#Nancy Drew s2e10

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Bess’s s2e10 “Thank you for your hospitality” to Detective Tamura after being handcuffed to a precinct bench all night has the exact same energy as Ace’s s2e1 “You have a lovely home” to Everett Hudson after thinking he was going to be murdered in the Hudson hunting lodge.

Love a platanchor parallel.

[dntovrthnkit]

October is Carmilla Rewatch Month!

Why? Because I said so four years ago and now I’m posting about it!

Join me this spoopy season in reliving the epic saga of our favorite broody lesbian vampire and her tiny gay journalist girlfriend, using the tag #carmillaoctober when you post about your experience! I’ll be watching four episodes a day (five on Fri 10/9 to add the Christmas Special) and then the movie on Halloween. It’s like it was meant to be! Links and full schedule below... Enjoy <3

~ Season 1 ~

Thurs 10/1:

S1E1 “Disorientation”

S1E2 “Missing”

S1E3 “The Roommate”

S1E4 “Freak OUT”

Fri 10/2:

S1E5 “Patterns”

S1E6 “Why Bother?”

S1E7 “Town Hall”

S1E8 “Pitsa i Thanato”

Sat 10/3:

S1E9 “Nancy Drew”

S1E10 “The Real Betty”

S1E11 “A Visit From The Dean”

S1E12 “Evidence”

Sun 10/4:

S1E13 “Spy”

S1E14 “Research Trip”

S1E15 “My Roommate, The Vampire”

S1E16 “Best Laid Plans”

Mon 10/5:

S1E17 “It’s A Trap”

S1E18 “While You Weren’t Watching”

S1E19 “Advanced Interrogation Techniques”

S1E20 “Sock Puppets and European History”

Tues 10/6:

S1E21 “Strategic Planning”

S1E22 “Afterbite”

S1E23 “We Need To Talk About Carmilla”

S1E24 “Breaking Up (With An Amazon) Is Hard To Do”

Wed 10/7:

S1E25 “Basic Parasitology”

S1E26 “The Standard Issue”

S1E27 “Required Reading”

S1E28 “Blame Enough For All”

Thurs 10/8:

S1E29 “PTSD & Brownies”

S1E30 “Monsters, Lies, & Videotapes”

S1E31 “Of Hearts And Holy Hand Grenades”

S1E32 “Mommy Dearest”

Fri 10/9:

S1E33 “Pep Rally”

S1E34 “Do Not Go Into The Light”

S1E35 “Heroic Vampire Bull****”

S1E36 “Life Goes On”

Carmilla | The Christmas Special

~ Season 2 ~

Sat 10/10:

S2E1 “Brave New World”

S2E2 “The Voice of Silas”

S2E3 “SNN”

S2E4 “War & Pieces”

Sun 10/11:

S2E5 “Something Wicked”

S2E6 “The Chair of the Board”

S2E7 “Arrangements For Living”

S2E8 “Vanishing Act”

Mon 10/12:

S2E9 “Cutting Losses”

S2E10 “Sister Spycraft”

S2E11 “Adonis Interrupted”

S2E12 “Enter the Lugenbaron”

Tues 10/13:

S2E13 “Emergency Procedures”

S2E14 “Sous Les Paves”

S2E15 “No Heroics”

S2E16 “Old Habits”

Wed 10/14:

S2E17 “The Great Debate Prep”

S2E18 “Coup De Grace”

S2E19 “Dividing Lines”

S2E20 “Damage Control”

Thurs 10/15:

S2E21 “Prisoner’s Dilemma”

S2E22 “Compulsory Violence”

S2E23 “Wild Kingdom”

S2E24 “Hunger Games”

Fri 10/16:

S2E25 “Bluster and Consequences”

S2E26 “Concerned Parties”

S2E27 “Zones of Friendship”

S2E28 “Spilled Blood”

Sat 10/17:

S2E29 “Godslayer”

S2E30 “Co-Existence”

S2E31 “Siege Tactics”

S2E32 “Radio Letter”

Sun 10/18:

S2E33 “Just In Case”

S2E34 “Last Call”

S2E35 “Not Afraid”

S2E36 “The Execution of Carmilla Karnstein”

~ Season 0 ~

Mon 10/19:

S0E1 “Blast From The Past”

S0E2 “A Bro’s Tale”

S0E3 “Lucy & Ethel”

S0E4 “No One Expects”

Tues 10/20:

S0E5 “The Missing... Link”

S0E6 “Suspicious Minds”

S0E7 “Lock-in”

S0E8 “Blood, Where Art Thou?”

Wed 10/21:

S0E9 “The Trouble With Tinkerbell”

S0E10 “Wishin’ & Hopin’”

S0E11 “Clap If You Believe In...”

S0E12 “Nothing To See Here”

~ Season 3 ~

Thurs 10/22:

S3E1 “I Know What You Didn’t Do Last Summer”

S3E2 “Bad Blood”

S3E3 “Checkpoint”

S3E4 “Relative Positions”

Fri 10/23:

S3E5 “Raiders of the Lost Heart”

S3E6 “Best Laid Plans”

S3E7 “By The Book”

S3E8 “All The Rage”

Sat 10/24:

S3E9 “Meet The Parent”

S3E10 “Crossroads”

S3E11 “What Fresh Intel Is This?”

S3E12 “Memory Lane”

Sun 10/25:

S3E13 “Warning Signs”

S3E14 “Order of Magnitude”

S3E15 “Risk Assessments”

S3E16 “Regrets, I’ve Had A Few”

Mon 10/26:

S3E17 “Demon Summoning Made Simple”

S3E18 “The Heart of The Matter”

S3E19 “Coping Strategies”

S3E20 “Circular Logic”

Tues 10/27:

S3E21 “The Exorcism of Lola Perry”

S3E22 “Fun and Mind Games”

S3E23 “Family Feud”

S3E24 “Break On Through”

Wed 10/28:

S3E25 “... To The Other Side”

S3E26 “Objects in the Rearview Mirror”

S3E27 “If You’re Lost, You Can Look”

S3E28 “Time After Time”

Thurs 10/29:

S3E29 “Back to the Total Lack of Future”

S3E30 “Narrowing Paths”

S3E31 “Long Goodbyes”

S3E32 “Places to Go, People to See”

Fri 10/30:

S3E33 “A God Walks Into A Giant Pit...”

S3E34 “They Blinded Me With Science”

S3E35 “Hell Hath No Fury”

S3E36 “Post Apocalypse”

Sat 10/31:

The Carmilla Movie (purchase here for $9.99!)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Lustbuster

Fandom: Nancy Drew Pairing: Nancy x Ace Rating: E Word Count: 3902

Summary: It's probably not the best idea to let Nancy decide how to manage her lust, but it probably wasn't the best idea to leave Ace in charge of watching her either.

It’s not the kinda thing he can ask Grant, Ace knows, but he still twists away from George’s reluctantly pleading face to clock the new guy moving around the kitchen. So innocent.

No, Ace can’t ask this of him. Leaving the running of the Claw temporarily under Grant’s control isn’t the same as unbolting his supernatural training wheels to station him in front of the walk-in, guarding Nancy while she burns through the effects of that wedding dress. Let the guy cut his teeth on a séance or two first, maybe a child-killing demon with lungs full of potpourri. Nancy on her hormone high is too much for a newbie to handle. Not in his first week.

“Don’t make me beg, Ace,” George says. Her tone stands behind her words like an enforcer, threatening to take a potato peeler to his eyeballs if he doesn’t start nodding.

He looks back at her.

“’Course not.”

“I really need to check on my sisters,” she adds.

They both know the card she holds but isn’t playing—that it’s his fault her sisters are worried, his fault that Odette’s spirit got George’s body trashed. It might be thanks in part to Ace that Nick made it home alive last night, but then he also has to take credit for being the reason George didn’t make it home, cuffed to a bench at the station. Even if George is too nice to say it (unlike Bess, who seems hellbent on blaming him forever), Ace feels that guilt. And because guilt isn’t useful, he’s gotta offer up responsibility instead.

“I get it,” Ace tells her.

“I tried to smooth things over when I got in this morning, but Jesse gave me the silent treatment and Ted and Charlie followed her example. Why can’t they be that in sync when I need them to be, huh?”

“That’s rough, George.”

George hangs her head and sighs.

“I thought about making something up… saying Bess and I had a sleepover after we went skating—some version of the truth, you know?—but if some asshole makes a comment to one of them about seeing me handcuffed to Victoria’s bench, clearly drunk and possibly speaking French, I think they’ll hate me even more for lying.”

“They’re not gonna hate you,” Ace promises. “Go talk to them.”

George smiles gratefully.

“Thanks, Ace.”

She starts to walk by him, zipping up her coat, but he turns after her.

“But, uh…” he begins. George glances back and lifts her eyebrows for him to go on. “She’s good now?” He jerks his thumb towards the walk-in. “She doesn’t need anything?”

“She’s not the fucking class turtle. Nancy will survive. All she needs is for you to not let her out.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part. Got that part loud and clear.” Ace clears his throat, remembering Nancy’s hands pushing into his hair.

George’s smile of amusement is a little bigger than her last one.

“Nancy’s locked in,” she reassures him. “I could hear her mumbling to herself so I assume she’s meditating or something. Just let her ride this out.”

“Cool. Yep. Can do.”

Ace gives George a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes and leaves him to his assignment.

First, he takes a step into the kitchen.

“Hey, Grant? I’m just…”

He gestures towards the back and Grant stares at him, neither agreeing nor protesting. Grant has this thing, Ace thinks, where he constantly looks the opposite of unflappable. Unceasingly flapped. But he hasn’t quit, and he doesn’t ask what it is Ace needs to do back there, or why he’s relieving George. Ace nods like they’ve reached an understanding and bounds down the steps, heading to the walk-in.

It’s quiet when he stops in the middle of the room. He’s trying to offer Nancy some space, but maybe this is too much. He crosses casually to the lockers, leaning his shoulder against a door and flinging his coat onto the bench. The locker squeaks, making him worry that he won’t be able to hear Nancy. He approaches the walk-in, hesitant. Grips the railing. Tilts his head towards the door as he listens. George was right: there’s a faint rise and fall of Nancy’s voice.

Ace settles into place on the top step, back to the door. He pulls out his phone and rereads every one of his potential brother’s texts. If he were Nancy, or even Bess, he’d be analyzing the shit out of these, but Ace’s eyes move quickly across the words, more checking that they still exist than trying to glean any additional meaning. He’s been thinking about this for way too long. When looming death-by-Agleaca put pressure on his timeline and he finally called the number, that felt like it started a momentum he doesn’t want to stop. A drawn-out back-and-forth texting is not what he’s looking for at this point. He’s ready for answers, resolution, the end of the mystery. It’s making him restless, and restlessness leads to recklessness. Yesterday, he intentionally threw cherry tomatoes into a salad they’ve always served with grape tomatoes. Oh yeah. Shit’s gettin’ real.

He’s slipping his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans when he realizes he can’t hear Nancy anymore. Pushing to his feet, Ace goes to the door and knocks.

“Nancy? Nancy, you ok?”

His mental interface is preparing to run the EMERGENCY software and proceed through a series of folders (KEYS, FLORENCE, HOSPITAL) as his hand reaches for the pin that’s holding the door latched. But then he hears his name from the other side of the door. He hears his name two ways, and neither suggests a medical emergency. Beyond the medical emergency of inhaling mystical fumes off a repression dress from the Women in White’s 1848 fall/winter collection.

“Ace?!” Delighted. “Ace.” Shivers down his spine, and not the spooky kind.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says. He stands close to the door so he doesn’t have to raise his voice too loud.

“George didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Very flirtatious. Very, very flirtatious. This would be a great time to be his best self, Ace thinks, and not the self that attended the devil-may-care school of salad plating, majoring in tomato fuckery. Nancy’s tone seems to reach inside him and toy with the place where his restlessness lives.

“George, uh… George had to step out. But she’ll most definitely be back.”

It’s dawning on him that he should’ve asked about that—whether or not George was planning to return to the Claw. If there was a plan for who’d be taking the next shift of Nancy Watch. Because he can’t stay here too long; it might rile her up. (It might rile him up.)

“I hope you told her not to hurry,” Nancy says. He can tell she’s just on the other side of the door now. Her voice sounds close. “I trust you. You can handle this.”

It doesn’t sound like friendly encouragement. It sounds like an invitation.

Ace makes himself sit down with his back against the door. Makes it more difficult to reach for the latch.

“Not much to handle,” he says. “You’re not throwing hooks at me or demanding my blood. This is a pretty easy one to be involved in, as far as your paranormal mishaps go.”

When Nancy doesn’t respond, he’s afraid he went too far. The night they all almost died—the night George did die—they kinda let Nancy have it about her habit of dragging them into dangerous situations. He didn’t mean to do that again. He’s already said what he needed to say to her on the subject, including the part about not wanting to lose her. No need to pile on while she’s dealing with this new problem that’s not even (directly) her fault.

“How’re you passing the time in there?” Ace probes.

“Thinking.”

Ok, that sounds like her. Could be that Nancy’s experiencing lucid moments in between the horniness, like when she had her hands in his hair and then she was talking through the problem like normal. And then she came right back to him with full horny intent.

“Good call,” he encourages.

“I’m thinking that I could jam the end of one of these metal skewers into the screws on the door latch and just take the whole thing off.”

Uh oh.

“Please don’t do that. I’ll just have to hold the door shut, Nancy.”

“What about my legs? Would you try to hold them shut too, or would you give me what I want?”

Ace swallows. This is not her; this is not Nancy. Unless it is Nancy, a little bit, like she said when she was speculating about the released lust possibly stoking existing desires. She’s never come on to him before though. She just counts on him, and always thanks him for his help, and occasionally asks for things with her eyes alone because she knows he’ll understand. She just stands close to him. Sometimes, he can smell her perfume.

“You’d want any guy who happened to be sitting here.”

It’s a harsh rebuff, but Ace thinks they both need the reminder.

“I’m glad it’s you though.”

“You’re manipulating me with what you think I want to hear,” he says. It calms him to commentate on what’s happening. Makes it feel like it’s not really about him, which it’s not.

“Oh, Ace,” she says. The door thumps lightly and he can sense that she sat down. When her voice comes again, they seem to be at the same height. “If I were gonna do that, I’d be asking for your help. I’d be begging. Do you want to hear me beg, Ace?”

He threads his fingers together and clenches until his hands hurt.

“No, I’m good,” he says lightly.

“Help me. Please? I really need you.”

“Bess is out there looking for an antidote for you right now. I promise. She’s doin’ research, she’s… she’s… And if whatever she finds doesn’t work, she’ll take my place and sit with you while I go look for something that can—”

“Ace.” He closes his eyes at Nancy’s seductive tone. It hits him with the subtly stunning force of a blast of cold air from the walk-in, but it’s heat he feels instead. She’s never said his name this much. “You’re the only one who can help.”

“George said you’d be fine.”

He hears Nancy’s noise of frustration.

“How can you listen to what George says? George said I’d be fine? And that I should, what? Just sit here and wait until I stop wanting sex? Sounds like the repressed Frenchwoman’s been weighing in.”

“That’s not fair,” Ace says. “George was looking after you too.”

“But not the way I need you to look after me.”

The frustration is gone. Nancy’s back to full-blown sexy cajoling.

“If we just sit here patiently…” he starts.

“I want sex,” Nancy says bluntly. “You know I’m sweating in here? I’m sweating just thinking about staring at you and feeling your hair sliding between my fingers. I want you to come in here and have sweaty walk-in sex with me, like I know you want to.”

Her volume drops and he’s turning his head to press his ear to the door to hear more before he can even think about stopping himself.

“I want this to be my happy place too,” she says.

“It’s the dress. It’s just the dress,” he repeats.

“But you aren’t sure, are you? Maybe I’ve always wanted you like this. Open the door and we’ll figure it out together. Look in my eyes when you’re inside me and I bet you’ll be able to tell.”

Ace clenches his jaw. Breathes in through his nose. Releases.

“That’s a terrible plan. I’m not opening the door.”

He guesses she’s sulking in all the silence that follows his rejection. But this Nancy doesn’t seem capable of staying quiet for long stretches when there’s someone to hit on nearby.

“I have an idea,” she says.

“You’ve made it clear that you have several.”

“God, Ace, your sense of humour gets me so hot,” Nancy professes, an impatient bite to her tone that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“You should stop,” he says weakly. “You’re gonna be embarrassed once we cure you.”

“What if I didn’t stop? What if this was our compromise?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re not coming in and you’re not letting me out, you can still help me vent some of this lust.”

He considers this semi-reasonable proposal. Nancy will probably still be embarrassed when this is over, but it’s miles from letting her do something physical that she can’t reasonably consent to. A little one-sided dirty talk between friends could be just what the doctor ordered. He sighs, bracing himself to withstand whatever she’s raring to dish out.

“Alright, Nancy, go ahead. I promise I won’t tell anybody and I’ll never mention it to you. Your words do not leave that walk-in. Except for me hearing them,” Ace amends.

“Same.”

He frowns.

“Same?”

“I won’t tell anybody what you say to me either, if that’s how you want it.”

“Maybe you don’t remember, but I didn’t inhale any of that lust gas,” he says.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have anything you want to say to me.”

“Nancy…” Gentle now. Careful. “It’s not like that between us.”

“Don’t you want it to be? I saw your face when I touched you earlier.”

“I was surprised,” he says.

“Yeah, pleasantly surprised,” Nancy argues.

Ace shakes his head and bends his knees up, resting his arms on them.

“I think you’re misremembering. It wasn’t my expression you were so interested in at the time.”

“I’m always interested in your expression because it’s on your face. Your handsome, handsome face with the pretty eyes…”

“You seemed kinda hazy.”

“Ace,” she whines. “Stop it.”

“What?”

“Don’t play hard to get.”

“I cannot engage with you like this,” he states.

“Then I’m coming out.”

There’s a thump against the door. The first one’s petulant, maybe the side of her fist, but then comes a series of more violent blows that could mean Nancy’s started kicking. There’s no way it’ll work—the pin isn’t bouncing free of the latch and the soles of her sneakers aren’t going to break through metal—but the dress is obviously helping her take a break from good judgement today, and that’s already a sketchy area with this one.

Ace presses his palms to the door, trying to quiet the hollow booms.

“Nancy, knock it off! You’re being too loud!”

“Shut me up then!” she yells from deeper inside the walk-in. If he had to guess, he’d say she’s lying on her back while she stomps the door. Shit. That floor is so cold. What if she gets sick?

“I don’t want to shut you up,” he hisses.

“You like me loud, Ace? Huh? Can’t have it both ways.”

Bang bang bang reverberates against his back. He’s muffling the sound as well as he can and he knows there’s battered fish sizzling noisily in oil in the kitchen, but if Nancy really sets her mind to getting herself let out of here, he can’t be sure that she won’t start screaming. Someone—probably Grant—will hear. And then Ace becomes the guy who trapped his female co-worker in a freezer and everything just goes from bad to worse.

“Yes!” he calls to her. “Yes, I would like you to be loud. But not right now, ok, Nancy? Please?”

The kicking stops.

Suddenly, right on the other side of the door again, is Nancy’s intrigued voice saying, “Well, well, well.”

Ace runs a hand over his face and thinks, Fuck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries.

“Yes you did.”

Of course he did, and horny Nancy is possibly even more mercilessly single-minded than her clear-headed counterpart. He has to remind himself that he caved for her sake. Until Bess finds an antidote, this is the best mitigation strategy they have: let Nancy try her hardest to persuade him to fuck her and hope that expels the lust.

“You wanna hear me moaning?” she teases through the door. “You wanna make me scream?”

He won’t picture it. He won’t. He rubs his arms through his sleeves, but he can feel the goosebumps.

“Ace?” Nancy asks, sounding suspiciously sweet and compassionate. “It’s ok if you do. I want that too. Just admit it, Ace. Tell me one more time.”

“You’d be loud,” he blurts. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“How would you get me to be loud?”

Her voice is eager, compelling, and is this how she feels? Like she just can’t help herself? Ace grasps his knees.

“However you wanted.”

“Any way,” Nancy croons. He can hear her hand scrabbling uselessly at the latch. Yikes. She is a bull in a china shop, charging every phallic vase and penis-patterned plate. Maybe he can soothe her with specificity.

“No, Nancy, not any way. Focus. What would you want from…” He chokes. “…from me.”

“I love your hair,” she sighs happily.

“We’ve established that.”

“Your long, soft, beautiful hair. I want to hold your hair and ride you,” she says. It sounds like she’s forcing the words out between her teeth, maybe wanting something to bite down on. Bite me, Ace thinks, and shudders.

When Nancy clarifies, “Ride your face,” he’s momentarily lightheaded from all the blood deciding to go someplace other than his brain.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her on top of him. Busy Nancy—who always seems to be on her way out of a room—being still for him, letting him take her weight. Her bare legs against his shoulders, the now-familiar grip of her fingers in his hair, but tighter, tenser as she lowers her hips and he opens his mouth to her. Ace rests his head back against the walk-in door and exhales heavily. He needs to not close his eyes.

“Just let me out,” she pleads.

He laughs breathlessly.

“No.”

His hands aren’t on his knees anymore, they’re clutching his thighs, and then one’s at his groin.

“Let’s just try and see if you’d like it,” Nancy proposes.

“I know I would.”

“And then I’d do you,” she says, and he doesn’t even know if she heard him. “You’ll look so tall when I’m on my knees.”

He’s starting to get it, how she could be sweating in there. He has his back against cold metal and it isn’t enough to stop the flush rising up his neck. It’s killing him to keep his hand still, but if he does anything about the hard line in his jeans, he’s not sure what happens to his friendship with Nancy.

“Try not to discuss it like a future event,” he says. “It’s just theoretical.”

“Theoretically, I want to feel you hit the back of my throat.”

Ok, Ace bargains with himself, over the jeans is allowed, but no unzipping. He drops his knees and lets his legs splay apart, adjusting himself with a wince. When he strokes the rough denim, he gasps in relief. Nancy’s mouth. Her full lower lip, like a pillow to rest on.

“You’ve had sex in here, haven’t you?” Nancy demands. “My dad was being weird about it, but he said something about stumbling across you and Laura Tandy? She’s gone, but I’m here, Ace, and I’m ready. I am super ready. How ’bout you do to me whatever you did to her, because that bitch always looked satisfied.” She laughs awkwardly. “Not that I think Laura’s a bitch. She’s not a bitch. But if she comes into town again, I’ll punch her square in her cute little nose.”

Laura Tandy is someone Ace cares about and thinks well of, so he feels really torn by how Nancy’s jealousy is making him feel. Nobody’s wanted to punch somebody in the nose for him before. Nobody’s presented him with a scenario where he is something important, prized, and worth defending against heiresses and other possible challengers. He feels like Princess Peach, with less kvetching.

“I want you to show me how you like it,” Nancy goes on. “Come on, Fifty Shades of Dishwashing—gimme the walk-in special. Let me rip your clothes off with my teeth.”

“We would get caught,” he says, like he’s entertaining the idea. (He is, but it’s theoretical. It’s only ever gonna be theoretical.) His cock’s throbbing to be gripped properly, preferably in a smaller hand than his, and he pants as he massages himself around the nipping track of his zipper.

“No, we’d be fast. You wouldn’t let us get caught, Ace. You’d be amazing, like you always are. This walk-in belongs to you.” He swears he can feel the pressure of her pushing up against her side of the door, aching to put her mouth to his ear as she says, “Treat me like I belong to you.”

He unbuttons his jeans.

“Ace? Hey, Ace?”

Oh shit.

Ace jerks his knees up to conceal the bulge in his lap and acknowledges Nick with an impassive nod as he descends the stairs from the kitchen. Nothin’ to see here. Just another day of Ace being a team player at the Claw, doing what’s requested and definitely not imagining hooking Nancy’s legs around his hips while he pounds her into the back wall of the walk-in, sending her suppliant moans up the previously-haunted air vent. Clean out the ghosts. Keep things sanitary. Sorta.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“I’m goin’ to pick Bess up. She thinks she found something that’ll fix—”

“Nick?!” Nancy’s cry of delight, dampened between the walls of the walk-in, sounds just like it did when she said his name, Ace thinks.

“—that,” Nick concludes, pointing at the door Ace has been guarding.

“Awesome.”

“Detective Tamura and Gil Bobbsey both decided to stop by, but I got rid of them.”

“Did you say Gil and Tamura?!” Nancy shouts. “I hope they’re hungry for a Nancy sandwich. Tell them I’ll be right out!”

“She will not be right out,” Ace assures Nick, faking the stoicism Nancy deserves and which he doesn’t actually feel after she proved what he said before right—in this state, any guy would do. It’s a blow to his ego, he won’t lie.

Nick glances down at his phone when it chimes, presumably reading another text from Bess, and Ace takes the opportunity to swiftly stand and launch himself down the walk-in steps. He snatches his coat off the bench and holds it bunched in front of his hips.

“Uh, you know what?” he asks. “I can go get Bess. Yeah, why don’t you stay with Nancy. Do you mind? My back’s just getting…” Ace rolls his shoulders and grunts in discomfort.

Nick eyes him strangely but nods.

“Alright.”

“Sweet. Thanks, man.” Ace claps Nick’s arm on his way past.

“Wait!” Nancy cries out. “Is Ace leaving? Ace! Don’t go! I need you!”

“Has she been like this the whole time?” Nick asks him quietly.

“More or less.” Ace raises his voice to penetrate the walk-in’s solid door. “It’s gonna be ok, Nancy! We’ll getcha fixed up! Get your head on straight!”

Unlike his. Ace leaves the Claw feeling like his head might as well be a tomato. Any type’ll do.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

YES WE STAN!! Oh sorry… for some reason I completely skipped over the word episode 🤦🏼‍♀️ when typing my ask. Yeah! I wanna know what your top 5 favorite ND episodes are and why? I’m currently rewatching and I just finished 2x07 - The Legend of the Murder Hotel and I forgot how much I loved that episode. But I was just curious to hear your thoughts :) ~ 🥳

No problemo! Episode was my first guess, but I thought I'd let you clarify! I love the murder hotel episode ❤️ Will never forget Ace referencing Downton Abbey or Bess's "our pleasure" on behalf of herself and Queen Elizabeth. A classic.

But ooooh, my top 5?

1. "The Scourge of the Forgotten Rune" (s2e11)

specifically: the steak knives video, Nick and George finding out they're a couple, Bess's scream EVERY TIME she comes to, "wouldn't it be nice if I was your granddaughter?" "oh, wouldn't that be wonderful!"

generally: Nancy getting a rare positive interaction with a maternal figure, the Drew Crew having no memories of themselves or each other and choosing to help one another how many times??

2. "The Spell of the Burning Bride" (s2e10)

specifically: Nancy's fuckin' lust-vision cam on Tamura/Gil/Nick/Ace, Bess and Ace tricking Nancy like a toddler by pretending to eat spoonfuls of her antidote, "are you taking pictures of yourself like a rental car?" "yes."

generally: the feminist, sex-positive framing of the episode and Nancy's acknowledgment of the benefits of feeling over thinking

3. "Pilot" (s1e1)

murder! sex! breaking & entering! Lucy Sable scaring the bejesus outta me in that attic scene! the beginning of the Drew Crew's suspects-to-friends journey! you can't undervalue the pilot!

4. "The Whisper Box" (s1e13)

specifically: I don't think anything in this series equals how much I cry when Nancy offers to sit with her alternate-reality mom while she makes that phone call. I weep.

generally: just a great episode, impressed by the approach to emotional closure for Nancy/Nick, love the two distinct versions of all the main characters, interesting to compare with the season 3 finale

5. "The Demon of Piper Beach" (s3e4)

this one really excels for all its little moments, so specifically: Ryan sniffing Carson, Nick pointing out that Horseshoe Bay's rituals are insane, the Bess bus, the handcuff dump, Carson's "working lunch," "[...] I'm not afraid anymore" "afraid of what?"

[forasecondtherewedwon]

My progress on Love Me Like You Drew has been temporarily derailed by rewatching “The Spell of the Burning Bride” last night and immediately writing most of a new Ace POV one-shot.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Choose your fighter: Nancy’s lust-vision edition

Detective Abe “Chest Hair” Tamura

Gil “Not a Top Gun: Maverick Promo but It Could Be” Bobbsey

Ned “Still Got That Almost-Burned Alive Glow” Nickerson

Ace “Wind Beneath My Wings” [redacted]

[forasecondtherewedwon]

In the House of Gil Repute

Fandom: Nancy Drew Pairing: Nancy Drew x Gil Bobbsey Rating: E Word Count: 1930

Summary: “I’m going to hazard a theory that no one has ever been as turned on by the promise of banana cream pie,” Nancy says.

She’s striving to turn this around on him, preserve, you know, some part of her dignity. But this is Gil Bobbsey, and he knows how to play the game.

He smirks at her before countering, “Yeah, well, nobody’s ever promised banana cream pie in such a seductive tone of voice.”

Logically, Nancy knows she must hear Gil lock the door he’s just pressed her up against, but mostly, she feels it in her body. Maybe she should be nervous—the man has extorted her for $950 and, more importantly, forced her to bargain with George’s life. Instead, a thrill races through her.

Their kisses roughen and shorten, grasping lips match grasping hands as Nancy tears at the buttons of Gil’s shirt, Gil wrestles the jacket from her shoulders.

“Sister?” she pants, as his hand moves from the lock to her back, fisting her shirt.

“Neighbours,” he replies. He’s equally breathless, stealing kissing between words. “The tiniest wisp of a rumour that you’re a thief starts goin’ around and the next thing you know, you’re getting blamed every time some careless idiot loses their car keys.”

Nancy smiles wryly.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t you any of those times?”

“Of course not,” Gil assures her. “I would’ve taken the whole car.”

“With that level of subtly, I’m completely at a loss for how the rumour might have started.”

“Oh, bite me, Drew.”

She tilts her head and runs her fingertips down the exposed strip of his chest.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think I might.”

There’s no need to ask to see his bedroom; they push and pull all the way there, kissing hard while Nancy’s hand skitters spiderlike over the front of Gil’s jeans to pop the button. Walking in here one-foot-in-front-of-the-other would’ve been easier—and she kinda wants to tell him that, since he clearly enjoys her sarcasm—but there’s something about letting go and permitting Gil’s pushiness, his handsiness, his haste. Finally, he shows her a transparent, straightforward motive: he just really wants to fuck her. And hey, as the booty-call-er to his booty-call-ee, she wants that too.

“You don’t seem surprised by this,” she notes as he waylays her in his bedroom doorway, hands confidently on her ass, rigid when his hips grind forward.

“I was actually expecting it sooner,” Gil replies. The smile he presents is pretty cocky and, god, yep, she must’ve been as mortifyingly obvious under the wedding dress’s influence as she’d worried at the time. “Sorta thought you might jump me at the Claw.”

“I’m going to hazard a theory that no one has ever been as turned on by the promise of banana cream pie,” Nancy says.

She’s striving to turn this around on him, preserve, you know, some part of her dignity. But this is Gil Bobbsey, and he knows how to play the game.

He smirks at her before countering, “Yeah, well, nobody’s ever promised banana cream pie in such a seductive tone of voice. Say it again for me.”

Nancy laughs, tugging at Gil’s sleeves and not meeting his gaze. Apparently, he means it though, pining her hips more firmly to the doorframe, daring her with the look in his eyes. Alright, she can prove she hasn’t folded.

Leaning her face forward, she lets her bottom lip skim his lobe as she croons, “Banana cream pie,” into his ear.

His fingers are wound into her hair, his mouth hot on her mouth, and he’s dragging her out of the doorway and into the room, walking backwards with more determined certainty than most people have walking forward. Nancy doesn’t resist, in mind or body. All of this is what she liked best about being at the mercy of the dress’s condensed effects. No thinking. A brain on holiday.

Gil’s bedroom is disordered enough that some half-distracted, cotton-candified part of her mind wonders how he finds anything in here, then she realizes that’s probably the point—to make it impossible for anyone else. In the warm light spilling from beneath his nightstand lamp’s cockeyed shade, she tunes the rest of the mess out.

“Was there a reason you said it that way the first time?” Gil asks, halting at the foot of his bed and peeling her shirt up.

He’s flippant, not digging like one of her friends would, and that’s why she isn’t with one of her friends. Arms above her head, Nancy shrugs.

“Nothing too outside the norm—just being driven by the lust of centuries of women.”

“And now?”

Her shirt hits the ground. Nancy plants her hands on Gil’s chest and shoves, forcing him to take a seat. Wearing an expression of startled delight and denim that’s straining at the crotch, he trails his gaze up her body to her face.

“Just one,” she says.

Which is true, though she climbs onto his lap to kiss him with the ravenousness of a hundred good girls—with squeaky-clean social media accounts and oppressive marital expectations and the million other things designed to keep a young woman down between the day the dress was sewn and now. Nancy’s one in a long line. She isn’t compelled by what was taken from those women the way she was earlier, but she’s aware of it, and through their unrealized desires, more aware of her own.

Legs spread to straddle Gil, she reaches to tug her shoes off, never slowing her momentum. Gil equals it, revived after his daydreamy stare. As soon as her hands are free, he moves them to his zipper while his impatiently unfasten her bra. She shucks it. It’s kind of amazing that they managed to wait this long. His being a scheming, opportunistic asshole should probably have slowed them even further, but then again, Nancy can be a bit of a scheming, opportunistic asshole herself. Even if her friends (most of them) wouldn’t say it in so many words. At least like has found like. And like likes like. Mmm, he’s kissing her neck and grazing those light-fingered (in more ways than one) hands over her breasts and her hand’s down the open front of his jeans…

“Feels good,” Gil groans.

Nancy grins.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Knowing you’re here and the good detective went home alone.”

She sits back, crossing her arms.

“It’s like that?” she asks flatly.

Gil shrugs, sly smile unrepentant.

“It’s a little like that.”

Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Go to hell,” she says, no corresponding infernal fire in her tone.

“Honestly, I think I almost did the night we met.”

He twitches his eyebrows like Nancy, come on, and alright! She’s weak! Maybe the Tamura mention should have her taking off instead of getting off, but it feels kinda nice to have the sort of allure that makes Gil want to steal her. If variety’s the spice of life, then jealousy’s the spice of long-awaited hookups.

There’s also the fact that Gil bringing up the memory of the Gorham Wraith reminds her how many fucking times she’s almost died. And that’s sex drive fuel, baby.

“Condom?” she asks, and he smirks like he’s won all over again, jerking his chin towards the nightstand.

Nancy marches over and back, unwrapping and glancing at the way Gil gets up and stands next to the bed like he’s waiting for her to lie down first. She frowns.

“No.”

“No?” he repeats.

“You’re too much of a bad winner to be on top. Strip and sit your ass back down, Mr. ‘Feels Good.’”

Possibly as a demonstration of resistance, Gil sits and lowers his layers partway, so the band of his boxers hangs on his knees, and his jeans hang on that, the rest of the fabric drooping towards the floor. He doesn’t want to take his clothes all the way off? Fine. Doesn’t bother Nancy. She strips naked while he takes the condom. He’s unrolling it over his cock and she’s clocking out of Thinking Mode. Desire-Only Nancy is clocking back in.

She straddles him, edging her hips closer to his as they kiss with a building hunger. His palms are heavy on her hips, thighs solid under her ass, fingers not deft but effective when Gil slides them between her legs. These aren’t the precise fingers of a lockpick—they’re the toughened, impulsive fingers of a man who wields wrenches and crowbars, breaking windows, prying doors open, prying her open, making her eyes roll back when he hooks his fingers into her at a pace as fast as her body’s abundant arousal is signalling she can handle.

Her hips are rolling with the pressure of Gil’s hand, her eyes closed as his huffed breaths hit her neck. She’s not thinking about the last time she could indulge her appetite like this, with Owen, or that, when she did, she was still getting over Nick. Everybody has their shit. Right now, Nancy doesn’t have time for that.

She rocks more needily, squeezing his shoulders, and Gil doesn’t do the chivalrous thing and get her off now in case he can’t later, he does the Gil thing—the trade, the timed handoff. You want yours? Yeah, me too. His free hand presses her lower back, guiding her forward, and he slips his fingers out and his cock in in a transition that doesn’t allow for much time to be annoyed. Nancy swallows, sinks, and sighs. Thank fuck for old mirrors and banana cream pie.

He doesn’t talk to her and she doesn’t talk to him, until she talks to him in a language of soft grunts and rising, crackling moans.

“I live alone, Nancy, but fuck… I’ve got neighbours,” Gil pants. “Remember?”

He’s into it though, she can see that on his face, so she doesn’t hush the sounds of her pleasure, doesn’t muffle them against Gil’s mouth or neck or shoulder. Her hips are practically bouncing off his as the bed thumps and creaks under them. She smiles lazily.

“They’ll… like you better after this. Statistics indicate… that young men in… romantic relationships are trusted by their communities... more than young single men.”

The expression that momentarily freezes his features screams that she might’ve just majorly screwed up by implying that they’re in a relationship—and she didn’t even mean to!—so Nancy grabs Gil’s face and kisses him, kisses him to the point that she almost can’t breathe and he reacts to her passion by holding her tight and bucking into her fast. She angles her hips and, god, yes, there it is, friction on her clit. Nancy gasps, swears, calls out to a few heavenly things she doesn’t believe in and says nothing to the more numerous demonic things that she does.

She’s there; she’s incredibly, toes-scrunching-the-boring-bedspread there; and then she’s soup in Gil’s arms, tipped and poured onto the bed, loose hair pooling until he gathers it in his grip and tugs while things go the way Thinking Nancy anticipated they might (because Thinking Nancy has needs too): with Gil fucking her into the mattress.

She savours the rawness of it, for all the gals who didn’t get to have casual sex with a sexy career thief with questionable ethics and just the right amount of scruff along his jaw when she came a-knockin’ close to midnight. One of her legs is total jelly, but she hitches the other one up against Gil’s hip and he holds it there in his hot, damp hand, stroking her smooth calf as his thrusts riot from their rhythm, announcing his end. Handoff concluded.

His jeans are caught around his ankles, emphasizing the rushed-hookup atmosphere, and she absolutely doesn’t trust that his unscrupulousness will never again hurt her or her friends, but when he reaches out and gently untangles her necklace from a strand of her hair, Nancy—not Thinking or Desire; just Nancy—has a hunch that there might be a little bit of tenderness here after all.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

George’s face while Nancy is self-indulgently running her fingers through Ace’s hair tells me she’s still not big on PDA: