his earlier actions had caused this. 

He struggled to loosen the ropes that bound him. Straining he turned every which way trying to free himself. It was no use. He let out a scream of frustration and lowered his head. A feeling of helplessness and utter loneliness consumed him, His head throbbed but the physical pain he was experiencing didn’t compare to his overwhelming guilt.

It’s my fault. The words stabbed through his mind. I got us into this. I shouldn't have acted recklessly—Why didn’t I just stick to the plan? Why did I have to be so stubborn? He shook his head. I wanted so desperately to prove myself that I ended up screwing everything up. If I get out of this I’ll probably have to resign. The last thing the NSA wants is someone who can’t complete a routine mission, let alone their first assignment. Who knows, maybe that’s probably for the best anyway. Donovan saw right through me. My flaws and weaknesses…how careless I could be…and I proved him right. Now not only is the mission ruined but Tasha’s life is in danger because of me. If she dies I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Right now he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. His whole body felt numb.

There was nothing he wanted to do, nowhere he wanted to go. Nothing mattered anymore, except doing everything he possibly could to right his mistake. To make sure Tasha was safe and if possible successfully complete their assignment.

Whoever was behind this would probably hurt him. The thought barely registered in his mind. He knew he should feel something. Dread. Fear. Anxiety. But he didn’t. All his thoughts were turned to Tasha. They could do whatever they wanted to him. It didn’t matter. He would willingly sacrifice his life without hesitation if it meant they didn’t touch her. At that moment he knew he was powerless. There was only one thing he could do. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

…..

Tasha’s eyes darted around the room, her eyes landing on the metal door to the side of her. She felt something digging into her skin and realized she was tied up. Tasha lay against the wall struggling to recall previous events, how she’d ended up here. Her mind was blank. The last thing she remembered was leaving with Jason for the gala. She looked down at her clothes. Instead of the dark blue dress, she remembered she was wearing light pink pajamas. She looked around the room. The floor was layered with dirt. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the room. Jason was nowhere in sight. Who knew where he could be. For all Tasha knew he could be lying dead somewhere or being mercilessly tortured. 

The door creaked open causing Tasha to look up. An older muscular man entered the room followed by a tall brown-haired woman. 

It didn’t take a genius to guess what they were probably after. Information. Luckily, Tasha thought, she’d been briefed and trained how to resist such efforts. She sat up in her seat and braced herself for whatever was coming, though she couldn’t help the shivers that traveled down her spine. 

Milena’s eyes met Tasha’s. Tasha tried to read them yet they seemed nearly expressionless. The man’s on the other hand were easy to read. They were deathly cold.

Milena spoke. “I have to say that was quite a showing back there. Very impressive. My hired men are known for their efficiency. You and your associate were their hardest targets ever by far.” She crossed her arms. “So congrats.”

Tasha kept a blank expression on her face. "You might as well just skip to the end. I’m not saying anything.” 

“Who said anything about getting information? I’m not so stupid as to waste my time trying to get intel out of an NSA agent.”

Elias walked over to Tasha “Never saw that coming did you?”

Tasha looked him directly in the eyes. “Can’t say I didn’t. If I was in your shoes I wouldn’t waste my time either.” Fear trembled through her, but at the same time, there was a defiance in her eyes. Even in face of danger, she wasn’t one to submit or hold back on fiery comebacks. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. He glanced at Milena. “I like this one. Too bad we can’t keep her around.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the best company anyway.” Tasha glanced at the metal door beyond Milena and Elias. There was one question she had to ask. Though a possible answer filled her with dread. Life had a funny, even almost cruel way of unfolding. Not even a few hours ago Jason and she had been going at it and now here she was worrying over his safety. Though she was still deeply angry and upset at Jason for what he had done, all that mattered to her right now was that he was alright. “Is…he okay?”

“He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking,” Elias replied.

 A wave of relief washed over Tasha. At least she and Jason were both alive. When it came down to it that alone only mattered. A dark thought crept into her mind. But then again who knew what their captors had in mind for them. Perhaps it would have been better for him not to survive, that might have been a merciful fate.

Elias stepped closer to Tasha. Then, from under his black shirt, he unslung a small black pistol from his belt.

Tasha’s mouth began to run dry and her heart began to race. Elias twirled the gun on his finger, only increasing Tasha’s uneasiness.

She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Milena. “You know, you seem like a straight shooter so I’ll cut to the chase. Why exactly do you need us? If you’re not after information I fail to see the point.” 

Milena gave a small laugh. “Aren’t you a fast talker? Trying to hide your fear?”

“No, my boredom.”

Milena clasped her hands. “Let’s just say I need you both for a plan of mine.”

Tasha eyed her confusingly. “What kind of plan.”

“That would be giving things away now would it?”

“What things? Are you working for Dalmar?”

Pain flashed across Milena’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was only there for a second and was gone as soon as it came. Not before being noticed by Tasha. “Dalmar, that monster. Heck no! Your whole plan of bringing him down is still happening. You and Edward are just playing a different role than you originally planned.”

Tasha found herself shocked by Milena’s revelation. However, she made certain not to show her surprise to those in the room. Basic training - never show your opponent what you’re thinking. 

Milena turned to Elias. “Would you give us a moment?”

 He glanced from Milena to Tasha and back to Milena again. He placed his gun back in its holster. “Sure.” The door clanked shut behind him.

“I know what you may think of me and I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way too…but I just want to say that I admire your tenacity. I respect what you’re doing.”

Tasha leaned forward. “Really. I would never have guessed. If you respected my mission, why interfere with it?”

“Trust me. I had my reasons. The justice I’d get from your NSA wouldn’t be enough.” She spoke, a hint of sadness showing in her eyes for a brief moment. 

From the first time she laid eyes on her Tasha could tell that the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a hardened criminal. That there was something beneath the surface. It was obvious now she’d suffered some tragic painful event in her life. Dalmar’s doing most likely. Tasha thought for a moment about how to respond. She knew the words she’d say would probably not change her mind or course of action, but she had to try.

Tasha spoke softly. “I know what horrific things Dalmar is capable of…Sometimes it seems that men like him just end up walking away but that’s no ex—”

“Excuse for me to take the law into my hands. Yeah, I figured that speech was coming. Guess what, I don’t have time for it.” Milena said strongly before turning around and walked across the room. Well, that went well but pretty much how I expected. Tasha thought as Milena shut the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving Tasha alone once again. 

[pyrrhiccomedy]

DM Talk: Pacing

So I made a comment recently about putting Big Decision moments for the party at the end of your sessions. There are three major advantages to this: the players get to end the session on a high note, making a climactic choice that could change the course of the entire story; it keeps anticipation high for the next session, because the players are in a cliffhanger while they wait to find out how the world will respond to their decision; and, critically, you as the DM don’t need to plan the in-depth outcomes for every choice they could possibly make. You just set up the choice, they make it, and then you get all week to plan just for the choice they actually made.

A lot of people replied that while they planned for their players to hit the Big Decision at the end of the session, their players ended up taking an unexpected shortcut, and getting to that moment hours ahead of time. So I want to talk a little bit about pacing your sessions.

But first I want to talk about Chris Harrison, the host of The Bachelor.

I watched an interview with Harrison recently, in which he talked about his career. The interviewer asked him what his biggest challenge is, as the guy who hosts all the high-drama reality show love-stuff. Is it the hungry, horny, drunk twenty-somethings having meltdowns in front of him?

No, no, he said. That was fine. It was pacing interviews with so many people who aren’t professional entertainers.

Professional entertainers, he said, are, for the most part, very easy to interview. They, like you, know that there are key subjects they need to cover for the interview to be a success. They, like you, want the interview to end on a high note: a big reveal, a funny story, something to make it memorable. And they, like you, want to finish on time: so they’ll keep a clock running in their heads, and leave enough time at the end for their big story, or they’ll whip out an anecdote if they realize you’re ahead of your mark.

Contestants on The Bachelor (et all) are not professional entertainers. They’re just people, who often act like they and the interviewer are here to have an organic conversation. They ramble. They jump ahead. They get off-topic. They want to talk about the most exciting thing they have to say FIRST, because they’re excited about it. They have no idea how much time you have left. They’re just excited to be on camera.

Spare a moment for poor Chris Harrison, who has exactly 43 minutes, with 4 commercial breaks that need to happen at specific intervals during what feel like natural lulls in the conversation, and 76 talking points to hit for every finale episode of the Bachelor, packed in a room with these absolute goobers he somehow has to herd across the finish line. No one really notices - he said - how hard it is to get a bunch of normal people to have a conversation that sticks to an agenda, hits the relevant beats, ends on a high note, and finishes exactly on time. Because it’s his job to make sure you don’t notice. But it’s the hardest thing he has to do.

Huh, I thought. This sounds a lot like being a DM.

There are a lot of things that go into DMing well. Creativity! Flexibility! Storytelling! Improvisation! Planning and project management! Creating props, finding a soundtrack, running a zillion NPCs, voice acting, giving the impression of cool omniscience while you secretly are frantically trying to remember something you told them 4 sessions ago! And all of that stuff gets talked about a lot. I don’t think I’ve seen much discussion around the importance of getting your players to just fucking hit their marks at the right time during a given evening.

Here are some tips.

1. Watch the clock.  I mark the time at least every 15-20 minutes, and do a mental inventory of how much content we still need to cover before I can bring the session to a satisfactory end.

2. Incorporate elasticity into your scenes. That means build them out with organic ways they could be made longer OR shorter, depending on how you’re tracking. Combat scenes can be made longer by (for example) introducing reinforcements, or shorter by having the enemies retreat. Dinner party espionage scenes can be stretched out by having NPCs strike up conversations with the players (or by just letting the players ramble, if they’ve really gotten going), and can be cut short with the ring of the dinner bell, or the sudden arrival of the guest of honor. 

3. Build in interrupts, and use them. Jesus, my players can talk. It’s great! But guys. I’ve got ground to cover. Pretty much any situation they walk into, I have a way of kicking them out of it. The library is closing, you have to leave. Dryagin has another appointment, you have to leave. Can I have an Alertness check? Oh no, someone is following you, time to leave! Your phone rings, ring ring, it’s the plot! It says it’s 10:30 PM and your DM needs to get you through 3 more scenes before the end of the session.

4. Build in stalling techniques sideplots, and use those too. Every session, I have a long list of stuff that could happen this session, or it could happen next session, or the session after that. These all come as little calls-to-action for the players; and while they don’t necessarily need to respond to them immediately, they usually do, because players are like magpies and if you wave something shiny in front of them they’ll usually drop whatever they’re doing to follow it. I usually plan on hitting 2-3 of these in an evening, but that number can be increased, or these scenes can be cut out entirely, depending on how we’re doing for time.

5. Really develop your NPCs as interesting people. The easiest way to kill time during a session is to get a conversation going, and your NPCs are your toolkit for starting conversations. Give them strong points of view, big motivations, and engaging personalities. Your players will go to them for a plot thing, and then happily just talk. If you need to wrap things up, your NPC can easily have something else they need to do; but if you’re trying to kill some time, it’s great to have the option of just letting your players hang out with Feoda for 20 minutes.

6. Remind your players to talk to each other. You can be really transparent about this. “How did X make Misha feel? ...Is that something he’d want to discuss with anybody?” is usually all it takes. A lot of times, players don’t want to have those conversations because they’re afraid of holding things up. When you, the DM, tell them that it’s a good moment to have a heart to heart, that tells them that they’re not going to inconvenience you by engaging in some character development.

7. If you’re short on time this session, tell your players up front.  Sometimes you don’t have time for the players to engage in a lot of conversation. Instead of rushing them through a scene that might be important to them, just say to your players as you sit down, “Hey guys, we have a lot of material I want to get through tonight, so critical conversations only. There will be time to discuss things in-depth next session.” One of your players raises their hand. “Um,” they say. “Can I talk to so-and-so?” “What about,” you reply. They smile hopefully. “I wanted to ask them on a date.” “I love that,” you tell them. “Next session would be better. Your character is going to have a lot going on this session, and I want to make sure you and so-and-so have all the time you need for that conversation.” “Oh,” they say. “Okay.” 

8. If all else fails, have someone try to kill them. If they really, really want to get to something that you’re not ready for them to get to, just have some goons open fire on them in the street. You’ll have all week to figure out why, and it will never occur to your players that that wasn’t planned.

Good luck.

[lisbonsteresa]

There’s Gotta Be Some Butterflies Somewhere (Wanna Share?)

this was originally going to be a fun little holiday gift for @cachekakusu​ (but now it’s more of an apology for making her relive her past 🌸✨ LiTerArY tRaUmA ✨🌸). In either case, it’s essentially a longer version of our chat threads, but i tried to make it as fluffy as possible to atone for my actions

hopefully it works aflksdj

At first only a dark screen was displayed, with shuffling and whispers heard in the background. Then someone hissed “Lens cap!!” and a picture suddenly appeared of two teenagers sitting at a long table; a laptop sitting in front of the girl and bright smiles on both their faces. “Hi everyone!” the girl spoke, directing her words straight ahead at what must have been the camera lens. “Welcome back to our channel. If you don’t already know, my name’s Lyra and this is Will.” The boy next to her raised his hand in a slight wave. “And we decided we wanted to do something a little special for today’s video.” “That’s right.” the boy continued, “To celebrate reaching five thousand subscribers – and thank you so much for that, by the way  –” Lyra nodded fiercely next to him, echoing his statement. “we’re going to do a little ‘Get to Know Us’ Q&A.”

“We are!” Lyra finished. “And, point of notice; this is a livestream, so we’re just going to take the questions as they come, and you’ll get to see our completely unedited reactions to them. But please keep the questions like PG-13,” she added, “because I’m pretty sure Will’s mum still watches our videos.” “Oh she definitely does.” Will confirmed. “And she and I would both appreciate everything staying mum-appropriate.” Lyra laughed “Excellent. And hi Elaine!” she looked directly at the camera with a grin and a wave, then focused her attention on the laptop screen in front of her. “Oh wow and we already have our first question: from aeronaut_txn: how long have you known each other? Hm, it really has been a while hasn’t it?” she paused, thinking, “Will and I met when we were – what, 12?” she glanced over at Will and he nodded in agreement. “Actually it’s kind of a funny story; I first met Will after he got stuck under my porch chasing his cat.” “Not Kirjava, by the way.” Will interrupted, looking only mildly embarrassed at Lyra’s last statement. “Our old cat, Moxie.”

“Of course not Kirjava,” Lyra snorted, “she barely ever leaves your side.” As if summoned by the mention of her name, the unusually large cat in question suddenly leapt up onto the table, fixing Lyra a look that would have been very judgmental were it coming from a human. Will grinned and reached up to scratch at Kirjava’s ears and the feline happily moved her attention to him, purring softly and butting her head against his hand while Lyra continued. “I’m convinced that if you could find a way to sneak her into school she’d never leave you alone.”  “Says the girl who hides Pan in her backpack every other day.”

“That’s because Pan is quiet, and sneaky, and good at hiding. And besides, Kirjava’s like three times his size.” Kirjava suddenly let out a low growl and leapt across the table to bat at Lyra with her paw. “Er….no offense.” Lyra reached slowly out and Kirjava seemed to let the slight pass, letting the teen scratch under her chin. There was a sudden squeak and flash of fur as Lyra’s pine marten scrambled down from his usual perch on her shoulder and onto Kirjava’s back. “And now you’ve gone and woke him up.” Lyra huffed, but there was a smile on her face as she watched Pan and Kirjava start to chase each other around the table.

“I think if anyone’s to blame for that, it’s you.” Will laughed, gently shooing the animals off the table before they knocked something over. “Anyway, Moxie was….. let’s say she was a free spirit.”  “A very nice way to say she just did whatever she wanted.” “Well yes, but she was a very good cat all the same. Although she did have a habit of running out of the house whenever she got the chance despite not being an outside cat at all. One morning a few summers ago I was helping my mum unload groceries and Moxie just sprinted out the door and was halfway across the neighbor’s yard before we even realized what was happening. I ran out to go get her, but by that point she had already sequestered herself under their back porch. Should’ve been easy to grab her, but the space was a little…..narrower than I was expecting.

“I was on my way downstairs when there was this yowling noise out of nowhere; maybe the angriest sound I’d ever heard a cat make.” Lyra looked as though she was trying very had to hold back a laugh. “And then someone was calling ‘help’ from our backyard, so I went outside to look and all I see is Will’s little Spider-Man pajama pant-covered legs sticking out from under our porch.” 

At this point Lyra was laughing fully, and Will wrinkled his nose in indignation. “It should be mentioned that my mum does her shopping very early; I wouldn’t have been wearing the pajamas otherwise. And anyway, they were cool for a 12-year-old.” “Oh yes, very cool.” Lyra snickered. “Especially when I had to pull you out by your ankles and they almost fell dow-” “Lyra!” Will snapped, clapping a hand over her mouth and glaring at her. “We don’t have to mention that part on camera.”

‘Right, right, sorry” she snorted, still looking very pleased with herself as she pulled Will’s hand down and addressed the camera directly. “Anyway, the point is, we were able to get Will successfully extracted, and luckily for him, I knew the easiest way to squeeze back under and grab Moxie.” “Oh yes, we’re all very lucky that you liked acting like a feral child and digging tunnels into the mud under your back porch” Will muttered, rolling his eyes. “Sounds like someone’s still stuck on the pajama pants and forgetting the great sacrifice I made in getting that cat back.” Will let out an exasperated sigh “Not the scar-” “You mean the giant scar I still have on my arm after your cat fought me tooth and claw on the way out from under that porch? That scar?”

Will covered his face and groaned “You know I think I’d rather deal with your mum twenty times over than have you keep holding that scar over my head.” Lyra laughed at that. “You sure about that? She was steaming mad when she saw it – came running out the back door yelling about rabies and ruined clothes and ‘undignified behavior’ as if I wasn’t wearing a Mickey Mouse jumper and dungarees and, you know, twelve.” “She was pretty imposing though.” Will admitted. “She usually is.” Lyra sighed. “But you didn’t miss a beat – looked her right in the eyes and said ‘don’t worry ma’am, Moxie’s had all her shots’ and then….what was it?” Will shrugged. “Something about how she should be proud to have raised such an upstanding citizen for a daughter – which is an hilarious statement, by the way, knowing you the way I do now –” Lyra snorted and stuck her tongue back at him. “and it seemed to satisfy her.” “Oh the best way to appease my mum is definitely through compliments.” There was a slightly sour tone in Lyra’s voice, but it faded as quickly as it came. “I think that was when she decided she liked you.” “She likes me?” Will sounded shocked. “Well, not that she’d ever say as much, but I think she sees you as my most mature friend.” Lyra shrugged. “Sometimes I think she might even be a little intimidated by you. You might not know it for looking at him,” she said to the camera, “but Will can be very serious when he wants to be.” “Well I have to balance you out somehow, haven’t I?”

“Oh shut it.” Lyra rolled her eyes and knocked her shoulder against Will’s, but there was a fond smile on her face nonetheless. “Anyway we didn’t really talk much after that and Will went back to his house, but we spent the rest of the summer in one of our backyards or the other, and when school started we found out we were in the same class, and things just kind of went from there.” “And now here we are: four years later and I’m still stuck with her.” Will said through a smirk. Lyra’s smirk matched his. “Mhm, lucky you. Anyway, next question.” Her eyes moved to the laptop screen in front of her and she began to read through the options. “Ok let’s see… sky-iron-soul asked…what was your favorite film of the year?” Lyra immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, just barely stifling her laugh as she looked over at a groaning Will. “Oh I don’t know,” she began, removing her hand to rest her chin on it while she smirked at the irritated boy, “what was your favorite film this year Will?”

“Lyra, please-” “Funny thing is,” she grinned towards the camera, “Will here has fallen asleep during every film we’ve ever gone to see.” “Not every film!”

“Oh right, sorry, you did manage to stay awake for all of Cats. Would you say that’s because it was your favorite though?” Will fixed Lyra with a deadpan stare. “No, I would say that was because you kept poking me in the side every five minutes to ask me what the hell was going on, as if I would possibly have any more idea than you”.

“Right, well, in my defense…” Lyra shrugged, “Cats”.

“Actually,” a voice spoke up from somewhere off-screen, “if you pay attention, Cats does have a fairly well thought out plot that you can follow-” But the rest of the sentence was drowned out by the collective groans of the other two teens. “Roger, not the Cats debate again.” Will sighed, turning his attention to the unseen boy. “It’s bad enough you made us sit through two hours of that monstrosity.” Lyra agreed. “Must you continue to torment us with it now?” “Fine, fine,” Were Roger in front of the camera, it was easy to imagine he would be holding his hands up in in mock surrender. “I guess there’s no accounting for bad taste. But seriously Will,” he continued, seeming to pointedly ignore Lyra’s fake cough-covered ‘yeah, yours’ “The cinema’s the worst place to fall asleep. Why don’t you just nap in class like me and Billy?” “Listen it’s not like I mean to-” Will paused as if he had just realized what had been said. “Actually, first of all, don’t do that, that’s bad” he continued, looking for all the world like a disapproving lecturer while Lyra snickered next to him like the teacher’s pet. “But I don’t go into the cinema planning on falling asleep, it just happens. I mean it’s dark and the seats recline and they’re actually weirdly comfortable-”

“And you constantly overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion.” Lyra interrupted. ���Lyra, please don’t start this again.” Will sighed, rubbing his eyes as if he was already tired of the topic. Lyra was undeterred. “I’m not starting anything; I’m continuing a conversation you keep refusing to participate in.” Her face softened. “I’m not trying to berate you, but you do too much Will. I mean, A-levels, and your apprenticeship, and tutoring, and helping your mum around the house…. you do it all wonderfully, of course, but it’s still too much.” Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Lyra. “I just wish you’d get how important it is to take a break sometimes and relax, which is what I thought going to the cinema would be, but you always end up just snoring into my shoulder.” Will squinted at her in disbelief. “I don’t snore.” “Yes you do, but that’s not the point.” Lyra replied, cutting him off before he could argue further. “Honestly I don’t know why you even come anymore. I mean, what are you getting out of it?”

Will glanced at the camera, suddenly looking as if he wished very much they were having this conversation anywhere but in front of it. “Because…. you’re always so excited when something new comes out.” Lyra paused, taken aback for a moment. “And because you’re absolutely impossible to say no to.” He seemed to relax more as he settled back into his usual teasing tone. “Seriously,” he continued, grinning up at the camera now, “the second she hears ‘no’ she pulls this sad, pouty face like you just kicked Pan across the room.” Still smiling, he turned his attention to Lyra, expecting a laugh or a sarcastic response, but found instead that she was simply looking at him with wide eyes. “So you mean you’ve only been going…for me? Her voice was uncommonly gentle and her cheeks were unusually pink. The teasing mood seemed to dissipate. “Well, I mean, not just for you,” Will began, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “sometimes we go with Roger and Billy, after all…” Lyra’s eyes hadn’t left his face. “but yeah. Mostly, I guess.” Lyra’s face broke into a wide smile. “Oh Will-”

“Now don’t go getting sappy on me.” He interrupted, nudging her shoulder gently with his own. “It shouldn’t be a surprise that I like seeing my best friend happy. Besides, it’s the same as you going to all those cooking classes with me, even though you burn everything you make.” “I don’t burn everything.” Lyra sniffed, looking offended at the accusation. “Nearly everything, then.” Will shot back. “Alright fine point taken.” She replied with a grin and an eye roll. “And you’re right, it’s not a surprise. It’s just…..really sweet.” She smiled warmly at him and reached her hand out to hold his atop the table. “Thank you Will.” Will grinned back at her and squeezed her hand lightly “Of course. So we’re still on for Friday?”

“Definitely. But from now on, I’m buying the tickets.” “What – who says?” “I say.” She smirked. “If someone’s going to pay for you to take a nap in a sticky-floored auditorium, then that someone’s going to be me.” Will grimaced “But you’re already buying the popcorn!” “Of course I am; I’m the one who eats all of it!”

“Fine” Will conceded with a roll of his eyes. “But from now on you can’t complain if I fall asleep on your shoulder.” “Hey I never complained about that; I complained about your snoring.” “I don’t snore!” “And the drooling.”

“I do not-” They were cut off by a very loud – and fairly irritated – “Ahem” from off-screen. Both teens jumped slightly, blinking in surprise when they found that their faces had somehow grown much closer during their bickering, and that they had yet to release their hold on each other’s hand. “Not to interrupt,” Roger’s voice came again (sounding like interrupting was in fact the very thing he had had in mind). “But you do have other questions here guys.” “Right,” Lyra seemed to collect herself; pulling her hand away from Will’s and clearing her throat. “So anyway, next question. Ok, from nobiggerthanamustardseed: do you have any plans for the future? Wow mustardseed, you sure know how to bring the excitement.” They both stopped to think for a moment. “Well,” Lyra began, “we’re both studying our A-levels right now, but I think Will has a more concrete idea for his further education than I do. There’s a lot of different subjects I’m interested in, but lately I’ve been focusing more on language.” “Yeah you mentioned that,” Will broke in, “more ancient languages right? Like symbology?” Lyra nodded. “But I’ve also been thinking about taking a gap year. Dr. Malone’s been saying she might need an assistant on her research trip next year, and her last paper on dark matter was fascinating. It’d be nice to do a little traveling too. I’d have to make sure I force you to visit me though,” she looked over at Will with a smirk. “Get your head out of the books.” Will snorted in response. “As I remember it, having my head in the books wasn’t a problem when I was helping you study.” “Yes, how could I forget, oh great Professor Parry” Lyra’s voice was dripping with sarcasm; Will only rolled his eyes in return. “No to be fair, I probably wouldn’t have passed my anatomy exam without your help, even if you were a bit of a drill sargent.” “No, you definitely wouldn’t have.”

Lyra clicked her tongue in mock annoyance. “And just when I was trying to give you a compliment-” “That’s what you call a compliment?” “When it’s directed at you, yes. Anyway, enough about me; tell the people what you’re going to do.” But before Will could open his mouth to respond, Lyra was already talking again. “He’s going to be a doctor.” Will laughed. “Well you don’t have to say it like that.” “I can’t help it.” Lyra responded. “You’ve only been talking about it since KS3.” “What, and now it’s a bad thing to have goals?” “Of course not, it just gets old talking about all the courses you’ll need to take and the admittance requirements that need to be met.” Lyra sighed, but it was clear to see her complaints weren’t serious. She turned her attention to the camera: “But since you all haven’t had to suffer through all of that, I’ll tell you that Will is absolutely brilliant – got nearly perfect scores on his GCSE this year, an apprenticeship with NHS, and he’s already fielding scholarship offers for uni.” Next to her, Will had covered his suddenly pink face in embarrassment, but couldn’t seem to stop a wide grin from spreading across it. “Even though you’re almost insufferably noble about it,” Lyra continued, “I am very proud of you, and I know you’ll make an amazing doctor.”

Will’s grin only grew as he uncovered his face to meet Lyra’s eyes. “Thank you.”

A beat of sincerity passed between them, interrupted almost immediately by Lyra. “And even though I cannot stand the thought of being forced to share you with the world, your gift is too great to keep you all to myself.” Will rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. “So long as you promise not to forget little old me while you’re off saving lives.” Lyra continued, throwing a melodramatic arm across Will’s shoulders.

“You’re such a ham.” He laughed, gently shrugging her arm away. “Weren’t you the one saying you wanted to go to a different continent with Dr. Malone a few minutes ago?” “I don’t recall that, no.” “Besides,” he continued with a roll of his eyes, “we live in Oxford. Any university I’d want to go to is an hour away at most. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Belacqua.” Lyra seemed to drop her theatrics, looking instead at Will with soft eyes and a gentle smile. “Is that so, Parry?” “It is.” He answered, his expression mirroring hers.

Another beat passed between them, longer than the first, before Lyra’s attention shift back towards the laptop screen. “Alright everyone, I think we have time for one more question. Let’s see… here we go, from EP1985: how long have you two been dat – ” her sentence cut off suddenly, and she glanced nervously over at Will then up at the camera before continuing. “Oh no, we’re not –” but her words stopped suddenly again, her face very rapidly turning red. His curiosity piqued, Will leaned closer to Lyra to read the question over her shoulder “We’re not what?” he asked, squinting at the screen to make it out, before his eyes grew wide and his cheeks grew red to match Lyra’s. “Oh! No, no, definitely not.” He continued with an awkward laugh, leaning back to sit ramrod straight in his chair and stare directly at the table in front of him, while all the time Lyra seemed as if she was trying to both watch his every move and pretend he didn’t exist. There was a moment of silence as both teens avoided eye contact with each other, the camera, or – presumably – Roger. Finally Lyra cleared her throat and said, her voice slightly strained, “Sorry to disappoint anyone, I guess, but Will and I are… just friends.” Her eyes flickered quickly over to Will, who nodded quickly in agreement. “Exactly. We didn’t mean to give you guys the wrong impression, but there’s nothing but friendship here.”

Hearing the other’s words seemed to let them both relax, although their faces were still flushed. “It’s kind of funny, actually,” Lyra began, catching Will’s gaze again, but with amusement rather than worry in her eyes, “how many times we’ve heard that since we started making videos.”

“Yeah it’s weird,” he replied, a grin slowly forming, “don’t know how everyone keeps coming to such a crazy conclusion.”

“Anyway, that’s all the time we have for today!” Lyra said, addressing the camera directly. “Thanks so much for your questions guys and we’ll –” Will’s voice joined her’s for their usual sign-off. “ – see you back here next week!” Outro music began playing as Will and Lyra leaned their heads close in a now inaudible conversation, and the very last thing that was heard before the picture faded completely to black was Roger’s voice muttering a weary “Absolutely hopeless.”

[psycho-slytherin]

Bonus chapter: Truth or Dare

Thanks to @minprismpowermakeup for the idea~ <3

Context: This takes place around Strangers ch. 33, after y/n and Yoongi have begun filming Moon Over the Sea. This content is not relevant to the main Strangers plot. 

WC: 1.8k love it when a bonus chapter is longer than some actual content

|mlist|

A/N: Namjoon really wrecked me during the awards stages ok I’m not projecting I’m just projecting

“Okay, y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you yawn, making yourself comfortable. You’re sleepy, it’s past two in the morning, and you don’t wanna get up.

“Anyone got a good one for the token ARMY?” Hoseok asks, looking around at the other members sprawled on various pieces of furniture and carpet. You stick your tongue out at Hoseok on hearing your title.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Seokjin asks from below you, tipping a mostly-empty beer bottle at you.

“I already answered that, and no.” You swat the eldest member, who’s laying on the couch with his head in your lap. “Bitch, I just ended a relationship and webcomics continue to convince me that men are trash. Besides, I barely get to sleep– when am I gonna have time to catch feelings?”

“Blehhh, boring.”

“I can drink if y’all can’t think of anything,” you say, already reaching for the bottle to refill your wine glass. Hey, you were feeling classy tonight.

“No, wait, wait, I have one!” Jungkook leans forward eagerly. “Have you ever written... fanfiction?”

Ah, shit.

You press your lips together to keep a straight face. Lately it seems you’ve been using more of your acting skills when you spend time with the boys than you do for school and work combined. “Have I ever, at any point, written fanfiction for any fandom? Yes.”

“Was it…” Jungkook leans even closer, his long hair almost hitting you in the face. “BTS fanfiction?”

You smile, choosing your words carefully. “Unfortunately, Kookie dearest, I already answered my truth.”

“She’s avoiding the question!” Jungkook hollers, far too loudly for the time of night. “You guys know what that means~”

It’s as though all signs of sleepiness have vanished– every member sits up, and with Jin’s weight off, you realize your legs have fallen asleep. 

“C’mon, guys…” you’re met with seven pairs of eager eyes, focusing on your favorite. “Et tu, Yoongs?”

A corner of Yoongi’s mouth turns upward in that oh-so-familiar smirk. “What can I say– I’ve got a cat’s curiosity.”

“Don’t let Holly hear that,” you reply, tossing a pillow at him. He snatches it out of the air without moving from his curled-up position in his favorite armchair. You’re reminded again of how he’s so adorable when he looks that small.

“So?” Jimin asks eagerly. “Have you ever written fanfiction about us?”

You could lie. God knows it would be easy. But the far more fun option wouldn’t be lying… it would simply be not telling the truth.

“I would love to answer that, but unfortunately it’s not my turn anymore,” you reply airily, delighting in the boys’ groans. “So, Joon, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Namjoon replies, his eyes confident. He really could bring anyone to their knees with just a glance. As your first bias, Namjoon has always had a special effect on you.

“I dare you to let Kookie and Tae tickle you.”

“Wait, what?”

You check your watch. “For, say, one minute.”

Namjoon backs away nervously from the predatory advance of the maknaes, all signs of bravado gone. “C’mon… ah, y/n, this is too cruel…”

“Who was it that dared me to drink a shot of soy sauce?” You ask smugly. “And who dared me to catcall Jin?” Your plan is to distract the boys, and luckily you have plenty of material to work with. Namjoon especially always seems perfectly sadistic when assigning dares.

“As if you weren’t thinking that stuff anyways,” Seokjin says dismissively.

You roll your eyes, focusing on the leader’s imminent torture. “One minute, starting… now!”

At your signal, Taehyung and Jungkook leap like feral dogs upon Namjoon, who falls to the floor with a thump, laughing uncontrollably: “Ah! Guys! S-sto-ah!”

You sit back in satisfaction as the clock winds down, figuring you’ve suitably distracted your friends from their original prey. 

Your hopes are dashed soon enough. Namjoon gets back up, fire in his eyes. “Y/n.”

Dammit. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“Truth or dare?”

Well, what does he think? “Dare.” Obviously. You’d die before letting them read the stories that you, in your lust-addled fangirl’s mind, wrote so long ago. 

“I dare you to give Yoongi hyung a hickey.”

Wait, what? “Yo, Joon, that’s not cool–” Yoongi is quick to complain, but Namjoon silences him with a raised hand. Meanwhile you’re frozen to your seat, feeling as though all your blood has simultaneously rushed into your face and fled your body entirely. Sure, you guys have toed the line of what’s proper during these late-night games, and as the only woman you’ve tended to get the brunt of it, but to give Yoongi a hickey? To press your lips, your tongue, your teeth to his smooth skin?

Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure you’ve written that into a fanfic at some point anyways.

“Dude. No.” You say, at last finding your voice. “C’mon, that’s ridiculous.” You spare a glance at Yoongi, who you can tell is trying to keep a straight face. Still his clenched jaw and rapid blinking give away his anxiety, and– no. You couldn’t do something like that to Yoongi, who so clearly would hate it.

Namjoon raises a brow, his expression void of mercy. “You could always choose truth.”

You laugh nervously. You didn’t anticipate this, and now… “Can I take a drink instead?”

The leader shakes his head. When he speaks, it’s as though his voice is made of steel. When did he become so intense? “Nope. Truth or dare. Pick one.”

You inhale deeply. Dammit, Yoongs, you owe me one. “Truth.”

Immediately all tension melts from Namjoon’s gaze, and he breaks into the dorky grin you’re so familiar with. “Yes! Quick, guys, before she changes her mind!”

Your eyes widen. “No, wait–”

Hoseok pounces. “Have you ever written BTS fanfiction, and if so, what was it about?”

Fucking hell. You’ll get Joon back for this. 

“Uh…” Should you lie? Every instinct is telling you to steer the boys as far from the truth as possible. Still, you’re buzzed, and it’s late, and–

“Yes. I have.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, his nose scrunched as he slaps the couch. “I knew it!” The others celebrate in similar fashions:

“Ten bucks says it’s a ship fic!”

“Reader insert, it has to be.”

“Have you guys even heard Emo Y/n? I bet it’s super sad.”

You snatch Jungkook’s drink out of his hand and take a swig. You’re starting to realize you’re gonna need something stronger than wine if you want to survive the night. “How do you guys even know those terms? Who’s been corrupting you with Tumblish?”

“Twitter,” Taehyung replies, shuffling over and draping himself over the back of the couch, his head resting on your shoulder. “ARMYs kept tagging us, they thought we never saw.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Yoongi staring at the ground, smiling softly, his fingers laced together. Huh.

In the meantime, the remaining members have continued with their buzzword arguments. You begin petting Tae’s soft hair absentmindedly while waiting for the others to calm down and hopefully forget this entire conversation by morning.

“It’s probably crack.”

“No, fluff!”

“Angst, I told you!”

Jimin suddenly pipes up, his voice sleepy and soft. “What if it’s… smut?”

A hush falls over the room, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t remember writing anything explicit, most romance scenes were mainly innocent, full of vague implications of other goings-on…

Wait. Your eyes widen. You did write that one scene, on a dare from Lisa… fuck. You rack your brain– what was it? You wrote it almost four years ago, you can hardly remember. It was about Namjoon, right? He was your bias around that time. 

“Y/n, would you ever write smut?”

“Ha, maybe if someone paid me!”

“Ooh! Is that a promise?”

It was all a joke, but you did end up posting it on your Tumblr at some point or another, classifying it as dumb and crackheaded. Regardless, that means it’s online. And that means…

They could find it.

“Y/n-ie?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your eyes and you jump, nearly colliding with him. “You zoned out for a bit~”

“S-Sorry.” You notice the boys are all still looking at you. “What?”

“Your truth. What was your fanfiction about?”

You sieze on the vague question. “Well, funny you should ask, I think I wrote one about Hobi here going to space, which was–”

“The hell? Did I die?” Hoseok whines. “Y/n, you traitor–”

“Wait, so you’ve written more than one?” Yoongi interrupts.

“I mean…” that’s safe to say, right? “Yes.”

Namjoon taps your shoulder. “Have you ever written smut?”

Jeez, what was with his confidence tonight? “I–”

“If you tell us the truth, we’ll make Joon hyung rap Expensive Girl,” Hoseok sings, swinging a shoe in his hand. Wait, is that your-

“Huh? Hold up, hold up, that wasn’t part of the deal!” Namjoon’s facade quickly fades in liu of genuine terror. 

Yoongi slowly rises for the first time that night, his grin nothing short of malicious. “You wanna play sadistic games? If Y/n completes her truth, you have to do that dare.”

“Y/n, I changed my mind, don’t tell us,” Namjoon begs, turning to you.

Oh. Oh, the power coursing through your veins. Either way, you win. You could keep your dark secret, or torture Namjoon just a little bit more. What a glorious choice to have.

“You know what?” You drain your wine glass, the alcohol lending you courage. Namjoon wanted to make you give Yoongi a hickey, he deserves this. And you were younger, a simple fangirl– besides, it’s not like they’re going to ask you to read it. “Yes. I did write a smut fic once. And you know what, Joon? It was about you.”

You giggle and sit back as the members do the “OHHHHH!” thing that boys never seem to grow out of. 

Instead of going red like you expected he would, a shit-eating grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. He seems more… well, pleased than anything. 

“What was it about?” he asks.

“Joon,” Yoongi warns, his voice a note deeper than usual. You shoot Yoongi a grateful smile– how does he know you so well? As for the fic, you genuinely don’t remember, but knowing it was smut, and knowing it was about Namjoon…

“I dunno, dude, probably some daddy kink shit.”

Namjoon cocks his head. “Daddy… kink?”

You jaw drops, and in your bordering-on-drunk state, you can’t help but blurt out: “You don’t know what a daddy kink is? I thought you had one!”

The leader scratches his head. “What?”

You can’t help but laugh, the drinks finally hitting you hard. “Oh my god. C’mon, gather round, my students.” You reach out, clasping Jimin’s and Jin’s shoulders. “let’s teach you guys about fanfiction.”

[rafestyles]

i wanna be yours | d.d

Requested? Yes: Can you do one of david and reader before getting together and david realizing he has feeling for her and asks someone from the group for advice and she over hears?! 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings?: None

A/N: hi lovies! i’m baaaaack !! :) i deterred from the plot slightly, having the reader find out david likes her through a carly and erin vlog squad tea video instead! i hope you like it !!

Masterlist?: Here!

you had been friends with the “vlog squad” for almost two years now. you had joined the crew of crazy vloggers because you were close friends with carly and erin, which meant you were invited to a lot of their parties and get-togethers, allowing you to become close to the rest of their friend group.

the first time you had met the legendary david dobrik, you had developed an instant liking to him. not only was he naturally charming, but his driven, business mind was what drew you to him. although, you had an immediate attraction the boy, you suppressed your feelings because he was in a committed (and very cute) relationship with liza at the time. despite all of this, david had also taken a quick likening to you as well, and before you knew it, you two had developed a fast friendship.

over the course of the past two years, the friendship you shared with him grew into a lot more - you considered david to be one of your best friends and he considered you to be his as well. you had been with him as he surpassed millions of subscribers and followers, as well as you being the first one he told when him and liza split. as the years have progressed, your feelings for him became a little more than just platonic. although, you kept that small secret to yourself, deciding it that would be a better option than ruining the whole dynamic of the friend group.

--

it was a lonely, sunday afternoon, when everything changed. you didn’t have any plans for the day, david being beckoned over to carly and erin’s place to film a video and the rest of the group busy with other things. so all in all, it was the perfect day to catch up on some much needed rest. you had just settled down to watch a movie when you received an incoming facetime call from dave.

“y/n?” you watched the screen as he was bending down to sit in his car. “dave, ‘s going on? how was filming with carly and erin?”

he finally made himself comfortable in the seat, placing the phone on his dash so he could buckle up and start the car. “it was good. um, yeah.” he shook his head lightly, biting his bottom lip nervously before continuing. “i think it’s going up tonight. ya gonna watch it?” he looked into the camera then, making as much eye contact as he could through a phone screen.

you furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head quizzically, “i mean, i usually do dave. so yeah,” you paused for a second, “uh.. why?”

he ran his fingers through his crazy hair, sniffling as he licked over his lips, “oh, it’s just a good one.. uh, really funny.”

he was nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why. before you had a chance to ask him anymore questions, he was grabbing his phone and saying his goodbyes to you, “okay, y/n. i gotta go and film something with jase. uh, will you tell me when you’ve watched their video?” he pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger.

“um, sure dave. but what the fuck is going on with you?” you questioned.

he shook his head quickly, “uh nothing! nothing, y/n, everything’s fine. i’ll talk to you later!” and with that, he hung up the phone, leaving you very confused.

--

you hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep until you were woken up to the sound of your phone ringing. groaning slightly, you rolled over in bed, searching your sheets for the sound of then noise. once you found it, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you realized it was your sister calling you.

“y/s/n?” you mumbled, sitting up in your bed as you stretched and yawned softly.

“y/n! where the fuck have you been?” she screeched, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. “have you watched c and e’s new video yet? probably not, no, because it sounds like you just woke up. get to your fucking laptop and watch it right now, okay? love you! ok, bye!” she hung up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other line.

you quickly sprung to action though, grabbing your laptop and opening it up. you quickly went to youtube, finding carly and erin’s video to be the first one in your recommended. your confusion kept growing as you noticed the title read “david dobrik reveals his crush?!” you tried to stop your heart from sinking, as you swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing play on the video.

the first few minutes of the video were filled with carly and erin explaining how to these “tea” videos usually go.

“oh, i’m so excited about this one!” erin gushed, “the last time i checked there was some good stuff on here.” she rubbed her hands, almost evily as she glanced over at david.

you smiled softly as he giggled, clapping his hands together, “let’s fucking go then.”

the video continued on much like it always did. they confirmed some of the rumors and denied some of the others and you kept laughing at the sly remarks that all three of them were making towards some of the comments.

“ooo, here’s a good one.” your ears perked up as you watched one of carly’s perfectly trimmed eyebrows raise as she glanced between david and erin. you watched them both read the comment she was referring to, david then biting his lip nervously.

“do you wanna talk about this one, dave? we can just cut this part out?” erin softly said, looking between the camera and david.

he seemed to ponder for a second before ultimately shaking his head. “no, don’t cut this out,” he took a deep breath, placing that huge grin back on his face, “let’s just fucking do it.”

carly and erin both grinned with him, clapping excitedly and cheering loudly. “alright! so the question is,” carly paused, double checking with david to make sure it was still okay. he nodded his head, encouraging her to continue. “it says, ‘do you think there’s something going on between y/n and david? like they’re always together and he looks at her like she hung the fucking moon.’”

your heart started pacing rapidly, you couldn’t believe what you had heard, and not only that, the fact that david had seemed nervous (?) about answering this question. your thoughts were interrupted by david speaking on the video.

“well, i guess i can just go ahead and deny that there’s anything going on between her and i,” he looked at his hands as he was playing with his fingers nervously, “but that doesn’t mean that i don’t want anything to happen?” he stated the last part in a questioning tone, looking back and forth between carly and erin, laughing softly as he noticed their huge grins.

you paused the video, trying to catch your breath as you searched for your phone to call your sister back. she picked up on the first ring, yelling into the phone.

“did you watch it?!” you shook your head, before you realized that she wasn’t in the room with you. “yes, but no. i haven’t finished it yet. what the fuck is going on?” your sister laughed happily in your ear, “just keep watching! but stay on the phone, i wanna hear your reaction!” she squealed.

you reluctantly pressed play on the video, putting your phone on speaker and laying it on your bed.

“so is this you officially saying you have a crush on y/n, david?” carly questioned, her grin never faltering.

“uh, i guess so?” he mumbled, licking over his lips as he smirked shyly at the camera.

“what the fuck…?” you mumbled, causing your sister to laugh loudly. “wait, keep listening!” she shouted.

“oh come on david, don’t give us that cutesy bullshit. yes or no?” erin teased him, pushing at his shoulder softly.

he laughed as he leaned back against the couch, running his fingers through his hair, “okay, okay, fuck, fine! yes, i like y/n, a lot. she’s just an all around great person and not only that, but she’s my best friend as well. so yeah,” he sat back up, getting almost a little too close to the camera, “y/n, if you’re watching this, please go on a date with me. i’ve been too big of a pussy to ask in person.”

you tuned out the video, only hearing carly and erin’s muffled cheers of celebration as you attempted to process what you had just heard. you were taken out of your thoughts at the sound of a knock at your door.

“y/n, who is that? ooo, fuck, i hope it’s david! let me know, love you!” and with that, your sister hung up the phone once again.

you stumbled out of your bed, glancing at yourself in the mirror as you tried to tame your bed head. you walked over to your front door, pulling it open to see david standing in front of you.

“um, hi?” he quietly mumbled, glancing at his feet before looking back up at you. “you weren’t answering your phone and i got worried. did you um- watch the video?” he cringed slightly at his nervousness as a large smile overtook your face.

“yes, i just um- i just did.” you bit your bottom lip trying to tone down the grin on your face. “fuck, um- come in?” you side stepped out of his way so he could enter your apartment, you then shutting the door behind him.

once he was inside, he turned around quickly, cupping your face in between his hands as he used his body to press your against your front door. “y/n, fuck. please tell me you feel the same way.”

you stared at him, bewildered for a moment before speaking, “what the fuck, david? of course i do! i thought it was so fucking obvious that i’ve been pining after you since day fucking one-“

and that was all of the confirmation he needed before he pressed his lips against yours, both of you grinning widely into the kiss. he pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “thank fucking god. i thought this would never happen.”

you giggled softly, looking him in the eyes, “well it’s fucking happening, dobrik. but i swear to god, if you ever ask me on a date through a fucking youtube video again, i will end you.”

he let out a loud laugh at your statement, leaning closer to you, “trust me, baby, won’t happen again.” he promised, connecting his lips to yours once more.

[builder051]

The sound of snowfall

Jonestown (Natasha Romanov/Jessica Jones Avengers-JJ crossover ‘verse).  Contains alcohol, emeto, a bit of angst, a bit of romance.  

_____

Picking up Jess for work is Nat’s first task each day.  Sometimes it’s as simple as rolling over in bed and pressing a kiss to Jess’s pink lips, parted slightly and always inviting.  Nat wishes that was the case every morning.  It feels natural, Nat rising with the sun.  Gently pulling her lover back into the land of the living.  Coaxing out a smile from the haze of drink and sleep.

It would never work, though.  They’re probably only so happy together because they aren’t always together.  Neither of them is cut out for domesticity, and the schedules of spy rings and overnight stakeouts are hardly accommodating.  But Nat can’t complain.  She has the low-slung black sports car for a reason.  It’s almost as sensual to watch Jess leave lipstick marks on the lid of her Starbucks cup.  Almost.

It’s snowy today.  A heap of the white powder falls from a ledge somewhere up above as she steers out of the tower’s basement garage, the door whirring up and letting her out onto the street.  There are a few shallow tire marks in the snow on the street, but not enough to churn it into dirty grey slush.  Nat feels ice crunch beneath her tires.  She takes it easy, letting the car roll forward with gravity before chancing a tap on the accelerator.  

It’s the kind of weather that closes schools and gives way to red-nosed newscasters bundled in knockoff Burberry, imploring the public not to leave their high-rises.  Nat laughs to herself, pushing the car up past 30 as she plays chicken with a yellow light.  She’s the only vehicle out and about this morning, so it’s not like there’s utility in slamming on the brakes.  And she’s not even speeding.

With the absence of traffic and slickness of the ice, it doesn’t take Nat long to navigate to Hell’s Kitchen.  She only slows when she turns, snow spraying in arcs around the wheels.  A thrill of excitement flutters in her stomach when she starts to fishtail.  Nat grins, then catches the eye of her reflection in the rearview mirror.  She could stand to cool her jets.  

Nobody in Jess’s building seems to have left for work, so there’s no place to park.  She doubts any brave souls will venture out anytime soon, so she doesn’t feel too bad about pulling up parallel to a yellow mustang with a 10-inch cap of snow.  It looks like an over-frosted sugar cookie, delectable and absolutely ridiculous.  There are so few cars in the city that it makes sense for parking options to be limited, but this one’s owner must be nuts.  Who leaves such a flashy vehicle parked curbside for any length of time?  Well, Nat does, but her sanity’s so far gone that she doesn’t count.

She locks up and picks her way across the sidewalk, making pointy tracks with her high-heeled boots.  She sinks up to her ankles, and she shivers when some of the powder falls into her shoes.  Years of ballet and aikido and cheap, unbalanced treadmills have loosened the neural connections in her feet, but she still wishes she’d worn socks.

Jess’s building is hot and wet-smelling, like the collective population of inhabitants have all thrown their damp mittens over the radiator to dry.  Nat heads for the stairwell, where the draftiness and mist of cigarette smoke provide cold comfort.  She jogs in tight circles up the switchbacks to Jess’s floor, glad she’d had the boots re-soled in rubber.  It’s better for both the grip and the quietness.  It’s a little disappointing to stride across a hard floor without the purposeful clicking to announce her arrival.  But save an aura of sexiness, there’s no good reason for her to have loud shoes.  And besides, she doesn’t need to put on airs for Jess.  Jess tells her she’s beautiful in a hoodie and sweats.

Nat isn’t the one in a hoodie and sweats today, though.  The frosted glass panel in the door is meant to discourage prying eyes, but Nat knows how to interpret the fuzzy shapes behind the lettering for Alias Investigation.  The greyish, rounded silhouette of Jess’s head and shoulders rise past the line demarking the surface of her desk.  She’s already working.

“Hey,” Nat taps on the glass with one knuckle.  “Open up.”

Papers shuffle, and Jess gets up to let her in.  “Hey,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Nat through the crack as she releases the chain.  

“You gonna wear that to the office?” Nat asks, giving a meaningful look to Jess’s baggy sweatshirt before shaking the last bit of snow off the top of her shoe.  “Not that you shouldn’t.  But, you know…”

Jess shrugs.  “Did you watch the news?  Government stuff is closed today.”

Nat didn’t, but she’s not interested in sharing that.  “What, for this?”  She gestures vaguely toward the window behind Jess’s desk.  “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, well, the transit authority has apparently never been to Minnesota.  Or Moscow.”  She flashes Nat a smile.  “That’s what they’re worried about.  Car crashes.  It ‘s not like New Yorkers know how to drive anyway, in, like, regular conditions.”  Her grin falters.

“Seriously, though,” Nat says, stepping into Jess’s kitchen and taking a mug from the drainer basket.  “A snow day?  Aren’t we too old for that?”

“Oh, I’m with you there,” Jess replies, trailing a few steps behind.  “If you wanna build a snowman, go ask somebody else.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”  Nat reaches toward the cabinet that sometimes contains instant coffee.  But not today.  There’s only Jack Daniels and Smirnoff.  

“No, I’m totally fun,” Jess deadpans, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and tearing at the lid’s plastic coating.  “Want some breakfast?  I’ve got case files, too, but this is better.”

“You sure SHIELD’s closed?” Nat asks suspiciously.  “I’m not getting a DUI when we get called in for a mission or something.”

“It’s a snow day for evil geniuses too.”  Jess swigs straight from the bottle, then breaks the seal on the vodka and holds it over Nat’s mug.  A drop of clear liquor shivers at the lip and falls like a loose diamond.  “All plots to take over the world are delayed till tomorrow.”

Nat laughs.  It’s stupid to let her guard down so much, but Jess is right.  Statistically speaking, at least.  More crimes are committed in the summer, regardless of scale.  Even terrorists don’t like going out in the cold.  “Ok,” she acquiesces.  “Sure.  But you owe me if I get a parking ticket.”

“You won’t,” Jess says.  She fills the mug almost to the brim.  

Nat takes a sip and looks at her questioningly.

“Government’s closed, doofus.”  Jess bumps Nat’s shoulder with hers, and Nat has to quickly gulp her drink to keep it from spilling.  “That means fewer cops, and they’re all gonna be responding to fender benders.”

“You owe me if I get in a fender bender, then.”  Nat nudges her back.

Jess rolls her eyes.  “I don’t think you’re drunk enough.  You’ve really got the dumb today.”

Of course Nat doesn’t think she’ll actually crash.  She drives like a stuntwoman when she’s sober, and still better than the average soccer mom when she’s intoxicated.  She tosses her hair back even though it’s not in her eyes.  “Then maybe it’s a good thing you’re keeping me home.”

Jess laughs and kisses her.  She tastes like whiskey and sleep, and she rises on her tiptoes so she can give tongue.  After a moment, her forehead starts to slide down Nat’s nose.  “Take off your fucking tall shoes and come’ere.”  

The overexcited thermostat makes it comfortable to strip to underwear.  They lie on the couch, squashed together at one end, kissing and blushing and not quite watching Good Morning America.  They decide to start a new game, drinking every time someone on TV mentions the snow.  Quick sips for regular programming.  Long ones for special reporting interruptions.  

They play until they start to forget the rules.  The animated map of swirling rainbow weather systems seems to jump up and down, vibrating the sofa like a deck chair on a cruise ship.  Nat plants her hand to ground herself and finds the culprit is Jess’s rib cage, shuddering with silent giggles beneath her.  

“You have to keep going,” Jess says breathlessly, reaching clumsily for her bottle.  “This is the lonest fucking snow report I’ve ever seen.”

Nat starts giggling too, even though the situation is tilting decidedly towards not funny.  Her gut feels watery and heavy.  Or maybe that’s her mouth.  She’s an overfilled mug, ready to spill, but still sipping anyway.  It had helped last time.  

Nat’s hand goes clammy against the warm glass.  The bottle is half-empty and unwieldy.  The liquor splashes back and forth, toward the neck, then toward the bottom.  Jess’s face distorts as Nat looks at her, going huge and then tiny as the tide rises and falls.  Her mouth moves, and Nat knows she’s speaking, but it takes several seconds to disentangle her voice from what’s coming out of the TV.

“…ok?”

“Huh?” Nat asks into the vodka bottle.  A sick hiccup sticks in her throat like a cork about to pop.  She doesn’t trust herself to move.

“Nat?  You ok?”

“Uh-huh.”  But as she says it, she feels the bottom drop out of her stomach, a springboard compressed and ready to launch.  If the TV wasn’t humming, she thinks she’d be able to hear the blood draining from her face, like the sinister trickle from vein to vial in the overly-quiet doctor’s office.  

“No, you’re not.”  Jess sits up, jostling Nat and sending vodka all down the front of her camisole, both from the bottle and rushing up from her throat.  

“Oh, geez.  Sorry,” Jess says, yanking the bottle out of Nat’s hand and cupping her palm beneath her chin.

Nat wants to tell her it won’t do any good, though when she opens her mouth, Jess finds out anyway.  The sick is clear, but it smells like stomach acid.  The kind it’s easy to forget needs to be cleaned up until it dries and becomes a permanent odor.  It spills between Jess’s fingers and pools in Nat’s lap until she gains the wherewithal to lean forward over the floor.  

“Ok.  Alright,” Jess mumbles.  It’s half comforting and half drunkenly confused, like a stumbling coed looking for the pizza box that turns out to be in her hand.

Nat wants to tell her it’s not her fault, that it would’ve happened anyway.  She wants to tell her that she hardly ever pukes when she drinks, that this is weird, that she’ll clean it up.   But she’s still too nauseated to move her jaw.  Her breath comes in a wet rattle when she inhales.  And Jess already knows.

“Come on.”  Jess hauls Nat off the couch, supporting her easily with one hand while keeping the other, vomit-coated one under Nat’s face.  Nat thinks she’s going to be deposited in front of the toilet, and her stomach prepares to heave, but Jess pushes her into the shower instead.  She lets go for a second to close the glass door, and Nat retches.  Her shoulders fly toward her knees as her legs give way.  A weak stream of alcohol comes up and runs between Jess’s feet.

“Ok, easy.”  She props Nat against the tile wall.  Nat expects it to be cold against her spine, but it’s not.  It’s warm like the wall of a sauna.  Jess keeps her fingers wrapped around Nat’s arm as she reaches to turn on the spray.  

“’M fine,” Nat chokes.  She drags her shaking hand across her mouth and chin.  A blur of red and yellow stains the back of her wrist.  Nat hopes it’s a hallucination, carryover from the technicolor radar picture embossed on her retinas.  But she feels Jess’s eyes boring into her, burning the marks of mucous and blood.  

Nat wipes it on her thigh.  “It’s nothing,” she slurs.  Nothing good will come from a lie, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to come up with something believable, anyway.  She does her best to downplay the truth.  “Just… a thing that…happens sometimes…”

“Ulcer?” Jess guesses, taking down the showerhead and aiming it at Nat’s leg until the smear disappears in a pinkish swirl down the drain.  

“How’d you—”  Nat swallows hard and tries to convince herself the heat in her throat is just from the steam.

Jess shrugs.  “It’s a thing that happens sometimes.  More common than you might think.”  Her voice is steady, but her smile wavers.  “But I think I owe you for this one.”

“But… it isn’t a…?”  Nat can’t remember the stipulations of recompense she’d set earlier.  Something about cars.

“This is worse, isn’t it?”  Jess holds the showerhead over Nat’s hair, moving it over the crown of her head so the limp auburn strands fall out of her eyes.  

Nat considers.  “I mean…”  She thinks about forcing a laugh, but she doesn’t quite have the breath for it.  “It’s not ideal, but… I can think of worse ways to spend a snow day.”

Jess’s cheeks are as pink as her lips, and a halo of frizz decorated with tiny water droplets rings her head.  “You poor, deprived girl.”  She lets the showerhead fall, the spray keeping it from bouncing off the tile.  Jess grabs the shampoo, and the scent of flowers overtakes the notes of vodka and bile.  “If you’re lying to make me feel better…”  She trails off, shaking her head.

“I’m not,” Nat says.

“I know.”  Jess works a lather into Nat’s hair, her touch extra gentle on Nat’s scalp.

“Then why’d you say it?”  Nat says, trying to look up without straining her eyes.

“I wanted to know if you actually would.”  Jess’s voice goes up at the end, even though it’s not a question.  “Be honest, I mean.”

“I was.”

“Yeah,” Jess sighs.  “I probably shouldn’t’ve questioned it.”  She slips into a mumble.  Nat isn’t sure if it’s from alcohol or emotion.

“If you didn’t, you’d be stupid,” Nat says.  A line of foam drips down her temple.  She watches it leave a white trail in her peripheral vision.  Nat catches it with her thumb and smears it across Jess’s cheek, right under her eye.

“What are you doing?”  Jess looks at her in a pitying way, her eyebrows raised and her forehead crossed with worry lines.

“Giving you an excuse.  You keep saying I’m dumb, but you’re the one crying because you got soap in your eyes.”  Nat gives a dramatic eye roll that makes her head pound, but an ember of satisfaction glows in her chest as she sees a tear cut the streak of sudsy war paint.

“It’s shampoo.”  Jess begins to carefully rinse Nat’s hair.  The corner of her mouth twitches.  “Shut your eyes.”

“Well, excuse me.”  

“I always will, Nat.  You know me.”

[mybeautifuldecay]

Are you going to finish what’s in a name? I love that one and I really want to know how it ends.

…here’s the funny thing, I have loads of this written up but it’s hidden in my phone docs and not anywhere I’ve looked in a while. So. Yes. I am because it’s got loads of parts half written and the plot is mostly fleshed out. <3 heh. 

Previous chapters can be found on my must ignored MASTER LIST.

–

What’s In A Name: Part Five: 

“Jamie! Please, don’t leave. Out of e-everyone here…” Claire stumbled over her words, her stomach lurching as she tried to vocalise her feelings to the only man she’d come across that had taken care of her. She could see the hurt, the betrayal in his eyes, and she couldn’t bare it. “Jamie, you’re the only one I want to believe me. I am not a spy, you have to…” she wanted to say trust, but she knew that wasn’t an appropriate word to choose at this particular moment. She’d broken that, and it’d be a time before she could earn it back. “Please, don’t hate me. It isn’t like you think, I wish I could explain, how much easier this would be!” She stood, her back against the cold brick of her cell, praying, internally, that he would stay and hear her out. Her eyes filled with tears, she wouldn’t take back what she’d done. She had needed to get back to the stones, but losing that dispatch notice, that’d been foolish, and she wished with all her might that she’d taken more care with it. “Ye kent what Randall did to me, mistress…” His regression to using her formal address caused her heart to lurch in her chest. “Ye saw wi’ yer own eyes, the marks he left. I dinna mean to keep secrets from ye, because I didna just wish to keep ye safe. Damnit!” He slammed his fist against the small wooden table, the goblet of ale and the small plate of bread flew into the air and clattered at Claire’s feet. She jumped back, her ears ringing, the tears falling from her eyes now as she gasped in air at an alarming rate. “I trusted ye Claire! I was reckless! …and I am a fool for doing so.” “No! Jamie…no! You’re not a fool. I promise you.” She stammered out as fast as she could, her lungs rising painfully and pushing uncomfortably against her ribs as panic set in. He was still young, not naïve but certainly filled with an exuberance and innocence that caused him to trust in what his gut told him. She could see that rapidly fading, and cursed herself for being the cause. “I am NOT a spy, I-I can’t explain…b-but…” She was panting hard now, her brain rushing through every possible outcome, trying to figure out what to tell him. In the end there was only one option, the truth. Before she could even begin he interrupted her, his blue eyes hard. “I have one thing to say to ye, mistress. Before ye say anymore. Whatever the cost, if it is to cost me my life, I wouldna change it. I’ll hang, and I have no regrets.”Claire’s hands shook, hang? She’d known of course. He was a wanted man, but  he wasn’t about to give himself over to the redcoats, surely? He looked ready for battle, he obviously didn’t believe anything she could say would change his fate. He truly thought she’d been collecting information on him and sending it back to Captain Randall. Her mouth opened and closed -dry from not swallowing. She was never going to convince him she’d fallen through time…but she had to try. “If you’d read the entire dispatch notice, if you’d read the date! Jamie, you’d know.” She reached her hand out to him, knowing he would snub her but making the attempt nonetheless. “It would have said 1944, I-I needed to get back to Craigh Na Dun. T-that’s where it happened, where I came…through, if that’s the right word for it…” She let her body slide down the damp wall until she was sat, curled up, on the floor. She sat there staring at her now joined hands as she told her story, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. But she had to get it all out. Jamie stood stock still through her entire speech, he was still reeling from the discovery and couldn’t bring himself to relax even a little. He was tensed for action, convinced that any moment now, Randall would burst through the gates at Leoch and demand to take him away. But as of yet, that had not occurred. She was right, the men had all been so concerned with the name on the note that they hadn’t stopped to read anymore of it. He wished he’d kept it just to check that she was telling the truth, but for now he’d just have to decide whether he trusted her or not. “I didn’t even remember having it on me, until I packed everything away before I ran. I hid it, in my pocket. I knew you couldn’t see it, I knew what would happen if you did.” She wiped her eyes, the tears blurring her vision and irritating her. “…and look what it’s done. Frank is my husband, Jamie. Frank Randall. But he won’t be until the 20th century…and you won’t hang, because…I - am - not - a - spy!” She punctuated her words carefully, trying to drive home the important facts. “Am I to trust that yer a time traveller, Claire? Is that what ye want me to think?” His tone was bitter, but softening. She stood and cautiously made her way over to him, stopping just before him. “I know it’s impossible to believe, I know because I’d feel the same. I still don’t understand it…but I’m here, and it happened. I don’t care whether you choose to trust me or not, have me tried for witchcraft if you want!” She turned away now, too tired from her tale to continue on. He watched as she stumbled away from him once more, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He swallowed back the emotion welling in his throat, something deep down niggled at him, something he couldn’t quite explain himself. “I believe ye, Sassenach. I suppose it’d be a fair deal easier if ye were…a witch. Whether it’s daft of me to do so, though, I believe ye.” His voice was so low she almost didn’t catch it, she stopped still as he spoke, letting the words tumble out of him before she allowed the meaning of his quiet musings melt into her skin. Claire’s heart slowed for the first time since he’d stepped into her cell as relief began to thaw the ice that had being running through her veins at her incarceration. “Murtagh told me I must come and see ye, so I kent there must be a good reason for it.”“M-Murtagh?”“Aye, has he spoken wi’ ye?”“No, only Colum and Dougal have been down since my arrest. Nobody else.” She twisted her head, he could see the tear tracks running down the black patches of dust that clung to her skin. He could see the fatigue in her eyes, and he felt what she felt. Sheer desperation. He went to her then – without thinking much about his actions – and gathered her up in his arms. She turned and buried her face against his warm chest, her gentle sobs morphing into deep wails of grief as she clung to him. He could feel her tears as they dropped under his shirt and ran down his bare torso. “What’ll h-happen to me…Jamie?” She managed to force out, as she eventually calmed. “Dougal said they may send me back to Randall, I-I’m…” her eyes squeezed shut as she imagined the horror of being passed over to the redcoats, “…I’m s-scared. I promised myself I’d get back, e-even if it cost me my life.” Her hands started to shake once more, as she continued on. “B-but…if he takes me, it won’t be…i-it, he won’t…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, it made Jamie’s wame drop to think of her in Randall’s care. He knew precisely what would happen should he come to take possession of her, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “Shh, Claire lass. Hush and breathe. I willna let either Dougal or Colum take ye, not until I’ve spoken to them properly.” “Y-you’d do that…for me?” Claire spoke, her head still resting against him, her nose buried now in the crook of his neck. This was second time he’d had to make this promise, only this time it was under more tense circumstances. The thought made her cry once more, he’d dropped his anger completely now, and was looking at her with only a glint of happiness in his eyes. There was something more though, something she couldn’t interpret. “Aye, I would. I told ye before, Claire. I wouldna change what came afore. I still mean it now, especially since ye arena going to turn me over to the English.” There was humour in his voice - but it only brought more tears to Claire’s eyes. “Please don’t joke, Jamie.” She sputtered out, trying to regain some handle on her emotions.  “I have t’ go now, Claire. I’ll make sure yer safe, as I said, but I need to get back. Ye must eat, though.” Jamie shifted a little, and Claire moved with him pushing herself off him and settling herself on the small cot she’d been assigned. “Y-yes, I will.” Her voice breaking as she wiped her eyes once more and pulled her knees up against her chest. “Will I see you soon?” “I’ll try and come back in the next few days, Sassenach. But I canna make any promises.” She nodded, understanding the position he was in, the position she had put him in. As he left her, Jamie took one look back through the door as it locked tight. His heart was torn, he ached to believe her and he had in the moment, but it was his love for her that overruled the logical part of him, that part that warned him to be careful. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t fall too deep until he’d really come to a conclusion, and that would rest partially on Murtagh’s shoulders. His godfather knew something and he’d need to find out what.