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asukaskerian · 3 years

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Monthly word count - October

TOTAL: 5 601 words. better than last month but that's not saying much. bluhh. POSTED : nothin! IN PROGRESS -Bleach: suburban ot4 (531 words, all of which was discarded and rewritten two days ago because Not Quite Right.) -Naruto: madatobiizu Cherry Wine chapter idk, five, probably? six? no clue (1 472 words, some just tweaks to existing stuff and an unfinished scene that wasn't planned but cracked me up.) -Bleach: Grimmichi+fraccion ABO (1 125 words, mostly porn.) -Naruto: tobirama breaks the timeline to get his brothers back (335 words) -Bleach: chapter idk 4 of superheroes AU grimmichi (1 517 words that i forgot i'd written haha where did it come from) -Bleach: bloodsport (grimmichi in space) (385 words) -Bleach: psychic wolves AU (236 words) Also posted : Cherry Wine chapter 4 (madara/tobirama/izuna fraternal poly ABO) This was the month of vague "i miss grimmichi but idk what fic i want tho" urges, and serious, SERIOUS "whoops was excited and then brain skipped town between this sentence and the next and now it's three hours later and i've lost all the ideas i had". but apart from that i don't have adhd. >_> -- teasers!

cherry wine ABO -- "If he corners you, he dies." He had no idea where to start untangling that one. Izuna was obsessed with beating him. Not -- not that. They were polite at court, where all violence would be swiftly punished, but should they meet again anywhere else and Tobirama offer to... Izuna would say yes with a smile, move into his arms with eager grace, and then knife him between the ribs. He would not pass up on such an occasion to neutralize one of the biggest dangers to his clan to slake a bout of lust, that was ridiculous. Hashirama grinned harder. "And if Tobirama corners him?" Tobirama delivered a swift kick to his hamstring. His brother yelped, knee hitting the table hard enough to make the tea cups bounce. ((--)) rolled her eyes, mouth still hidden behind her sleeve, as if they didn't know she was smirking at them. "Then his tastes will officially be half as appalling as your own." Hashirama spluttered. "There is nothing tasteless about my fiancés! They're princely! They're smart! They have gorgeous hair! They have enough stamina and teamwork to hold their own against me--" "Hashi-chan, we both know you don't mean 'in combat' there." Tobirama closed his eyes and turned his face away, shoulders bowed in despair. -- Bleach ABO (IT'S PORN) -- "So your sword spirits--" "Mm-hm--" "Which you have two of, for undisclosed reasons--" "No, it's because-- mrph." Legs trembling, teeth bared, Grimmjow tightens his hold on a fistful of orange hair. "Shawlong, you need to be shutting the fuck up now." Oh god. Satan. Soul King, who the fuck ever presides over impossible shit, maybe it's the King of Hell for all he knows and fuck, shit, how can Kurosaki even be paying attention to the room right now?! How can he see or hear or even smell anyone else, remember anything else exists. Grimmjow isn't the one buried face-first in anyone's crotch and he barely can. He's gonna die, he's gonna die from wet soft slick lapping tongue and tickling raking things he doesn't want to remember are teeth. Except he can't ignore it because Kurosaki is on his knees between his feet and when Grimmjow pulls on his hair his mouth starts digging into his cunt in a way Grimmjow can't word in another way than hungry. 'Can't stay here but can't leave right now but can't be tied together when we need to move either', fuck this, who cares. Kurosaki went on his knees for him, let Grimmjow hold his head so he could break his neck if he wanted, and then just -- leaned in. Grimmjow fists his other hand in Kurosaki's hair; needs both of them to hold on, not fall, knees shaking. Kurosaki slides a hand down from under the curve of his ass to the back of his knee and guides it over his shoulder and now he needs the support even more. Kurosaki growls against him; it rattles through defenseless flesh, makes his cunt and his belly quiver with a rush of helplessly wanting heat. He wants fucked, he wants fucked so bad but Kurosaki won't, he can't knot him now and his soft little tongue isn't going to work to get him -- oh, oh, fuck. One of his hands slaps against the wall and then sinks all five claws through the cement knuckle-deep. His other leg folds under him and then Kurosaki catches him, pins him there with Grimmjow's legs around his head, strong hands gripping his ass and holding up his weight and, and -- When he comes his thighs clench so hard that for a moment he's afraid that he's gonna crush Kurosaki's skull without even knowing. It doesn't manage to sour it even a little bit. -- Tobirama fucks with the timeline -- "There." He dropped his satchel beside Tobirama's knees. Three red-eyed pairs of eyes followed Tobirama's hand as he moved to pick it up. He knew the process by then and could do it without really thinking about it. "Kawarama, go place the markers," he said quietly, pushing them into his brother's reluctant hands. "Niichan--" "It's okay. Place the markers. You know you won't be hurt, don't you? They'll take you where Itama is. You'll keep an eye on him until Anija can see to him, won't you?" "Niichan, please--" "Go put that one over there. You'll be fine." "You won't," Kawarama choked out, barely breathing so as not to be overheard. Tobirama blinked sightlessly at his own hands, down on his lap with the shortcut scroll half-unrolled. "I'll be fine. Madara needs me. It's fine." "Tobi-nii, I--" "I gave you an order. Go." -- Grimmichi superheroes -- Grimmjow did not enjoy the cold little metal disk or even being shirtless with a fever; he sat on the urge to growl, though. Let the guy take his temperature and listen to his heart and lungs and wrap a cuff around his arm and all that jazz. Let him loom as Grimmjow leaned back, on orders, as Grimmjow cautiously unwrapped his healing wounds. "This is five days old?" "Mm." "Welp, you're fucked." Curtains snorted. Grimmjow's eye twitched. "--What." "Just saying..." The man leaned in, poked around the edges of the biggest wound. "Some inflammation here but it should be a lot farther along than it is... And the muscles weren't cut through when you got here or you couldn't have climbed into my son's window like a disreputable suitor, but you have barely any core strength left right now... Hmm." "Hmm what, you cryptic asshole." Karin was craning her neck to look over her dad's shoulder without turning around; she gave up on hiding that a second later though. "Wow, yeah, I've seen Shiro-nii heal holes like that in about five minutes. You don't get enough vitamins in your diet or what?" "Fuck off." He knew, alright? He knew something was wrong. He tried not to swallow too obviously, not to tense. He didn't want to look afraid when Engetsu looked like it was all a fine joke. "Bad news, it's neurotoxin!" He caught Grimmjow's arm and flopped his hand around. Grimmjow swiped at his wrist with his claws, and missed by a hair's breadth. Engetsu dropped his hand, and kept talking like he hadn't noticed. "Good news, if you were going to have your lungs shut down on you, they would have already." "... Great." Fuck. Fuck -- "Even better news, you're a hollow, so every nerve that's been chewed through will grow back--" "--Son of a bitch--" "--and most of them will even grow back properly! You might end up with a few patches where they healed too enthusiastically and you now have a new erogenous zone." He grinned. Grimmjow started looking around for something heavy to chuck at his head.

#teaser #ABO quest

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indigowallbreaker · 3 years

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in response to your recent post, if you wanted to write something with trans caspar i would love that, it's always been my headcanon. thank you!

(Over 80 people ALSO love trans Caspar and that calls for celebration! Thank you for the opportunity, anon :D Hope all this support makes you as happy as it makes me!)

The match ended with Caspar and Raphael both gasping for breath. Sweat poured from Caspar’s brow and snaked uncomfortably down his collar. “Another win for Raphael!” Ferdinand announced.

“I almost had yah,” Caspar said between pants.

“Sure did!” Raphael stepped back and offered him a hand up. “You really have gotten stronger since five years ago! I bet you’ve been eatin’ a ton!”

There were cheers from the training ground’s stands as Raphael helped Caspar to his feet. Ferdinand had been acting as referee and Shamir had been calling out advice in between bouts-- but Annette and Ashe seemed content to just cheer them on.

Beaming with pride, Ferdinand thumped Caspar on the back. “You did well! Are we ready for lunch?”

“No way! One more round. I gotta get us even!”

“You can do it, Caspar!” Ashe called. Annette gave a high pitched whistle that made Shamir wince.

Ferdinand frowned, like he was about to refuse, but Raphael spoke first. “I’m up for it! Just give me a sec...”

Raphael stepped back and began wrestling off his belts to tug at his shirt. Caspar grinned. “Great idea.” And he too started taking off his armor and undershirt.

A hand grabbed his wrist as he pulled the shirt over his head. “What are you doing?” Ferdinand hissed.

“Taking off my shirt? It’s hot and I’m dying in here.”

“But-- But everyone will see.”

It sounded like Ferdinand was trying to hint at something but for the life of him Caspar couldn’t figure out what. He tossed his shirt towards the stands and raised an eyebrow at Ferdinand. “See what?”

With a motion that could only be described as flailing, Ferdinand seemed to try and indicate all of Caspar. This cleared up nothing. Even Ferdinand’s facial expression-- a little red, mostly panicked-- didn’t help. “You know, you.”

Caspar looked down at himself. There was a burn mark on his right rib from a tavern fight he couldn’t recall correctly, several bruises, his surgery scars from when he was 13, an angry red puncture wound from an arrow, the scab he’d picked open this morning--

He looked back up at Ferdinand. “Do you mean these?!” And he flexed his arms above his head.

Ferdinand dropped his face into his hands as Raphael let out a whoop. “Yeah, Caspar! Show ‘em off!” From the stands, Ashe began laughing as Annette clapped some more. “You worked hard for those muscles!”

“Muscles. Right.” Ferdinand shook his head before aiming a shaky grin at Caspar. “Alright, ready for your final match?”

“I’ve been ready!” Caspar and Raphael reset their positions at the center of the ring, Ferdinand moving off to get ready himself.

“Stay low,” Shamir called out. “You’re smaller-- take advantage of that.”

Caspar scowled at her. “You don’t have to yell it.” Shamir shrugged.

It was a close match but Raphael won once again. The group headed off to the dining hall shortly after, Ashe attempting to cheer Caspar up and Annette begging Shamir for tips as well. Raphael kept trying to recommend what Ferdinand should eat to beef up his arms but Ferdinand politely turned down the menu each time.

Hours later-- well after dinner-- realization hit Caspar like a fruit cart and he half ran, half slid from his room and into Ferdinand’s.

“OH!” Caspar began abruptly. “Oh you meant my scars!”

Ferdinand was dressed for bed and had been idly flipping through a book, but he immediately sat up and said, “Yes! I assume they were ‘in the know’, so to speak?”

“No! I just-- I completely forgot!”

A beat of silence. Then Ferdinand was laughing. “You forgot?”

“Shut up! There’s a lot of stuff going on! I can only keep so many things in my head at once!” Caspar sat on Ferdinand’s bed with a groan. He ran his hands through his hair and paused there for a moment. Ferdinand gradually stopped laughing, only smirking now as he watched Caspar.

Caspar sucked in a breath, pat his cheeks, and gave the wall opposite a firm nod. “Okay. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I’m ashamed or anything.”

“And you were quite red in the face,” Ferdinand added. “You could have overheated otherwise, which is much worse.”

“Yeah. Yeah! I’m good.” Caspar stood. “Sorry to barge in here.”

“It is no trouble.”

“And thanks for, you know, trying to help earlier.”

Ferdinand chuckled. “Shall I be more blunt in the future?”

Caspar hummed in thought. “You know what? Nah. Let people see. What’s the point of hiding stuff like that? If anyone’s a jerk about it I’ll just punch ‘em.”

“Just this once, I will concede that you are right to resort to punching.”

With a triumphant grin, Caspar bid Ferdinand good night, and left for his own room. Once there, he stripped off his shirt and stood before the mirror. Caspar twisted one way, then the other, then he simply stood there.

He flexed for a moment and laughed to himself. “Yeah. Let ‘em see me.”

#caspar von bergliez #raphael kirsten #ferdinand von Aegir #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #trans fe #trans caspar nation RISE UP #indigo asks #love having a trans prompt again its been forever

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toutallyahoe · 3 years

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Everybody Talks ~ Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyuu) pt 1

requested by: --

a/n: i forgot to post this here, lmao whoops

but anyways, had to split this because tumblr cant support 7000+ words asdfghjkll

this is my longest one shot so far, please enjoy it. em begging thee

part one | part two | part three

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"Hey baby won't you look my way?

I can be your new addiction,"

There it goes again, the annoying song that he was already very familiarized with as it was the very same song that his soulmate had been listening non-stop for the past few days. Iwaizumi Hajime doesn't know if his soulmate had a different time zone than his (thirteen hours difference to be exact) or just a psychopath listening to the loud song for the whole night that the dark haired male could barely sleep. And it had been almost a week already!

"Hey baby what you gotta say?

All you're giving me is fiction,"

Hajime doesn't even understood the song that much despite it's catchy tune. It was in, on what he assumed, was english. Yes, it was very catchy song at first as the beat was very enjoyable and the singer had a nice voice— but listening to the song for almost one week straight? It can drive anyone insane. And Iwaizumi Hajime had to deal with listening to the song over and over again in non-stop repeat because of his (probably) psychopath soulmate listen to it in full volume.

"I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time,"

The dark haired male was rather a bit thankful that the volume of the song he was hearing was a bit bearable as whatever song anyone's soulmate was listening too, it was projected to the other about only eighty percent the noise. Still, the song was loud and Hajime wonders if his soulmate would go deaf with how loud the song was playing on their end. Well, if they weren't going deaf already.

"I found out that everybody talks,

Everybody talks, everybody talks,

It started with a whisper!"

Sighing, Hajime stared at the ceiling of his room, a small frown on his lips. God, his soulmate was lowkey an asshole for making him listen to the same song over and over again for the past few days. If he ever finds his soulmate, the dark haired male was sure to beat them up— or at least, be angry at them for making him listen to a song that he could barely sleep.

"And that was when I kissed her!

And then she made my lips hurt!"

Looking at the alarm clock on top of his nightstand beside his bed, the dark haired male let out another annoyed grunt as he saw the time. It was already midnight and he still had school to attend to tomorrow. Not to mention volleyball practice early in the morning aswell.

God, for a moment, Hajime hated the soulmate bond so, so much.

"I could hear the chit chat!

Take me to your love shack!"

But Iwaizumi Hajime also remembered that his soulmate rather had a nice taste in music that even made him listen to his soulmates favorite bands— or at least he assumes they were their favorite bands.

Hajime was stuck with the soulmate bond that let's him hear the song what his soulmate was listening too, and it reminded the dark haired male that his soulmate was somehow sharing a part of themselves to him.

"Mamas always gotta back track!

When everybody talks back!"

Sighing again, Hajime wished he would just smack his soulmate right now.

"Hey honey you could be my drug?

You could be my new prescription,"

Hajime let out an annoyed grunt as he just finished serving and stood outside the court. It was unfortunately out of bounds as he put too much pressure on hitting the ball, but Hajime could barely care about it right now.

"Too much could be an overdose!

All this trash talk make me itchin'!"

Jesus fucking Christ, it was practically by the end of the day, but his soulmate was still listening to the song? The dark haired male now fully believed his soulmate was a psychopath. Period.

"Oh my, my,

Everybody talks, everybody talks,

Everybody talks, too much..."

"Woah, losing your edge there ace!" Hajime turned his head to whoever had said those words and saw it was a fellow third year and (unfortunately) friend of his, Hanamaki Takahiro. The light brown (pink-ish?) haired male had an eyebrow raised towards him but an amused smirk on his lips with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You okay there? Or are you getting old already?" Takahiro snickered as Hajime rolled his eyes at the wing spiker. The light brown (salmon???) haired player was always a bit of a tease along with another third year, Matsukawa Issei. Speaking of the middle blocker, it seemed like the black haired middle blocker also decided to come and join on annoying the dark haired ace.

"You've been also more annoyed than usual," Issei pointed out as he stood next to his light brown (pastel pink???) haired friend with his arms crossed on his chest aswell. "Love the eye bags, by the way," Issei continued as he grinned while Takahiro snickered more at his comment.

"Oh, shut up," Hajime had grunted as he rubbed the temple on his head. The dark haired ace was already tired from the lack of sleep and practicing volleyball even if he do love the sport. He can't deal with his teams bullshit right now.

"Iwa-chan can't sleep because of his soulmate!" Yelled the volleyball captain of the males volleyball club of Aoba Johsai, Oikawa Tōru, who was unfortunately the dark haired male's best friend since childhood from across the court. How did he know what the three were talking about? No one would ever know other than knowing the captain enjoyed gossip and doesn't care if he even gets caught listening to conversations that doesn't include him. Oikawa Tōru had no shame.

Sighing again, Hajime was so fucking done. Of course the chocolate brown haired male would know about his soulmate problem even if he doesn't say anything about it. For some odd reason, Tōru had a sixth sense with him and his soulmate. How annoying.

"Because of your soulmate...?" Takahiro asked, confused. The confusion on his face was immediately then replaced with an amused look as a shit eating grin was replaced the smirk on his lips. Hajime already felt the headache coming.

"That's pretty kinky, not gonna lie," Takahiro said with no shame whatsoever. Obviously his imaginations running wild from the chocolate brown haired male's shout about Hajime and his soulmate. Issei could only chuckle at his friend's words as they both look at the dark haired ace who was slowly losing his sanity and patience.

"But seriously, Iwaizumi. What's the deal with your soulmate?" Issei asked. Finally something Hajime could actually answer and not be teased by the assholes that he calls his teammates and friends. Unfortunately.

"The dumbass hasn't stopped listening to this one song for almost a week now," Hajime grunted as he could still hear the said song in his mind.

"It started with a whisper!

And that was when I kissed her!

And then she made my lips hurt!"

"Really?" Takahiro said, a bit surprised that a measly song would annoy the dark haired ace. Sure, Iwaizumi Hajime was a bit of a hot headed person but he was a hot headed person who can control his temper— unless it's with Oikawa Tōru, then Hajime would not hesitate to beat the shit outta the chocolate haired captain.

"What's so bad with the song?" And it seemed like the black haired middle blocker agreed aswell as Issei asked that question. The taller male didn't know if he should congratulate their ace's soulmate for making the dark haired male so annoyed and irritated for the past few days or feel bad for Hajime.

"The song isn't the problem," Hajime huffed as he saw both Takahiro and Issei look at him with raised brows. Clearly wanting him to elaborate more since they were confused. Sighing, the dark haired male decided to just come out with it. "They just have been playing the song non-stop and it's driving me insane."

"I could hear the chit chat!

Take me to your love shack!"

"What's the song?" The light brown (peach?!?) haired male had asked. Curious on what Hajime's soulmate was listening to. Can you blame him though? Their ace seemed to be a bit secretive with his soulmate, even if they had been teammates and friends for years. Iwaizumi Hajime didn't seemed to like talking about his soulmate, either it be him not liking them or just likes his privacy. It was probably the latter but who knows?

Sighing again, Hajime gestured the two to follow him to the changing room. The practice was almost over anyways and both Takahiro and Issei had finished their serves earlier ago aswell. The dark haired ace was going to let the two third years hear the song he had been listening to for the past few days with his phone. Hajime, after all, downloaded the song his soulmate had been listening to non-stop.

"Mamas always gotta back track!

When everybody talks back!"

Arriving at the changing room with the two males tagging along, Hajime wasted no time going to his assigned locker and opened it up. Taking out his phone and unlocking it, Hajime immediately then went to his music app and searched the song his soulmate had forced him to listen to for almost a week.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day,

When everybody's words got in the way!"

Finding the song, the dark haired ace turned to both his friend and gave them a blank expression as he hit play on the song.

The familiar intro of the song played loud on the device's speaker and it didn't take long for the singer started singing the song that Hajime was song he could sing along perfectly from how much he had heard the song already. The dark haired male had practically memorized the lyrics of the song already and he wasn't even kidding.

"Woah," Issei whistled as he look at the song that was playing in Hajime's phone more closely. "Damn ace, you're soulmate has taste!" The black haired male said. Rather surprised and impressed to the song Hajime's soulmate taste in music.

"It's in english too," Takahiro pointed out. He then turned to look at Issei who looked at him aswell. The two seemed to be communicating without even saying anything, but seeing the furrowed eyebrows and small frown on their lips, Hajime knew what they were thinking.

"Your soulmate is probably in a foreign country..." Takahiro said as he looked back at the dark haired ace. A bit worried but the wing spiker seemed to force a grin on his lips. "That's so cool!"

"Yeah, you're pretty lucky to get a foreign soulmate ace," Issei said. "Imagine getting help with english!" The black haired male chuckled. The two friends continued on listing the positives of having a soulmate who can talk in english and joking about it.

The dark haired ace didn't seemed to listen to the two though.

Hajime knew that there was a huge possibility that his soulmate was in another country than where he was. Soulmates were rarely even in the same cities most of the time, so Hajime fully knows about him maybe not meeting his soulmate. Still, it still hurts to think that his soulmate was far away from him and probably would not meet.

Iwaizumi Hajime didn't considered himself as a hopeless romantic, but it had always been his dream to meet the other person who he had sharing music to since he was seven years old.

There were two reasons why Hajime hated sharing about his soulmates music taste. First was that it hurts to be reminded that Hajime would only hear the song his soulmate was listening to and most of the time those songs were in english and were too loud for his liking. Sure, his soulmate listened to some mellow song aswell like lo-fi and even taking note on songs he listened too aswell, but his soulmate seemed to enjoy the upbeat and loud ones a lot.

Second was that Hajime felt like the music he listened from his soulmate were sacred. It was a silly thing to think but for the dark haired ace, the music and songs his soulmate was listening too, it was only for him to listen to and only him alone.

God, perhaps Iwaizumi Hajime was a hopeless romantic. Or at least, a little bit of a hopeless romantic with how he thinks about some dumb songs his soulmate was listening too.

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next >

#iwaizumi x male reader #iwaizumi hajime x male reader #hajime x male reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #hajime #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu #hq x male reader #hq #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #top male reader #seme male reader

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catracorner962 · 3 years

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Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?!

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,” by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

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woodchoc-magnum · 3 years

Text

Lone Star 2x11 Hate Watch

I nearly forgot about it this week, whoops

Disclaimer: Don’t read this if you like the show, simply go about your business and have a great day

oh no owen is being arrested oh nooo

is it for being a crime to this show

is he going to hit on Dr Jacobs now?

"is there a complication?" tk asks in a monotone

Oh no he's off work for a month? What will the other firefighters do at an emergency if rob lowe is not there to do it all for them?

"it's like two fortnights?" yeah… that's exactly what it is dude

A fortnight is two weeks

So two of them is… a month.

Captain Judd!

Yessss captain judd

No masks

Not a single mask on anyone

"the Serena Williams of firefighters?" fucking seriously

What if she was on camera like that and then they lose this car? She's gonna look like an asshole

Yo 100% the husband dies I'm calling it now

He's definitely dying

I FUCKING CALLED IT

Yo that's HUBRIS

That's why you don't brag to the cameras y'all

Damn that poor bastard what a way to go

This reminds me of when Bobby was under investigation in season 2 of the OG and they all kept coming around to his house and annoying the shit out of him while he was trying to plan his wedding

BILLY? BILLY BURKE?

BILLY BURKE!!!!!!!!

Yo he was in this show called Revolution that I watched because a) Billy Burke and b) Elizabeth Mitchell and I fuck I shipped him with Liz Mitch SO HARD

It's weird to me that everyone thinks of him as the dad from Twilight because I have legit seen him in everything but that

What happened to his lightning strike scars? That was my favourite part of Season 1

So I'm calling it early and saying that Billy Burke is the arsonist because why else would they bring him back, and he doesn't like Rob Lowe

Oh the gays are hosting a dinner party

You know what shits me? Lone Star has these scenes of the team playing board games and in the OG we waste a whole episode about Josh and Sue – yes I'm still dirty but they can make it up to me with this week’s episode

I suppose in Lone Star they're all single? And young? I really shouldn't complain, I don't want the OG to be more like Lone Star let's face it

Yeah she's going viral for acting like a moron in front of the cameras at the scene, that's why you don't do that fucking shit

Look I like Marjan but come on

Interesting choice of Rolling Stones song

Wow this Rob Lowe montage is so great

Am I the only one who thinks Airpods look dumb

God this Rob Lowe montage has been going for hours

Wow he's potting a plant, and painting, and putting a puzzle together, this is so fucking interesting, thank god they've dedicated this portion of the episode to it. How else would I know what Rob Lowe was doing while he was stuck at home by himself?

The chick who works at the juice bar is a better actor than Ronen

Oh no this looks like the work of the arsonist (Billy Burke)

Thank god Rob Lowe was there right

YOU'RE NOT THE CAPTAIN RIGHT NOW

God what a fuckhead

"126! Give 'em hell!" ugh what a douchebag

How am I only 23 minutes in

I feel like I've been watching for ten hours

Yeah how did you arrive five minutes before everyone huh? I feel like that app he's been listening to is probably illegal

Owen is doing nothing to help his case here

This guy 100% thinks Owen did it and you know what I think he's onto something and I think they should arrest Owen and put him in jail

Also I'm going to say that rob lowe dyes his hair and has had some cosmetic surgery just saying

Honestly I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for Marjan here

It’s just kind of in bad taste for a firefighter to be bragging about how awesome they are. I know social media is her whole deal but… it's pretty uncool

Is it just me or is Judd looking extra handsome in this episode?

Oh great and now we're at a nice dinner and they're talking about Rob fucking Lowe again? WHO CARES

THE ROB LOWE PLOTLIONES ARE ALWAYS THE WORST FUCKING PLOTLINES

He even looks like a creep in that grey hoodie

Oh my god he's been off work for a fucking week? Like I don't get this?

I would love to have a week off work to just stay in my house and be chill

He's talking to Billy Burke about the arson and Billy Burke is in fact the arsonist

Yo doesn't Carlos' house burn down at some point? DOES BILLY BURKE BURN DOWN CARLOS' HOUSE?

I really love Billy Burke and I'm glad they brought him back to play the bad guy; he was the bad guy in The Closer and it was great

He's explaining all this to Billy Burke, who in fact already knows this, because in fact he is IN FACT the arsonist

Also the fact that Rob Lowe has gone out and bought all this stuff just makes him look guiltier

I ship it though, Billy & Owen? Ship name Billwen or Owlly – no we're definitely going with Owlly

Stage 3 cancer, lost his job, got struck by lightning, didn't get the captaincy at the 126 – the man has nothing left to lose. He's the arsonist

Marjan IS a showboat and most of the time it's fine but before a rescue it does exhibit a lot of hubris and that's not a good thing

And that video didn't make her look great

And she needs to go to McKenna and apologise for being a dick

GO AND APOLOGISE

Fucking APOLOGISE

YES YOU SHOULD

Oh good she listened to me

Paul's a babe just saying

She posted a suicide note and no friends or family went to help her? That's pretty fucking depressing

Jesus this is a bit graphic

Wow this is very graphic

"This was clutch" COME ON FUCKING REALLY?

Oh yeah it's so fucking cool being a badass

Ugh this show is so stupid

How does this still have three minutes to go?

"Oh my god I FORGOT THE LIMES" it is the END OF THE WORLD

Why is he in his goddamn fucking arson hoodie again?

He is without a doubt the dumbest mother fucker who has ever dumbed in the history of BEING DUMB

I mean say what you want about Bobby jumping into a dumpster but I have to think that Bobby Nash would know better than to act like a suspicious fucking SUSPECT IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARSON INVESTIGATION WHEN THEY ALREADY SUSPECT YOU OF BEING THE ARSONIST, OWEN!

You dumbfuck

0/10 shittiest episode ever, everyone except Judd, Grace and Tommy are stupid

AND OH MY GOD TK WE FORGOT THE LIMESSSSS OH MY GOD END OF THE WORLLLLDDDD

three miserable fucking episodes to go

Diaz to cleanse:

#lone star hate watch #this show keeps getting woooooorse

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vintage-brass-tc · 3 years

Text

4/15-16/2021

((THIS IS SO LATE — I blame the incoming exams))

Okay, wow! These two days were PACKED with moments!! I’ll try to give an overall summary of the ones I’m thinking most about. Super hard to pick which ones to write here!! 😳😳

Apologies in advance for the super long post once again! I just get carried away with these things.

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I was assigned to play something for W one morning before school. I was pretty nervous about it, so I decided to arrive thirty minutes before my time slot to give me time to practice.

After I stopped and got my stuff together to go inside, I noticed that a stunning vehicle was moving up to the left of me. It slowly rolled through the rows of other vehicles until it found an open parking space. The car then began to adjust so it could park trunk-first into the open spot.

I looked inside the wonderful car as it was almost done moving backwards, and I could not believe what I saw. Another pair of eyes were already looking at me....and they were W’s.

He seemed to share the same bewildered expression as my own. We stared at each other for two seconds until I forced my head away from his direction. I allowed myself to think.

Just then, I processed how I had arrived the same time W did. I wasn’t sure why, how, or what caused this coincidence, but I was sure that I was going nuts over it. Haha. Maybe the universe was scheming.

I called out to W as he traveled towards the door, asking him when it was okay for me to come in. He replied with a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile. “You can come in whenever you want!!”

I thanked him, got my stuff together, and sped to the (now open) door, all while remaining a good distance away from him.

Flash forward to playing the music for W. It was definitely something, let me tell you that much.

He walked in and shut the door behind him before turning his head around. “Hey R!!” He quickly shot me a wild look. “Are you ready?”

I scoffed at his jubilant attitude— which he mocked for a bit— and then got started after answering some minor questions he asked about the piece.

Having W standing behind me as I played was terrifying. 😂 I could see him clearly through the reflection of my instrument, and it was VERY hard to focus because of this.

He was moving along with the piece and taking it in the whole time. It was like he flowed with the piece, essentially. Whenever I would make a mistake, he would freeze and kind of snap back into reality.

On the subject of messing up, he stopped me quite a bit during random segments of the song to give out extra tips he had. Every time he would do this, he would step up and lean forward to the right of me. My head would be at just about the level of his chest.

This close proximity revealed to me that W’s breath smells sweet, and slightly of mint. <3 Especially when he‘d sing to me.

He sang a lot of my parts when giving feedback, and these examples, perfect or not, demonstrated what he wanted. As much as I really do adore his singing voice, 90% of the time he couldn’t hit ANY of the correct notes.

He said I was making fun of his singing voice because I was laughing so much. Really though, I was only laughing at how close we were, his volume, his expression, his dramatic dynamic range, his notes that were WAY off . . . okay. Maybe I was making fun of him just a little bit.

When we were finished, he stopped abruptly at the door and praised me right before leaving the room. “Great job, R!”

I smiled and quickly said I didn’t mean to make fun of his singing. He stopped slightly and replied, “MMmm suure, it’s fine!” before popping out to continue doing his work.

I love it when he says my name in a positive light. It’s really special to me.

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Instead of helping A as I would usually do earlier in the day, I got to assist W this time. As you have probably guessed, there are quite a few things that happened. Kind of hard to choose what to put here. 😳

I sat down on a chair next to the kids W was teaching to play along with them as an example sound. W seemed to really love having his gaze linger on mine when he signaled the other tubas to play alongside me.

At one point, he repeatedly shot long, focused glances at me when everyone was playing as a group. I met his look with a challenging one, and he seemed hesitant, as if he wanted to say something.

There were slight moments he looked away to cue others in, but most of the time his eyes were on me. I considered setting my instrument down in case he didn’t want me to play, but I pushed the idea to the side.

When we finished the rep, he told me to help someone with one of their stands, as it was falling down. I suppose I knew then why he looked at me, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Why would he stare so long to ask me something so simple?

Two other memorable things that popped up during this period took place when W began telling his instrument jokes. He told a tuba joke that had a silly punchline making fun of the little notes tubas would stereotypically play.

I laughed pretty loudly at this despite hearing it from him two to three times before, and he gazed at me with a grin. “R’s laughing because she knows it’s true.” “Ye(hehe)ah,” I chuckled a little more and returned his look with additional nods.

Soon afterwards, he began to ramble. He mentioned that the tubas should get used to seeing while notes because this was basically their “whole life”. This ridiculous but true statement made me smile and shake my head to myself.

W THEN MOCKED ME A SECOND TIME. “R’s like—” he mimicked a person laughing, which gradually turned into crying. (His acting was actually on point though, both vocally and expressively.) I began to cackle excessively because of the imitation.

When the end of class arose and the bell rang, I stayed behind to help make sure the students packed up and left on time. Of course, in exchange, this cost me my own time, which, in hindsight, I should have thought more about in the moment.

I left the room to check if the kids in another area needed help for any reason, then came back to retrieve my stuff so I could leave.

Just in time, when I was walking back towards the entrance of the main band room, W was making his way to walk out. Our gazes locked and he stopped in place.

His left arm outstretched to hold one of the doors while his right was curved to pick up the door-stopper. His body was tilted and his legs were slightly bent to reach the bottom of the door.

I slightly lifted my eyelids at him as a greeting, and he looked back at me with curiosity. When I walked closer to him, slowing down about five or so feet away, he lifted his left eyebrow and smirked at me, seemingly amused.

I felt my brows begin to furrow at his teasing look. “Forget something?” He asked me. “Yeah, my stuff…(it’s in there) . . .” I smiled at him as I inched a little closer. “Oh.”

His face lost the smug expression and instead returned to its usual wonder-filled state. It took a few seconds of looking at me before he realized he was blocking the entrance. I mean, I could have used the other door, buuutttt I forgot about that. Whoops.

He scrambled to get up and hold the door open for me. I giggled at his frantic actions and smiled before thanking him sheepishly. After that happened, I walked to get my stuff, then put it on an empty chair in the room.

While I was packing my mouthpiece and stuff into my bag, W had walked back in at some point. He decided to take the spot on the table in front of me.

I turned to him, “Did the bell already ring?” “Yep,” He answered. “Ahh,” I breathed, facing my belongings once again, “I’m going to be late!”

W paused and looked up from the laptop in his hands, to my direction. “Do you need a pass?” He asked kindly, making me smile. “No thank you, I should be fine.”

“Is your teacher strict about tardies?” He continued the small talk inquisitively. “Oh, no, they’re not, don’t worry.” “Okay,” he muttered, sort of relieved(??). “At least, not with me,” I added.

He acknowledged my statement and I stood there for a good few extra seconds while contemplating.

I took my bag, swung it over my shoulder, and moved over to W. He looked extra confused looking up and spotting me again, haha. He was only sitting still, probably unsure of what to do.

“Uh—” “I decided I’m just going to get a pass (tardiness excuse slip) anyway, just in case.” He nodded approvingly at me. “Good choice.”

After setting his laptop down beforehand, he moved with me to a back table and grabbed a yellow sticky note. He then put it on a music stand. I walked him through my teacher’s name, but that’s it. He did everything else on his own..

I thought that it was cool he knew how to spell my name and stuff. I also got to see his messy handwriting, which is always lovely as well.

After he finished, I took hold of the note and thanked him for his help before going off to class, smiling the whole way there.

Lastly, W WOULD NOT stop letting the tubas play throughout the majority of the period. He showered us with compliments since we were sounding really good, and it was just amazing.

I always loved the way W looked at me when I was doing something right. It’s so validating. I love him a lot. ❤️

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Whew! That was fun. Not sure why this took a week, but ah well, hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless!

If I start posting about this week right after I publish this one— which I probably will— don’t worry about it. Just rambling as always. ^^

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 3 years

Text

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies

Chapter Eight: The Morning After (part one)

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney; anything you want, baby, that’s okay with me, now. We don’t sleep, but we like sleeping in. - All Time Low, Sleeping In

Mabel had to pee, but she really, really didn’t wanna open her eyes. Or move in any way, shape, and/or form. She was warm, covered in a soft comforter, and her mattress was just the right amount of firm and squishy. She snuggled into her bed with a soft smile, and then her head hit something that was way warmer than her bed or pillows.

Strangely, it felt like there was bare skin against hers, and… she didn’t appear to be wearing any panties. Or a shirt. She usually wore a shirt and panties when she slept, didn’t she? Was she misremembering that? She didn’t typically misremember her own habits, but she had certainly been wrong before.

Forcing her eyes open, Mabel came face to face with Dipper, who was asleep. And upon seeing his face (which was both way more attractive and way closer to hers than it had any right to be), everything came rushing back.

“I’m in love with you-“

“I burn for you-“

“I’ll give you the fucking world-“

“I want your cock.”

“Anything you want.”

“-and put your baby inside me-“

“I want it harder-“

“Tell me you’re mine.”

Face inflamed, Mabel very slowly extracted herself from Dipper’s arms (he stirred, but continued sleeping), grabbed her purse, and tiptoed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

The cold tiles stung her bare feet, but she peed and washed her hands anyway, wishing there was some kind of bath mat. Preferably a fuzzy one (a pink one, perhaps? Yes, a pink one would spice up the all-white bathroom nicely. And some lovely pink towels to match, too).

Glancing up at herself in the mirror as she dried her hands on a towel, she was startled by her appearance.

There were hickeys, well. Everywhere, really, but it seemed like Dipper has primarily focused his attentions on her breasts and neck. She didn’t mind the hickeys. She rather liked them, actually. What she didn’t like was how bad her hair and makeup had gotten in her sleep. She didn’t even remember falling asleep, really. She and Dipper had been cuddling, and at some point he pulled out and threw the condom away, but he came right back to cuddle her again and then she was waking up.

Her hair was a frizzy mess, so she undid the braid and ran her fingers throughit to work out some of the knots. She’d been pretty the night before. She wanted to be pretty when he woke up, too.

Or, at least, as pretty as she could be without makeup.

It was really just her eye makeup that was bad rather than the whole thing. She had raccoon eyes. That happened whenever she slept with eye makeup on.

Taking out several makeup remover wipes, she scrubbed at her face with them until nothing came off on the damp, white cloths anymore. She didn’t look as nice without makeup, but, well, Dipper was her soulmate, right? Her soulmate would find her attractive no matter what.

Mabel hoped he would, anyway.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a few more seconds. What would their parents say if they saw her? Obviously they wouldn’t see all the hickeys, but they’d definitely be able to see a fair amount of them unless she invested in turtle necks. They’d been keeping this huge thing a secret from Mabel and her twin for as long as she could remember. How would they react if they knew that the metaphorical cat was out of the metaphorical bag? Why had they kept it from them to begin with? Did they think that Mabel and Dipper were gross, disgusting, maybe even sinful?

Not that they were particularly religious people (in fact, Mabel has never even heard them mention their personal views on religion, let alone if they believed in a specific one), but even so, maybe they were so disgusted by having children who were soulmates that they would rather see them suffer apart than be happy together? Was that it?

Mabel wasn’t sure, and she didn’t know what to think. She loved her parents. She’d always thought she’d had a great relationship with them. Had she been wrong? She must have been, if they’d been lying to her and keeping her from her soulmate for seventeen years. Did they even love her or Dipper at all, even a little?

Feeling agonized and conflicted, Mabel pushed her parents from her mind, grabbed a wash cloth off the towel rack, and opened the clear door of the walk-in shower. There were two knobs, each helpfully labeled, so she turned them to her desired setting and stepped back to let the water heat up.

She looked down at the soulmark on her wrist.

Her soulmark.

Dipper’s soulmark.

Their soulmark.

Mabel still didn’t really understand how this could’ve happened. Had she really had it all her life? And if she’d had it all her life, then so had he.

She ran her thumb over the lines; they were raised just a little, like the lines on a tattoo. Soulmarks couldn’t be imitated with tattoos, though. They had a… a shine to them, an iridescence. They didn’t sparkle, exactly, but if Mabel turned her wrist, light would reflect off of it in the strangest way.

She’d always hated her soulmark. As soon as she was old enough to understand what it was and what it meant for her, she hated it. Not so much that she’d cut it from her body the way some people did, of course, but she certainly wasn’t a fan.

But being with Dipper made it seem kinda beautiful, in a way. She wondered how he’d felt about his, knowing they were soulmates for so long but thinking she wouldn’t want him. Had he hated it, too? Did he still?

There was steam forming on the shower door, so Mabel stepped inside, leaning her head back to get her hair wet.

The more she thought about it -him knowing that they were soulmates but thinking she wouldn’t want him, that is-, the more she thought that that was a really fucking stupid idea. Like. Where had he even come up with that? Had he never seen soulmates touch each other for the first time? Everyone had seen soulmates touch each other for the first time at least once! Everyone had also seen soulmates be super lovey-dovey, ‘cause that’s just kinda how soulmates tended to be. It was a universally accepted fact.

She rubbed the motel’s boring, scentless conditioner into her hair and left it to sit as she washed her body with their boring, scentless bar of soap.

It was, like, a biological imperative, or something like that. He was the science nerd. Didn’t he know all that stuff? Mabel felt like Dipper should know all that stuff. He’d been talking like he knew a lot about such things before. He’d mentioned, like, studies and stuff, she thought, but she’d been pretty out of it at the time so she could have definitely been wrong.

Once her body and washcloth were clean and the conditioner was rinsed out, Mabel lathered shampoo into her hair and rinsed it out, too. She ended up using most of both bottles. Whoops. There was a little left in each, at least. Oh, well.

She was rinsing the last of the conditioner from her hair when she heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Eek!” Squeaked Mabel as she turned around abruptly, reflexively covering her body with her hands and the washcloth, both being their own unique brand of useless in that regard and therefore not covering anything of note at all. She was slightly less alarmed when she saw it was just Dipper, who was also naked, and that was…

Mabel did not claim any level of expertise on male anatomy, but she was pretty sure that that was a boner. It certainly appeared to be a boner. As in, it was most definitely Dipper’s dick (side note, she still was unsure how he’d managed to get it in her and why it had felt so good because it looked like it would hurt her more than anything else), and it was sticking out, which… they don’t typically do that when they’re just kinda, like, chilling, right?

He smiled at her, and she forgot all about his boner. His smile was just heavenly. Even more so whenever he deigned to direct it at her (bless her with it, more like).

“Can I…?” He gestured in the direction of the shower.

“Oh! Y-yeah, of course! I’m done anyway,” she hung the washcloth up and was gonna get out, but he opened the shower door.

Mabel glanced down briefly. She couldn’t help it. He was naked, and she’d spent so much time admiring the way his body looked and moved that it was fascinating in a whole bunch of different ways. And also sexy, so there was that.

Oooooookay , she thought to herself. That’s a dick. That’s a dick pointing right at you. It’s just… it’s right just there, man. Stay calm, stay cool, dicks don’t bite.

“Wha-wha-what’s up?” She stuttered out. So much for “cool”.

He grinned again, and Mabel thought she might burst into flames, and she vaguely noticed the water droplets spilling out onto the tile, and-

“I meant if it’s okay if I shower with you.”

“Oh!” She blinked rapidly, startled. “Oh. Okay… then,” stepping backwards a bit to let him in as he closed the door behind him. It was strange, but despite knowing the fact that he’d seen (and touched, kissed, and even sucked, and also literally been inside of) her body, she still kinda felt the urge to cover herself up. She squashed it down, though.

He leaned over (and subsequently closer to her, but his eyes were shut when he did so) to wet his hair, and reached for the shampoo. “Sorry, I used most of both bottles,” she said quietly.

“Eh, that’s fine, I don’t really need a whole lot,” he told her as he squirted the remainder of the shampoo into his hand.

“Y’know, it’s actually better for your hair to use conditioner first and then leave it in while you do everything else, because tha-“ she was babbling. She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t really help it. He was naked. She was naked. They’d both been post-coitus levels of naked and all up against each other for, like, hours! After a lifetime of not touching, too! Surely a bit of nervousness was warranted, right?

“Mabes,” he cut her off, affection in his eyes as he quickly and methodically rinsed his hair out (how had he already finished washing it? Dafaq?). “I don’t really… I mean, I don’t think most guys use conditioner.”

“O-oh,” she seemed to have difficulty forming coherent thoughts, and therefore coherent sentences, as well.

When the last of the shampoo bubbles had been rinsed from his hair, he looked down at her again and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous.”

“I- I am not nervous!” she informed him indignantly, lurching away slightly, but only slightly, honest. If she said it to him like she believed it, maybe that would make it true. (Note: No. No it would not.)

“Yes, you are,” he said matter-of-factly, lathering up the washcloth with the bar of boring-as-all-hell soap and washing his body in the same quick, methodical way as his hair. “It’s okay. I kinda like it.”

“Well, even if I am nervous,” she crossed her arms over her chest (which was still bare, and he could see it, how bizarre), “it’s perfectly reasonable. How are you not nervous?!”

“Oh, I am. I’m actually pretty terrified right now,” he rinsed out the washcloth and grinned at her again. “I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You are not!”

“I definitely am. Case in point: you,” he gestured to Mabel, “me,” he to himself. “Case closed.”

“Hey,” she said, sticking a finger in his face as he turned himself this way and that beneath the water to let the suds run down his skin and- no, no, focus! “Hey,” she repeated. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been pretending you don’t make me feel embarrassed or nervous or scared out of my mind for years, and I was so good at it that you were under the impression I wasn’t interested in you at all despite being so in love with you I thought I’d explode, so I’d say I did a pretty damn good job, thank you very much!”

“Hm, that’s a good point,” he said thoughtfully, reaching down to brush her wet hair from her face. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“You wouldn’t have needed to wonder if you’d just told me the truth,” her voice was quiet, and it was difficult even for her to hear it over the sound of water hitting tile. “I was waiting for you to find your soulmate, y’know. I’d just kinda accepted that I’d have to watch you fall in love with somebody else, and I’d be stuck keeping my feelings for you a secret.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice just as soft, stroking her cheek. “I was scared, and I was so sure you wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me -not like that, at least-, whether we were soulmarked or not.”

She shook her head, her wet hair moving about her face in thick strands. “I’d have fallen in love with you no matter what, Dipper.” Then, after a moment: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to,” he told her quietly. “I really wanted to. But I also didn’t. I was scared you wouldn’t want me the way I want you. Wouldn’t love me the way I love you.” He was silent for a moment, staring at her with a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite name. “Wouldn’t you have been scared, if you had found out first?”

She looked away from him then. “I- yeah. Yeah, I probably would’ve been,” she said with a nod. “I mean, you still scare me.”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “I- I- what? Why do I scare you?”

“Because I love you,” she told him simply, as if she’d been pointing out the snow on the ground or the clouds in the sky. “More than that, I’m in love with you.”

“You’re scared of being in love with me?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m used to being in love with you. It’s not new. But this is much… it’s bigger than I thought it was, y’know? Like, yeah, I’ve been in love with you for years, I know how to handle that. But I never expected anything to actually come from it.” She took a breath before speaking again, staring at the floor, the way the spray from the shower ricocheted off their feet. “It never occurred to me that my soulmate might be you, that that’s why I couldn’t control my feelings for you better. I just…” she sighed. “I thought I was a freak. I thought there was something wrong with me. I’ve thought that for so long and now I’m finding out it’s totally normal, what I’ve been feeling all this time, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her gently, sincerely. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. I hate that I did. I wish I’d… I dunno. I wish I’d done something differently.”

She sighed again. “Honestly? I don’t know if I’d have done anything differently than you did, if it had been me. I might’ve done the exact same thing.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Still wish I hadn’t done it the way I did.”

“So do I,” she said quietly. “We could’ve been together like this a lot longer.” Startled at herself, she backtracked. “N-not necessarily like this,” she gestured vaguely around them, her eyes wide. “Just, y’know. Like. In general. Together in general.”

He smiled, laughter in his eyes at her fumbling, and wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, leaning down to press his lips to hers. She brought her hands up to hesitantly rest them on his sides, which were bare because he was still fucking naked holy shit that’s right-

Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, he backed her up against the cold tile of the shower wall, becoming increasingly desperate in how he kissed her.

“I- I’ve wanted you since I woke up,” he told her, moving down to suck at her neck and gripping her breast roughly.

“I want you, too,” Mabel gasped out. He reached down between her legs and stroked her slit a few times before pushing a finger inside her. She gasped again, clutching at his arm, her fingers digging into his skin, and leaned her head back against the tiled wall. He added another finger, slowly pumping them in and out of her, and her fingers tightened on his arm when he started to rub her clit with his thumb.

He hadn’t stopped sucking at her neck, and he moved his fingers faster and faster, causing her to whimper and struggle to stay standing. How did he know exactly what to do to her to make her squirm? How was he more in tune with her body than she herself was? Mabel didn’t know, didn’t understand how he could touch her so perfectly that she was ridiculously close to orgasming already, but he was doing it.

Her legs began to shake, and he moved back up to kiss her. She could feel his erection pressing against her, and he was twisting her nipple and moving his fingers even faster, and she was so close, so fucking close-

“Dip-per,” she gasped against his lips, and he nodded.

“That’s it,” he told her. “Cum for me, Mabes.”

She cried out as she did, and when he pulled his fingers out of her, she winced at how sensitive she still was. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her body. It had been a particularly good orgasm, after all.

She was slumped against him, and she heard the shower raining down on his back. He ran a hand up her side, kissing her forehead lightly.

“I love you,” he told her softly.

“I love you, too, Dip.”

He pulled away slightly, smiling contentedly and stroking her cheek.

After perhaps two minutes or so, Mabel remembered Dipper’s very much still present erection. Ah. Right, she thought. Well, first time for everything and all that.

Lowering herself to her knees (the tile might’ve felt colder if she hadn’t pretty much been out of the water for… however long he’d been in there with her, which, unbeknownst to either party, was really only about ten minutes), Mabel discovered that, as it turns out, dicks, like most objects, appear larger the closer one is to them.

This made perfect sense, of course, but despite knowing this, Mabel was still quite alarmed at the evidence leading to this particular observation. Like, she knew it had already gone inside her (which… how, exactly?), but it was still somewhat alarming to see it up close.

The aphrodisiac effect of touching for the first time had worn off the night before, so while Mabel was aroused, it wasn’t so overwhelming that she entirely forgot about the logistics of how in the actual fuck is that supposed to fit in a person’s mouth, et cetera. Still, though, despite being rather intimidating, it was… it was… it was his, Dipper’s, and she very much wanted to touch him.

“You… okay?” Dipper asked from above her, when she’d been staring at his junk for a solid minute and a half.

“Yup!” She said too quickly, the squeakiness in her voice echoing off the tile far too much for her liking.

“You don’t… I mean, you don’t have to, y’know…”

“I know!” She said, also too quickly, before backtracking. “It’s just, well. I’ve never actually, like, seen one up close, so I don’t really… know what to do with it…”

“W-well,” he coughed uncomfortably. “You could… touch it. If- if you wanted?” He voiced it like a question, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer or not.

“Okay.” Yeah, touching’s fine. She could do touching. She could totally do touching. Easy-peasy.

How did guys…? Reaching out hesitantly, Mabel gently wrapped her palm around his shaft, his wet pubic hair brushing against her hand. It was much harder than she was expecting, but also weirdly squishy. How could something be hard and squishy at the same time?

“You can- you can squeeze it a bit harder,” he said breathily. Harder? Wouldn’t she hurt him? Well, he’d tell her if she hurt him, so maybe she should just…

Squeezing his shaft elicited a gasp from him, so she kept the pressure up and moved her hand up and down it a few times.

“Is this okay?”

He nodded wordlessly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, so she kept going, moving her hand faster. Something pearled at the tip, and Mabel had the strangest desire to taste it, so she licked it. Dipper let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, so she licked the tip again, this time swirling her tongue around the head before taking it in her mouth.

One of his hands threaded through her hair gently, and when she looked up at him, he rested his head on an arm against the tiled wall, his other hand clenched into a fist.

Mabel attempted to take as much of him into her mouth as she could, but it really wasn’t very much. She did, however, manage to gauge what she could take and what she couldn’t, so when she began to slowly move her mouth along his length, she didn’t have much difficulty stopping where she needed to.

Dipper was making these kind of breathy gasps, like he was struggling to inhale, so she moved her mouth faster, as fast as she was able.

“F-fuck, Mabel,” he moaned her name quietly, but it reverberated against the tiles. She kept moving her mouth over him, but took him a bit too fast, it seemed, because her teeth grazed him and he yelled. “T-teeth,” he squeaked out.

“Ooumsowy,” she said around him, the words coming out poorly. Whoops. Oh well.

Pulling her lips to cover her teeth to avoid anything further dick-scraping situations, she sucked in her cheeks experimentally, just to see how he would react, reaching up to squeeze one of her breasts in her hand, pinching her nipple and moaning around him. His grip on her hair tightened a bit, just enough for her to feel a slight tug on her scalp, and he jerked his hips forward involuntarily.

He hit the back of her throat, and she choked, tearing up, and she looked up at him again.

“Shit, sorry,” he said breathily. Mabel didn’t mind, though. She liked that he hadn’t been able to control himself. Thinking about him losing control, losing himself because of her, what she was doing to him, she moaned around him again, pulling at her nipple and taking him as deep as she could, as fast as she could. His breathing was getting faster, and he really seemed to be getting off on her moaning, so she moaned again, and again, bobbing her head back and forth.

The sounds he was making were so insanely sexy Mabel thought she was gonna lose her mind, and she wished she could take him deeper without gagging because quite simply, she wanted every inch of him in her mouth and was thoroughly dissatisfied that she couldn’t manage it. Still, though, he seemed to be enjoying himself. She was gazing up at him, her lips stretched around his cock as she moaned and fondled her breast, and he was looking down at her with this look in his half-lidded eyes she couldn’t put a name to.

It was like he was seeing her for the first time even though they’d known each other all their lives, like she was everything, everything to him, the way he was everything to her. She wasn’t going very fast, as she was still quite inexperienced, but he was moaning and gasping and whimpering and breathing her name and fisting her hair and looking at her like she was some kind of goddess and then-

And then he yanked himself away from her, and there was a string of saliva between the head and her mouth that was broken as he leaned back against the shower wall, gasping. The water hit her face and she sputtered, scrambling backwards.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, clearly out of breath.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” She asked, somewhat concerned.

“What? No! No, not at all,” he reassured her, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, and he pulled her up against him. “That was… I mean, that was awesome, it really, really was. It’s just I wanna do, uh. Y’know. Other stuff, too.”

Okay, so maybe she had just been sucking his dick, but she still felt like his face was way too close to hers, so it took several seconds for what he said to process in Mabel’s mind. “You mean, you wanna, like…?”

“Only if you want to,” his smile was a small, adorably embarrassed one, and it made her heart flutter and the bees act up.

When she nodded silently at him, he leaned down to kiss her softly, reaching around to turn off the water. He pushed the shower door open and stepped out, pulling her out after him. She tripped a little and giggled at her own clumsiness.

They were gonna have sex for the second time (the second!), and Mabel was feeling downright giddy just from thinking about it.

“What’re you giggling about, giggles?” he was smiling affectionately at her as he handed her a towel before proceeding to dry himself off.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

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faejilly · 3 years

Note

ohhhhh can i ask after the wing!fic (which is one of my FAV TROPES EVER)? what it's going to be/any lore you'd like to share?

SO YES

When trying to write magical wing-fic about people who are capable of going incognito, I had to decide how they’d hide them. (And how Clary could grow up without hers, because hiding a magical Shadow World would be entirely impossible if you had wings.)

I have this theory that part of the reason the Nephilim raise their children so quickly is that, when they’re young, full of angelic power and blood that they can’t yet control, they are especially tempting to demons, easier to sense (and obviously also easier to kill, if they’re caught). For all the Nephilim are terrible to their children, the show did a good job of showing that they love them, so they have to believe that raising generation after generation of child soldiers is necessary.

(This is emphasized by Maryse’s line in 3b, about how she raised her children to survive. She has no illusions now that she did it badly, but the only way she could have done what she did in the first place is if she truly believed they needed to be raised that way.)

So. Nephilim children are full of a wild, almost feral magic. Angels are eldritch, beyond comprehension, are so much more and other that it’s not easy to balance that and being human. Nephilim have to be trained, physically/mentally/emotionally to have control so that they can get that first rune as young as possible, because it is that enkeli rune that shapes their angelic heritage enough that they can survive it without losing themselves to it.

(This is also part of why I will never be on Team Immortal Husbands in terms of what I write; it’s important to me that Alec & Magnus choose to be human as much as possible rather than something other. I feel like that’s rather the whole point of Alec’s arc, that he truly believes he is not, cannot be better than the Down Worlders, that he’s forcing himself to admit that just because he defends Mundanes it doesn’t mean they’re lesser, just... different. Otherwise humans turn into pets rather than people, and how much easier is it then to believe Down Worlders are pets gone feral, wild animals that have to be put down? Each piece lends itself to each next one, enforcing the idea of Nephilim Superiority, when they’re still supposed to be human. They’re supposed to be protectors, not supremacists, that’s where the Clave goes wrong, where Valentine went wrong, that’s what he cannot ever let himself be.)

And that moment when they get their first rune is also when their wings manifest, that moment when they claim their power and their heritage, is the moment that they, idk, corral it to fit within their human frames and human desires. That is the moment that they become Shadowhunters, rather than demon prey.

That is ALSO why deruning is such a severe punishment, why it usually ends in death. It’s not just that they’re tempting prey for demons, (though that is how most of them die), it’s that they can no longer control themselves, their blood is as much of an enemy to them as the demons who crave it, without the power of the runes to balance it out.

Clary obviously doesn’t have an enkeli rune, and equally obviously hasn’t been eaten by demons or exploded from uncontrolled angelic magic despite her extra-potent blood, which means something else must have been done to suppress her power.

Not just that her memories are pulled out, the actual magic of her heritage has to have somehow been hidden away from her as well as everyone else.

And it can’t just be a glamour that someone else is maintaining, because the show’s pretty clear that stuff that’s glamoured is still there.

Though I have thoughts on that too! Because some warlock’s have wings or tails or horns or things that stick out and would hit people so their glamours couldn’t just be a visual illusion, they had to somehow... hide.

(SIDE REC: @ralfstrashcan‘s lovely little bit of fic & meta about how the fuck does Alec always pull his bow & arrows out of nowhere. Possible magic options that aren’t glamours!)

Sometimes, glamours are just visual illusions. (See Alec’s quiver in the gifs in that meta post above.) Presumably, Magnus’ glamour over his eyes is just an illusion, because otherwise all that flickering and changing of his vision between normal eyes and cat eyes would give him a headache. :D

Cat’s glamour over her skin and hair is probably just a visual illusion as well, because it’s just color, but if you think Lorenzo Rey would let someone who brushed up against his arm feel scales if he didn’t want them to? Crazy-talk. He’s got to be able to hide the texture as well.

(I think Seelies can only cast the sort of glamours that are visual illusion, because anything else would be lying about what’s really there, and Seelies can’t lie. But that’s a whole separate post about fae and elves and folklore, so.)

Even if we assume there’s a second level of glamour which makes the thing not entirely there physically, it seems clear that it’s still kind of there to the person, that there’s some intangible feedback that must still happen, because otherwise it’s like disappearing body parts and that’s weird? And also it would need a different word than glamour, like, wtf, that’d be a dramatic difference.

SO, Nephilim can “glamour” their wings so they’re not there there, but they still get some physical/emotional feedback themselves, because they’re still winged people, their wings are part of their angelic heritage, they wouldn’t just deny them.

But if Clary knew she had weird powers and wings, again, the whole hiding from the Shadow World plan wouldn’t work.

So she’s got to be under like, a full-blown curse suppressing her everything. (A curse that was developed by warlocks for those few exiled Nephilim who managed to have the resources to pay for a way to survive? The way Max Trueblood’s still alive out there, so some day I can write a reunion between Maryse and her older brother.)

ANYWAYS

I forgot where I was going with all that, whoops.

TL;DR: Wings are neat, magic is weird, Nephilim are fucked up but it’s more interesting if there are reasons.

#my sh rambling #sh meta #shadowhunters #wing!fic #Anonymous #jilly answers

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fandom-sheep · 3 years

Text

Fundy 26 APR 21

Delayed Liveblogging OSMP Fox Den Part 1/1

Let’s go!!!

We got a bit of face cam today woo!

Ah gotta turn on the tree.

I keep seeing here on tumblr that Fundy looks like Boots and yeah. They do kinda match.

Dadza is doing hardcore. Good means there is less swiping.

Syncing the camera. Look at us go.

Ooo prediction. What are we betting on?

If Fundy dies before 150 subs. I’m going with no. Someone has to have faith in this streamer.

O. Bam. O. Bam. O. Is it going to load?

Seems like we’re struggling.

Well dressed fox.

Awww he’s hiding now. He doesn’t trust it. But also chat is bullying him and calling him old.

I’ve known a couple of people who’s hair does the white streak thing so I don’t even really notice at this point.

Secret hole in the wall.

Wat in tarnation is the chicken contraption?

My streamer accidentally releases chickens and other animals.

My streamer also falls a lot.

Wait why is chat emote only? What did we do?

Why is chat in sub only? What did we do???

Even the streamer doesn’t know. It’s ok the mods are taking care of us.

Enslave da foxes. I would say it in chat but it’s rich people only. LOL.

Fundy just breaking things and making a hole to sneak through.

Sneaky fox struggling to hide his tunnel.

We’ve almost hit 150 subs. Come on I want some bonus channel points.

Won’t be a lot but I want em.

Sup Scott! We’re breaking and entering!

I swear all Fundy does is get into trouble and cause problems on purpose.

Someone said SCATTER in chat and you can tell they are a tumblr being.

Chat do be snitching.

Lil short boy. Not even 2 blocks.

Do the calculus. Yuck.

Oh Scott is here to fuss at the fox.

Wait no Scott please! The channel points!

He left woo!

Whoops. Off he goes.

Oh and he’s gone again.

It’s almost weird the mic not cutting out when he screams.

Yes chat please do clip it. I want to see paracasting post that clip. LOL

Don’t mess with my hole. It’s in your house but don’t mess with it.

Please just 20ish more subs. This fox can’t stay alive too much longer.

Depression is cringe. Get out of here depression.

Fundy’s tunnel network of thievery.

He forgot what he swiped and now he’s being threatened.

Ah Scott is playing with 5up. One that loves Fundy. One that is threatening him. Guess which is which.

Who needs a real name in this day and age?

I like everyone saying the name is Floors. Very smart beings who autocorrect doesn’t like.

I love Fundy’s building style. It’s so chaotic but it looks good.

Hey I won 14 channel points... nice.

Giant donation? Giant donation!

Prediction finished. Scott can attack the fox now.

He just keeps stealing eggs. He doesn’t even have a use for them since he can’t eat them.

I straight up forgot stardew valley. It’s on my switch I should play it more.

Berry Boy!

Alrighty. Good enough reason not to right click them.

Eat the berries? Nah. Prank with the berries? Yea.

No don’t take her flowers. She can’t just go get those.

I love the chat person who said “swiper no swiping” you didn’t say it 3 times though.

How chaotic is your streamer? Berries.

Putting berries in the house of the villains of the smp. Good idea.

Dear mod please do not run a nuke command.

Ah hydration. That’s a good idea.

Fox go boing.

This is alright sounding too science for me. But it seems good.

Fox launcher.

Oh. Ad? Hello. I got 3 ads.

Slime. Please.

Oh we’re breaking and entering with Phil.

Does the slime have slime balls? Oh. Slime blocks.

And an exchange of gold.

Wow. Pretending to have diamonds instead. That sounds smart.

10 minutes then I need to disappear momentarily.

Getting a zombie villager.

No wrong zombies in the boat.

There he is! We got a zombie villager!

Raccoon. Fox. Close enough.

I want to see someone with a Opossum origin where they can play dead and eat trash (no poison) That would be cool.

Red stone my beloathed

Oh Scott is here.

I’ve got to go so I’m going to miss Scott beating Fundy up.

Quick Fox Hunting is Scott’s stream title. Haha.

You can hear the shots. And Fundy is invisible.

Didn’t steal anything. My streamer lies.

Scott threatening to die in Fundy’s base.

Scott please.

Either kill him or don’t.

Oh he took the block. Nice.

I’m excited to listen to the fox hunt while I drive.

Slobbery armor. Why can you tell it’s fox slobber? Just did a quick dna test?

Property? Who has property now a days.

Potato potato. Tomato tomato.

My streamer is weak and small.

My alarm went off right as he died! The timing of the universe.

Sticky fingers.

Good dramatic music for deal making.

Fundy always does his music so well.

I’ll be back! Hope I don’t miss anything significant!

I’m back why are we in the ocean

Why are we running home? What have I missed?

We’re da foxes?

Skulk of foxes let’s go.

Stashing the things.

Are these stolen riches? I wasn’t paying attention? Did he actually go mining?

Fancy bed time!

Orange beds! Please!

Oh no why are we going to ranboo and tubbos base.

That seems like a bad idea.

What type of trouble are we getting into?

So well organized. This base is so pretty.

Fundy feels the least progressed on here.

We do not trust your promises fox man.

Wait wait wait. This isn’t our fault.

Oh facecam.

Look at our amazing streamer.

We attack Dadza!

Seems my streams raid Dadza a lot.

We miss the cya. But you know. It was a good stream.

Hope our favorite fox has fun thieving.

#osmp #osmp fundy #fundy #fundylive #delayed liveblogging #yipblr #yip yip

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plaidbooks · 4 years

Text

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 7 part 1

A/N: So, this chapter got a little bit away from me. And instead of posting all 14k words in one part, I’m splitting it into two parts (I’ll post part 2 tomorrow, though, instead of making you wait a week!) This first part is a lot of tension and even more angst! Their first real fight! And a cliffhanger? Wowza! I also got to make up a lot of Barba’s background in this chapter, so bear with me. Little bit of Spanish that’s also translated right then. According to my friend, Adrian, there’s no “direct translation for motherfucker into Spanish which is why it’s that long.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: mentions of cheating, minor character death, screaming/yelling

Words: 7k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Thursday, April 30th. 10:05am

Ever since the night they read about Marco Sorrel, Devon had pushed to train Barba harder in his self-defense training, especially with weapons. For the past three weeks, she taught him to disarm an assailant armed with first a knife—still sheathed—and then her gun, safety on. Barba hadn’t seemed too thrilled about the idea but agreed that it was necessary. And while Devon had to admit that he was pretty good in the training, that meant nothing when it came to the real thing. She had met many an agent who had excelled in training, and then froze in the field, leading to injuries or worse. Plus, the fact that it had been three weeks with no signs of any Aces made Devon uneasy. Very uneasy. She was sleeping less and less, hardly eating, and jumping at every sound. Barba, being his normal, collected self, didn’t seem disturbed by the news; he simply went about his day, doing arraignments, trials, meetings, and whatever the hell else he had to do. Which was a good thing, Devon supposed; it would make her job harder if they were both anxious.

Today was one of those days that was going to drag on forever, Devon knew. They had gotten to the courthouse early, skipping Barba’s office entirely, doing arraignments until almost noon. They then made it to his office for an early lunch, knowing that Barba would be in court for the rest of the day. Not that Devon was complaining; being stuck in the courtroom wasn’t all that bad, even though Barba had mentioned how boring it must be to sit in the gallery all day. But in all honesty, it was a nice break for Devon. She was still aware of people coming in and out, of course, but for the most part, once a trial started, everyone settled in. She didn’t have to worry too much about an attack once in court. And only once had a defendant gotten out of hand. But once he started shouting, the bailiff was on him, dragging him out, before Devon had fully blocked off his path to Barba. She knew he wasn’t in the Aces, but she was still going to protect the man.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. It is pretty personal,” Barba commented, bringing Devon’s mind back to the present. They were just finishing lunch in his office, relaxing before the rush to court. She suddenly realized that he had asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, I was thinking about stuff. What’d you ask?”

Barba sighed. “We were talking about, uh, past relationships. I asked how your last relationship ended.” Devon remembered now; they were talking about some cases that they both did with SVU, just a walk down memory lane over food. Barba had brought up the Muñoz case, which led to him talking about Yelina. Devon could tell by how his face softened when he spoke of her that she held a special place in his heart. After asking he agreed that yes, while he had flings and relationships since, Yelina was his first true love. After she left him for his best friend, he had found a couple other partners, but none that had gotten as close to him as her. “You always remember your first,” he had said.

Devon smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Does she lie to him? Tell him that she’s had a couple relationships and leave it at that? “I’ve, um…I’ve never really been in a relationship, per se.”

Barba put down his takeout container at that, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I thought guys would be all over you.”

She laughed his comment away, flattered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’ve been, uh, intimate with people before,”—her face flushed. Why was she telling him this?—“but I’m just not the, uh, relationship type, I guess.” Why were they talking about this again? Though, she knew if she wanted to stop, she’d only have to say so. But she was curious about Barba; he was a very private man. She was interested—and a wee bit excited—that he even wanted to open up about this side of him. If that meant that she had to do the same, then so be it.

After a few moments of silence, Barba thinking through his words, he finally asked, “but haven’t you ever wanted to come home to someone?” It was an innocent enough question, but it filled Devon with such a strong sense of yearning. Of course, she did. Who didn’t want someone who would understand them, who would love them unconditionally?

“I mean, it would be nice, yes,” she kept her voice even, neutral. “But I don’t have the time, not with my job. Plus, how would someone react to something like this?” she gestured broadly. “I was out of the state for three years, then home for a week before moving in with a complete stranger, a man…no offense—”

“None taken—”

“--so, how would dating even work when I’m not even home or when I’m sleeping at someone else’s house?” Devon finished, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. She didn’t mean to get so emotional, so personal with the answer. But she was trying to make him understand.

He thought for a while, stabbing at his chicken. “I guess it would be tough with a job like that.” He took a piece out, chewed thoughtfully. “My last relationship ended because I was never home. I put my work first, so she found her home in someone else’s bed.”

Devon sat there, dumbfounded. Someone cheated on him? “What a bitch,” she mumbled. He stifled a chuckle and Devon realized she said that out loud. “Whoops,” she said, hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was years ago; I’ve moved on,” he replied. Then, “The hardest part was returning the engagement ring.”

Devon’s heart hurt for the man. She couldn’t imagine being so in love, planning on being married to someone, and then to find out they were cheating. She couldn’t think of anything to say; she didn’t think saying sorry would help, but she didn’t want to ask any more probing questions.

“Do you ever plan on getting married?” Barba asked, staring at the desk.

The question caught Devon off-guard; she never really thought about it before. Maybe when she was a kid, as a last-ditch effort to escape her parents. But not anytime recently. “I’m not sure, really. I’ve never considered it…maybe if I met the right person, though I think I’d like to retire before hand. And I could not imagine having a wedding—too expensive. And rings are so old-fashioned and over-rated; have you seen the new movement of people proposing with beautiful, intricate knives?” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. Barba, to his credit, looked up from the desk, smiling and laughing at Devon’s increasingly ridiculous marriage proposals, awkwardness and past pain soon forgotten.

“Mr. Barba?” Carmen said, sticking her head into his office, causing them both to stop their frivolous talk. “Mr. Thompson and Mr. Buchanan are here to see you.”

“There goes the fun,” Barba mumbled. Devon grinned, but moved to stand behind him, bodyguard-style, her normal place by his side.

Courthouse

Thursday, April 30th. 7:08pm

Court had lasted much longer than either of them had thought; the Judge was intent on finishing the trial today, letting tomorrow morning be for closing arguments and then letting the jury deliberate.

“I need to head back to my office; I forgot a file,” Barba had said as he gathered his things. Odd, Barba never forgot anything; man’s head was a steel trap.

“No problem. I got nowhere to be tonight. You know that we’re still training, though, right? Staying here late doesn’t get you out of it.”

Barba sighed. As much as he knew training was important, his body was still sore from where she hit him, blocking an attack, the night before. “Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t worry; this will all be over soon enough,” Devon commented. It was true; during the trial, Devon’s phone had gone off with an update text from Olivia. 47 Aces were now sitting in jail. 18 reported left, though 5 of those 18 were reportedly no longer in New York. Once they learned that most of the police force were after them, they had picked up and left. So, in reality, unlucky 13 were left active in New York…including Marco Sorrel, who no one seemed able to pinpoint. If Devon was free to move throughout the city, she knew she could track him down. But she had to trust in the NYPD’s abilities.

Barba was elated at the news—not having to worry about being shot was a weight off his shoulders—but at the same time, he felt upset at the thought of Devon moving out, moving on with her life. He had grown accustomed to her being there; her laugh, her banter, her presence. He didn’t know if they would remain in contact after this was over. He realized that he didn’t want to lose her. And after their talk this morning, he felt…no, he didn’t want to admit it, not to himself, or to anyone else.

They made it to the courthouse elevator, no one else in sight, and started going down to the ground floor. Barba made up his mind; he had to ask, to know if there was any chance of them having…something after the Aces were in jail. “You know, about that…I mean, after this is all over….” Barba started. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped off, Devon first and Barba right on her heels. The words died in his throat as he felt someone grab him roughly from behind, the cold steel of a gun pushing against his head.

Devon had heard his case fall from his hands, turned and had her gun up, aiming right over Barba’s shoulder before her brain had a chance to catch up. How’d I miss him? she thought, chiding herself. Then, her mind went blank, instincts and training kicking in, no room for any other thoughts. The elevator doors closed behind them, effectively pinning Barba and the man against the wall, facing Devon. Devon locked eyes with the man, ignoring Barba’s frightened look, and for a moment she was in a brownstone, looking at Nathan Woods. But she blinked again, and it was a Hispanic man, gun to Barba’s head, tattoo on his neck.

“Drop your gun, or I splatter this bastard’s brains all over the hallway,” Marco Sorrel said. She could feel Barba’s eyes on her, but she stayed focused on Marco, watching his trigger finger, pushing down the panic that was making her heart race.

“Counteroffer; you drop your gun or you’re dead before you pull the trigger,” Devon replied. She held her gun steady despite her rapid pulse, and started shifting her position slowly to the side, taking such small steps, she hoped Marco didn’t notice. This could end one of two ways, and she was deciding how best to approach it.

“Look, la loca es la primera (crazy bitch), I’m not afraid to die. But I’m taking this el cara e verga es el segundo (motherfucker) with me,” he dropped his voice, talking into Barba’s ear, barely loud enough for Devon to hear, “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever God you believe in.”

Devon felt the floor drop out from under her; she made up her mind in that moment. She took another step to the left, gaining a clear shot. She took it, squeezing the trigger. It was like watching a scene in slow motion. One moment, Marco had a gun to Barba’s head. Barba looked terrified, frozen in place. Then, a hole appeared between Marco’s eyes; his head snapped back and red splattered the elevator doors. His body hit the doors, and he slid down until he was slumped against them, gun clattering to the floor. Barba had ducked from the loud gunshot; he stood slowly, shakily, and turned to look at him while Devon slowly lowered her gun. She holstered it, putting the safety on—she knew she’d be turning it over tonight.

People started showing up then; Devon wasn’t sure where they were coming from. But they must have heard the gunshot, the hallways and curved ceiling making a perfect echo chamber. She stepped up to Barba, who was still looking at Marco’s dead body. She reached a hand out to him, saw her hand shaking slightly, clenched it into a fist and dropped it.

“Hey, are you alright? Are you hurt?” she asked, voice surprisingly steady for how shaky she was feeling.

Barba couldn’t take his eyes off the dead man, his face a little green. “You—you killed him. You just murdered a man.” He had whispered it, so matter-of-factly, voice dead.

The tone he had—or lack thereof--hit Devon like a physical blow. She reached out, hand not shaking this time, and took his hand, leading him a little down the hallway, putting the body behind him so that he was forced to look at Devon. That was almost worse; he looked rattled, shaking slightly, his green eyes wide. He yanked his hand out of her grip as if she had stung him.

“Uh, yes, I did…. You heard him; he was going to kill you in the next moment. I saw my shot and I took it; it was a good shoot,” she explained.

Barba had seen dead bodies in the morgue and in autopsy pictures before, but he had never seen someone killed, been close enough to feel the man’s weight fall off him. To fear, even for one moment, that he was the one who was shot. It felt like his brain was moving through sludge; he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It all had happened so fast; it was amazing how quick, how easy it was to kill someone.

“Police are taught to de-escalate a situation. You’re a damn negotiator, for fuck’s sake! You didn’t have to kill him.” Barba didn’t know where this anger came from, but it was a familiar emotion. He knew anger, so he wrapped himself in it like armor, let it protect his frazzled mind.

The rational side of Devon’s mind knew that this was simply a reaction to shock; when she was in the same situation 4 years ago, her reaction was to shut down. But anger, she knew, was also a very normal reaction to shock. Sadly, another reaction to someone yelling is to go on the defensive. And with all of her senses heightened, adrenaline coursing through her, that’s exactly what Devon did, replying, “yeah, I am a negotiator! And I know when a negotiation doesn’t work; I’ve seen enough hostages killed to know what it looks like. I was not going to let that happen to you.”

“He didn’t have to die, though! You know how to disarm perps!” he shot right back.

Devon shook her head, ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I had no options, Barba. I hesitate, and you die! I shoot the hand with the gun, and there’s a damn good chance I hit you. Like I said, I saw my shot and I took it. Do I wish I didn’t have to kill him? Of course! But I will not apologize for doing my job.”

“That’s not good enough!” Barba yelled.

“Then what is, huh? What would you, a fucking ADA with apparently expert knowledge on hostage situations, have me do?” Devon answered, blood boiling.

Barba had no answer, so he let out an annoyed huff, and pushed past her. He made his way to one of the benches left outside a courtroom, intended for those waiting to go in, and sat down hard. He leaned his face into his hands, elbows on his knees. Devon took deep breaths through her nostrils, knowing that she needed to take a step back, to control this anger that seemed to stem from nowhere. And she needed to try and calm him down, too, whether he liked it or not. But first, she had to make a phone call.

The crowd that had gathered was staying well away from the body, and even further away from the two of them after their shouting match. She was sure that the police had already been called, but Devon still took out her phone and dialed Olivia’s cell, asking her to alert CSU and IAB. While it was true that the FBI had their own Internal Affairs, and Devon would have to talk to them, too, she was technically working for SVU at the moment, so IAB and 1PP would be involved. It was always tricky with them; they loved to remind her that she wasn’t an NYPD officer, but they also loved to throw her under the bus when they thought she fucked up. She had a grim curiosity about what policies they would take with her this time. Once she hung up with Liv, she figured she’d inform Barba.

Without moving closer, Devon spoke to the wall in front of her. “IAB is going to want to talk to you, too. You’re an eyewitness.” Barba sat in silence, no indication that he even heard her. Devon took another deep breath; she was going to have this conversation with him at some point, might as well be now while he wasn’t yelling.

“If you want someone else to protect you, I have no objections. I understand if you don’t trust me now,” she said softly. The words ripped a hole in her heart to say, but it was his right to have a choice, something he didn’t have when Liv shoved Devon onto him. Plus, she couldn’t get the image of his face after Marco was dead out of her mind: the fear, the anger, the betrayal. Like she was the worst person in the world.

Barba had a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind; they swirled, and he couldn’t seem to clear it. He knew he had to answer her tonight, so he finally said, more to the floor than to her, “I just want to go home for the night; get a good night’s rest. I…I need time to process all of this.”

Well, that was normal after having such a near-death experience, and he wasn’t giving her the boot quite yet. Though, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop; by tomorrow, he’d be done with her. Recognizing that the conversation was over, she thought about their sleeping arrangements. IAB wouldn’t allow her to stay with him tonight; it was against protocol. They could concoct a story about all of this, lie for each other. Her adrenaline was already wearing off, leaving her exhausted. But they had to wait for Olivia to get there, to deal with this situation.

Thankfully, they only had to wait another five minutes, though it felt like an eternity in silence. Olivia was somehow the first on the scene, the rest of SVU on her heels. The detectives started clearing the courthouse of spectators, while Liv came over to the agent and counselor. Devon took off her gun and knife, handing them over.

She took them but turned to Barba first. “There will be an unmarked car watching your place tonight. I think you should get a good night’s sleep before talking to officers tomorrow morning. I’ll give you a ride home tonight, and then come by tomorrow for your statement.” He gave her a stiff nod, then Olivia turned to Devon, sighing heavily. “IAB has instructed me to escort you to the hospital for a blood-alcohol test,”

“That’s normal—” Devon started, before Olivia cut her off.

“And then to place you under arrest until they investigate this further.” Ah, there it is, Devon thought.

She smiled grimly. “And when will that be?” Devon asked. Officers had up to 48 hours to report to IAB after an incident like this, and Devon was sure that they’d make her wait the whole time, incarcerated...if they counted her as an officer. They could potentially make her wait indefinitely. As shitty as that was, all she could think about was who would watch Barba tomorrow at work.

Liv shook her head. “I don’t know; they didn’t specify. Detective Rollins will escort you to the hospital, and then to the cage at SVU.” Better than Rikers, Devon thought ruefully. She glanced at Barba, trying to make sure he was alright, but he was still staring at the floor.

Olivia gave her a look full of concern, before nodding to Rollins. Devon placed her hands behind her back and Rollins cuffed her, looking upset that she was the one chosen to do so. She read her her rights as they left the courthouse. Barba finally looked up as she led her away, a tightness in his chest. Arrested for murder…arrested for saving his life.

Liv sat on the bench next to him. “Are you alright, Rafa?”

He pulled his eyes from Devon’s retreating form, looking at Olivia, her expression full of worry. “She saved my life yet again, but by killing someone. I’m...I’m not sure how to feel about it.” He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it could come to this, that she may have to shoot someone to protect him. But his life had almost always been painted in black and white; murder is bad, illegal. Sure, there were exceptions, but they were few and far in between. And even then, he always viewed justifiable homicide as a last resort. Was killing Marco a last resort?

Liv mulled over her thoughts for a while before replying, “I’ve known Devon for years; she wouldn’t shoot someone for no reason.”

Barba suddenly realized that she had no idea what happened here; Devon wasn’t allowed to tell her without having counsel with her, and Barba didn’t count since he was a witness. So, Barba gave her the broad strokes of what had happened, including Marco’s threat that had pushed Devon over the edge and their conversation afterwards. Liv almost stopped him—he shouldn’t be telling her or anyone besides IAB about this—but he wasn’t a trained officer, and he needed to tell someone about this. Might as well be her.

So, Liv listened in silence, nodding along with his tale. She sighed when he finished, saying, “look, Rafa, you know that I’m against murder as much as you are. But this sounds like a good shoot. She shot him not in self-defense, but in defense of you, which may be a stronger pull, especially for someone like Devon. Trust me, though, she’s not nearly as accepting of this outcome as she may seem.”

Barba took that into consideration; maybe killing a man was eating her up inside. He knew that she had shot people before, but he didn’t know if she had killed someone before. And all he had done was yell at her, blaming her for saving his life yet again. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t control himself, his emotions; he knew Devon at this point. She wasn’t some serial killer. She was his friend, and she was risking her life every day making sure he was safe. And now she was in jail.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Liv said, breaking through his thoughts. He picked up his briefcase on the way out, unable to stomach even glancing at the blood on the ground. They rode in silence, enraptured in their own thoughts; Olivia worrying over how IAB would handle this case—she knew that IAB wasn’t particularly fond of SVU’s relationship with the Federal agent—and Barba going over the whole scene in his mind over and over again, from the moment those elevator doors closed to Devon’s back as she was led out in cuffs. After saying their goodbyes, Barba headed into his building. He noticed the unmarked car parked in front, but it didn’t feel like a comfort, not like Devon’s presence felt. He opened the door and locked it behind him, arming the doorstop like she had shown him. His loft seemed so empty, so quiet. Grabbing the thickest book he could find, he checked every room for intruders; a mockery of how professional Devon usually conducted the search. Barba felt foolish doing it himself, book in hand, but he knew it must be done if he wanted any peace tonight; his blood was still rushing in his ears. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he slowly stripped off his jacket and looked at the time. 11:36pm. He knew there was no chance of sleep tonight, but he’d have to try. To hopefully help him sleep, he dug out his favorite bottle of scotch, pouring himself a glass. He had to sort out his mind if he was ever going to sleep, though the alcohol may help calm his nerves, too. Plus, he needed to figure out how tomorrow was going to play out. He’d never talked to IAB before, nor been an eyewitness to a crime…at least, not like this. For court, he had his bullet-proof question tree, his responses to whatever the opposition said written down and memorized. Now, though, he was the one on trial, and he had no idea what to say.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Friday, May 1st. 7:00am

Barba showered in the morning, after tossing and turning all night. He didn’t go to bed until after 1am, but even with how exhausted he was, not to mention slightly drunk, he could not sleep. He kept thinking about the look of conviction in Devon’s eyes as she pulled the trigger, Marco’s dead body, blood splattered everywhere, his anger and fear as he took out all that energy, all that adrenaline, on Devon. Every time he thought about that conversation, a fresh wave of shame washed over him. He knew that victims sometimes lashed out after something traumatic happened, but he wasn’t a victim…right? He never thought of himself as one; he was simply a marked man. But even he knew that was a bunch of crap.

He got a text sometime while in the shower from McCoy, telling him to take the day, and the weekend, off. First of all, he knew that IAB would want to interview Barba about the dead body found by the elevators last night. And second, he knew that Barba probably needed the time off to collect his thoughts after having such a close brush with death. True, McCoy knew the ADA well, knew that he could handle himself and could feasibly work if asked, but the DA knew it would be better to let Barba relax for a couple days.

Don’t worry, I got a continuous on all your cases. McCoy texted him.

Sighing, he got dressed in a suit, though not one of his expensive court suits—this was more of a “weekend” suit, as he liked to call them. Though, Devon loved to tease him that they didn’t look different. He tried to explain it once, about the different material, the different cuts in shape, but she only laughed harder. He came out of his room, mumbling a quiet, “morning,” then looked to the couch when there was no answer, finding it empty. Oh…right, he thought, missing her singsong, perky voice in the morning. Then he realized that that meant there was no coffee made yet.

As he moved in the kitchen. his phone went off, causing him to jump and almost dropped his mug; it was a message from Liv letting him know that IAB had pushed back the meeting and that she would update him with a time when she knew. She would be there in a bit for his statement, and the unmarked car would stay posted until further notice. At least that gave him some time to finalize what he wanted to say to Devon when…if he saw her. He had solidified his testimony that he would say to IAB. With nothing else to do, he sat in his armchair nervously, fiddling with a pen in his hands.

SVU Department

Friday, May 1st. 7:00am

Devon stared at the ceiling of SVU’s holding cell. Thankfully, she was its only occupant all night. Rollins had given her a pillow and a blanket and told her to try and get some sleep, but they both knew that that wasn’t happening. Instead, Devon counted the bars on the walls, did her normal workouts that she performed in Barba’s loft every morning, and thought about anything that wasn’t Barba’s face, full of fear—fear of Marco, or her?—from the night before. But as the time trickled by and night gave way to dawn, Devon was forced to confront last night’s events. She meant what she had said; she wasn’t sorry that she had killed Marco. If she had done nothing, if she had hesitated for even a second longer, there’d be two bodies in the morgue. She was pretty sure the Barba understood that, but she did not expect him to flip out like he did. Shock makes people lash out, she told herself. Though she wasn’t thrilled that she had killed someone, it wasn’t her first time, either. And Barba was right; in a perfect world, she would have been able to de-escalate the situation, even though she knew deep down that she only had the two options; kill or be killed. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She thought back to the fight with Barba; she had dealt with…troublesome victims before: she’d had people yell at her, take a swing at her, threaten her and everyone she loved. So, why was this different? Why did this hurt so much more? A thought in her mind caught her attention. She tried to ignore it, to squish it, but it remained. You love him. She shook her head—no, no! She didn’t, couldn’t. They only met a few months ago! This was just a crush, a superficial infatuation based on living in such close quarters...ignoring the fact that he was ridiculously handsome, smart, funny, caring.... Okay, she had to stop thinking about it. It would pass, it had to.

“Morning,” Fin greeted. Devon jumped, not hearing him approach; she was too wrapped in her thoughts. She sat up and saw that he held a coffee out to her. “Don’t tell anyone I gave you this.”

She took the coffee from him. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. She took a sip, letting it warm her; the cell was cold, despite the blanket. “So, what time is it?”

Fin checked his watch before answering, “seven. And bad news, IAB pushed your interview back. No official time yet,” Devon huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes; of course, they were going to make her sweat, waiting in a cell. Plus, it was Friday; they may make her wait all weekend. “Also, they told us to keep you in cuffs until you go into interrogation.”

“Ah, right. IAB: guilty until proven otherwise. Tucker still in charge?”

Fin smirked. “You think that asshole has anything better to do?”

Devon grinned, then took her seat on the bench that served as a bed, trying to calm her nerves. She sipped at her coffee but didn’t really taste it. Her mind was racing again; she wasn’t afraid of IAB, per se, but that wasn’t the only variable here. Tucker already had a deep dislike of Devon. And then there was also Barba’s statement. Was he still pissed at her? Would he throw her under the bus, tell IAB that she didn’t need to kill Marco? She honestly didn’t know, and that worried her most.

The day passed by slowly, but thankfully no other perp was added to the cage. She was only let out to use the restroom, and none of the detectives felt like making her wear the cuffs. Devon sat in silence, going over her testimony again and again, making sure she had an answer for everything. She was going to tell the truth, but IAB was good at twisting words and actions, and she wanted to be prepared. She replayed every moment from the night before…except for the fight with Barba. She knew she’d have to review it eventually, but she really didn’t have the strength after the sleepless night.

The detectives were all busy; Liv and Fin stopped by every now and again to check in, update her on IAB’s timetable and to see if she needed something. Technically, they weren’t allowed to talk about what had happened, even though Devon waived Miranda. It wasn’t until about 2pm that she had any real company. Detective Amaro came into the cage, bringing a plain bologna sandwich for Devon’s lunch. Government money at work.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting up. Amaro surprised her by taking a seat next to her.

“Mind if we talk a little bit? I feel like we haven’t really talked much,” he replied, handing her the sandwich. Devon unwrapped it, took a bite. Better than nothing, and her stomach was empty outside of shitty precinct coffee. It was true, though; besides bringing Barba in for cases, Devon hadn’t really been around SVU enough to really “meet” the new detectives. Not including the awkward hospital visit from the night before with Rollins.

“Uh, sure, as long as we don’t talk about last night; don’t want IAB coming down on your head, too. What’s on your mind?”

He held out his hand for her to shake. “Detective Nick Amaro. Transferred from narcotics. Been in SVU for a little over a year, but I don’t see myself doing anything else. Partnered first with Benson, and now Rollins. And trust me, I don’t need another reason to have IAB coming after me.”

Devon shook his hand, a little bemused that he was introducing himself. “Ah, Senior Special Agent Devon Motely. FBI for 20 years; started as negotiator and added on undercover. Don’t have a partner, but I do have a team, much like NYPD’s ESU. I trust them with my life, even if I don’t work with them as often as I’d like.”

Amaro sat for a moment, taking in her words. “I looked in your jacket, this is your third kill. Last two were clean, too.” He seemed a little nervous talking about her personal file but hid it well with a charming smile.

Third in the jacket, Devon mentally corrected, and that doesn’t include firefights, where it’s impossible to tell who shot whom. But that wasn’t something she was going to bring up, not now. Devon remembered the other two that were in her file, though. The first had haunted her for weeks afterwards, even if he did deserve it. The man was a bastard; trafficked young girls, even “tested” them out, to make sure they could perform. He had run when Devon confronted him, then started shooting once cornered. She just happened to get him first, total luck, and she knew it. Probably why she didn’t sleep for two weeks afterwards. The second one still hurt, even years later. It was a 22-year-old man—a kid, really—who was caught in a bad situation. He was abused, both physically and sexually, by his father since he was 13. Then one day, he snapped. Took a gun, went to his parent’s house. Devon was called in to try and de-escalate the situation. She got out of her car, and gunshots went off. The kid had shot both parents, then came out the front door just as Devon was rushing in. He had the gun facing down at the ground and didn’t raise it fast enough by the time he shot, hitting Devon in the hip. She reacted on instinct alone, shooting him in the stomach. He died in her arms, bled out before EMTs could get there. She still had nightmares about it, every time she looked at the scar on her hip. She was lucky; the bullet had gone clean through, hitting nothing. A one in a million shot.

“Devon?” Amaro asked, pulling Devon out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, I have shot two people before Marco, correct,” she replied. “Wish I hadn’t, but things happen on the job. I’m sure you know that.”

Amaro nodded. “Yeah, I—I’ve taken some shots before, too.” He let out a breath. “Takes a toll after a while, huh?” Devon agreed. It came with the job, and therapy was a lifesaver. But some scars took longer to heal than others. “So, how did this one go down?”

Wait, was he trying to interrogate her? Come in as a friend and pry into the case? Or was Devon looking into it too much? She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t know the guy.

“I think that Tucker would be pretty pissed if I talked to an SVU detective about this,” she deflected, keeping her voice light.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to grill you or anything. But I agree; he already doesn’t care for me, anyways. Don’t need to give him more ammunition against me.”

“That’s something we have in common. You think they had to ‘push back’ this investigation because IAB is busy? CSU still processing info? Nah, Tucker hates my guts,” Devon chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think that’s just Tucker,” Amaro replied, smiling.

Just then, Fin walked up. Amaro stood to leave, as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Just so you know, they finally set a time. 3pm.” Fin announced. Thank god; having a set time took some of the weight off Devon’s shoulders, but it did make her stomach drop all the same. Both Amaro and Fin left then, Amaro giving Devon a small smile, a peace offering after her accusation.

Fin came back 20 minutes later and reluctantly cuffed Devon once more. At least he left them a little loose, so she wasn’t losing circulation. He took her to his squad car, and he, along with Rollins, drove her to IAB’s headquarters.

#rafael barba x oc #everyone deserves love #everyone deserves love chapter 7 p1 #edl #edl ch7 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #oh no they're in love #it's happening

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stealingpotatoes · 4 years

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Bedtime Story

AO3 link

summary: Emily decides that it’s her turn to tell Corvo & Jessamine a bedtime story. The characters in said story seem... a little familiar.

(notes: Hi! Gonna start posting my fics on Tumblr bc I uh- can. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! Edit: whoops forgot to add formatting to it)

“Can you tell me a story? Pleeeaase?” Emily begged her mother and Corvo, gripping her blue bedsheets that she was tucked into. The seven-year-old was wearing her frilly white nightgown and an incredibly cute expression that neither of them could say no to.

“One story” Jessamine smiled, sitting on Emily’s bedside.

Emily grinned and turned to Corvo, who was standing about a step away from her bed, “Could you tell me the story of how you won the Blade Verbena?”

Corvo folded his arms and tilted his head, “Again? I told you that last night.”

Emily nodded enthusiastically.

“Why don’t you pick something different, my little cygnet?” Jessamine suggested.

Emily pouted, then scrunched up her face, deep in thought for a few moments. She perked up, “I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

“Uh-” Jessamine started- “Why don’t I--”

“No. I’m telling you a bedtime story,” Emily sat up in bed. “You have to sit down,” Emily glanced between Jessamine and the floor.

“It can’t last too long though, you do need to go to sleep soon,” Jessamine warned.

“Yes, yes,” Emily nodded, “Now sit down!” she pointed to the floor.

Corvo smiled and huffed at Emily’s order to Jessamine. The two of them shared a glance, silently saying “well I suppose we have to”, before moving to sit down on the floor next to each other.

Emily lifted her bedsheets up and sat cross-legged, facing her ‘audience’. She paused for a moment, then exaggeratedly cleared her throat, “Once upon a time there was a knight, a queen, and a princess. They all lived in the kingdom of… uhh- Bunwall.”

“Bunwall?” Jessamine asked.

“Bunwall,” Emily replied, nodding with the utmost seriousness.

Corvo and Jessamine shared another amused look.

“Now let me tell the story!” Emily exclaimed.

The Knight, Queen and Princess lived in their tall castle in Bunwall. It was a grand stone castle, with many grand parapets.

The Queen was holding a banquet for something that merited a banquet in its honour. The Grand Banquet Hall was filled with music and dancing and everything was jolly. Everything except the Princess, that is. She was not having a good time, because banquets and balls were, in her opinion, absolutely terrible and incredibly boring. She would much rather have been doing literally anything else. But no, she was sitting here, bored out of her mind.

Suddenly, a mighty roar shook the castle! The merry music stopped. Everyone halted and tensed up at the noise, and a sickening silence fell upon the room.

An enormous green dragon smashed through the windows, scattering glass everywhere and leaving a huge dragon-shaped hole in the wall!

“Oh my, a dragon?” Jessamine put her hand over her chest.

“Yes! A DRAGON!” Emily threw her arms in the air.

Everyone screamed and ran to flee or hide as the Dragon breathed its fiery breath into the air. the Dragon was monstrous. It stood almost as tall as the high ceiling, with massive, sharp, scaly wings spread out wide. Its fierce eyes looked as if a fire burned behind them.

“Roar! I’m here to destroy Bunwall!” the Dragon boomed.

The Knight unsheathed his sword and spun it in his hand, “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

The Knight certainly did have something to say about it; he dashed forward with his sword and struck the Dragon on its chest, avoiding the beast’s attacks. But the Dragon didn’t seem all that fazed by the hit, and the sword did little against the Dragon’s thick scales. The Knight fought on nonetheless.

The Dragon, as unfazed as it was, fought back as strong as ever. The Knight dodged many of the Dragon’s attacks. Alas, the Knight was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the Dragon was too powerful! the Dragon swung its mighty tail and smacked the Knight into the wall.

Everyone gasped at the sight of the noble Knight defeated.

“Princess! You must save us!” the Queen cried.

The Princess pulled out her sword and—

“Woah- where’d the Princess get a sword?” Corvo interrupted.

“She had it the whole time! Um… The Knight gave it to her for her birthday...” Emily said, “Now stop interrupting!”

Corvo put his hands up in a mock-surrender.

The Princess pulled out her sword that she had the whole time and also got from the Knight for her birthday and ran at the Dragon, yelling a war cry. She struck and she dodged with grace and precision that the Kingdom had never seen before. the Dragon tried to hit her with its blazing firebreath and sharp tail, but she artfully flipped out of the way of its attacks.

The Princess’ hits, like the Knights’, didn’t seem as if they were doing much to injure the Dragon. But they did seem to be tiring it out.

“Princess! It’s working!” the Queen shouted to her daughter.

The Princess continued to fight the Dragon with unbelievable skill and prowess. None of the Dragon’s attacks were even getting close to hitting her!

“Roar! How are you so… awesome?” the Dragon asked, breathless and amazed.

“I just am,” the Princess replied, her short hair flowing in the wind.

the Dragon regarded the Princess in awe for a few moments before speaking, “I… I didn’t really want to destroy Bunwall… I actually really wanted a hug. But no-one would give me one.”

The Princess considered his words for a moment. “I will give you a hug,” she said, sounding as regal as her mother, the Queen, “But first you have to say sorry to the Knight.”

the Dragon turned to the Knight, who was slowly getting up from the floor, “Sorry, the Knight.”

the Dragon looked back to the Princess, and she gave him a satisfactory nod. He lowered his large and scaly dragon head towards the Princess and she gave him a big hug.

“Aww,” Jessamine smiled softly.

“I said stop interrupting!” Emily exclaimed, “I’m not done yet!”

“Yeah, stop interrupting,” Corvo smirked, looking at Jessamine.

Emily shot a grumpy look at the both of them before continuing.

The room erupted in applause at the Princess’ heroics. Everyone, including the Knight and Queen, was amazed at her skill and how she saved Bunwall.

After the banquet-ball, the Queen formally knighted her daughter, and the Princess got an incredibly nice suit of armour and another sword. She and the Dragon, an amazing team of best friends, went on to protect Bunwall better than anyone had before.

And the Knight and the Queen kissed and got married!

“-the end,” Emily said. She looked between Corvo and Jessamine expectantly.

Jessamine was confused for a moment before she realised what Emily was expecting. “ Emily, ” she chided.

“And the Knight and the Queen kissed! Come on!”

Corvo and Jessamine gave Emily almost identical ‘really?’ looks.

“I won’t go to bed unless you kiss!” Emily said firmly.

“Emily,” Corvo and Jessamine said in unison, flatly.

Emily pouted and dramatically dropped her shoulders.

“That’s enough storytelling for tonight,” Jessamine smiled, standing up, “It’s bedtime.”

Corvo pushed himself to his feet too, “It was a very good story.”

Emily grinned, “If you put me to bed tomorrow, I’ll tell you PART TWO!”

“We’ll try our best to,” Jessamine said genuinely.

Corvo smiled in agreement.

“Part two’s even better than part one!” Emily said excitedly with a dramatic hand motion.

“Oh?” Corvo tilted his head slightly.

“But I can’t tell you what happens because it’s a secret,” Emily whispered.

Corvo nodded understandingly.

“Actually- I can tell you the story now!” Emily beamed.

“No, you can’t, because it’s time to go to sleep,” Jessamine folded her arms and smiled.

“Yeah- bedtime,” Corvo agreed.

Emily sighed. She reached her arms out, and Corvo moved forward and leant down to give her a hug, as he always did. “Goodnight Em,” Corvo said.

“Goodnight Corvo,” Emily yawned as Corvo pulled away from the hug. She flopped onto her side and awkwardly moved her crossed legs so they were flat out too. Then she lifted her legs up so she could tuck herself in under her sheets.

Jessamine pulled Emily’s blankets up a little and leant down to kiss her cheek, “Sleep well,”

“Mm. Goodnight,” Emily wiped the kiss off her cheek, like she did every time someone kissed her, and settled into her blankets.

“She’s going to figure it out soon,” Jessamine said, as Corvo shut the door to the Empress’ apartments behind them.

“Going to? I think she already has,” Corvo huffed.

Jessamine stopped for a moment, not quite looking at anything, “It is cute,”

Corvo stayed silent, prompting Jessamine to explain what she meant.

“That Emily thinks she can make us kiss with a story” Jessamine smiled, “And how badly she wants us to get together,” she looked at Corvo.

“Mm,” Corvo hummed in agreement, “She’s about… eleven years too late though.”

Jessamine laughed a little. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

Jessamine made to walk off, but Corvo caught her hand and pulled her towards him almost as if they were dancing. He wrapped his arms around Jessamine’s waist, pulling her closer to him, “Y’know, the Knight never did get that kiss from the Queen…”

Jessamine draped her arms around Corvo’s shoulders. She tilted her head and smiled playfully, “No, no, I think they did kiss at the end.”

“I don’t remember that part,” Corvo furrowed his brow, smirking, “You’ll have to remind me of what happened.”

“I suppose I will,” Jessamine laughed slightly, looking into Corvo’s eyes. Then she moved a hand to Corvo’s face and went on her tip-toes. Corvo leant down to bridge the gap between them, and they kissed, softly and slowly.

“Is that better?” Jessamine asked with a raised eyebrow, voice barely above a whisper.

Corvo smiled, and Jessamine couldn’t help herself from smiling too. “I love you,” Jessamine said, her voice still quiet, as if speaking too loudly might ruin the moment.

“I love you too,” Corvo replied.

#corvojess #emily kaldwin #jessamine kaldwin #corvo attano #dishonored #potes wrotes #hope everyone's having an incredible day!

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someonefantastic · 4 years

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Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters on Their 2020 Bingo Card?

Forgot to cross post this yesterday whoops. Anways, we're getting so close to the end and I am both very excited and also sad to see this go. Oh well, at least we have four more days! I had such fun writing this, pining shules is such fun and I hope y'all enjoy reading this! Probably takes place between 3x13 and 3x16 Heavy T rating due to slight nudity and some innuendos but it's still SFW. Also warning for scars/past trauma (nothing too bad though) Summary: It was all Shawn's fault, that much Juliet was sure. It was his fault they were stuck in the woods in the middle of the storm and it was his fault they'd have to find a way to get warm. Unfortunately she was having a very hard time staying mad at him... it was probably the hair. also on ao3 ___ It was all Shawn’s fault.

Or at least, that’s what Juliet told herself as she trudged up the river bank. It was rainy and wet, a mixture of mud and leaves sloshed beneath her toes. Her shoes had long disappeared, swept away by the raging waters and she mourned the loss of those heels. Her clothes clung miserably to her skin doing little to protect her from the onslaught of rain pelting her. Groaning, she brushed her soaked and tangled hair out of her eyes.

Behind her was another groan as Shawn waded towards dry land. Reaching the grass she turned around, hands on her hips as she watched him peel himself from the river. If she hadn’t been pissed at him she may have admired the way his flannel clung to his skin, revealing a surprisingly toned upper body or the messy damp hair that hung just barely over his eyes. But those were memories for a different day because she was fuming.

“What the crap was that Spencer?” It was more of a demand than a question and he squinted up at her.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mad at me for saving your life?”

She shook her head, scowling. “You didn’t save my life, you almost killed us!” She paused for a moment before deciding to add, “Plus I had that guy!”

Throwing out his hands he began to walk towards her, “Jules please, he was about to shoot you. It was either a bullet or the river.”

She humphed, turning away from him. “You still could have killed us.”

She heard him sigh and a hand was placed on her shoulder, “Jules, I’m sorry. I panicked and made a rash decision. I just… got…” Another sigh, “scared.”

Her anger froze as his words struck her. He was scared. She had seen a lot of emotions from him over the past few years- knew he could be kind and gentle in addition to his usual brand of eccentric- but she had never seen him scared. Truly scared, not just running away from a supposed ghost or a suspected murder. More importantly, he was scared for her. Her heart twisted, emotions that she’d felt before but never paid much mind starting to bubble to the surface.

“I forgive you, Shawn,” She started, turning around and offering up a small smile. “But next time, let me make the rash decisions. I am the one with the training after all.”

He gave a nod. “Deal.”

Thunder rolled in the distance and she found herself frowning yet again. It had been raining for three days straight- an anomaly for typically warm, sunny Santa Barbara- and it seemed like another thunderstorm was upon them. She looked around, trying to get a sense of their surroundings but she recognized nothing, the rain doing little to aid her quest.

“I think we’re lost.”

He spun in a circle, eyes darting around. “Agreed.”

She gave another heavy sigh, and shivered, her wet clothes barely defending her from the frigid air. “I guess we’ll just have to lay low for now. Hopefully, they’ll send a search and rescue team out soon or the rain will die down.” A violent shiver wracked her body. “But for now, we should find some way to get warm.”

“Aw man the one time I didn’t bring a tent to a crime scene.” He joked and she rolled her eyes.

Spotting a nearby pine tree, a small smirk broke out across her face, “We don’t need a tent.” She trekked towards the tree, ignoring his confused looks. “You don’t happen to have a knife on you do you?”

Still bewildered he reached into his pocket, producing a small swiss army knife. “Never leave home without it.”

She raised an eyebrow, admittedly a little impressed by his forward-thinking. Taking the knife from his hands- and ignoring how her fingers tingled as they brushed against his- she started breaking and cutting down pine branches. Shawn soon jumped in, following her lead as they gathered the material. Once they got enough, she then began leaning them against the trunk of the tree, forming a tent-like structure.

When they finished, she stepped back, hands on her hips to admire their work.

“Wow,” Shawn spoke up from beside her, “That’s amazing that you know how to do this.”

She shrugged, “I was a girl scout.”

“Doesn’t change what I said.”

She turned her head, ready to thank him but her eyes went wide as she noticed him shaking violently. Glancing down at her own hands, her worry tripled as she watched them tremble.

“We need to get warm.” He said, staring at her with concern and she wondered if she looked as cold as he did.

She nodded and beckoned him into their makeshift shelter. It was a tight fit, the design leaving them with little wiggle room. She wound up face to face with him, their chests pressed together and their noses inches from colliding. A shiver ran down her spine- though not from the cold- rather it was from his warm breath ghosting over her skin. It smelled like pineapples and mint and it took every bone in her body to keep her from leaning forward and tasting him herself.

The air hung tense around them and she had to duck her head, attempting to break the hold he seemed to have over her. This had been a very bad idea. Why on earth did she think that being near Shawn would be a good idea? She was trying to avoid these feelings for pete’s sake. They had been dancing around each other more and more as of late. She was attracted to him for sure, a realization that had hit her after football pants and charming smiles and coming to terms with the fact that she didn’t hate flirting with him. But she couldn’t act upon it. She wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, it wasn’t their moment.

He shivered against her, snapping her out of her thoughts as she examined how his face had gone unusually pale. Her own body was freezing, a permanent chill that seemed ingrained in her bones. This wasn’t working. They needed to get warm faster. If one or both of them got hypothermia, it would cause their bad situation to get even worse.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what she had to do but hating that she had to do it. With a sigh, she opened them, biting her lip. “Shawn… we need to get warmer.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk breaking out over his face. “Detective O’Hara, are you asking to cuddle with me?”

She shook her head, beginning to shimmy out of their shelter. His face dropped and he sat up slightly, looking at her through the opening. “Jules, I was joking, I didn’t mean to make you leave.”

Rolling her eyes, she sat back on her haunches, pulling off her suit coat. “Yes, Shawn we can cuddle.” Her tone was exasperated but she couldn't help but inwardly smile as his eyes lit up. “But-” She held up a finger, effectively silencing whatever flirty remark he had, “we need to do something else first.”

“What-” The question died in the air, his eyes going wide as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Jules…”

Heat began to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks as she watched him stare dumbfounded. She took a deep breath, attempting to quiet her nerves. “Skin to skin contact is the fastest way to get warm. Plus with our wet clothes, we’re just waiting for hypothermia to set in.” That was good, that was logical and she couldn’t argue with logic.

Unfortunately, he could. A sly grin spread across his face as he got out of the shelter. “Just admit you want to see me naked.”

She shot him a glare which promptly lost its effect as she shed her shirt, his eyes lingering on her newly exposed skin. “Not naked. We’re keeping our undergarments on. This is purely professional.”

“Understood.” He nodded, pulling off his flannel. “Just two co-workers cuddling half-naked in the woods... super professional.”

Sighing, she cocked her head to shoot him another look but froze at the sight of his bare chest. His baggy shirts really did not do him justice. He was surprisingly toned, fit in all the right places but not overly muscled. Running from bad guys sure had its perks. He had filled out nicely, no longer the skinny lanky guy that she had first met- she didn’t mind Shawn then but now… he could get her hot under the collar with just one look. His arms looked particularly nice and she wondered what it’d be like to be held by him.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, trying to rid the hundreds of nonprofessional thoughts that were racing through her mind. Now was not the time to be imagining the guy you had to cuddle with for warmth in some not exactly appropriate situations. When she opened them again, he was staring at her curiously, clad in just boxers and she suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

“Jules please, I know it’s a lot to take in but try to control yourself.” He was joking of course but it did little to stop a blush from forming across her cheeks.

She removed her pants quickly, not giving herself any more time to think before getting back into the shelter. He crawled in behind her- taking some time first to pull some extra branches over the opening and situate their clothes at the entrance- and lay down in his previous spot. They weren’t as close as before but it was close enough and she felt her face heat up again. He was very attractive from afar but now… up close… she almost forgot how to breathe.

The two lay in almost silence, wind swirling around outside of their shelter and an awkward tension hanging over them. He was staring intensely at a spot above her and she couldn’t help herself from taking advantage of the opportunity to look over his body. He really was toned, and smooth, and she wondered what it’d feel like to run her hands down his chest.

Closing her eyes, she tried to ward off any more unprofessional thoughts with little avail. When she opened them again, her attention was caught by a faint scar in the middle of his rip case. It was long and thick and faded yet still there and she knew it was from heart surgery. She wanted to ask him about it, wanted to know his secrets and dive into his past but she also knew now wasn’t the time.

Her brain instead switched to her own scars and her stretch marks- bullet and knife wounds, cuts and scrapes from broken bones or on the job injuries- and she shifted uncomfortably, arms moving to cross her chest, suddenly self-conscious. She wanted him to think the best of her but it was hard when her body was so broken and worn.

“I’m sorry Jules.” His voice snapped her attention back to his face, eyebrow cocking at his expression. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened and she realized that he noticed her shift in mood, though he drew the wrong conclusion. She shook her head, “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. This was my idea after all.” Biting her lip, she avoided his eyes. “Besides... I’m not uncomfortable because of you.”

He made a little sound of curiosity but didn’t say anything else, clearly waiting for her to continue and she sighed hating having to be vulnerable before him. “I’m just… maybe… a little…” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, “self-conscious.”

His eyes widened, “Jules...”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid.” She was quick to backtrack. “I see these scars and marks and I just think I’m broken and I know it’s not true but that’s just how I feel.”

Eyebrows creasing, he adamantly shook his head. “It’s not stupid at all. I know feelings suck sometimes…” She looked down again and he sighed. “Look Jules, I have a giant scar on my chest.” He gestured to the area, making her cheeks tinge pink. “It’s the part of me that I like the least but so far in my life barely anyone’s thought I look ugly with it and if they did, then it was their loss. It’s part of who I am no matter how much I dislike it and it tells a story. I’m sure your scars do the same so you don’t have anything to worry about.” She offered him a small smile.

“Besides, I think you’re… I mean you’re… well-” He bit his lip and hope rose in her chest, curious to what he’d have to say- curious if this was their moment after all. “You,” He finished and the moment ended.

She was quick to recuperate from her disappointment, shaking it off and smiling at him. “Thanks, Shawn.” The smile turned playful. “And if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re not too bad yourself.”

In a flash his signature smirk was back, eyes dancing. “It’s the hair, right? Girls dig the hair.”

She laughed, “Sure. It’s totally the hair.”

Chuckling, he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. Suddenly, she found that it was very hard to breathe. Her body was pressed flush against his, noses inches away from touching. She was so close she could see the splatter of freckles over his nose, flecks of brown in his eyes, the stubble that lined his chin.

“Sorry,” He muttered but his eyes showed no sign of regret.

“You need to stop apologizing.” Her voice was low and husky and frankly, she wasn’t sure how she was able to speak.

His eyes flickered from her’s to her lips. “Noted.”

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would it be slow and soft, their lips caressing in a gentle dance? Or would it be hard and fast, as if they never wanted to breathe again? Her stomach clenched, heart beating so hard that she thought he might feel it through her skin. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair or down his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against her palm. To pepper little kisses across his scar and see that Shawn Spencer that he didn’t dare show to the world.

But she couldn't kiss him. Not today.

Today they were just two co-workers, lost in the woods during a thunderstorm. They weren’t dating, she wasn’t his girlfriend, they were just friends. Friends who had to snuggle half-naked for warmth but friends nevertheless.

“Shawn…?” She asked, breathlessly.

His voice was barely a whisper, “Yeah?”

She swallowed heavily, trying hard to get the words out. “I guess we should get to the snuggling part.”

“Well...” He shrugged goofy grin back on his face. “If you insist.”

They shifted as best they could inside the small shelter, maneuvering so that one of his arms was under her- just above her shoulders- and the other was wrapped around her upper back as he held her tight. Her arm hooked around his neck, the other going to his lower back. They were even closer than before- something she didn’t think was possible. She could feel the heat from his body spread through her own and she wondered what it’d be like to get to sleep next to him every night.

Their gazes were fixed on each other, an unspoken tension between them. She was transfixed by his eyes, captivated in a way that she never wanted to be free from. The line between friends and more than that was there, so evident and begging to be crossed with one simple kiss. She could do it, she could kiss him and change their lives but a clap of thunder caused her to jump a little, effectively destroying her resolve.

Now just wasn’t the time. Instead, she ducked her head, resting it against his chest as he tucked her under his chin. His breathing was steady, peaceful, and combined with the rain and the warmth in her chest, she found herself growing tired.

“Good night Jules,” He whispered and she wanted to reply back but the next thing she knew she was fast asleep.

When she woke, she'd have a world of problems and emotions to sort through but for now, she was perfectly sleeping next to Shawn. It turned out, being held by him was so much better than anything she could dream of.

#whumptober2020 #no. 27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #psych #shules #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #fanfic #nudity tw #innuendo tw #scars tw #past trauma tw #pining #skipps writes #psych fanfic

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