#cause they dont grasp that distinction or think they actually know him

[quarterprioritymidnight]

and also abt fan interactions, i do think it’s weird when fans act like or feel like they know the guys and say things out of pocket sometimes. i know they’re mostly joking and it’s all in good fun but like (sorry for bringing it up again lol) even with dan’s mustache, ppl telling him or messaging him directly on twitter saying to shave it off bc they don’t personally like it was super weird to me. like obviously it’s funny to say things like that i guess and they don’t mean any harm but idk sometimes these same fans talk abt him like they know him so maybe that’s why i find it weird and plus i think dan has said how insecure he is all the time i’m sure he doesn’t want to hear ppl tell him things like that (he probably doesn’t see it all or care but still) and like obv ppl can have their opinion but they don’t have to say it directly to him like they know him lol

people were dming him about his moustache??? jesus christ what is wrong with people. ok lots of thoughts so im going to put it under the read more thing lol

but yeah i completely agree with you. its a funny thing cause i think theres that sort of internet culture humour of being really like blunt or 'savage' and the weird thing about fandoms is that people are almost looking for recognition from other people in the fandom or to become a like 'big name' in it, which sometimes seems to come at the expense of the person/people the fandom is built around.

james acaster talks about it really well here i think and i also know the lead singer of waterparks was on about blocking 'fans' who were literally just constantly saying rude things to him to try and get a response and he said something along the lines of like if you've got a friend who just says mean things about you they're not actually a friend they're just a bully, which like yeah

i agree tho like everyones allowed to have an opinion and stuff but it does bother me how some people speak about dan sometimes. i know its not meant to be that deep but also like its literally his face why should he care if some twitter user a decade younger than him doesnt like his choice of what he does with his own facial hair??? it doesn't matter??? stop just insulting a strangers appearance cause you think its funny wtf lol

[justalittleficsideblog]

Care for a dance?; Itadori Yuuji

Prompt: Satoru holds a sort of prom for students, you anxiously wait for Yuuji. But when he arrives, he says some things you’ve been waiting to hear forever.

pairing: Itadori Yuuji x fem!reader

genre: Fluff!

Word count: 1,583

This is my first ever fanfiction, I hope to get better in the future but I hope you all enjoy! <3 also, if you would like to make requests, feel free to do so!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made your way across the dance floor, eyes glued to the entrance as you waited for that one pink-haired boy to walk through. 

You sighed heavily, leaving against the wall, drink in hand. 

Damn sorcerers and their dramatic antics

You chuckled beside yourself. It's not like you yourself were not a sorcerer, you were quite skilled in the cursed arts, in fact. However, in an attempt to give the tech students a sense of “normalcy” from other schools, Satoru decided to have the students set up their own mini prom. You were against the idea at first, alongside Medumi (although you weren't sure if he was actually listening to what Gojo had to say in the first place), but Itadori’s eyes practically glowed at the idea of a western-type dance. 

“Please y/n! Doesn’t it sound fun?? A dance and lights and music and--”

“Fine, yuuji,” you sighed as Satoru beamed in contempt. You quickly turned away from Itadori’s puppy eyes. But you couldn't just say no to him, and you weren’t quite sure why. 

Because you like him dumbass

“Oooh, so does this mean we get to see y/n in a dress for once?” a mouth appeared on the side of Itadori’s face, cutting off your train of thought.

Itadori slapped his own face, hard.

“Aww,” you teased. “Does Sakuna want to see some skin?”

Itadori blushed, but quickly slapped a hand over his arm as it spoke, “No, well of course, but it would be nice to see Yuji here get all flustered.”

“S-shut up!”

You laughed, as much as a threat Sakuna was, you had to admit he had his quirks. Itadori glanced toward Satoru in a silent plea to change the subject. The teacher complied, laying out the rules and dress code for the event.

“Hehe, have fun with this one kids, I'm off to do some sight-seeing.” and with that he turned and walked off.

“This is pathetic, why do I have to get wrapped up in this shit,” Megumi growled, also striding off toward the direction of his dorm. 

You heard a distinct whispering from behind you, which you assumed was most likely Sukuna saying something to Itadori. When you turned back around, said pink-haired boy made brief eye-contact with you before quickly looking away with his hand on his cheek.

---------

That interaction led you to where you were now, leaning against the wall alone in a dress that made you feel like suffocating. 

Well, you thought. At least I look good

You wondered what Itadori would be wearing, would he think you looked good? Would he even notice you? Or would he steer himself in the direction of a taller girl with a nicer ass? 

You sighed, shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts.

“It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“Oh? What doesn’t matter?” 

You choked on your drink as you turned to see Satoru looking ravishing as ever in a black suit, leaning over you with his drastic height.

“Oh- uh, … nothing in particular,” you swallowed thickly.

Gojo smirked,”Well if that’s the case… he should be here shortly by the way.”

You scowled at your teacher as he chuckled and dashed off while you heard expensive shoes click clack against the polished floor. Megumi and Itadori had arrived.

“Yo, y/n!” Itadori waved while bouncing excitedly. Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a once over before taking off towards where Satoru wandered off.  You had to admit, Yuuji looked….well, good. Really good. The dress shirt he wore fitted him perfectly, accenting his hair and eyes as he moved even in the slightest.

He cleaned up well.

Itadori came up to you, snack in hand, stopping in his tracks as he got a good glimpse of you. “You look, uh, well- you look really--”

“You look smokin’ y/n” Sakuna made yet another surprise appearance on Itadori’s hand.

“Ahh! Nevermind him, sorry I was just going to say--”

You Interrupted,  “So I don't look smokin’?”

His eyes widened and he took a step back, “N-no, I just think you look… pretty.”

You cackled, noise being drawn out by the music blaring and flashing lights decorating the space. “Relax, Yuji I was just teasing.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat, releasing the tight grip he had over his hand where Skuna’s smart-mouth was. His eyes glanced over your form, noticing how the dress fell over your frame.

“It sure turned out kinda nice, huh?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“Yeah… the music is amazing too! I dont think ive heard this song before.”

“Really? It’s such an overplayed song in my opinion.”

Yuji’s face grimaced, “Ill be right back, hold on a second.” 

Your smile fell as he walked away, but quickly you became confused as he wandered up to the DJ, whispering something in his ear, looking back at you and smiling.

The pop-song had ended just as he made his way back to your side. Your stomach tingled as he approached, turning as he stood flush against your shoulder. 

“Hey y/n… uh,” he kicked his foot against the ground a second.

Wait… there's a slow song starting, did he-- no way, your eyes widened at the realization of what he had requested at the boothe. No freakin way--

“Do you wana dance?” he choked out, practically shouting so he could be heard above the speakers blasting soft notes across the stage. 

You stared at his outstretched hand in surprise, you thought your little crush had been completely one-sided. There was no way-

“y/n?” 

You snapped back into reality, he was asking for a dance, it didn't mean anything, right?

“Y-yeah, of course!” you stammered, tripping over your words.

Thank god it’s dark in here

He beamed, grabbing your hand and leading you out onto the dance floor. He hesitated a bit with his other hand, nervously laying it on your waist where there was a bit of fabric covering it. He seemed to choke back some words, opening his mouth and closing it promptly as your body was held flush against him.

Your face was red hot as you fell into place against him, linking your hands around his neck. Which felt surprisingly strong. 

“Uh… anything on my neck?” Yuuji glanced down, peering at you oddly. 

“O-oh, no nothing. Just lost in thought I guess.”

He smiled, which caused your chest and stomach to practically be set on fire at the sight of it. You needed to get your shit together.

“Hey,” he began. “You… look really pretty tonight. And, yeah I know I already said that, but like ya know… i'm glad you came.”

“Well,” you start, trailing your hand up his neck. “ I couldn’t disappoint Sukuna now could I?”

Yuuji huffed, obviously irritated at the mention of his crazed possessor. 

“Yeah … well it’s not like his compliment actually matters.”

You chuckled, admiring the way he looked down at you, swaying your bodies in perfect synchrony. You admired the features on his face, trailing down to the little freckles and marks underneath his eyes.

Damn, you bit your lip, he’s really attractive.

“O-oh?”

You froze. Ah shit, did you say that out loud?

Yuuji looked down at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

Thankfully, the slow song came to an end and you let go of him. But, Yuuji’s arms stayed locked in place, not letting you out of his grasp so easily. 

“You really think that?”

Your stomach churned, chest tightening in the realization that yeah, you said he was cute.

“W-well,” you stammered, looking everywhere but him. “I mean.. Maybe..?”

Finally letting go, you both walked back over to the dark corner where he found you.

“Do you wana go outside? It’s kinda stuffy in here..” You trailed off, still refusing to look him in the eye after your previous embarrassment.

He followed after you, grabbing the door for you and holding it open so you could pass through first. Glancing up, you noticed how beautiful it was outside. Moon casting a beautiful glow down on the both of you, you caught his eye.

“Listen, uh y/n.” He blushed, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head nervously. “I really want to get something off my chest..”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him, causing his own heart to skip a beat.

“I- I think I really like you. And, I don’t mean it in a friendly way… well obviously not in a creepy way, but; I just catch myself wanting to be near you, and I think about you all the time”

He glanced at you quickly before looking out ahead of him, your gaze burning into him.

“I… just really want to protect you and kiss you? Is that weird? God, that’s weird. You know what nevermind this was stupid. Listen, I need to go--”

You grabbed his hand before he would run away.

“Come here you big idiot.”

Mustering everything you had inside of yourself, you grabbed his cheeks and slammed your lips on top of his. At first he was frozen, his biggest fantasy finally coming to life. He eased into the kiss, hugging you closer to himself as he cupped one half of your face.

Pulling away you giggled, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

He smiled dreamily down at you, eyes glazed over in a sense of euphoria.

“D-do you wanna do that again?”

You grabbed his face once more, smiling into the kiss. 

“Fucking finally,” Sukuna’s mouth grinned from the side of Yuuji’s face.

[tigerdrop]

king u gonna elaborate on virgin benrey

 listen i have kiryu “is 100% a virgin at the ripe old age of 37, and this is appealing to me instead of fucking hilarious″ kazuma disease and it has followed me here. also this kind of branches into a completely different kink at the end b/c i am diseased

so you know how i write "obviously fucks good and hard all the time" benrey. well........you know.......like..........what if......................he didnt. what if he was. what if he had never fucked before in his life and his incessant flirting finally works and hes like "i did not expect to get this far."

envision, if u will, the delightful awkwardness of virgin benrey + "has never had sex with a dude before" gordon

ive definitely brought up the possibilities of gordon going all science-brain on null benrey before but i think it works just as well on virgin benrey too. its a learning experience for both of them and if theres one thing gordons good at, its research. and gordon probably gets way too up in his own head about making sure he does this shit right and spends a lot of sleepless nights googling "how to have sex with dudes" and, you know, researching, 

if benreys not the one fucking babying him thru his first gay experiences he is probably going to bungle it so fucking badly and i think it would be really funny 

alternatively please consider gordon being so fucking neurotic about benrey never having done this shit before that he avoids the subject as hard as possible, thinking that hes gonna dick it up hardcore, but the whole time benreys just thinking "bro i havent had my dick touched in [however long hes been alive]. come on". the tension

furiously making out with him behind a fucking crate in black mesa and then realizing this is Going Places and gordons voice breaks as he says, way too loud, "I GOTTA UHHH GO RELOAD MY SMG. RIGHT NOW"

you think gordon is touch starved ? no. Hell with this 

Im just tsying theres no evidence hes been touched at all by another human being in his life before this. if hes video game in real he benrey noclip out of being touched 

what if he like, chooses not to noclip/not feel....ON that time gordon catches him. just cuz hes curious, a gay impulse. or maybe hes so surprised (and gay) he forgets to avoid it

and oh, to be in gordon freeman's gentle grasp. makes him into an unholy annoyance of awkward gayness for the rest of the series

YEAS.......also he has definitely thought hard about sucking gordons dick but doesnt actually have any idea how he would go about it. hes just heard its cool

giddy thinking about the scenario where its actually benrey whos terrible at sucking dick b/c hes never done it before and gordon who actually does suck dick like a champ

i know that this is literally the plot of the very first serious nsfw fic in this fandom but still. virgin beney. benrey getting sucked off for the first time in his entire life and shaking like a fucking leaf......

Power trip of Gordon realizing this guy whose been hitting on him the whole time has no idea what to actually do 

Gordon Freeman Gives Benrey A Prostate Exam

its a joke but its not a joke. virgin benrey being vaguely aware that being fucked by gordon freeman would be cool, in theory, but not fully conceptualizing of how you actually get a dick in your ass until gordons like "what?? no, dude, you cant just stick it in there" and gives him a demonstration and thats how benrey discovers he has a prostate 

benrey like "idgi man this just feels weird. when do we get to theohhh my god what. what that" and gordons like "what, u mean this?" (curls his fingers again) mean smirk hours

i want him to make a squeaky little noise when gordon says that and curls his fingers again, and gordon's like "ha- knew he'd like it" and keeps kneading him a while; but oops, suddenly benrey's coming with an even squeakier noise 

gordon's so surprised he just keeps going, hes like, not comprehending until benys whining at him to stop

a thought: benreys not good at "being human" and probably doesnt actually know whats supposed to happen when u nut so every time hes been jackin it he just does it until it starts to be Just A Little Too Much and then hes like "mission accomplished" and stops. imagine his fucking surprise when  gordons jerking him off and he doesnt stop and hes like "wh ha hu what the fuck i already got off bro" and gordon just stares at him and the distinctive lack of cum on his hand and s like ".......did you?  you sure about that one." 

tl;dr benrey squirming and babbling and digging his fingers into gordons back as he begs him to keep going, he doesnt know whats gonna happen and hes feeling totally overwhelmed b/c gordons pushing him further than hes ever been pushed and he keeps inadvertently trying to wriggle away b/c its So Much but gordon, maybe, pins down his hips so he can get benrey off For Real....... 

even better if its when gordons sucking him off for the first time so he can wrap his arms and hands around benreys thighs to keep them spread wide open and firmly in place 

knees shaking and thighs jumping constantly 

and benrey has no idea when its supposed to be over so he cant even warn gordon properly. he just keeps getting louder and louder....... 

maybe even.......completely hunched over gordon......pushing him down on his dick with his hands in his hair....... 

alternating between babbling "stop" and "dont stop" b/c hes stupid 

eventually gordon gets so sick of benrey not being able to decide whether he wants to shove gordon onto his dick or yank him off that he just pulls off and says "look, man, do you trust me?" b/c he would really like to just get benrey to stop edging himself here 

UNINTENTIONAL OVERSTIMULATION.......THE TEARS........HHHHHHH

and he eventually gets benrey to nod furiously at him that he trusts him and gordons just like, okay, im not gonna stop then. im gonna keep going. and.......he does 

eyes glazed, hair sticking to him with sweat, hips all twitchy, dick all red, face also all red 

sucking benrey dry until hes over sensitive....... 

He started off spasming then he’s rocking into Gordon’s face by the time he’s wailing his name. Panting and gasping like he’s fucking DROWNING 

gordon meanwhile almost nuts in his pants from the fuckin show that benreys puttin on for him and hes not even trying. hes just Like This. gordons got jerkoff material for the next month just thinking about the way benrey wails his name and clutches his hair tight 

benreys like (slurred) 'u gonna jack off or sumn.......was it not hot'. gordon fighting with every cell of his body not to scream "WAS IT NOT HOT?"

trying to decide what would be hotter: gordon jacking off while hes on his knees with his head resting on benreys thigh or jerking off on benreys stomach and.....r.......rubbing it in

benrey watching gordon cum and feeling a whole new context for it cause now he knows how good it feels and gets turned on again faster-

thinking.......about.......th. next time. now that benreys figured it out. he gives it a try on his own time and hes so surprised that it works that he goes up to gordon like "yo. check this out. i figured out how to jack it" and gordon has the most unimpressed look on his face imaginable 

"proud of you, buddy. am i good to go back to watching storage wars, or" "you wanna uhhh.....wanna see it maybe?" and that changes his entire tune

imagining benrey being so fucking bad at it still that he keeps doing the start-stop shit b/c its so intense and hes not used to it and the thing that actually gets him to finish is gordon, pants down to his knees and fisting his own dick like he might die tomorrow, leaning forward and telling him that hes got this, benreys gonna come for him, right? come for gordon? 

gordon fucking telling him "dont stop" WRT jerking himself off and benrey just listening to him and pushing himself is ruining my fuckin mind 

its a really good thought......i love how it plays into non-human benrey having to figure out human stuff........makes me crayz

probably keeps being sensitive for a long while too........ (mumbling very very quietly) and if hes so sensitive from never being touched before......maybe hes kind of........uhhh..................ticklish

new layers to the whole "oh my god its too much stop it" + "i actually dont want you to stop touching" thing .. . . .. . . . + gordon powertripping when he realizes whats going on with him and why he keeps jerking away and trying not to laugh when gordon touches him like on his stomach or his sides

benrey accidentally jerks too hard and knees gordon in the dick from how ticklish he feels just from like, hands on his sides or something

i was actually thinking about......like.......gordon laying on the ground and suffering (because why wouldnt i be thinking about gordon suffering) and deciding that enough is enough and offering to.......desensitize benrey. you know. for his own health

you know. uhhh. tying up his arms and legs, perhaps, and. you know. "do not noclip through these. i swear to god, benrey, if you kick me in the dick again" 

i'm think about benrey begging gordon to stop, so he does, to check if this is a Forreal stop or a "hahah nooo~" stop, and benrey asks him through gasps to keep fucking tickling him (except he just says smth to the effect of ."gh.. ....keep doing it dude wuhdah hell...") and gordon gets an evil fucking grin and just feels on top of the world "yeah?? think you can handle it, huh???" and just destroys him. benrey thinks about gordon's horny manic face for weeks 

neither of them had a thing for this before this point but the combination of feeling like hes being tickled and gordons hands on him for the first time making him mad horny gives benrey a brand new fucking fetish. gordons manic fucking face im so glad we are on the same wavelength about that

i truly hate my own posts. incurable. diseased

[lambroseforlife]

Rick and Lilly going to the fair please :)

I hope you dont mind, anon, but since this ask didnt specify for this to occur in canonverse or a particular time period, Im going to use this prompt as the FINAL installment for one of my previous prompts. To be more specific, the detective AU one (part 1 here; part 2 here). By popular demand, readers wished for a continuation so here it is.

— — —

“That one! I want to go on that one next…”

“…that’s my cotton floss! I’m telling Mum!”

“Johnny! Come back here right this instant! I knew we shouldn’t have come here…”

The two individuals weaved through the crowd of people in the park, narrowly avoiding the gaggles of screaming children. It was only when they had reached a quieter section in the area did the taller person decide to speak.

“Miss Linton, this was not what I had in mind for a professional meeting.”

The person in question grinned back. “But Mr Ambrose, this is an unprofessional location! Just right for an unprofessional discussion as you wanted, don’t you think?”

He did not deign to reply, simply choosing to glare ahead.

“Plus,” she insisted, “it’s so noisy people won’t hear our conversation. They’re too busy paying attention to everything else in the fun fair.”

She glanced around, her focus on the various striped booths and their brightly painted signs.

“With the noise, we can barely hear each other.” Her employer dryly remarked.

“If that’s the case…then maybe we should stay closer together for efficiency.” She murmured, sidling right next to him until their arms were touching. She looked up at him with a pair of warm eyes. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr Ambrose?”

His sea-coloured gaze bored into hers, suddenly intense. They flickered lower on her face for the briefest of seconds and then back.

“Perhaps so, Miss Linton.”

It was most likely her imagination but did his voice sound slightly hoarse?

“But first things first.” She broke off eye contact, looking back towards one of the booths from earlier. “Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

— — —

While Miss Linton stood in line for food, she asked her boss to find a place for them to sit. She had just received her food and started to look for him when she spotted him standing against an empty booth not too far away. With his significant height, he towered over the crowd. The same could not be said for her, however, as he did not notice her approaching until she was closer.

“There is no place to sit.” He informed her.

“Then we’ll just stand and eat.” She looked around the empty booth. “We’re not in anyone’s way here so this is fine.”

She unwrapped the lengthy package and carefully broke off half of it, holding it out to him. “Here, you have half.”

“I told you before, Miss Linton. I’m not hungry—”

She scoffed. “Knowing you, you probably didn’t eat much today. And this entire sandwich is too much for me to finish. If you don’t want it, then it’s going to waste.”

She raised an eyebrow and he took the half-sandwich, only starting to eat after she did.

They ate in comfortable silence, save for the distinct crunching noises each time they bit into the stuffed baguette.

Miss Linton took longer to eat, taking slower bites. She was halfway through her sandwich when she glanced up and saw that her companion had finished his meal.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, her mouth full of food. “Yer alrery rone earing?”

“Yes, I don’t like to waste time.” Mr Ambrose shot her a disapproving look. “Don’t speak with your mouth full, Miss Linton.”

She swallowed, gulping loudly. “I prefer to savour my food when I get the chance to, thank you very much.”

“Less talking, more eating.”

She glared at him but complied, nonetheless.

Once she had finished, she promptly threw the empty wrapper in a trash bin nearby. “Ahhh, that was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was adequate.”

“Let’s go and explore the rest of the fair.” She started to head towards the direction of the other booths.

“Wait.” A voice called behind her. She turned to see her boss regarding her with an unreadable expression.

“Yes, Mr Ambrose?”

“Miss Linton, you seem to have forgotten the original purpose of our meeting. You said you had some questions for me. Aren’t you going to ask them?”

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “No.”

“No?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. But I think you have. I already asked you what I wanted to know yesterday, Mr Ambrose. I’m just waiting for you to answer.”

Silence. She continued.

“But I don’t think you’re ready to quite yet. So I will wait until you are.”

“And what if I’m not ready today?” His eyes glinted in the dim lighting.

She smiled and shrugged. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to hold more ‘professional meetings’ until you are. Don’t you agree?”

She didn’t wait for him to answer as she grabbed his hand. He stared at her, frozen. Her smile only grew wider.

“But for today, like you, I don’t intend to waste time. So we’re going to see the rest of the fair since we’re already here.” She began to tug him back through the crowd, leading the way.

Others around them stared as they passed by, small children in confusion and young couples in amusement.

She could feel the disapproval radiating behind her from him and she chuckled. Her head turned back towards him with a smirk.

“Live a little, Mr Ambrose!”

In response, he pulled his hand out of her grasp, letting go, and he grumbled in a tone too low for her to hear. However, she barely registered his actions as her eyes fell upon something. They widened and in the next moment, she was sprinting through the throng of people.

“Excuse me! Oops! I’m sorry! Sorry, really! Pardon me, coming through!”

She squeezed through the small openings in the crowd, attempting to navigate to her destination as fast as possible. She ignored the gasps of outrage, definitely not hearing Mr Ambrose’s protests in the distance.

She stared up at the object on display hung up at the corner of the booth. Facing the man inside the booth, she called out to him.

“Excuse me! How much does this cost?” She pointed to the object hanging over her.

“‘Tis not fer sale, Miss.”

She frowned. “What do you mean ‘not for sale’?”

“‘Tis a prize, Miss. Shoot the balls off the bottles to win.”

Confused, she slowly looked up at the sign above the booth. ‘Shooting Gallery’, the letters read in bold, red paint.

“Oh.” Her gaze flickered the air rifle beside the man and the two shelves beside him— both evenly lined with five empty alcohol bottles and a ball sitting on each bottle opening. “How much to participate?”

“One ticket gives ye three tries, Miss.”

“Tickets? But I don’t have any.”

“Ye can buy them. See that big booth over there?” He pointed over in the distance.

“Yes.”

“That’s where they sell them. Come back when ye have them.”

“But how do I know this won’t be gone by then?” She glanced upwards at the object.

“It won’t, Miss. No one’s wanted it the whole day. Kinda surprised ye wants it, actually.”

“I see.”

“Why do you want that?” The deep voice came from behind her. Closer than she expected. Close enough for her stomach to flutter in recognition.

She whirled on her toes towards him. “Because I like it. Took you long enough to show up.”

“Well, a certain apprentice just ran into the crowd without warning.”

She leaned forward, her neck craning up to look at him directly. “Well, if a certain detective hadn’t let go of my hand, then there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

He cocked his head. “Indeed, Miss Linton?”

“Oh, yes.” She breathed out. “Indeed, Mr Ambrose.”

They stared at each other, their faces merely inches away from one another as they both said nothing, just merely studying the other pers—

The sound of someone clearing their throat was as effective as a bucket of cold water, causing Miss Linton to spring away from the person in front of her. She was internally grateful that her hair was loose, safely covering the currently reddening tips of her ears. Her eyes met the man inside the booth, who was watching them both warily. 

She nodded at him. “I’ll be back then.”

Miss Linton took off towards the ticket booth. She paused, inclining her head to the side.

“Let’s go, Mr Ambrose. I wouldn’t want you to become lost again.”

— — —

Twenty minutes later, they returned back to the shooting gallery booth. A small line had formed in the meantime and thus, they waited again. When her turn came, Miss Linton held out one small printed piece of paper and the man took it, handing her an air rifle.

“How many targets for what I want?”

“Ye have to hit knock over all ten balls, Miss.” He handed her the air rifle. “The corks are in this basket here. So you push the cork in like this at the muzzle, turn the rifle over and pull this lever here to load it. You do this for each shot.”

Clink. Clank. The lever locked back into place. He handed the loaded rifle to her and she hesitantly took it.

“Do you even know how to shoot?” Questioned the person watching behind her.

“Of course I do! I’ve seen it on the telly many times. How hard could it possibly be?”

Silence.

“Now for the first ball…” Her finger curled around the trigger and pushed down.

The cork flew out and hit the shelf.

“Hmm, that didn’t go so well.”

She struggled to load the rifle again but finally managed to before the man came over to do it again.

“Let’s try again.”

The second cork sailed through the air and into the back of the booth before disappearing out of sight.

“Maybe it’s just a matter of practice.”

For this case, it seemed to work with only loading the corks but not for shooting them. The other eight corks never made contact with the desired target. The closest Miss Linton had gotten was when one of them hit the base of the bottle.

“Two more tries, Miss.”

She wiped sweat from her brow. “Blast! The movies make it look so easy! Why isn’t this working? Is this game rigged?”

“It is not, Miss Linton. The fault lies on your end entirely.” Again, that infuriatingly cool voice spoke up again behind her.

She turned to glare at him. “My fault? How so?”

He stepped forward until he was directly behind her. Her heartbeat sped up.

“To begin with,” the murmur of his voice was nearer than she expected, “your stance is off.”

His arms grasped her shoulders as if he were handling something delicate, but still firmly manoeuvred her until she stood sideways.

“Legs wider apart.” The toe of his shoe nudged at the heel of hers until she complied. Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she tried to not think about how it made her press more into him. Which was just about as effective as trying to ignore his presence.

“Now,” his hand reached forward, pulling the rifle back.”The butt of the rifle should be resting against your shoulder. This hand is already positioned where it should be, next to the trigger. As for the other…”

His opposite hand covered the one curled around the forestock and slid it further away. Miss Linton could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“There. Now it should be easier to aim for the target. Relax your shoulders, they’re too tense.”

His hands settled on there, pushing down until she dropped them. They still stayed there, keeping them in place.

“Focus. Aim for ball using the barrel’s end as your guide.”

She took breaths to steady herself and pulled the trigger.

Bam!

The first ball fell off the bottle. 

“Yippee!”

She jumped and squealed in happiness. “I did it! I did it, Mr Ambrose!”

“I saw. I wouldn’t be too excited if I were you. You still have nine left.”

“Oh, right.”

Unfortunately, her luck was not as consistent for the following shots. To her immense disappointment, she only managed to knock two more balls over.

“One more try, Miss.”

After a moment of contemplation, she sighed and gave the rifle back to the man.

“Thank you, but even with a hundred more attempts, I don’t think I will be able to knock all the balls over. It was fun though.”

“So you’re giving up?” Mr Ambrose asked.

“What’s the point? I don’t have the experience to win anyway.”

“Regardless of experience, you’re throwing away an opportunity. Don’t forget it was me who bought the five tickets.”

“Because I ran out of money from the sandwich!” She protested. “Plus, you said you would deduct the cost of the tickets from my wages anyway.”

He gave her a look. “I appreciate the reminder, Miss Linton. But until then, these are still my tickets. I refuse to let you waste them.”

Stepping forward, he held his hand out to the man. “Rifle.”

The man immediately obeyed, looking at them both with widened eyes.

“Wait, Mr Ambrose. I forgot to load the cork—”

“No need.” He cut off the objections from his employee. “I know how to do it after watching you.”

Clink. Clank.

Bam!

Clink. Clank.

Bam!

Clink. Clank.

Bam!

This repeated in rapid succession as each ball was knocked off a glass bottle. Miss Linton gaped at her employer the entire time as he fired the corks and reloaded with mechanical precision.

Bang!

The ninth ball flew clean off and collided with the last remaining ball which in turn, bounced onto the booth owner’s shoes. He, along with the people waiting in line watched in shock. Mr Ambrose promptly handed the rifle back to him.

“I’ll be damned. Ye hit them all, Mister. Pick any prize.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He responded, spinning on his heel and marching off.

Miss Linton quickly grabbed the big stuffed animal and said goodbye before following her employer. She had to run to catch up before she lost sight of him.

“How…” Pant. Huff. “…is that…” Pant. Wheeze. “possible?”

He glanced at her but did not slow his pace. “It is. You just saw.”

“That’s not—” Gasp! “ — what I asked!” Her breathing steadied after much effort.

“I…” His jaw tightened. “I used to be a part of the police force, Miss Linton.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But even the other officers I’ve seen in action don’t have your aim and speed.”

He said nothing and her irritation grew.

“Tell me! Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

He opened his mouth but she interrupted.

“Don’t you dare use your police background as an explanation again! It’s something more, isn’t it?”

“Why did you want that ridiculous stuffed animal anyway?” He fired back. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

“But you got it for me anyway. Why won’t you give me an answer?” She tugged at his sleeve.

Abruptly, he halted. She almost crashed into him and so did the people walking behind them. They glared at them both but she could care less. Her eyes were focused solely on him and the storm roiling in his own as he glared at the ground.

His pinky began to twitch and after a very long moment of silence, he looked up at her.

“My father.” He finally answered. “He taught me.”

— — —

“You used to live in the country?”

They were sitting beside each other on a park bench in more secluded area save for the occasional passersby.

“My parents own an estate up in Northumberland. It was where I was born and raised.”

“So you come from a wealthy family?”

“I suppose so. I don’t know if that applies now.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“Nearly ten years ago.”

“A decade! Why such a long time?”

“I didn’t part from them on…the most favourable of terms.” His tone hardened at the end.

“What happened?” She pointedly looked ahead into the distance, afraid to see his expression.

Silence. A cautious glance downwards at his clenched fist told her that this was was a difficult topic for him.

She was about to move on to another question when he spoke.

“My father and I had our differences. Differences that only became obvious once I was older. As a child, I looked up to him very much. I wanted to be a son he was proud of. The things he liked— hunting, fishing and horseback riding became my pastimes. All to please him. Even though I held more interest in other activities such as fencing or reading.”

He sighed. “Over time, his expectations grew increasingly unreasonable. He wanted me to go into medicine or politics. But while attending Eton, I found that I wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement. Shortly after I graduated, I told him what I wanted to do. He was furious. He said that I would only bring disgrace to the family. He gave me two choices: obey him or get out. I chose the latter.”

“Wow.” She whispered. “That’s so…”

“Foolish? Rash?”

“I was about to say unfair. What your father did.”

“Ah, then yes. I’m inclined to agree.”

“What about the rest of your family? How did they take it?”

“My mother…” A dark edge crept into his tone and Miss Linton had to suppress a shiver. “She witnessed the argument. But she never said a single word the entire time. As for my sister, she was too young to understand what was happening then.”

“How old was she?”

“Around eight or nine. She was a child. I’m ten years older than her.”

“So five years younger than me.” She muttered to herself. “She must be graduating school later this year.”

“Most likely.”

“Hasn’t your family tried to contact you since you left? Not even once?”

“Much more than that. Back when I used to work in Scotland Yard, my mother would send letters every month to my office.”

“And?”

“I never opened them. There was no point.”

“How so?”

“It was too late for her to say anything by then. She should have done so that night.”

“So what happened after you left your home?”

“I came here to London. I was a naive boy then. Foolishly optimistic.” He scoffed. “I went directly to Scotland Yard and told them I wanted to work for them. Preferably as an officer but I would take any available position. Unimpressed, they had me fill out some forms and answer a couple verbal questions. They told me if they were interested, they would contact me.”

He paused in recollection.

“Nearly a month passed and no news. The money I had secretly saved up from working on weekends in school was almost gone. I was ready to give up and return home. In my desperation, I would have pathetically grovelled at my father’s feet to take me back. But it turns out I didn’t have to. The night before I was planning to leave London, I received a call from one of the officers. He told me that there was no availability for new officers but there was high demand for detectives due to a shortage. I accepted the offer and was immediately started training.”

“Did you consider working as a detective before then?”

“Not really, no. From the detective novels I read, I thought the situations were exaggerated. And I was right. When I was under training, I found the reality to be more mundane and repetitive. But what I didn’t realise until that point was how taxing the process was. Especially the paperwork. To save time, I forced myself to become ambidextrous for writing.”

“Huh. This whole time I thought you could naturally do that.”

“As a trainee, I met many of the staff at Scotland Yard. However, one person I was already acquainted with. Constable Daniel Dalgliesh. He graduated from Eton too. He was a few years my senior so we didn’t know each other that well. But he still recognised me. I told him about my situation and he offered me his place to stay. For the time being, I was living at a rundown motel. The salary of a trainee was not much and finances were tight.”

“So you lived with him?”

“For a while, yes. When my training was complete, he convinced the Chief Inspector to assign me to his unit so we could work together. I saved up for a few months after becoming a Detective Constable. From the salary increase, I had enough to move out to my own place.”

“How close are you with Dalgliesh?”

“From everything he had done for me, he was the person I trusted the most in the entire police force. Perhaps even in the entirety of London.”

Miss Linton raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It did not escape her notice that he had used past tense.

“Most of our cases were assigned to the East End. The war had just ended, so there was an increase in gang activity  Our unit was made of newer hires so we were scrapped with brunt work. But we didn’t mind so much. Like fools, we were more eager to prove ourselves above anything else. I suppose it worked. Within the year, Dalgliesh was promoted to Sergeant.”

“What about you?”

“I wasn’t promoted until two years later. As Detective Sergeant, my duties became more administrative like Dalgliesh’s. We saw each other less at work and more outside of it. Usually on the weekends for a meal while we discussed cases. Fast forward to four years later and by then, he was already Inspector Dalgliesh. My rank increased to Detective Inspector that year. I had assumed that my record of solving cases was what had earned me the promotion.”

“It wasn’t that, was it?”

“It was part of it. But not the only reason. Six months later, I was assigned to a certain case. It was wide-scale regarding the disappearance of numerous young ladies in multiple cities. I had assumed that they were all separate incidents initially until further investigation. I discovered that not only were they connected, but also all committed by the same person. I was so close to tracking the culprit when I was suddenly instructed to drop the case by the Chief Inspector.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I wanted to know. I asked him but he would give me no explanation. He told me to not ask any more questions about it. There was something he was hiding and I wanted to find out what it was. When I told Dalgliesh about it, he was acting…suspicious. Like there was something he didn’t want to tell me. When I kept asking him about it, he finally admitted that the same thing had happened before to him and other officers too.”

“How come?”

“He never said it directly but he implied that the higher ups were…persuaded to drop the investigations for certain cases.”

She stared at him in horror.

“No. No! You can’t possibly mean…”

He turned to look at her and she let out a defeated sigh. “I see.”

“Indeed, Miss Linton. I was furious when I found out. But like Dalgliesh, my hands were tied. I tried to move on to the other cases. However, my anger grew over the next few months. At that point, I could not handle it any longer. I submitted my letter of resignation to the Chief Inspector.”

“How did he react?”

“With disappointment. He told me that he expected better from me. Especially given how Dalgliesh had all but begged him to promote me.”

“He did what?”

“I didn’t want to believe it either. I couldn’t. Accepting it meant that I had to accept that Dalgliesh was no different from the higher ups that bent the law to their own will. Without telling him or anyone else, I quietly took my things from my former office and left.”

“And then?”

“A week later, he banged on my apartment door demanding to talk to me. I let him in and he yelled at me for leaving. He asked me why but I couldn’t tell him. Not after what he did. I knew he didn’t have bad intentions but…”

“It went against your principles?”

“Yes. His anger at my silence resulted in him telling me that I had thrown away my only chance to make a name for myself. Then he stormed out. The next time I saw him after that was when you first met him.”

“When he stopped by the office?”

“Yes. Anyway, his parting words on our previous meeting made me think. I wanted to prove him wrong. So I decided to open my own private investigation agency. Where I was the one in charge. No one could tell me what to do but myself.”

“I see. What about the case you had to drop? Did you ever find out who was behind it?”

A muscle began to twitch in his jaw and a dark emotion crossed his eyes. “I did. It was the first thing I secretly investigated after I opened the agency.”

“So who was the culprit?”

Silence.

After a minute passed, Miss Linton took a more direct approach.

“It wasn’t Dalgliesh, was it?”

“No.”

“Do you think he knew who it was?”

“I do not know, Miss Linton. Nor do I wish to.”

“If you knew who it was, then why didn’t you go after them?”

“Because,” he ground out through gritted teeth, “all the evidence I compiled earlier had been incinerated. Even though I was working by memory, it wasn’t enough to convict the person. Not to mention, the disappearances had stopped by then. If I continued to pursue the case, then I would only face trouble from the police.”

By the arctic tone of his voice, Miss Linton knew to not push him further on the subject. He was not going tell her more about it.

For now.

She changed the topic. “So, um…earlier you asked me why I wanted this so badly.”

She held up the big stuffed animal sitting in her lap. “Do you still wish to know why?”

Silence. She decided to take that as a confirmation.

“A few months ago, I decided to celebrate when I moved into my new apartment. I bought myself several bottles of alcohol and chocolate bars. I ended up drinking too much and well…”

Still silence. She continued.

“When I was in a drunken state, I saw yellow piggies. They looked very much like this fellow here.”

She squeezed the plush cheeks of the grinning yellow pig.

“I just wanted a memento of that night. I was so happy, the happiest I had ever been in years. But because you won this for me, it means even more to me now.”

He still said nothing but at her words she could see his fists unclench and some of the tension leave his jaw.

She scooted closer. Cautiously leaning over, she slowly rested her head against his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

For the rest of the hour, they stayed together like that, unmoving.

— — —

They had decided to use the remainder of the four tickets on the Ferris Wheel. Otherwise, Miss Linton had argued, it would be a complete waste since the tickets couldn’t be used elsewhere or refunded. Her employer had conceded and thus, they sat across each other in a passenger car. The transparent windows allowed for a full view across the park and it was where the two passengers’ gazes currently lay, both appearing to be lost in their own thoughts since their previous conversation.

“Mr Ambrose?”

“Yes, Miss Linton?”

She turned to look at him, his posture tense but his facial expression betraying nothing in the slightest as he still gazed down at the park.

“Do you know why I was so insistent on working for you when you first offered me the job?”

His head turned slowly to meet her earnest eyes, his own slightly narrowed.

“Enlighten me.”

“How much do you know about my family?”

“More than you think.”

“So you know that my younger sister and I live together, but separately from our other sisters and our aunt and uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why we live separately?”

Silence.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’. For the past few years, my aunt staunchly believed that for taking care of me and my sisters since our parents died, our payment to her was marrying rich husbands. That way, she could have social connections and potentially money.”

She glanced out the window, uncrossing her arms. “My older sisters had no problems finding husbands. But I refused from the start. I never wanted a life like that. For my aunt, I was always the troublemaker. We never got along well to begin with. That only doubled her determination to marry me off to some man at first chance.”

His expression was still blank as he stared at her wordlessly. She gulped and her voice grew softer. “Then you offered me a job. I saw that as my ticket to freedom and I took it. I moved out from my uncle’s house shortly after saving up for a bit. I brought my younger sister along as well. She and her beau have been in love for a while now.  But she knew that my aunt would never accept him and that after my departure, she would be next in line for an arranged marriage.”

Miss Linton grimaced. “Of course, my aunt threw a fit. But what else could she do? We were both of legal age already. Me getting a job inspired my younger sister to pursue a career too. She’s now attending beauty school to be a hairdresser so she can save up and marry her beau.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I just…” She trailed off, sighing. A moment of silence reigned as she looked out the window. She turned back to meet his unwavering gaze again.

“Yesterday’s case, with Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald.”

“What of it?” He asked.

“Once I went home yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to stop but my mind wouldn’t let me. I think I know why now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She swallowed hard. Her fingers gripped the front edge of the metal bench, knuckles whitening. “Because if I hadn’t met you, would Mrs Fitzgerald have been me? If I hadn’t been able to leave my uncle’s place and was forced into a marriage by my aunt, would I have been the same as her? As selfish as she was, I know that if I was in her situation I would have done the same.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She blinked. “You…don’t?”

“No. Miss Linton, given your tendency for stubbornness, I think that you would have found another way to avoid marriage by your aunt, regardless. Mrs Fitzgerald tried to use money to cope with not being able to decide for herself. But you— you would never let others decide for you no matter the benefit. Otherwise, you still wouldn’t be here working for me. Otherwise…tonight would have never happened.”

She stared at him for a moment, completely taken off-guard. She exhaled a shaky laugh. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Mr Ambrose.”

He nodded.

The ride came to an end and they were guided out of the passenger car by an attendant. After descending the platform back onto the grass, Miss Linton checked her wristwatch.

“Oh my, it’s gotten pretty late. I suppose we should leave now.”

“It appears that others are.”

He was correct. The crowd had dwindled and many of the remaining guests were beginning to leave, with some of the booths already shutting down and packing up. The evening at the fair was slowly, but surely coming to an end.

— — —

They were walking back to her place side by side at a brisk pace. Their breaths appeared in tandem from the chilly winter air. This time, there was no conversation as they felt comfortable, but strangely somewhat anxious at the same time to speak. The evening had been…eventful to put it mildly and both could sense that something had changed. As for what it was, they were unsure.

Their steps slowed when the familiar faded brown apartment came into sight. They stopped in front of the entrance, both glancing at each other. She hugged the stuffed yellow pig tighter to her and she turned to face him.

“Well, I suppose this is farewell.”

“It is.”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow then?”

“You will.”

She shook her head and smiled. Her boss had certainly mastered the art of not mincing words.

“I had fun tonight, Mr Ambrose.”

“Did you now?”

“I did.” Her expression reflected nothing less than sincerity.

His mouth said nothing but his eyes conveyed more than enough emotion as they intently gazed into hers. Miss Linton felt something tug at her chest.

Reaching forward with her arm, she laced her fingers with his, gently squeezing his hand.

“Good night…Rikkard.” She whispered. For some reason, her mouth had suddenly become dry.

He stiffened. Then…

His fingers slowly curled over hers, squeezing back.

“Good night, Lillian.”

— — —

And that’s it for the detective AU! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. I’m a sucker for fluffy moments if you couldn’t tell by now.

Merry Christmas to all that celebrate it! Regardless if you do or dont, I hope that you have a wonderful day and week! I hope you liked reading my holiday gift to you.