#All very fruitless ofc

[deepspaceclawstation]

I'm just..very sad and pathetic today. Sad and pathetic hours.

[ghosts-cant-sleep]

Heeeeyyy, never requested anything but i think i'll give it a shot because i really like the way you write! You're really talented :]

Mayhaps a simon "ghost" riley x male reader? Reader is very provocative and loves getting reactions out of people, no matter if they are amused chuckles or annoyed groans. BUT Ghost is a brick wall and reader sees it as a challenge? Im sure your beautidul mind will come up with something interesting!

May i have the "🦇" as my anon emoji? (If its not taken of course!)

Thanksss, have an amazing day/night!

you can whistle for it

simon 'ghost' riley x male! reader

warnings: idk how spotting works im just basing it off of that one american sniper scene kinda, suggestive innuendos, stupid jokes, not proofread,

notes: i love specific anons sm :3 yall r so cute :3 ofc u can have 🦇 :3 lysm :3

fem dni.

"Y'know, Lieutenant, I've been thinking-"

"I doubt that."

"-You, me, alone under the stars... It's pretty romantic, don't'cha think?"

"No."

A heavy sigh pushes past [Name]'s lips, hia breath blooming into a faint mist of white, fading into the deep blues of the sky hanging high above them.

The snow crunches bellow his elbows with every breath, laying thick over the plantlife. Frost coated the leaves that shrouded the pair, snowfall left the branches bending under the weight, there wasn't even a peep from the local fauna.

And oh god, what he wouldn't give to be warm like them, huddled in a burrow, coat all he'd need to keep warm. Instead, he was left in thick, stiff winter gear, the cruel wind biting at the tip of his nose in spite of the fleece-lined gaiter.

Hell, he was surprised his rifle wasn't crusted in ice.

He wasn't surprised, however, to deduce that the poor weather seemed to reflect on his lieutenant's mood, as if being stuck on overwatch for hours on end wasn't bad enough.

[Name] laid with his cheek resting on the stock of his gun, index finger lazily tapping against the trigger gaurd to some unrecognized rhythm.

And Ghost was right beside him, nearly hyper focused on spotted. Each had their eyes trained on their respective scopes, and both were miserable.

Aching backs, necks swiftly growing sore, eye's dry, lips cracking, and faces all kn all feeling like they'd be ready to freeze off any moment now. And that's not even mentioning that this was the fourth time Ghost had essentially requested [Name] shut his mouth in the past thirty minutes they'd been in the field, which was frustrating enough for both of them.

And excuse him for not wanting to waste his night sulking in silence, but making the best out of a less than steller situation didn't seem to be something Ghost was capable of.

It was charming, in its own annoying little way-- the relentless chatter and constant quips and jokes, even if they sometimes boarded on ridiculously unprofessional. Whether it be an annoyed groan, a flustered chuckle, or a reluctant smile masked with a roll of their eyes, his little antics never failed to coax out some reaction.

Almost never.

And in all honesty, this self inflicted, fruitless journey to get so much as a scoff out of Ghost wasn't even the point anymore. Sure, to be met with anything other than stubborn apathy would be a breath of fresh air, not to mention satisfying after so long of any and all jokes, swipes, and thinly veiled innuendo being shut down with little remorse would be a delight. But now? [Name] just wanted something to distract himself from the cold that clung to his skin.

So, as always, to Ghost's dismay, he gives it another go.

Dispite himself, another sigh is huffed out. He glances over to Ghost, the sight of something other than his reticle feeling foreign.

"So..." He starts, situating his sights back to his scope. "You got a girlfriend or anything?"

He found the idea a little funny. The image of this big, stoic man holding hands or otherwise being sweet on some pretty little lady.

There's a stretch of silence, expectantly so, and [Name]'s already racking his brain for something-- anything, to say next.

"No."

The low rumble of Ghost's voice takes him by surprise, but it'd be foolish to dwell on it long. An answer's an answer.

"Figured," [Name] mutters out, adjusting the grip on his gun, rolling out shoulders in an attempt to ease the discomfort that's begun to festerbetweenhia shoulder blades. "Does that mean you're up for grabs then?"

Only the whistle of wind responds this time.

"I'll take that as a maybe." He might as well have been aimlessly talking to himself. Hell, that would've been more entertaining than this.

"Y'know, I'm sure deep down you do think I'm funny." Told you; relentless. Still, despite the smile hidden behind his mask and the slightly forced crinkle in his eye, [Name] couldn't quite hide the irritation growing thick in his own throat.

"I think you're a distraction," Ghost is swift to correct, his balaclava doing little to hide the annoyance in his tone. "A liability if you're not careful, so do shut up."

[Name] can't help but shake his head, a sharp huff pulling from his throat. Sure Ghost was his superior, and by no means were they supposed to be all buddy-buddy with one another. But jesus fucking christ, would it hurt to crack smile. Hell, even Price offers a pitty laugh on the rare occasion.

"It wouldn't kill you to have some damn fun one in a while." The words leave his mouth before his can think better of it, tounge sharp.

"It might," Ghost is quick to retort with just as much bite. For the first time since they settled down, his eyes leave the spotter, sending a well received warning glare [Name]'s way. "Give it a rest, yeah?"

Be it the weather, the job, a wave of bravery, or simply just [Name]'s long overdue annoyance reaching its peak, he, in fact, does not give it a rest.

"It's like you're scared of saying something interesting for once."

"Maybe I'll let you chew on some lead to shut you up. That interesting enough?"

"Christ."

Every stretch on silence is near unbearable. It feels like even the wind still in these moments. [Name] would prefer a constant flood of berating and hardly enjoyable banter from Ghost far more than this.

The tension of the moment breifly lingers before it disapates just as swiftly as it had arrived, the tension in [Name]'s chest easing. He lets out a soft breath, his grip adjusts, his elbows sink furth into the snow.

"Well-" Ghost interjects with gruff sigh, "-Soap told me you like jokes."

"Did he, now?"

"Where do generals keep their armies?"

"Up their sleevies."

"God dammit, Ghost."

[Name] purses his lips, effectively splitting it down the center, the heat from the sting made all the worse by the every present chill. He had more pressing matters to worry about. "Why do snipers aim with one eye closed?"

"Sergeant."

"Humor me-- just this once, and I swear I'll shut up for the rest of the night." An obvious lie. However, Ghost doesn't try to correct it. "...Why do snipers aim with one eye closed?"

"...Why?"

"If they closed both, they wouldn't be able to see."

Yet another discontent sigh leaves Ghost's mouth. But, [Name] could've sworn he almost heard a smile forcing its way onto Ghost's face as he spoke. "Now are you done?"

[Name]s response isn't instantaneous. His head lifts from the small of the stock, gaze leaving the scope and finding Ghost beside him.

Ghost was still, near statuesque if it weren't for the soft puffs of breath that seeped through the thick knit of his mask. [Name] knew Ghost liked being behind the trigger more than anything, but he was sure Ghost's ego swelled, even if just a tad, over being the one chosen to spot instead.

Only when Ghost's eyes meet [Name]'s does he retreat back to his scope. Still, he let's his stiff face pull into a grin. "Say whatever you want, but I think I am starting to get to you, Lieutenant."

"Oh, piss off." This time, he hears Ghost shift around in place, a tired groan accompaning the shifting of snow beneath him. "Just quiet down before I show you how to put that mouth of yours to good use for once."

"Awe, c'mon now, you-- huh?"

[xxanaduwrites]

much ado about nothing, major

i. bubbles & battle scars

gif creds @sakuragifs !

pairing: john “bucky” egan x (ofc) maude “blue” bluell

warnings: this story will contain mature themes, descriptions of injury, blood, sexual content, swearing, as well as, physical and mental illness. proceed with caution.

— i: mentions of injury, death, & puking. (pretty much just maude, bubbles, & croz being a dynamic trio, total bestie vibes — & then there’s john. he’s just there haha)

word count: 3.4k

there must be something or nothing at all

July 24, 1943 was the date — a date marked in the history books as the start of the Hamburg attacks, and in the journal of Nurse Maude Bluell, an inclusion of her very first introduction to one Major John Egan.

It was just past 0900 hours when the doors swung open to the infirmary rather unexpectedly. Bluell was organizing a new shipment of supplies, placing gauze, bandages, and wraps alike in their respective places, Lottie wa re-evaluating the health passes for the men who were flying today — confirming that they has passed inspection so to speak, and Q — well Q was reading newspaper cutouts of her favorite gossip columns, courtesy of her girlfriends back home. A red cherry sucker laid limply in her mouth as she took in the recent excepades of the Hollywood starlets she fawned over.

For Q, it was better for her to dive her nose into the latest gossip than worry about a certain Lieutenant she had tethered a liking too. A certain Lieutenant Curtis Biddick — "Curt" for short — who was scheduled to fly today. Q would deny the prospect of liking the New Yorker with the heavy accent, but it wasn't deniable to Lottie and Maude who had seen the Lieutenant saunter in every morning just to talk to her at the nurse's station. He used the need for a sucker to subside his "apparent" drops in blood sugar as his excuse of choice.

Lottie reprimanded her every time, claiming that they were only for the patients, not for the healthy airmen — hiding the sugary sweet lollipops from her colleague.

But, Lottie's attempts proved to be fruitless as Q would find them at every turn in every single hiding spot, opening a sucker of her own just to push Lottie's buttons.

And, she was doing that just now — not just to bother the blonde, but to also hold some sort of reminder of Biddick, that he was here with her as much as she was there with him — the cherry red sucker that mirrored the very same shade of her hair — tucked safely in the pocket of his flight uniform for a victory treat.

Alas — in other words — there wasn't much to do until their men came flooding back in waves.

Until there was.

The sound of a door swinging open broke the dead silence that pervaded the medical unit. The three women immediately dropped everything they were doing once they saw the sight of Colonel Harding sauntering in with Lieutenant Payne following suit — under the haven of a thick blanket, accompanied by the the arm of one of his fellow airmen.

Or well — Maude and Lottie did.

Susan was trying to consume the last line of the article in front of her as fast as she could. She didn't want to be left wondering what Bettie Davis was doing nowadays in the middle of assessing what was to come.

Lottie, being under the wing of Doctor Stover longer than the two nurses beside her, did not hesitate to meet Harding half way. "Good morning, Colonel'' she greeted, pressing her clip board of names close to her chest as a means of suppressing the shock of it all. It was rather unusual to see any of the airmen, let alone the Colonel until the conclusion of a mission, especially when every health pass had been confirmed and processed.

"Morning. Ladies," Harding replied to the three nurses present respectfully as he always did, curt, and to the point. "Lieutenant Payne is coming down with something and will no longer be navigating today's mission," he explained. "You ladies mind checking up on him?"

"Oh not at all, sir!" Lottie chirped, setting her clipboard down and immediately swinging into action. She nodded over at her colleagues, urging them to take the clearly pale and ill Lieutenant from the hold of the corporal present.

It didn't take long for Bluell and Q to get the Lieutenant situated and comfortable in a bed with brand new sheets — pressed and floral scented. Maude felt lucky and rather grateful that they had completed that task in time for such a situation to occur. Q was still quite busy with her cherry sucker while simultaneously taking the man's blood pressure, so Bluell decided to do the evaluating — not that she minded anyways. It was refreshing to see a man in front of her who wasn't bleeding out and barely coherent. She could already tell without really knowing that Payne would be just fine. That she wouldn't be losing another one of their men just yet, and that made the weight in her chest subside with the sweetest relief.

"Lieutenant Payne," Maude enunciated carefully, smiling fondly at the poor man in front of her. It was obvious from the sight in front of her that illness had racked his bones. The color was draining from his skin, a dull gray taking over, a line of sweat was creasing his brow, and his eyes drooped heavily doused with a glossy sheen. "Please, if you could tell me what seems to be going on. How are you feeling?"

"Well, quite shitty," he laughed dryly, yet a smile still managed to grace his features and prove to be rather contagious to Maude's expression  in seconds flat. "I was fine. I mean, I thought I was. 'Twas until I was propped up ready to fly, feeling like I could hurl if I even moved a muscle. Major Egan shut that down real quick though. Got me a sub with Croz."

And there it was, a title attached to the name of a man Maude Bluell would have scorched into the back of her mind soon enough. Yet, now – now in that very moment, her unfamiliarity with that very same man would simply fly over her head. Instead, she would find a tying point to her patient in the traces of his explanation, one that made her eyes light up in genuine interest. "Lieutenant Crosby?" She asked while dropping the back of her hand to Payne's forehead, inspecting the extent of his temperature."

"Yuh-huh," he nodded

At the same time as Q announced "one-nineteen over seventy," but it really sounded like, "nun-eye-dee ova even-yee," with that sucker still tucked dedicatedly in her mouth.

Maude's hand dropped from Payne's forehead then, seeming pleased to know that he wasn't burning up as bad as she expected – definitely warm but more mildly speaking – and his blood pressure was relatively normal. The wheels were already turning in her head, coming to the conclusion that he merely had some sort of bug. But, she couldn't really come to one until Doctor Stover came to access the man himself.

"Lemme guess," Payne began, getting Maude's attention after she instructed Q to get the Lieutenant a glass of water. If she got his prognosis right, he would need to remain hydrated to subside the urge to vomit. "He's here quite often ain't –" Payne's words seemed to lodge in his throat then, his features twisting just the same.

The clear indication of his illness brought Nurse Bluell to flight mode and she picked up the bucket adjacent to his bed in mere seconds. "Let it out, Lieutenant," she urged as she situated it on his lap just in time for him to spill out the contents into the bin instead of his bed. He did just that, and Bluell did not hesitate to keep the bucket steady and rub his back in a soothing motion, hoping to ease the strain in his back from achy muscles.

Once he was done, he slumped back against the headboard – his eyes appearing glossier than they had before. He was spent, but that did not stop him from mumbling out his appreciation. "Thank you Nurse – Nurse?" He trailed off, a crease forming on his sweaty forehead with a curious sort of confusion.

"Bluell. Nurse Bluell," she introduced herself, moving the bucket off the bed, tying up the old one, and replacing it with a brand new one. "But you can just call me Maude."

"Maude. The powerful battler," a droopy smile spanned across his face, recalling the meaning behind the name of the nurse in front of him.

"Yes, but –" her cheeks dusted pink, and she looked away from him as she got rid of the previous trash close by. "Not me. All you – All you boys."

"Doubt that." Q brought over the water then and he thanked her kindly before taking a gentle sip. "Call me Bubbles."

"Pardon, Lieutenant?" Bluell stood straight then, completely taken aback by his sudden admission. She took a deep breath and sucked back the urge to laugh.

It wasn't uncommon by any means for nicknames to be a staple pass of courtesy and comradely around base. It served as an attempt to distinguish the tension of a deeply set reality and also comouflague identity to foreign forces. Like Charolette and Susan who replied to Lottie and Susie Q or just plain old Q. It was common knowledge. And she had found herself giving into such knowledge as she adjusted to the shortened form of her surname — replying to Blue more often than not. But, Bubbles. Bubbles? She hadn't heard something quite like that before.

"Bubbles. That's what they call me. Ain't heroic by any means. You can ask Croz the next time he's here, 'M sure he'll tell yuh," he elaborated.

A chuckle escaped her then, a genuine smile enveloping in her cheeks in a way that almost felt foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled – really smiled since she'd arrived on base. "Quite heroic to me,." She flattened her hands across the edges of the mattress, making sure he was tucked into the sheets comfortably and then she fluffed up the back of his pillow for me good measure. "Should rest up now, Lieutenant. I'll be here if you need anything. Please don't hesitate to call us over," She affirmed, and in a sudden newfound sense of confidence or maybe it was simply just the comradery, she found herself adding, "that's an order, Bubbles."

Bubbles – still poorly, shivering, and pale as a ghost – managed a light laugh from his strained throat as Maude left the man be. "You got it, Maude"

Maude's spirits appeared to be more pleasant than usual as she busied herself in the next coming hours. Her conversation with Lieutenant Payne – or Bubbles if you will – subsided the nerves that usually rattled her in deep anticipation of what was to come. However, knowing that Lieutenant Crosby was navigating today still kept her worried.

Would his stomach be okay?

Would the natural herbs she recommended to brew in his tea ease him?

Those thoughts did not fail to plague her mind throughout the day, but she was grateful to have some distraction in the task of caring for Bubbles. She made sure to keep an eye on him as much as she could, so much so, that it started to concern Nurse Charlotte Reign and Susan Quinn who felt as if previous patterns from the young nurse were resurfacing. Patterns that were brought into light the very same day an airmen died in her arms for the very first time.

Yet, Maude felt fine – well, as fine as one could be in the circumstances placed upon her. She felt like she could breathe again the moment the boys returned from the Trondheim mission in the later afternoon. It had proved to be successful – and even more so in the hands of one Lieutenant Crosby who was currently at Bubble's bedside. With a chair situated over, he not only came to check on his best friend, but also report on the mission.

Maude was finishing up wrapping a flier's burn wounds adjacent to Lieutenant Payne when she unintentionally overheard the conversation at hand. "I mean the flak, it came in so hot. I didn't even think about it when I put it on. It – It must of froze, but then these chunks, they start rolling down my forehead, I think 'holy mackerel crosby, holy mackerel, you've been hit!"

"Of course you would narrate your own death." Bubbles laughed lightly at his friend's retelling.

She secured the wrap tightly and comfortably and practically repeated the earlier lines she had said to Bubbles. She was starting to become more and more accustomed to her script, finding it more and more natural as she annunciated each word within passing days.

"Well, I mean I could make overthinking into an Olympic sport." Lieutenant Crosby joked just as Maude appeared at Bubbles bedside. She smiled at the two men, acknowledging them as she refilled Payne's water cup without interrupting their conversation.

"I've been puking so much today, I'm starting to catch up to you. Ask Maude." He nodded to the nurse next to them.

"Evening Maude." Crosby greeted the nurse. "Hope Bubbles here ain't giving you too much flak.”

"No more than you have." She just about pulled the man's chain with that one, making Bubbles erupt in laughter.

"Hey, 'snot my fault, Nurse." Crosby held a hand to his chest as if she had wounded him with his words, but the knowing smirk on his face proved otherwise.

"Did you try the tea?" She asked Croz, handing the cup of water over to Bubbles. His color was starting to come back. He looked better than this morning but he still needed to stay hydrated if he was gonna get back in the skies anytime soon.

"Nah. Next time when I actually know I'm flying I will," he sent a look over to Bubbles, only pushing his friend's buttons for fun. "Thanks Bubbles."

"Anytime." He said laughing against the rim of his cup. He took one last sip before Maude placed it back on the side table for him.

It seemed like Croz wasn't gonna let that one slide so easily. "You know I washed my hair twice, I still can't get the smell out." He leaned over his friend, practically shoving his hair in the fellow Lieutenant's face."You wanna smell? Yeah, jump in."

"No. No!" Bubbles tensed up then.

"Yeah, Come on." Croz pushed on.

Maude couldn't help but laugh at the playful side of these men. Men who still managed to let their inner kid shine through all the horror and terror they had ensued in the skies.

"Get – get away. I will puke on you! Yuh gonna have to wash it out." Bubbles threatened, trying to push Croz away.

And then like a burst of unexpected flax, everything shifted.

For not only Croz who immediately stiffened back in his seat – putting on a serious and professional front, but for Maude who – for lack of her own sense of understanding – found herself freezing just the same, but for a whole other reason.

"There he is," a deep, firm, yet some-what carefree voice broke the ice within her. And there he was, one Major Egan looking and sounding like one of those Hollywood starlets in Q's paper clipping — just stepping out of a film in the cinema. And if he hadn't had a small cut just under his right eye, he could have passed as a man who hadn't just returned from an intense mission across the skies. Clean cut, pressed in his uniform, curls styled and gelled back to perfection, with his flight jacket wrapped around his arms. Arms that held a strong hand planted against the edge of the foot of Bubbles bed. "How you doing Bubbles?" He asked.

Maude hadn't realized she was staring at the six foot two bulk of a man in front of her until Bubbles spoke up. "Never better, sir."

"That's good." And then his eyes landed on her, so intense, she suddenly wondered if he had become even taller than he was a minute ago. Feeling caught, she looked away and busied herself with the water cup on Bubbles nightstand to give herself something to do. Would the Major report back to Doctor Stover that she was incompetent and unfit to take care of his men? Lucky for Maude, his gaze broke away from hers the moment she turned around. "And I was looking for you," He said to Croz.

The chair beneath Croz creaked in protest as he stood up to be at the Major's level. "I'm sorry, Major."

"What for?" Major Egan inquired loosely.

"I – I didn't give PRs the whole flight back, I messed up the rendezvous – "

"I know. I know. The radio silence really threw off those Jerries. It's that and hitting the deck." Egan affirmed. With the conversation becoming more detailed, Maude felt out of place and rather rude for overhearing. Yet, the next words that came out of the Major's mouth not only took Croz and Bubbles by surprise, but Maude too. Any previous contemplations seemed to dissipate the moment Egan said, “Now, Harding, he couldn't be more impressed by you so, I'm transferring you to Blakely's crew full time," and then, " Bubbles, you get better, we'll find you a new fort. And Croz, we gotta give you an actual nickname."

"They call him Bing back home." Bubbles added into the conversation just as Maude urged him to take another sip. "More?" He asked, and she simply nodded as she turned back into her previous position– her view of all three men near her resurfacing.

"Bing Crosby? That's just lazy, unless you can sing." Major Egan put in his two cents, and his eyes gleamed when he asked, "Can you sing?"

"I–I ca –" Croz tethered.

"Like a donkey." Bubbles confirmed with zero ounces of hesitation, truly on a roll at deflating Croz's ego today without letting an ounce of illness ruin the fun.

"No, no – not a note, sir."

"Ah, I'm no good either, but I'm loud and hell if you can commit with enough enthusiasm, it really don't matter." And this was when Maude would come to learn of the singing shenanigans that came with one Major Egan. If only she knew then that those shenanigans would very well start up something alright.

The shorter Lieutenant and the taller Major clapped hands then in parting – a shake of sealed establishments and confirmations, proving that they were on the same page. "I'll see you at the Club Croz. I'm buying," the one with height told him, referring to the same exact club Lottie and Q would be dragging Bluell against her will in just a few short hours. "Goodnight Bubbles."

"Sir."He croaked between sips and finally handed the cup back to Maude for good.

"Goodnight, sir." Croz bid farewell. When the Major was out of earshot could Maude breathe, and Croz seemed to be too because he was back to bantering as he commented, "He thinks my nickname is lazy."

Another patient called her over then, stealing her away from the two men she had found herself laughing along with, yet a part of her felt grateful for the sudden diversion – especially now, after the Major's interruption. She couldn't explain it – couldn't even compartmentalize it exactly, but something had shifted inside her the moment he had stepped foot into the infirmary. An instinctive feeling of sorts — awfully hard to pinpoint. It hurt her head too much trying to think about it, so much so, she momentarily wondered if she was coming down with the same exact virus as Bubbles.

She wasn't.

But, she knew it was something, but what was it?

That — she didn't know.

Yet, something deep inside her – against her better judgment – told her that she needed to know. So as Croz passed by and bid her a farewell of his own, she knew what she had to do. And when the girls pitched going out to the Club again tonight, practically begging her in their shared quarters — Lottie using Q's obvious need for a distraction with Curt's lack of a return — did she give into their demise.

Was there really much ado about one night on the town?

Lottie and Q wouldn't think so, and Major Egan – well he wouldn't think so either.

the way in which she is already whipped without "knowing" is so real.

+ Q — curt and susie got me giggling & kicking my feeties !!!

also, for important context purposes, the gifs in the beginning is how i imagine bucky diverting his gaze from eyeing miss. maude ;) sir, we all know you were LOOKING — respectfully!

p.s.: i love bubbles & croz so bad, ugh my HEART <3

ANYWAYS.....

more to come sooner than you think. lemme know what ya think so far? feedback is much appreciated as this is BRAND NEW. this is also my very FIRST historical-esce fic so my apologies if there is any inaccuracies, but it do be my own fiction twist anyways haha.

love ya'll a mil, smoochies!

— xanadu

tag list:

@rubberpsyche

@precious-little-scoundrel

@major-mads

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@karmasloverrr

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

 “Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

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“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

[takearisk-x]

Hey! I know you've been working a lot in tpfy and I don't want to confuse you or something xd. but I'm curious about why AG Harry is pushing Ginny away. I thought maybe he's scared she won't love him again or some other stupid noble reason. A couple weeks ago you did like an analysis of tpfy Ginny and Harry, and I would love if you could do something like that for AG Harry too. if you want and like to do it ofc. Thank you for everything<3

omg i would LOVE to do this. you honestly have no idea how much i love talking about hjp and the nightmare scenarios i throw him into. though, i'm not sure how ~spoilery~ i want to get.. so it might not be as in depth as my tpfy asks from a few weeks ago but yeah i'd love to talk about already gone h/g!!

under the cut for length and spoilers

so harry starts out in a real pickle. the love of his life, and his wife of three years, has woken up from a weeks long coma with no memory since he led her on a fruitless rescue mission where they all almost died. she doesn't remember any part of their romantic history, but she also doesn't remember anything from her 6th year and the war.

after ginny finds out about fred, and goes unconscious again, it is vaguely hinted that ginny's emotions have a direct effect on her lucidity. therefore in the spirit of trying to keep her conscious until the healers can find out what exactly went wrong when they removed the parasite, harry and the weasleys decide to... uhh... hide her entire life from her just in case something triggers another collapse.

so much happens behind the scenes that ginny has absolutely no clue about and that was very intentional and on purpose. mostly because i love it when readers find out things at the same time she does, but also because i honestly don't think i could accurately portray harry's mental state. like genuinely. but i'm getting off track.

ok, so why is harry pushing ginny away? excellent question i'm so glad you asked. harry is afraid. and he isn't going to do anything (ANYTHING) to jeopardize her health/mental well-being. at this point behind the scenes molly, george, and hermione are like "seriously harry, tell your wife she's married to you." to which he replies "absolutely not." anyways, they decide to wait him out and not push it because we all know how harry gets. however, after ginny passes out at the memorial lunch, his fears all the sudden are MASSIVELY JUSTIFIED so he says fuckk all this, i'm out. but in a 'i am terrified my wife is going to faint and never wake up' kind of way.

so fast forward to after the night at the hog's head. ginny is super pissed, right? but also, harry was like super right. finding out she was married sorta did mess her up a bit.

but us, as readers, we are kinda like.. who cares yeah? she knows! she finally knows! except harry is still pretty stand-off-ish.... wonder what that's about (insert eye emoji here)

there's more to it obviously, i'm just being funny... but i can give you a two hints on what to be on the lookout for:

the flashbacks.. what happens when you take away the context of someone's love story.. can they still love in the same ways? where does that leave harry? how can he in good conscious give ginny back the worst year of her life? would he ever be that selfish?

the parasite.. where did it come from? how did ginny get it?? why?? what is going on in the wizarding world at the moment that would have anything to do with them???

also just a reminder that we have two very big things coming up... a potential experimental treatment and an anniversary. both of which were very VERY fun chapters to outline and draft. and by fun i mean they made me cry.

thanks so much for the question <333 i adore talking about my fics

[barry-j-blupjeans]

📓!

listen listen listen. i think about this one too much.

angus mcdonald, boy detective. he's not exactly new to the detective business, but he solved a pretty Big case and now ppl respect him more. they give him Special Permissions. specifically, he is given permission to take a crack at some older unsolved cases after solving one that has stumped everyone for Quite Some Time (insert classic spicy murder case here). he's getting to become a pretty Notable Detective and he is Ready For This. and a lot of them really just needed a fresh pair of eyes. like, hello, of course old mrs johnson wasn't murdered by her dog, it was obviously her Goddamn Husband, Holy Shit. that kinda thing, yknow??

so he takes this new case on. missing person, easy peasy. only it is not, in fact, easy peasy. the case goes as followed: elven woman, 300ish years old, has been missing for 10 years, was wearing a red robe, had an umbrella etc etc. it's a very pathetic case, if im being completely honest. angus tries to contact the family but the only stone line they gave is dead and every address they gave comes up fruitless. he thinks that maybe they're like, dead, or they gave up. understandable, considering their case had pretty much been declaimed dead before it started.

(which only makes angus wanna solve it more, ofc ofc)

and try as he might, angus just keeps hitting dead ends. like, so many fucking dead ends. he always feels like he gets close to something, but there's a Mental Block stopping him. not like a "i dont know what to do next" mental block, like a "i cannot physically comprehend what's going on anymore" mental block. he spends a while doing other cases, but he keeps coming back to it because there has never been a case angus mcdonald couldn't solve.

eventually, he finds another lead. or well, another case. the rockseeker family hears word about him and hire him to take a crack at finding cyrus rockseeker. coincidentally, he went missing ten years ago. that in itself is not too unusual- faerun as a whole has a disturbing amount of missing person cases, most dating 10 to 12 years ago. but that's a different thing entirely. the point is is that angus had a lead on where cyrus might have gone. the rockseekers own a mine- wave echo cave- and angus is like, 90% sure that's where he went.

so he gets down there and he doesn't find cyrus- but he does find someone else. red robe, check. umbrella, check. elf… skeleton- not preferable, but check. and angus, of course, does not want to tamper with crime scene evidence but he's gotta take something back with him to get tested, to use as proof so they can send another team down here, etc. so he takes the umbrella. and the ding dang skeleton disintegrates. aw man D:

so now he has an umbrella. a lead one case (angus knows all about the door n the rockseeker blood and all that. he had to sit through 45 mins of the rockseekers explaining this to him. but cyrus has got to be behind that door.), a kind of solved second case. at the very least, he can now inform the family what happened to their elf friend and assure them that he will continue to update them as the rockseeker case progresses.

only he can't find them. at all.

this is where the idea gets a little choppy. bc one one hand, i would Love for him to be able to find them before anything else. bc i like confrontation scenes. i did write a lil ficlet on that that we are ignoring for the sake of this ask meme lsdkfsd.

on the other hand, i have a very very vivid image of angus continuing to work on rockseeker case and trying to find the elf woman's family. when that falls through, he makes the rockseeker case his main priority. except that like- this umbrella does not want to leave him alone. the magic department in goldcliff say that it's an umbrastaff which means it's magic. and while angus does not want to tamper with evidence, it's hard when the thing literally rolls after him. it's his Friend now!! he loves it! it throws flames at his enemies!

anyway lskdfsd eventually it gets to a point where the rockseeker family is called in to help open the door- if they want to know where cyrus went, they're gonna have to get in that room. angus has a very uncomfortable adventure with gundren rockseeker and finally, finally the door is open. inside is, as predicted, is cyrus. except he's all burnt up and there's this Glove on his hand. and, again, angus does not like tampering with evidence but this time he doesnt even get to debate his reasons why by gundren is taking the glove and then he's on fire and, yknow, all of that.

jumpcut to angus in phandalin. end of htbg's style, the city goes up in flames, angus hides in the well with his umbrella friend. by the time he gets out, the entire city is just. Gone. n all that's left is the circle of black glass.

this, ofc, leads to a lot of investigations on what the Fuck happened. angus gives the glove a wide berth as he calls in reinforcements. part of me wants to say the militia takes the glove, somehow, but that seems like a mess. i think it's more of them blocking off the area and trying to figure out what the fuck it is, because they all feel the Weird Vibes about it. several people end up banned from the case because they just- want it so bad.

one morning, angus wakes up (im imagining little tents set up around the glassing) to an alarm blaring. there are People trying to steal the glove. angus isn't the toughest lil guy, but he's determined and he's fast, so he's the first to catch up with them. the thieves have this big silver ship that they are racing back, but Angus somehow manages to cut them off. he points the umbrastaff at them and is like "what the FUCK do you think your doing??"

missing person case, now ft. angus mcdonald as the role of Missing Person. turns out these thieves are not above kidnapping if you've got the umbralla that belonged to their long lost family member.

i could go on. i have imagined this so many different ways. i have so many thoughts. this got so long help sldjfsdf

[grokebaby]

Oh hey, I'm a transformers fan and Terrorspark is a transformers oc! Here's a question for it, if you want: Is it aware of any previous TF lore? If so, does it know of the characters/have any opinions on them? Does it align more with the decepticons or with the autobots? I'm willing to read up anything I can find on them!

Oh oh and, if Terror were to assign itself a morality alignment, what would it choose? (<- d&d thing, the "good/neutral/evil" one :))

How nice to get to talk about my tfocs for once! I'm gonna answer this more like a conventional ask since it doesn't seem to be intended as a character interactive one.

For a basic rundown, you can read this! I'll be referencing it throughout this reply.

All my tf ocs are set in the aligned continuities since that was my first exposure to transformers and one I'm most familiar with (Prime, most specifically). I do take bits from other tf media and modify according to my own discretion bc some stuff from aligned is either stupid (like the gender thing) or just wasn't handled well in that. And yeah I do take some lore from RID15 but selectively bc wtf were they doing back there.

With this in mind I'd have to say that Terrorspark is only familiar with Unicron when it comes to Canon characters, since it's been in the same place all these millions of years, and fluctuatingly slumbering. The times where Terrorspark was most involved and active (including being in bot form) was back when the original 13 Primes were more or less still around, though it didn't get to interact with them that much. Terrorspark was more like a jailguard type of bot, not in on the action, fighting and plotting, but moreso someone who bots were thrown to after they were already detained in some way. After everything cooled down Terrorspark has just been dutifully subjecting bots on it's surface to various nightmare scenarios, alone, and isolated, so it's not even aware of the Decepticon/Autobot conflict that formed later on.

Terrorspark would prefer to remain sideless entirely, despite being a creation of Unicron (who is ofc associated with the decepticons more). This is unsurprisingly bc as mentioned earlier it's tired of continuous suffering and I suspect if it came in contact with any modern day cybertronians, TR would likely make strong attempts towards peace between the two factions.

As for some opinions:

Unicron - currently it's opinion of him is conflicting, since the circumstances of TRs existence are very cruel, but Terrorspark can't really bring itself to be mad at Unicron (although that could very well happen later). It doesn't admire or worship him either, not anymore, there's just this sort of quiet, sad bitterness about it all. Respect only in theory, and very impersonally.

Megatron - first reactions would probably include "Megatronus, is that you?" lol, since Megs has named himself after one of the og 13. Initial reactions aside, Terrorspark would see him similarly to Unicron; sad, bitter, but not anything particularly fiery. Terrorspark is, emotionally speaking, too numb towards atrocities to have a strong guttural reaction about it, even when meeting or witnessing bad bots. I'm sure Megs would be very interested in Terrorspark as an ally considering everything, but TR would politely decline and make an effort to not engage with any decepticons after that. There might be attempts at encouraging Megatron to seek an end to the conflict but that would turn up fruitless, so ultimately yeah, avoidance.

Optimus - Vaguely positive opinion bc these two share very similar mindsets, I could kinda see Terrorspark working with the Autobots on the sidelines but I feel that it would tire of the constant conflict and prefer to, as I said, keep more sideless. It would respect Op and totally see where he's coming from but still be uncomfortable with participating in either side of the war. So, maybe an occasional help, and an emergency ally if needed.

As for the dnd thing, I honestly am not sure? Terrorspark itself would definitely be very reflective and thoughtful if it was asked to identify itself to some moral alignment and would probably think long and hard, until simply saying "My morals lie with minimizing overall suffering to all. Make of that what you will. I shall no longer blindly follow any one beacon as superior to others, and I'd prefer to tread my own path. But, you are warmly welcome to walk beside me on that path."

I'm not super familiar with how the dnd moral alignments work or are defined but I guuuuuesss I'd call Terrorspark a... Neutral good? Does that sound right?

[greatergothampolycule]

sorry to bring it up again and for this being so long but seeing your villain enjoyer post I had to wonder why it is that so many people have let's say 'weird' opinions on villains and I think it's because all three types - the ones thinking enjoying a villain makes you an evil person, the woobifiers that want to erase all the hard edges and the edgelords that want them to be soulless monsters - don't seem to really understand what villains are which is characters that serve a certain purpose in a story. this purpose can of course vary but by nature of being villains and thus usually antagonists their purpose for the most part is presenting an obstacle for the hero and - in a good story - that way driving the hero's character, story or relationship developments forward. and since Batman is a superhero story this usually means that the villains will have to pose some sort of threat big enough for Bruce himself to deal with it as well as pose as a 'dark mirror' reflecting whatever (negative) characteristics of Bruce currently need developing. This then means that the villains have to be bad people and have to be violent, mean or otherwise dangerous enough to validate their place as the story's antagonist. of course you could also have a villain that isn't a bad person and acts out of desperation, but not all villains can be like that or else the story would grow stale and you'd miss out on other angles of the hero's character that could be developed through facing a more evil foe. And similarly on the other side having all villains be one note evil horrors all the time deprives the story of complexity just as much and especially in a story like Batman can be very very counterproductive since that's exactly why you get fandom discourse like "Batman should just kill his rogues" - because if the rogues have a daily kill count in the dozens it is really hard to justify Batman's no kill rule. if the rogues don't have any humanizing moments or character traits it'll make it hard for the readers to believe why Batman would see the possibility for reform in them, why he gives them so many second chances instead of just ending them for the sake of public safety. Yes you can argue that Batman doesn't kill and believes in reform 'on principle' but unless you show the audience exactly why he doesn't kill - not just through words but through personality and actions - unless you make the audience see and feel for themselves why even after all this time Bruce still believes that his rogues have it in them to change and become better people? Then the audience is going to see the no kill rule as a standardized rule of the story that they have to begrudgingly accept despite it being irrational in the face of villains that kill a hundred babies just for the sake of a joke - and not as something born from Bruce's personality and compassion and a maybe fruitless but in the end reasonable hope for betterment. Like ffs idk why it's so hard for a lot of fans - and writers unfortunately - to realize that these are characters serving a purpose and that they have to be both dangerous foes and not-good people with unsavory traits and hard edges but also fleshed out characters with enough humanity and potential for reform - even if it's just tiny rare sparks of it - in them that Batman giving them second chances seems like an understandable decision and not just a plot limitation from the readers' pov...(this is ofc not to say that Batman can't have 100% evil villains, just those shouldn't be the ones he's trying to reform but rather villains like Falcone or Strange that represent societal evils. Or alternatively have it be one (not all. never all) of the villains he's trying to reform but have that be for the sake of Bruce's character development or so that the story can examine why he believes in reform the way he does, and not just because "oh look evil clown man eats children's faces! Look how edgy and dark and mature and cool this is!")

same anon so I hope this isn't too much but I felt the need to explain that with my ask I didn't mean to say that there should never be versions of these characters that go to more extreme lengths of villainy or alternatively versions that are decidedly less 'evil' or violent than their usual counterparts. those versions should exist - since they can be very interesting - as long as they serve a purpose in their story and aren't just there for the sake of edginess or woobification. I'd say a good example for this are the two newest non-comics versions of the Riddler from The Batman (2022) and Batman: Unburied respectively. The movie version is very much a villain that the audience is simply meant to hate, his hyper-violence - especially the part where he instructs his followers to 'mow [innocents] down like sheep' - as well as the way Bruce reacts to him make that very clear, but as a character he's still not just violent for edginess' sake but serves the movie's message both as a stand in for a real type of people that the movie wants to criticize as well as by being a horror image held up like a mirror in front of Bruce to push him out of his own hyper violent mindset. The podcast's version on the other hand is the opposite: a character meant to be likable - which is made obvious both by his position as a co-protagonist and by Bruce and Barbara's reactions to him- and - while still a criminal that's a far way from being a good person - a villain that's seemingly not particularly violent (at least in comparison to some other versions of the same character), but he still doesn't come across as 'too soft' or woobified because his characterization serves to illustrate the podcast's points about police brutality and corruption as well as its point about the treatment of convicts and rehabilitation and also serves to further Barbara's character development as well as the audience's entertainment, being a fun entertaining character and all. So yes villains don't all have to be in some sort of middle ground limbo of moral complexity they can be very evil or very likable even -this isn't to say that either of the two iterations i just referenced aren't complex characters of course - but like I mentioned in the main ask? It's all about their role in the story

thank you for the great asks anon! no need to apologize, i enjoyed reading your thoughts. very good points - the root of the problem wrt the weird ways people treat villains is that they forget that villains are characters in a story, meant to serve a purpose. they aren’t autonomous agents making their own decisions, they are written to be a certain way. it’s silly to want to reduce them to pure evil (or get angry at fans for daring to like them) or go the other way of basically removing their evil. and like you say, there can be villains that have little/no redeeming qualities or complexity, and villains that are highly sympathetic or likable, but it can’t work if they’re all like that. as a superhero, batman needs serious threats to ‘justify’ his existence - his villains need to to do nasty things in order to explain why he’d go after them in the first place. but, as you do such a great job of explaining:

“Like ffs idk why it's so hard for a lot of fans - and writers unfortunately - to realize that these are characters serving a purpose and that they have to be both dangerous foes and not-good people with unsavory traits and hard edges but also fleshed out characters with enough humanity and potential for reform - even if it's just tiny rare sparks of it - in them that Batman giving them second chances seems like an understandable decision and not just a plot limitation from the readers' pov”

you can’t let them be just cartoonishly evil either because then it calls into question batman’s ‘no kill’ policy - why should we, as an audience, buy that batman truly holds this ideal and that it isn’t simply there as a lame excuse to not kill off villains (even if that might be the ‘true’ reason for it)? there needs to be something there that can give batman hope, however small, that his rogues can change. his policy should feel like a deeply held belief and code, not an editorial mandate. 

and using those two recent non-comic riddlers as is a great way to show the dichotomy. reeves-verse eddie is an entertaining villain (with some sympathetic qualities) while still being one of the most evil/destructive interpretations of the riddler. he is a dark mirror to batman, like batman villains generally are. battinson wants to do good for gotham and its people. he thinks he is. the realization that he inspired riddler, inspired the man who almost killed alfred and flooded the city, shakes him to his core. battinson gets so angry at him partially because he’s horrified by the thought that he caused him. his epiphany about gotham needing more than fear, about becoming hope for gotham is because he emphatically does not want to be like riddler. 

on the other side there’s unburied riddler, i haven’t listened to it yet but from what you say and the posts i’ve seen he seems like a great depiction of a more sympathetic, understandable riddler. and then you have most other riddlers which sit between these two examples, in that middle ground of moral complexity. all can be good and interesting interpretations, so long as they are well written and serve their purpose in the story well - not just edgy for edgy’s sake or defanged and boring.

[sp1derg1rlz]

an apple a day + cherry bomb!

🍎 — it’s typical for kitty to wake up very early, about 5 or so, so she can do her whole morning routine . this ofc includes stuff like skincare and makeup etc etc . so she’ll wind up staring at herself in her vanity mirror for a while, maybe an hour, maybe two . but what’s funny is that she stops registering her reflection as her face . she knows it’s a face and she sees it, but yet, she almost seems to stare right through it. she zoned out a lot during this time—its probably the only time she can before she’s stuck wearing a mask all day

🍒 — what’s interesting is that kitty doesn’t outwardly rebel as her parents as much as she learned to stop trying to please them. as a kid, she’d do whatever they asked bc she loved them and wanted praise and attention from them. but as she got older, she realized the only times they’d praise her and give her attention was when she had something to offer them—and then it was back to isolation when it was over. kitty doesn’t bother arguing or really even talking to her parents… she’s not even sure they really even mind (they’ve stopped trying to get something out of her seeing as it’s fruitless). there are times they’ll disapprove of something regarding her, but it goes unsaid—just not unnoticed.

[night-dark-woods]

raven stratagem was SO GOOD so so so good. 5/5. the bear trap of the plot was slooowly ratcheted up over the course of the novel SO smoothly and the foreshadowing was very clear in a fun way and then it SLAMMED shut oh so satisfyingly in the last quarter. kujen and the outstanding calendrical impact of hellspin fortress are still hanging out there though and im so excited to see where that ends up going in book 3.

the pov swaps were great i loved the distinct voices (mikodez chapters in particular were a delight) and the author has a real knack for writing complex characters. the details of the space battles were SO fun i looove tactics i love it so much.

also lots of fun stuff going on with gender here! lots of characters who have changed their genders &/or bodies (some several times, for various reasons- to be a body double for his politician brother, for fun, others im sure im not rmbring rn), some who are described as a "manform" or "womanform" but dont use the corresponding pronouns (incl one of the pov chars), and one of the main chars uses they/them. and then ofc the main-main char, cheris/jedao, has. well. all that going on.

concept: 5/5 still the calendrical stuff is still just so fucking neat to me (also the stuff with the hafn!!!) and also i love political intrigue and shit so dearly this was just right up my alley. i also appreciate that there are concerns of like... budgeting and infrastructure touched on in this, and its not some "we kill the bad guys and then everything is magically fixed!" story. even assigning anyone in these books good or bad is a somewhat fruitless endeavor, which is great.

execution: 4/5. the writing is clear concise and good, but again there wasnt anything in it that made me want to eat it. the dialogue (incl. inner monologues) writing is spectacular.

enjoyment: 5/5. i kept having to take breaks when i got to the climax of the book bc i didnt want it to end and i was so thrilled about how it was going to go with everything slotting into place that i was too excited to actually read it lol. really really good book.

[dilftaroooo]

I read your last fic and 🥰🥰🥰

Do you have any hcs for Jotaro with a childhood friend reader that can ACTUALLY tell what he's thinking? Maybe they have a water based stand and actually travel to Egypt with him to kill DIO and he realizes his feelings for them along the way cause of how much they understand him?

oh man this will be a challenge. although i do love jotaro, he is a very complex character to write due to his stoic personality. i hope i get this right for you anon. (p.s. sorry for posting this so late. i wanted to post my asks in chronological order and this request happened to be the last request after another fic request i plan to write. my dumbass should've done this earlier since its just a hc and it'll be shorter)

warning: contains spoilers of jjba: stardust crusaders

jotaro with a childhood friend who understands him. (part 3!jotaro x gn!reader)

❧ it's outstanding to the crusaders that you're able to understand what it is jotaro is feeling towards a particular situation. his standoffish nature and lack of personality made it hard to communicate

❧ he was indifferent to literally everything that they've came across; that same blank stare was worn for any situation they had to endure. it was impossible to know what was going through his mind, he was an expertise at hiding his emotions

❧ if it wasn't for you, the things jotaro felt would have never been exchanged

❧ from his emotions to the things he liked and disliked down to his personal opinion; you knew all of it

❧ there was a time when you all settled in a restaurant in india and joseph offered some his food to you and jotaro, he hoped that jotaro would like it but joseph only frowned at his lack of reaction when he nibbled on the small treat

"oh come on now, grandson! ya' like it or not?" you only shook your head, as if he was asking you that question. "he doesn't like it, mr. joestar. it's too sweet." the others were shocked to see jotaro nod in agreement as he puts the bitten khaman on the dishplate. just how the fuck were you able to tell?

❧ jotaro was pretty impressed with you also (though he would never admit it ofc) but it was expected since you've know each other since grade school. you were the one who saw him gradually convert during the 11+ years you've been friends. you saw him go from adoring his mother and the others around him to treating everyone like shit and not even batting an eyelash and deep down, it wounded you

❧ he had a habit of balling up his emotions during dire moments - when holly developed a stand she couldn't control and fell ill, jotaro remained in his usual state; cool and collected. but you looked past that and saw the profound distress that he failed to reveal, the worries of his mother was clear to you. you and only you were able to see that

"jotaro.." you whispered to him as he looked at his mother through shaded turquoise eyes. he didn't bother sparing you a glace, already predicting the worried look in your eyes. "we'll save her. i know it." he responds with a delayed grunt before leaving the room, tilting his hat further down to cover his face. maybe then you won't be able to see the strained tear that feathered his eyelashes.

❧ during the span of your 50 day journey, the aftermath of the compelling battle with dio was where you got jotaro to break down.

he was doing it again - supressing his hurt, his anger, his apprehension. he stood glancing down at the souless body of his grandfather that rested on the stretcher, dead and immobile. he couldn't do anything but admit the death of his old man, nothing could be done. he tenses when he felt arms wrap around his torso. the warmth from another body was something he hasn't felt in so long - he last recalled the warm presence of his mother after he skimmed his knee, but that was eons ago.

"you're scared, jotaro. you're hurt. i can see that." you tighten your grip. "why must you bottle up your emotions? there's nothing wrong with showing how truly feel. everybody can be vulnerable once in a while, right?" you can feel him tremble under your touch. you couldn't help but cry. not just by jotaro's distress but by the loss of joseph. during this long journey, your bond grew tremendously. it was like losing your own grandfather. you don't know if you'd be able to recover after this adventure. not after the lives lost.

you were taken by surprise when you hear jotaro's soft whimpers. looking up you caught glace of his clenched teeth as if to hold back his tears but it was fruitless. his tears fell and cascaded down your chin.

"i'm sorry." he chokes with a restrained voice. his apology wasn't just for joseph. "i'm so fucking sorry." he hugs you back. you can tell it was genuine by the strength of his grip. you would've pushed him away to regain your breath if it wasn't for the grief the both of you were going through. choked sobs and sniffles filled the back of the ambulance.

❧ jotaro didn't mind the way you held his hand or the way you scooched closer to his face

❧ nor did he mind your soft lips make contact with his. he took that time to accept his true feelings for you - the love that grew in his heart over the years was strong. he deepened the kiss, never wanting the serene moment to end

❧ he's just glad that you were the one. the one he was destined to be with

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers) (A/n- yes the title was inspired by Taylor Swift's Illicit Affairs)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- Angst

Clandestine Meeting

“I miss you.”

Emma looked up from the text, taken aback. Her doe eyes were wide and the words which might have previously served to put a small smile on her face simply had her pulling half of her lower lip between her teeth. Stiffening her stance, her mind went rigid and though the keypad was opened and awaiting her reply, Emma didn’t quite know what she should say. So, instead, she glanced up, trying to keep her cool as she looked across the room, meeting his gaze from where he sat at the breakfast bar, phone in hand and morning paper discarded near his half finished bowl of cereal.

Keanu’s whiskey orbs stared back at her, practically willing her to start typing a response, to hopefully admit that she felt the same. It had been almost a week since Miranda’s return, and since then, Emma had gone back to avoiding Keanu like the plague. Even being in the same room with him was too much, though, considering that over seeing the twins’ breakfast was part of her job, mornings were proving to be hardest, and by all means the only time they actually spent together. “Everything okay Em?” Using his free hand, Keanu shifted his spoon around in his ceramic bowl, acting so nonchalant that it hurt to watch. Whoever said he wasn’t a good actor had to have been a good liar.

“Yeah,” sucking in a sharp breath, she nodded stiffly, giving the text, which he’d seen her read, one final glance before locking the phone and setting it down on the granite counter. Without further ado, she carried on, getting orange juice for Matt and then cleaning up a spill Poppy had made while trying to pour more milk into her sugary, colorful cereal. “Let me help you with that,” she mumbled sweetly, hurrying over to collect the roll of paper towels and subsequently tearing off a couple blocks to sap up the fallen milk.

Still on the counter, her phone chirped again, and when she was finally finished, Emma read yet another text from Keanu, that time through the notifications, “Can I see you tonight?”

Already exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she hastily snatched up the cell. She hated that he was just sitting there, acting like he wasn’t engaged, trying to reel her back in despite the consequences. She hated that she actually wanted to see him anyway, even more. But what Emma hated the most was knowing that no matter what, she was already Keanu’s closeted secret. “You’re seeing me right now,” she angrily tapped the little blue send button, tossing the phone back to the cool surface, only for him to respond almost instantaneously.

“You know what I mean……” Was his reply, and when Emma took the chance at sneaking a glance at him, Emma could see that Keanu’s eyes had softened, silently pleading with her to give in. In that moment, she could slowly start to feel her resolve wavering; everything she’d worked so had to build up over the past five days or so diminished by just one look. Suddenly, she felt strange chill run through her, not as a consequence of the environment, it was actually quite warm that morning. It was actually from the memory that arose upon reminiscing on the last time she’d been alone with Keanu. That day when Miranda had come back, the way he’d touched her while they laid in bed, how his smell, as predicted, had stained her sheets and finally, how he’d come into her room that night, caressing her cheek and kissing her forehead as if he cared. Emma knew that she shouldn’t have been falling for it; a relationship with Keanu was fruitless, he couldn’t offer her anything but private pleasures and then insurmountable hurt. Still, she wanted it, she wanted him.

Clutching the phone tightly, Emma quickly tried to blink away burning tears, staring at the words on the bright screen. “I’m sorry,” another one came in, followed up with, “Please, I promise we can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Emma’s fingers worked quickly, and it hurt her to type those words while knowing that there was so much she wanted to say.

Again, before she could set it down, Keanu sent, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to end things this way. Just let me fix this.”

“How?” Emma was about to hit send again, when, in a flurry of floral silk, Miranda sauntered into the room, immediately going to wrap her arms around Keanu’s broad shoulders. He stiffened visibly, hurriedly dropping his phone face down, and Emma was left to silently watch the scene unfold, taking note of the way Miranda met her eyes briefly before laying a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning darling,” she sung near his ear, unable to bear anymore of it, Emma swallowed her hurt and get back to tidying the kitchen and tending to the children. Though, that didn’t quite stop her from listening, “I can’t believe you left me in bed, all alone.”

Chuckling softly, Keanu took a minute before coming up with a response, “You know I like to get an early start. Did you sleep well?”

“Just fine,” Miranda hummed, sashaying over to the refrigerator and scanning its contents until she spotted the overly expensive, extremely exotic, organic creamer that she usually took with her coffee. “Emily,” she turned to Emma, who by then, had long grown tired of trying to correct her, “Why don’t you get my mug and pour me some coffee?"

Miranda, as Emma had come to learn, had the oddest sense of humor and seemed to get off on ‘accidently’ treating her like a maid. And sometimes, like her very own lady in waiting. “Sure,” Emma managed through gritted teeth, all but snatching the handcrafted mug off a shelf in the cabinet and then half filling it with scalding black liquid. “Anything else?” The ordinarily polite quip was actually meant as a petty jab, though Miranda didn’t seem to get that.

“There is actually,” stirring in some of the creamer, not even looking Emma’s way, “Do you think could whip me up an egg white omelet?”

That time, before Emma could speak, Keanu was interjecting, “Mandy,” he tried to sound light and teasing, the edge of annoyance kept at bay, “You know that Em isn’t a maid. Besides, the tutors are coming soon and she has to get the kids ready.”

“Well I’m sure you can do that Keke, I have to finish prepping for my meeting with the wedding planner and I can’t do that on an empty stomach,” pouting dramatically, Miranda summoned up her best puppy eyes for Keanu, “Please darling? For the sake of our wedding?”

“I…..” Keanu stuttered, and Emma hoped with everything in her that he wouldn’t feed her to the lion, but of course, she couldn’t be so lucky, “Why not?” Defeated, Emma’s sigh was soft, and before she knew it, Keanu was rounding up Matt and Poppy and flashing her sympathetic look before herding them towards the hallway after announcing that it was bath time.

She waited until Keanu was gone, and from the minute Keanu was out of earshot, Miranda began the inescapable torture. She cared very little for those who she proudly referred to as help, though Miranda did like hearing herself talk enough to ramble on to anything with ears. “I don’t know if Keanu’s mentioned it,” she carried on, popping a grape from the bowl in the fridge into her mouth, “But we’ve decided on a winter wedding in New York. We’re doing it at the Weylin on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s……” Emma’s voice was soft and it took everything in her to not break down at the thought of Keanu marrying someone else. Worst yet, it was so close, just over a month and a half away. “That’s nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Emma was in the process of gathering the egg whites, expertly separating them from the yolks like her mother had taught her so long ago. “It’s going to be a grand affair,” she explained exuberantly, “And I’ve got a designer from Dior working on a custom dress. I’m already in talks with a couple magazines, we’re going to cover the entire thing.”

Furrowing her brows, Emma slowed down as she moved on to chopping the seasonings. A publicized wedding? That didn’t sound much like Keanu at all; he was notoriously private and hated the press getting in on his life. It was why he’d avoided social media and had pitched out thousands for Matt and Poppy to be homeschooled. “Are you sure Keanu will like that?” Emma’s tentative probe was soft and unsteady and she knew very well that it wasn’t her place to ask.

“Well why wouldn’t he?” Miranda sank into a seat at the kitchen table, nearest to the window, where the warm light was filtering in and washing to room with a heat contrasted perfectly by the low setting of the air conditioner, “The publicity will be great for him too. God knows he needs it sometimes, if he didn’t work so much, there wouldn’t be anything for anyone to write about.”

“I think that’s the point,” foolishly, Emma countered, “I mean, he does hate having his life all over the media, he likes privacy. Right?”

“Oh God,” she burst out laughing, rolling her eyes, “You’re a naïve little thing aren’t you, Emily? Every celebrity plays that little game. But in our world, no matter what you do, everyone is gonna know everything about you, and it sells. And as long as it sells, who gives a fuck about privacy?”

Fumbling for words, Emma slid the now finished omelet onto a pristine white plate, “I’m sure its not possible to know everything.” The conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable, and Emma desperately wanted an out.

“Of course it is,” Miranda cackled loudly, “This is Hollywood dear, there are eyes everywhere.” Emma had just set the plate and cutlery down in front of Miranda, and was already, leaving the kitchen hoping to get back to cleaning up later that morning when the older woman added, just as she was at the mouth of the long corridor, “Just remember that Emily, every secret, every nose job, every hidden pregnancy, every affair…..it always gets out, sooner or later.”

She paused for a minute at the mere mention of the word ‘affair,’ though, Emma didn’t want to have some kind of teary episode right there in front of Keanu’s wretched fiancée, picking up a quick pace not long after. She had to get to her room before the heat had completely risen to her face and the tears had inevitably started falling, she couldn’t be caught like that without reasonable explanation. Emma was almost there, her door was straight ahead after she’d climbed the stairs, and her head was down as she toyed anxiously with the knot of the robe when someone grabbed her arm, effectively startling her. “Hey,” Keanu side stepped in front of her, looking around to make sure that they were truly alone. “I was hoping to get you alone.”

“Uhh….” Blinking away the shock she’d left the kitchen with, Emma tried to act normal, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart, “I um…..what do you want?”

“To see you, alone. Just the two of us,” before Emma could object, Keanu cut her off, “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and definitely I deserve the cold shoulder. But I have something planned, just for the two of us.”

“Ke-” Torn, Emma half sobbed, knowing that she badly wanted some time alone with him but also knowing that with Miranda back it would be a risk.

“I know,” he sighed, “But I miss you, so much baby,” he leaned in, stealing kiss which she readily reciprocated, “I just want to be with you,” he peered down the stairs, ensuring that Miranda wasn’t nearby, his baritone dropping an octave as Keanu placed a hand on her waist, stepping closer, “I know you’re mad at me, but don’t you miss me too sweetheart?”

“I’m not mad at you, and I do miss you” Emma laid a gentle hand on Keanu’s shoulder, a couple rogue tears slipping past her lashes, “But this is wrong, you know that.”

“I do,” he whispered, bending to press his forehead to hers, “But I can’t help it, you’re all I think about sometimes,” swallowing thickly, Keanu continued, “I’ve put something together and my sister has been asking for the kids for a while now. Miranda is gonna be out with her girlfriends tonight, say you’ll come with me.”

Licking her lips, Emma ignored the voice in her head that urged that it was a bad idea, “Where?”

“Its a surprise,” Keanu smiled faintly, catching her lips in a brief peck, “But I promise you’ll like it. Just dress in jeans, and your leather jacket cause we’re taking the bike. Okay?”

Hesitating, Emma eventually nodded, “Okay,” she sealed with a kiss, reluctantly untangling from him, walking off with a backwards glance, her tormented gaze meeting his hopeful one last time.

“Ke….” Emma emitted soft, breathy, delighted giggles that seemed to get lost the minute it was cast out in the atmosphere. The lights were turned down low and past the clear, glass double doors, a sleek, modern fireplace was lit on the porch that jutted out over the edge of the cliff, overlooking the darkened ocean. The heels of her boots thudded softly on the rich hardwood as Emma stepped further into the primarily glass abode. The high ceilings, supported by thick fiberglass beams, matched the floors when she looked up in awe, and eventually, when she reached the open doors leading to the cool outside, where a salty breeze blew her freed tresses, Emma was almost at a total loss for words, “This is……”

A wide, proud smile split his lips. Keanu was glad she liked it, he’d pulled a lot of strings to get them that place for a few hours. It was far off from the lively city and the thick surrounding foliage should have protected them from being discovered by any prying eyes. For a few precious hours, they could be free. Slowly, he approached Emma where she stood, grasping the cool railing, mouth still agape as she looked forward. Snaking his arms around her waist and pressing his chest against her back, he laid a kiss no the side of her head. It was so perfect, it always was; being with her.

Everything faded when she was in his arms; the chill of the night air, the glow from around the pool and the quiet crackle of the fireplace. When they were alone together, nothing mattered but Emma. Keanu had never felt that way about anyone, not even Diana, the mother of his children, the woman who ran from their family and broke his heart. He’d tried making it work with her for as long as they could, but in the end, she wouldn’t have married him, much less stick around and raise two children. Keanu had almost given up on finding someone, someone who’d love Matt and Poppy the way he did, be the mother they deserved and the woman he’d spent the rest of his life with. Even when he'd met Miranda, there hadn’t been much hope left, but he was willing to make it work. Though, lately, Keanu had taken to wondering if the woman right there in his arms was actually the one he’d been waiting for. She’d taken his breath away with her unmatched beauty and now, with each passing day, he was giving a little more of his heart away to Emma. It wouldn’t be long till she’d own the part he’d reserved for someone special. She was special, “Absolutely stunning."

When Emma turned slightly in his embrace, she found that Keanu was looking right at her, chuckling musically when he bent and nuzzled her cheek and tightening his hug so she couldn't escape his affections. "Are you talking about the view or something else?"

Peppering her cheek with kisses, his rough salt and pepper beard grazing her satiny skin, Keanu hummed, "Maybe someone else….." Finally, Emma spun so they were chest to chest, her arms winding around his neck, tangled her fingers in the ends of his hair, disheveled from wearing his helmet, "You look so beautiful tonight," his eyes softened, gaze clouded over with something uncertain though unwavering, "You're always so beautiful," Keanu leaned down, capturing her lips.

He tasted like tobacco and something uniquely him, the same thing she thought about when falling asleep at night. From the minute they’d first kissed, that night in Paris, tension practically shoving them into each other’s arms, Emma thought that his lips seemed like they were meant to lock with hers; Keanu always knew exactly what she needed.

Tilting her head, Emma let herself melt against him, submitting to the comfort of his warmth and the security of his kiss. Even if everything else was wrong in their lives, even if everyone would inevitably get hurt, at least they had that. Kisses that completed them, even if just for a little while.

A little while.

One day they’d have to go back to living without each other. Inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the kind of fresh air that was usually absent in the city, Emma pulled away, her hands pressing against Keanu’s chest in unspoken protest, and in an attempt to keep her from walking away, he loosely circled her wrists, “What?” Knitting his brows, he frowned deeply, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” her voice broke unexpectedly, her eyes shining, bright with unshed tears, “Not really, its just…..” The words wouldn't come, at least not the ones that would help Emma elucidate exactly what she wanted Keanu to know. She didn’t want to ruin their one perfect night, but she didn’t want it to be their only perfect night. Emma wanted more, more than she might ever get with him, “You just……you do everything right, you know?” Shaking her head sorrowfully, she sniffled, “Almost everything.”

Casting his head towards their feet, Keanu nodded faintly, his chuckle dry and humorless, “Yeah,” he huffed, “I know what you mean.” Thinking on the matter for a moment, Keanu knew that his heart had been begging him to do the right thing, be the man that they both needed, but he simply couldn’t. Maybe if he didn’t have kids, or were just a few years younger. There were so many ‘maybe’s. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to hug her.

“You always say that,” Emma slunk out from between Keanu and the guard rail, strolling along the balcony, trying to put some space between them so she could think properly, “But nothing changes.”

“I’m trying,” Keanu reasoned.

“Are you?” When Emma turned towards him, some of her hair whipped against her flushed cheeks, “Cause it feels like you’re just saying that to get me to shut up about the real problem.” Scoffing, she swiped at her eyes, “What are we doing Keanu?”

His lips quivered, an explanation absent. There was nothing he could say to fix it, he knew that, but he wanted to, he needed to. Keanu needed her. He knew he’d been playing childish games with Emma, sneaking around and stealing moments. He was too old for it to make sense, and Emma deserved to be more than his shadowed lover. “We’re……” He trailed off, wishing things were easier.

“You know what it feels like?” Folding her arms, Emma ignored the new dryness in her throat, opting not to move when Keanu approached her, racing out to lay a hand on her hip, probably worried that she was about to end things between them.

Licking his lips, Keanu’s gaze flickered to hers and he swore he already knew what she was going to say. He knew because he felt it too, “What?”

Emitting a frustrated sigh, exasperation fueled by the complexity of their lives and the knowledge that things were bound to stay the same unless he changed them. Emma, despite her better senses, raised her hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the corner of his lips, as she tilted her head to the side, regarding him with obvious pain in her eyes, “It feels like I’m falling in love with you even though I shouldn’t.”

Keanu’s arm slid around to her lower back, urging Emma closer, pecking her forehead, “I’m falling in love with you too,” he whispered, muffled by her skin.

Relived by his admission, Emma relented to holding Keanu in a tight hug, pressing her ear over his steady heartbeat. They stayed like that for a while, faces turned towards the vast ocean beyond the mountain, the water darkened, only defined by the rippling glow; the distance so undefined that it was easy to liken it to themselves. An unbound beauty that may have remained largely unexplored. “Come on,” Emma eventually pulled away, grabbing Keanu’s hands so they wouldn’t be completely separated, “Let’s not waste the rest of our night,” she mustered up a small smile, one that was returned by Keanu who, like her, still seemed troubled, but was willing to put it past them, just they could make the most of their stolen moments.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @nonsensicalobsessions

[ener-chi]

Hey there! Thanks for running this blog 💖 I sent you a message a while back about whether I was an empath or not. Time has passed and I’ve had more instances of feeling other people’s emotions. Example: at work I felt an acute sense of dread for no reason and I later learned one of my coworkers had started living out of her car. That on top of other instances makes me feel as though I might be one. However, I think I’ve been wanting to know so badly because my sister is v spiritual and considers herself and empath and I feel jealous/inadequate. My biggest motivation for spiritual/personal growth is more often than not, based on how I think I measure up compared to others rather than bettering myself and enriching my life. I don’t like living like this, constantly feeling small :/ any advice? Have a great day!!

Hi anon!

Ofc! I love having this blog and interacting with the loveliest people on Tumblr ((:

Okay. So. I think that you might indeed have some abilities, or something going on. Your energy is... interesting. Idk if I would call the situation with your coworker living out of their car “empathy” because you weren’t directly feeling their emotions?? But... perhaps you were picking up energy, or having some clairvoyant feelings or something like that.

Regardless, I think that some exploration is warranted. You’re going to want to do your research on all of the “clairs” and if you are truly interested in empathy, that as well. But stay away from those “You might be an empath if you ____” posts... those are usually too vague to be considered helpful or accurate. But yeah; do your research, and experiment! Try new things, try and feel things with others, etc.

However. I would caution you. I definitely think that you are being affected by these feelings that you have towards your sister. I feel that they are a great hindrance to you. Furthermore, from experience - I know that exploring these things for the wrong reasons will be fruitless.

Tbh, I think that you should maybe start there - analyze your relationship with your sister, and why you feel the way that you do, and the emotions behind that. That will be a very good start for you.

Thanks for the ask! I wish you well as you explore this exciting Path!

Blessings!

[boogiewrites]

No. 9 The Body Ch. 8

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary:  Eve learns more about her powers while on a real date with Diego.

Warnings/Tags: Flirting. Sexism. Threats of violence. Canon Typical. Date. Diego Protecc. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

The day had started strong for Eve. She was being interviewed by a local women’s club for her transformation from using their services to becoming a respected doctor with a winning reputation. It’d been flattering and put a little perk in Eve’s step admittedly.

She was headed from a conference room, a much easier place to get to for a non-employee than her small office. But the ease for the interviewer was something she quickly wished she’d not cared so much about as she felt eyes on her, walking alone back towards her wing. She didn’t typically have to be around the board member hallways, it was a place most women avoided.

“Evie?” A familiar voice that immediately made her nose wrinkle came from behind her. “Long time no see.” Bryon Gray, a son of a bitch who happened to be a son of a chief of staff. They’d gone through residency together and every woman that had ever met him had quickly learned to avoid him. “What brings you over to this side of the hospital.” He gives her arm a faux friendly smack of greeting and she grimaces.

“I had an interview.” She answers flatly, his cross-fitted, legacy-name body blocked her path as he manspread across the hall and put his hands on his hips as if everything he said were to be stopped and observed most intently.

“Now I know everything going on around here.” He winks and taps his temple. “And I haven’t heard about you interviewing for anything.”

This may come as a shock to you Bryon but you don’t know everything, which is what she preferred to say. But instead, “It wasn’t for a job. I was interviewed for a magazine.” She says with a low brow.

“Oh! Which one? I mean, which ones are even in print anymore?” He laughs. “We talking the big NEJM?” He laughs. ”Oh wait, that was me.” He brags.

“No. It’s called Ms.” she begins to lean to initiate an exit.

“Mrs.? It like a wedding thing?” He asks with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were single.”

“It’s M. S. A feminist magazine started by Gloria Steinman in the 70s.” She wanted to slap herself for trying to defend it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah that’s hot right now, isn’t it? What was it for?”

She sniffs and twitches her nose trying to not have such a knee-jerk reaction to this... jerk. "My work.”

“You are all work aren’t you Evie? Always have been.”

“Well, you know me.”

“I know Dads noticed the numbers you've been managing. Makes sense word would be getting around about an ex-stripper turned doctor who has the least amount of deaths of patients by a landslide would be a feel-good piece.”

She wanted to defend herself. To slap him and tell him to kiss her ass but she knew it would be fruitless. “Next thing you know they’ll be making a Barbie of me for all the things I’m great at.” She decides to retort with praise instead of defense. ”Stripper heels and a stethoscope would be a hell of a combination for accessories, huh?”

He gives her a look up and down. “You sure you aren’t dancing anymore? You’re looking... great by the way. Very… tight.” He motions a squeeze with his hands. More like how old male plastic surgeons do when they explain implants to young girls.

“I’ve been working out.” Another flat response as she clears her throat and begins to move far past him to continue back on her path. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Keep up the good work there Evie. Both professionally and personally.” She didn’t need to turn to look at him to know what look he had on his face. It was one every woman had had to suffer at some point in her life.

——————-

Eve was determined not to let some silver-spooned dumbass ruin her day. She had much more important things to put her energy on. Like going out with Diego that night. Oh, and saving people. Can’t forget that.

For early spring the air felt heavy and it didn’t help the sour mood that had followed her that day. She had stood too long in the shower, getting pruney, debating on whether to shave above the knee or not. She wasn’t gonna fuck him on the first date. No, she didn’t do that stuff anymore. But was it a first date? She’d known him for months now. Maybe best to not shave to deter her from making any rash decisions.

She’d been particularly mean to herself while trying to find an outfit to wear. She didn’t think she should be so easily frustrated with something like this but she realizes it’s been a long time since she cared about her outfit. Much less fussing over what to wear for a date. As always she played it cool, even when she wasn’t. She was relieved by the few pairs of stretchy denim she had still fit. She wrapped herself up in a black jacket and made her way to the gym in shoes that were nowhere near as comfortable as her usual sneakers. She figured boots with a heel were more low key than pumps. She rolls her eyes and swings her head to shake out the non-productive stream of thought.

“Hey Eve.” Diego’s voice breaks her out of the intrusive thoughts and she gives a smile that doesn’t give away that she’s been in a mood all day.

“Hey, Diego.” She answers in a relieved exhale.

They exchange pleasantries before heading off on foot in the direction of the bar. Her hands kept to the strap of her purse that was across her body. She hadn’t hugged him when she’d greeted him, but should she have? Should she… try to hold his hand? Was that too much? How do you date again? She chews the inside of her cheek.

“You worked today right?” He asked partly to kill the dead air but mostly because he was curious.

“You know I did.” She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Overnight shift, huh? Have to pull anything out of anybody’s butt?”

He gives a wide boyish smile and she laughs in response. “Not tonight no.” she shakes her head. “What about you?”

“I luckily have not had to pull anything out of anyone’s butt.”

She laughs and gives him and below that knocks him slightly and as he returns to her side he stands closer than before. “Smartass.”

He smiles closed-lipped but proudly.

“Everyone’s always asking me about gross stuff. There are other things to ask a doctor…to ask ME about.”

“Like what?”

“Anything besides butt stuff.” She chuckles at her answer.

“Oh I didn’t think that was where we were going with this so soon BUTT-“

She scoffs and laughs and shoves him again before he comes back at her and smoothly, she must admit put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “If it’s not then where IS is going?” She gives a playful pause. “Why’d you decide to ask me out?”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“I asked you first.”

“I respect you playing by grade school rules.” He teases before answering.

“What took this from two super freaks helping each other out to Diego asking Eve out on a date?”

“We’re still super freaks.” He corrects. “What do you wanna hear huh?” He gives a cocky nod. “That you’re… pretty? Smart? Funny?”

“I mean it’s a good start so go on…” she smiles.

“I...y’know. You don’t annoy me... all the time.” He shrugs slightly to play it cool. “It’s… easy with you. You aren’t a dick. Well I mean, a real dick. You’re a DICK don’t get wrong-“

“A dick but not a DICK-dick.” She clarifies.

“See! You get it.” He nods his head her way and she feels the sincerity he’s trying to give her in his way. They walk for a moment, the location in sight now. “You not gonna tell me I’m pretty now?” He jokes and hip knicks her before separating for the door.

“You’re very pretty Diego.” She coos as he holds open the door for her.

“That's better.” He bats his lashes and she walks in first, him close and protective behind her.

———————

Diego looks down at his phone with a sigh. “It’s my brother. I have to call him.”

“The serious little one from the gym?”

“ that’s the one.”

“ he doesn’t seem like a patient kind of guy.” She gives a soft laugh to show no hard feelings. “Go on, it’s fine. I understand.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “If you have to leave just tell me first. Don’t disappear like you’re so good at.”

He gives a quiet, almost apologetic chuckle in response. “I won’t. I’ll be right back.”

Eve takes out her phone to keep to herself and pass the time. Five seemed like a very intense guy. Especially if he was someone that could get Diego to do something he didn’t want to.

“Hey.” She’d heard it already but kept her expression unmoving. “Hey, Girl.”

After the 4th time, it’s clear the guy sat between two friends who looked like they all fell out of the same legacy fraternities, and was not going to stop trying to get her Attention. she turns to meet his eyes with the most indifferent face she could manage.

“There she is. That guy leaves a hot thing like you alone?”

“No.” She answers flatly.

“He...uh, ya brother or somethin’?”

“No.” Another monotone answer

“Ah so is that lucky bastard ya mans then?”

She slowly blinks and takes her time to answer. “Why do you care?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you be nowhere alone if I was your man sweetheart.”

“Duly noted.” She turns back away.

“Oh, a smart one, fellas. You know I like it when they get feisty. What you do baby? You lookin' good as hell. You one of them dancers? Those freaky European girls over at the school?” He laughs and elbows his cohort. “Those broads talk all kinds of smart.”

“I’m a Doctor.” She continues to look at her phone and not engage. Diego would be back soon. And this guy was an idiot.

“Oh! a fuckin DOCTOR bros!” He mocks. “I might’ve listened to my doc if he had an ass like that.”

She sighs and feels her jaw tighten.

“Hey! I got something I need ya to look at sexy doctor. I bet you’ve never seen one like this before.”

“I’ve diagnosed the clap before so I have seen it.”

The guys with him laugh but he doesn’t.

“Why the ones with the smart mouths always such bitches?” He complains with a childish retort. “I was being nice and you gotta go act like that. You’re lucky your so hot sweetheart. Most men wouldn’t put up that shit.”

“Would you put up with it?”

“Fuck no, I keep my woman in line.” He says proudly

“Ah, good. So you can quit talking to me then. Because I’m just going to use words that further confuse you if you keep it up.” She rolls her eyes and keeps on her phone as Diego walks back to the table. For the moment the guy was silent.

—-

Eve excused herself to go to the bathroom, perhaps the beers had gotten to her. Or all the water she was forcing down her pie hole constantly it seemed. Trying to be properly hydrated was hard.

She was still distracted in thought, wondering how much she’d drank in water tonight to know how much she could pour out when she got home. She’d bought a jug with hourly markers because targeted ads worked and it was black matte and had-

Her train of thought is sharply interrupted by a forearm jutting out in front of her path. She looks to the perpetrator and there stands Chad. She assumed his name was Chad. He looked like one, acted like one. And if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...well you know how that goes.

“I saw you walkin' back here in those tight fuckin jeans and was compelled to continue our conversation from earlier.”

“No thanks, dude. I’d like to get back to my date now.” She answers flatly.

“Ya little man’s left sweetheart.” His other arm comes up and her now to the wall back was tense and defensive. Their bodies blocked the small back hallway and she hoped someone would interrupt them soon.

“Then he’ll be right back.”

“He answered his phone and jetted babe.” He tsks. “Yahate to see it. “ a predatory pout comes across his face as he reaches to caress her forearm. “And to a dime like you.” She tenses and noisily exhales. “His loss my gain yeah?” He laughs and she smells a nauseatingly familiar combination of nacho cheese and cheap beer.

“Excuse me...Chad? Is it Chad? I’d like to get back to my seat if you-“

“I’m right here baby.” He smirks and wiggles his jaw. “Face or my cock girl, I ain’t picky.” His hands move to her waist and pull her against him. She didn’t want to make a scene. To let this asshole ruin her date.

“I’m giving you one chance to get your fucking hands off me bro.” She bucks back, deeper voice and glaring into his eyes.

“Mmm, what are you? Where ya mama from eh? You must be a little Latin mami lookityou.” The slurring was beginning to stand out more. He did loosen his grip and she put as much space as she could between them. Progress.

“It’s none of your business and you’re being rude and you’re drunk. You should go home.”

“Only if I’m taking this back with me mami,” he reaches his hand to her ass and before he’s fully grasped she’s shoved him hard against the wall. “Oh fuck yeah hard to get. I’m gonna hold you down and beat that pussy UP.”

“You couldn’t even get hard you needle dicked dumbass.” She straightens her jacket. “Let me say this so you understand. Leave me alone. I am not going to fuck you, you fuckin rapist. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope your mother's dead so she doesn’t have to see what a piece of shit she raised.” She moves to walk away.

His glassy eyes look a strange mixture of hurt to mad to confused.

“Everything okay here?” A tone she hadn’t heard from Diego before as he stood with a wide stance in front of Eve but eyes on the walking cliche. “You okay?” He asks softer as he flicks his eyes to hers, a hand lightly on her arm.

“I’m fine. This guy is garbage. Don’t bother he’s not worth it. Just another moron who never got to the cognitive thought stage.” She sighs and pats his hand, heading back to the table.

After doing a poor job of acting interested in Diego explaining something about knives, she kept seeing Chad eye fuck her from across the bar. She could feel his eyes boring into her. He kept looking and acting casual otherwise, eating and running and talking with his beef necked buddies. Eve was no stranger to harassment. She was a woman and a woman who worked in the medical field. She’d been accosted more times than she could count. From old men winking and having their dicks out to young men locking her inside of an exam room and not letting her leave until he got what he thought he was owed.

She wasn’t even mad about him anymore, her rage was fueled by every man that ever made her feel uncomfortable. Every creep ass ex, every older man trying to take advantage of her. She felt like her face should be hot and Diego’s words become background noise.

-

Diego didn’t notice for a while, too excited to talk about a new knife rig he was working on. He looks behind him at the sound of choking and sees the guy that was bothering Eve earlier trying to clear his throat. He notices Eve isn’t responding even when he stands and tries to gasp. He moves to see her still and focused with flickering eyes. Like electricity was behind them. He watched her curiously, eyes set like a lion in the tall grass. He looks back to Chad, now red and holding his throat.

“Eve…” he reaches out to touch her arm and he’s met with a crack of static electricity. She doesn’t even acknowledge him and the guys turning a weird shade of purple. “EVE.” He says harsher and grasps her forearm, feeling the tingle of hair rise on the back of His neck. “EVE! HEY!” he reaches and as Chad's eyes bloodshot he turns her face to him and breaks her focus.

The desperate gasp of air from Chad was immediate.

“Eve… what the hell was that?”

“What?” She blinks rapidly as if she’d just come to.

“He was choking and you were…” he lowers his voice and moves closer to her. Everyone was now preoccupied with Chad. “...using your powers weren’t you?”

Her mouth holds open as her eyes now normal flit back and forth. “I…” she feels it. Something she could identify. A cooling rush in her veins. “I hurt him.” She whispers in shock.

“Yeah, you almost choked him to death. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… I did that.”

“I didn’t know you could do that?”

“Neither did I.”

———-

Diego and Eve sit back in her apartment after a fast exit. She seemed worried, so he tried to hide his concern. He kept having to reach for her wrist to keep her on track and eventually settled on holding her hand. They hadn’t said much on the walk back. She was coming to terms with a lot and once again they’d fallen back into the roles of helping each other through these secret things only they understood and out of the dating pool they’d tiptoed in successfully tonight.

“Look you can control them, alright? You can control healing and you can control hurting. They’re the same thing. You got carried away. And that guy was an asshole and he deserved a scare honestly.”

He rubs her upper arms and she wipes at her face with a tissue. “I’m sorry for...ruining tonight.” She sighs out with eyes now makeup-free.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He grimaces. “We’ve just… got sidetracked. It happens.” He shrugs and tries to be supportive.

“I’ve had such a bad day, Diego.” She laughs to not cry and meets his eyes. “I didn’t want to cancel because of it and let it win. But I’ve been so sensitive today. I don’t know.”

“What happened?.” He moves to pull her to the edge of her bed.

“There’s just this guy, Brian at work and he was shitty to me today-“

“Brian who?” Diego quickly interjects in such a dramatic way it makes her crack a smile while he remained serious.

“You don’t have to beat him up.” She gives a thankful smile and pats the back of his hands. He takes her hands into his and lays them in her lap.

“If someone's makin' you so upset you lose control I'm pretty sure I DO have to kick their ass.”

“Thanks. Your heart is in the right place. I appreciate it. Seriously.” She frees one hand as he holds tight to her others. “I don’t want to be known as the woman who you can’t talk to because her b- her friend might beat them up.”

“Your what might beat them up?” He teases with a smile.

“Friend. My friend. That’s what I said.” She whines playfully and he smirks. “He’s one of the director's sons.” She shrugs.

She’d just given him enough information to easily find the guy. Not like he wouldn’t have gone through every Brian in that hospital. “Why would he be a dick to you?” He takes her hand back into his and it makes her smile as she looks down at them. He held her hands in a clear expression of his want to protect her. She thought it was very sweet of him. But she didn’t know he had full intentions of beating the white off Brian.

“Sexism mostly?” She offers and Diego gives her a look of impatience.

“I ran into him and he said some things about my past in a tone that wasn’t nice and he’s in general very… sleazy and gives uncomfortable compliments. No one says anything because he’s Knox’s son so...he’s a privileged white dude. That should tell you enough.”

“It does.” He accepts her elaboration. She was quickly learning he was stubborn as a mule when it came to wanting something, particularly information.

“Then the guy at the bar.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that asshole.” He sighs. “I would’ve decked him but you seemed like you didn’t want me to.”

“I could r done it myself if I wanted. But I didn’t want to ruin the evening.” She emotes dramatically, saying it didn’t matter in the long run. “He was talking to me while you were gone the first time too.”

“Seriously? Eve. Why didn’t you let me knock his punk ass out?”

“Because Diego I wanted to have a nice date with you. Without involving fighting. We can work it out at training later. I didn’t want to…” she groans.

“Okay, okay. I...get what you’re saying. And I think you’re wrong. But I understand.”

“Thanks. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.” She offers with a tired smile.

“Next time?” His smile gives away his glad reaction to the insinuation.

“Yeah. I figured we could go out on another date. Unless you don’t want to?” He feels her hands begin to pull away and he keeps them close.

“No! I do! I do Uh “ clearing his throat, “I mean I’d like that. It’d be..chill”

She snorts a laugh at his recovery. “I’m excited to go out with you again too. Don’t try to play it cool I already know you. I know you aren’t” she teases.

“That’s cold man.” He deflects and they share a nice pause between them. “We’ll go somewhere where no one can upset you.”

“If you’re with me you could.”

“Normally I’d agree. But I don’t plan on upsetting you... You know. I mean it might happen but like...I don’t wanna hurt you. For real.”

“I think I knew that Diego.” She gives him a warm smile and squeezes his hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you either. I’ve gotten pretty fond of you. As much as I hate to admit.”

“I don’t hate to admit it.” He gives a dopey smile and she pays his cheek.

“Thank you for… everything tonight.”

“Was nothin,” he answers cockily.

“You can be really sweet when you aren’t trying too hard.” She says as they feel their heartbeat flip for a moment as they look into each other’s eyes a bit too long for it to go unnoticed.

“I don’t have to try hard with you.” He answers back softly and he sees his moment. She sees the tell of his eyes moving to her lips, that tilt of his head that made him look like a sweet little pitbull puppy.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done for her. Properly. They could both feel the tension between them now. “Diego… I do-“

“Uh yeah, you’re right. It’s not- yeah-..” he stutters in reaction to what he thought could be rejection.

She smiles and rises to go after him as he puts space between them. “I WANT to, Diego I just don’t think right now is the right moment.” She explains gently with her hands to his chest and she yawns. “I’m exhausted from using my powers tonight. I don’t want to be… not giving you 110% if you get what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows and it knocks his defenses down as intended.

“Oh. Good. You...you’re right.” He chuckles shyly. “I can go now and I’ll see you at training then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She offers a hug instead of a kiss and he happily takes it. His temple to her temple for a moment and feeling her let out a content sigh in his arms. “Be careful headed home.” She offers as they part. “Despite everything I still had a good time tonight. For the record.”

“I did too.” He offers before ducking out the door with a “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

She knew she would thanks to him.

@jaegeeeeer​ @diegos-butt​ @anglovesthis @likedovesinthewnd

[doctorguilty]

I watched Halloween with @noisetank01 tonight cause that's another classic slasher movie I hadn't seen and I thought it was pretty good! I was particularly looking forward to seeing this one because if how much I enjoyed Black Christmas and I had learned via I think a YouTube video talking about slasher movies? that John Carpenter was a huge fan of Black Christmas and it inspired a lot of Halloween, most notably for me the pov of the killer camera angle which ofc happens right away in Halloween and I thought that was super neat. Thoughhh I think Black Christmas remains higher on my fav list, I found it to be spookier, liked the story more, and the final girl was much cooler. But like it's cool to have another classic crossed off my list and definitely loved observing the bits of inspiration in there!!

Omg sidenote I thought it was SUPER weird there's like a very clear shot towards the end of Michael's face??? I never knew that was a thing like, clearly knowing what he looks like, and for me personally that took away from the scariness of him? Maybe it's me personally and what I find scary but I definitely favor slashers with an obscured face becuase the Unknown Idenity is what frightens me, which ofc Black Christmas was fully committed to never showing us Billy's face or even really explaining who he is like, almost at all. I think that's also probably related to why one of my favorite movies ever is The Blair Witch Project, despite that being something people think has a fruitless ending, like to me the ending was bone chilling ,, idk its like, less is more when it comes to fear at least for me!

Anyway just some thoughts and rambles. I think Michael Myers is pretty cool but I dont think I'd hug him