#in that red suit of his she'd look great

[blorboazula]

y'know what? I like toxic Tyzula might write some sort of killing stalking AU with them.

[wineauntie]

WHEN WE MET THE WORLD STILLED – quinn hughes x singer!oc

masterlist

summary: quinn hughes finds himself enamoured by someone he’s convinced is far out of his league.

note: your honour, I love these two!

warnings: none really!

word count: 1.8k+

Juno Blackwood had absolutely zero idea about the logistics of hockey as a sport. In fact, if she hadn't been invited to Rogers Arena to perform the national anthems and a quick interval show, she probably wouldn't have even given the sport a second thought.

Her red-heeled, signature cowboy boots clacked across the cement floor as her head swivelled to look at everything her assigned tour guide, Michael had pointed out. She was half-listening, her thoughts more focused on running through various lyrics for her performance– she hadn't meant to zone out but it had just been so easy to.

"And obviously, we managed to get our hands on a jacket for you to wear for the anthems," the man guiding her spoke, snapping her out of her daze. "We figured the jersey mightn't be up your lane."

Feeling a sudden wave of doubt, Juno glanced down at her beige, afghan jacket that just brushed her knees. She wore one of her typical outfits— her boots, a pair of red wide-leg pants and a loose white shirt with a deep neckline, loosely knotted together in the front. Those paired with a gold belt (that she was certain was a long necklace before) seemed to be one of the only suitable options she'd had in her wardrobe.

She wasn't made for the cold weather in Vancouver or the chilly atmosphere of the hockey arena, she was a summer child, drawn to the sun and its warmth.

"Not that your jacket isn't perfect!" Michael rushed to say in a panic as his eyes bulged. Juno had realised that, once again, she seemed to zone out from the conversation at hand. "It's really nice and all, but I know you expressed interest in some Canucks apparel and—"

"The jacket sounds great," Juno cut in kindly, her ring-clad hand placing itself on top of his waving one. "May I see it?" The man flushed and bobbed his head, rushing forward, as Juno kept her strides long to keep up with him.

At the end of the hallway, a group of three people stood, idly chatting. As Juno's heels clicked and echoed, the group's eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. Her eyes remained lax as she locked eyes with the man who stood between two women. His eyes searched hers, as they softened. Juno examined the man shamelessly, taking in his navy suit and beanie, so unlike the outfit she adorned. Her gaze travelled across his stubble to his sheepish smile and his eyes.

Juno hummed, her lips quirking up as Michael stopped in front of the group with her by his side.

"Juno, this is Charlotte and Andrea, our social team," Michael explained, gesturing towards the two women who stood with their cameras and phones out, yet Juno's eyes lingered on the nameless man. "...and this is Quinn Hughes, Captain of the Canucks."

"It's lovely to meet you guys, I’m Juno." She smiled, moving her gaze away from the man–Quinn, as she shook Andrea and Charlotte's hands first. She paused as she turned to shake Quinn's, his intense stare igniting something within her.

Quinn took her hand carefully, their fingers briefly brushing as he finally cracked a smile.

"I'm going to be showing you around from here on,"

Juno almost melted at the sound of his raspy voice, her head tilting as they kept their hands connected. Realising that she had yet to speak up, she cleared her throat and released her grip.

"Great," she offered up, her eyes flitting to Andrea and Charlotte. "And you guys will be coming along for the trip too?"

"Yes!" Andrea gleamed, her eyes twinkling in excitement. "We have a few things planned, so Quinn will be taking you on a tour of the locker rooms as well as presenting you with a jacket."

Juno's eyes jumped back to Quinn, who seemed to be solely focused on her face. She cleared her throat and folded her arms, trying to block out the cold that infiltrated the arena surrounding her– although the heat stemming from his stare was creeping up her spine in indescribable warming sensation.

"You'll also get to meet some of the other guys and we'll try to linger in the background taking photos as subtly as we can," Andrea finished explaining, recapturing Juno's attention.

"You've got it all planned out," Juno commented appreciatively, "that all sounds perfect." She turned back to Quinn. "Well, I guess you're leading the way, Cap."

Quinn stifled a smile and gestured with his head for her to follow as he began to walk. "We can start with the locker room," he spoke, leading Juno further down the hall as she nodded and followed alongside him.

If Quinn's voice was a song, she wanted to listen to it on repeat because she knew she'd never get tired of it.

Now, Juno was no romantic, but with Quinn? He intrigued her...enraptured her attention and she couldn't place why.

"So, how did you get roped into giving me this tour?" Juno teased, as the media women followed close behind. "Lose a bet or were you sacrificed for the greater good?"

"Neither, fortunately," Quinn remarked, his warm eyes sparking with mirth. "I had to quite literally 'take one for the team' as the captain."

"You poor thing," She grinned, her lip jutting out in mock offence.

"That's not what the guys think," he mused, causing Juno's brows to raise in question. "A few of them begged to take you on the tour themselves." Quinn's confession caught her off guard, and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, I must be quite the hot ticket item around here," she replied, her tone playful and light, undeterred by his words as they reached the locker room door.

Like a gentleman, Quinn stepped aside and held the door open for her, warning him with a dazzling and warm smile. As Juno stepped inside the locker room, she was immediately hit by the smell of sweat, disinfectant and leather. Quinn was close behind her as she scanned the room taking in the rows of lockers adorned with players' names and numbers.

"So, uh...this is where the magic happens," Quinn sheepishly spoke, his hands in his pockets. "Well, most of the time."

Juno nodded, impressed by the organized chaos of the space. "It's got a winning kind of energy tonight," she remarked, moving closer to one of the lockers to get a better look at the jerseys hanging up.

"Well, I'd hope so," Quinn mumbled as she approached a locker on the far side which was labelled with her name and displayed a vintage, navy Canucks jacket with a red stripe down the sleeves and the logo on the back.

Juno beamed and ran her hand over the material, her fingers caressing the red, feeling rather glad for her coincidentally, coordinating outfit.

Quinn watched Juno with a soft smile, appreciating her genuine excitement, as he took the jacket off of the hanger and passed it over to her.

"Welcome to the team," he teased, handing her the Canucks jacket, the pair deaf to rapid clicking and flash of the cameras behind them.

Juno shrugged off her Afghan coat and hung it up on the hanger before she took the jacket from him, her fingers running over the material.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, slipping it on over her shoulders. It was slightly oversized but was comfortable and warm, two things she loved about clothing.

Quinn nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. "You're welcome," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

As they stood there, exchanging smiles, Juno couldn't help but feel a flutter erupt in her stomach as her eyes locked on Quinn's. There was something about him that drew her in, further and further.

"Well, how do I look?" Juno radiated a smile, breaking the momentary silence as she twirled.

Quinn watched her with interest, his eyes following her every move. "Looks good on you," he remarked, his voice soft.

Juno grinned, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. "Thanks," she said, heat rising up her neck. This was so unlike her, she never acted like this with men– or women for that matter!

"Hi guys, could we just grab a photo of the two of you?" Andrea's perky voice asked, infiltrating whatever moment she and Quinn seemed to be sharing.

"Yeah,"

"Of course!"

Quinn and Juno's words overlapped as the two of them scooted closer together. She plastered her biggest smile across her lips, her head tilting as they faced the multiple cameras facing them. They stood for another few minutes before they were allowed to move apart and move on with the tour.

"So, you're performing during one of the intervals tonight, right?" Quinn asked, glancing over at her as they walked.

Juno shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "I am," she hummed, "three songs during the second interval and then the two anthems before the match."

Quinn nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "Well, we're glad to have you here," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting hers. "And I have a feeling you're going to knock it out of the park tonight." Juno felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, and she couldn't help but return his smile.

"Why thank you, Cap," she joked, successfully hiding the blush she could feel rising to her cheeks as a flutter of excitement turned into a flurry of joy at the thought of performing in front of the crowd later that evening.

"Juno, we're being told to show you where you're sitting and then bring you back in a while to meet some of the players," Andrea read off her phone, her eyes apologetic at the order.

"Alright," Juno hummed before she turned to Quinn for the final time. "Well, Cap, it's been a pleasure, thanks for the tour."

Quinn felt a faint smile grow at her words, a small laugh escaping his lips. "The pleasure's all mine," he nodded, sticking out his hand once again.

As Juno accepted Quinn's hand, she couldn't help but notice the warmth that radiated from his touch. His hand was strong and reassuring, yet surprisingly gentle, despite the toughness of them as their palms met.

For a moment, Juno swore the clocks stopped and the world apart from them fell into the depths of space, leaving the two of them in their bubble. Juno felt another damned flutter erupt in the pit of her stomach, a sensation she couldn't quite explain but couldn't ignore.

As Quinn's thumb brushed over her knuckles, she couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over her. There was something about the way he held her hand – firm yet tender, confident yet gentle, a feeling that seemed to scream safe, as if she had finally found someone who understood her in a way no one else ever had.

Good Lord, Juno needed to take a nap or something. She was becoming soppy and unlike herself.

Pulling away, Juno followed Andrea out of the room, but not before flashing Quinn a dazzling smile, one that was quickly reciprocated by the man.

a/n: oh and this is her outfit + the jacket I envisioned her getting!

[saintmuses]

❝𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Michael’s Wife!Reader

Summary:

Y/N couldn’t stand Thomas Shelby, she could see him for what he was. A devil in disguise despite her heart went pitter patter with lust rushing in her veins whenever she saw him.

Warning(s): SMUT. Mentions of religion. Infidelity. P in V. Deaths. Slight possessive!Thomas. Minors, dni! Note: Y/N’s maiden name was Buchanan.

Word Count: 2k

Summer, 1930

She wanted to press the nuzzle of the hand rifle gun to his smooth forehead hidden by his peaky cap. She wanted to pressurize the cool metal to its skin until it caved to mold around the circular imprint. 

She wanted to pull her index finger backwards until there was an echoing sound of the bullet going straight through his brain. She would've loved to see the blood splatter all over his three pieces suit and a white collared buttoned shirt as he fell backwards until he was no more.

Thomas Shelby.

A businessman who was a member of parliament with decorated military history from the Great War, and her family-in-law who was and always had been a gangster dabbling in illegal trades.

Her red painted lips curled back in disgust, before the edge of the cigarette laid between, and she closed her lips around it to inhale the tobacco.

Something was not right with him. Even if he was the best businessman, the leader of Peaky Blinders in Birmingham where they live, even if he was attractive. 

Something was odd about him.

She noticed his eyes flickered to her as he stood by a couple coming into their seventies, conversing with them.

Her heart thrummed loudly when his gaze trailed down to her lips that held the cigarette.

Her lips curled into a form of a smirk when his pupils dilated enough to take over his blue irises.

She'd never admit to anyone but herself that she loved his icy eyes.

Her fingers pulled the thin rolled tobacco filled paper away from her mouth as she inhaled enough to fill her lungs before pushing the excess out into thick humidity air while she stared at him in return.

"Honey," a voice clear its throat behind her. She could see Thomas’ eyes narrowing at the presence behind her, and she nearly chuckled at the sight of his jaw clenching enough to see tendons straining against his skin of his neck.

What a lovely sight. She thought haughtily before turning her head to see her husband, Michael standing near her, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, dear?" She knew Thomas had issues with his cousin ever since he came back across the pond with her in tow.

His dark eyes flickered to her before jerking his head towards the door of the car a good amount of distance, "it's time to go."

"I will get in the car after I talk to Thomas," she turned her gaze to the driver's seat with a pointed look. Her husband's face flushed with acknowledgment before he nodded stiffly, then walked away.

Outside, he held all the power to their dynamic, but behind the closed doors, she had all the power in her hands, and her husband could have all the whores and snow he wanted as long as he was respectful towards her in their marriage.

Quite frankly, she did not give a damn.

She waited until the sounds of her husband's footsteps shuffling against the tall spineless grasses faded, then she turned around just in time to see Thomas sauntering over to her.

"It is a good afternoon, is it not?" He looked down at her with a smirk gracing upon his face. His voice was sinful, with a hint of accent as it rolled over certain letters.

The top row of teeth scraped the bottom lip of hers, enough to ignite a sting of pain in the flesh. Irritated, "yes. I enjoyed the...lecture you gave about how we need to be discreet. After all, you are a mastermind of deluding people into thinking you are just a politician." She all but snarled at him, flicking an unfinished cigarette in the grass, ashes still burning.

His tongue slipped out, lightly wetting the bottom lip of his. "Miss Buchanan," his voice purred softly at her maiden name, "I am not a mastermind." His eyes held amusement as he spoke a false truth they both know it was a lie.

"Mrs. Gray." She corrected him flatly. She didn't even want to know how he found her maiden name when she and her husband moved to England from the Empire state of New York a year ago. She was still irritated as she withdrew a fresh stick of tobacco from her purse, holding the filter to her lips as she lit the end with her metal pocket lighter.

He waved it off, snatching the burning cigarette from her fingers with his leather gloved fingers before she could inhale the cigarette, "it’s the all the same to me." 

She was pissed at his lack of etiquettes. 

Once a thief boy, always will be a thief man. She thought to herself.

"I will be watching you," her upper lip curled, revealing the threat as she stared up at him coldly. "You better not do anything...out of the line."

She found out she was the only one who could talk to him like that and got away with it as well.

His eyes flashed in return, not with anger but with pure unadulterated lust. Dear God, something unraveled in her stomach at the sight of the animalistic feral look in his gaze, just like the first time she saw him a year ago, and he was already watching her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said lowly, his voice rasped after he exhaled the smoke from the cigarette before she glared at him and turned her body to walk away.

"'Y/N-"

"If you're going to fuck a whore, then go ahead." She sighed as if she was tired. Sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her husband with a small smile. "You do not need to hide your infidelities from me." She said shrugging with indifference, observing the way he stared at her, unblinkingly before he reached for the door handle, nodding slightly before stepping out of their place.

She never loved Michael. Well, not in that way, but they only married to hide his shenanigans in the states especially when he held onto the stocks when the economy collapsed, and quite frankly, she wanted to leave that godforsaken city in America. Away from her father who loved her but was smothering her, and away from her mother who was unfaithful towards her father by messing around with men whose pockets were filled with banknotes.

She blinked when she heard the door shut.

I wouldn't dream of it.

I wouldn't dream of it.

It’s the all the same to me.

Maybe she'd fuck him out of her system then she would be able to see him clearer rather than an attractive man with an aura of danger surrounding him.

They were all going to hell, every single one of them. She just didn't care for the technicalities.

She moved her husband's heavy coat out of the way, only to flinch when there was a loud clang of metal hitting the wooden floor.

She glanced down to see a small hand rifle, and her heart stuttered at the sight of it lying there so innocently before bending down to reach for it.

She stared down at the small metal weapon in her pale palm as she stood back up, her fingers gripping the wood as if her life depended on it. In a way it was, but only for the others.

She inhaled before opening the front door, grabbing her purse along the way, stepping out in the light drizzle as the sky started to roll in heavy blue.

The sound of the door slamming behind her brought the sound of the echo of the bullet she would aim.

The Cross that was hanging on the wall, shook violently against the plaster as she threw her head back in the darkened room. 

"You're going to Hell." She gasped the words out of her mouth.

Her hips were tightly holding onto the body of Thomas who had his fingers digging into the walls. He was physically stronger than her by anatomy differences, but she was relatively small.

"And I will be dragging you down with me," he groaned breathlessly into her ear as his hips swiveled into her. Giving her a knowing look, and her blood froze. She sincerely hoped he did not know what she was planning to do.

"Oh God." She gasped into the air as the blood rushed through in her veins when he gave her a bruising thrust.

"You said my name wrong, sweetheart."  He rumbled before pulling her away from the wall with his hands wrapped around the curve of her legs to keep her against him.

He walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the wooden bench and stumbled onto it. Y/N already curled her fingers into his hair, pulling as she pushed her hips in a downward movement onto his cock.

"Just like that," he grunted, gripping her hips and she could feel how tight his fingers were pressing against her skin.

She gasped, throwing her head back as his lips latched onto her throat.

"Mine," he rumbled into the curve of her neck.

She nodded empathetically, "yours." She agreed. In twenty-seven years of her life, she wandered through life like a ghost. As if she wasn't there. Thomas was the only one who made her feel something.

It was also filled with regret that she had every intention to kill him. Like him, she did a little digging of his past, and found a lot of atrocities she could not let it pass or forgive.

"I wanted you ever since you showed up with Michael introducing you as his wife, and when you looked at me for the first time...I knew you saw something," he groaned, looking at her as his hips pushed upwards into her, "saw right through me as if I was an open book for you to see the sins I've committed. That's when I knew I had to have you." He gripped the grooves of her back through her shirt. "Unlike the others who were charmed by my façade, you just knew before I was introduced to you." He rumbled before withdrawing away from her neck.

She swallowed inaudibly, inhaling the heady but addicting scent of his as her eyes rolled back into her head when he'd hit a certain spot in her.

It wasn't love. It was lust filled with affection for him. The monster hiding in a sheep's clothing.

It wasn't pretty.

Her eyes then flickered to her fallen purse, with the moonlight casting through the arched windows, the metal glinted under the bright light.

Her walls clenched in response, and she noticed his thrusting patterns became irregular. She then reached over to her purse without distracting him, and quietly drew the gun out of the crack of her purse.

Before he could turn his head, she pressed her lips to his. His fingers tightened even more in response as his lips caved and melded with hers in a passionate frenzy.

"In another life, if we'd met under different circumstances, I would've loved you." She whispered into his mouth, and she heard him exhale onto her lips. "We would've been each other's."

Before he could thrust into her for the final time, she sneaked the gun between them, and when he got to the ending with a guttural groan, she pulled the trigger as she barely laid the nuzzle in front of his heart. 

Flinching when there was a bang echoed in the empty space of the church.

She then gasped in pain, pulling back from his face to look down to see a lone knife laying in his hand, with red liquid seeping onto his hands and trousers, but she knew what he did. She could see it in her sight, blood pooling around the clean but ripped hole of her dress shirt where her heart was at. 

She was in shock, turning her gaze back to his eyes. A mischievous but all-knowing look glinted in his icy depths. Her hand shook as she dropped the weapon. It clattered on the wooden pew next to them.

"Oh, I knew all about your plan to kill me. I could see it in your eyes." He smirked, his voice strained, and his blood staining the spaces in his teeth as the red liquid gurgled in his lungs. "I was going to let you, but I was not going to go down without takin’ you with me."

It wasn't love. It was lust, and it wasn't pretty.

[mrsstarkey1]

dress - drew starkey

SUMMARY: requested by @willowpains - a fic with drew based on the song ‘dress’ by taylor swift

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: none

You weren't sure when this thing between you and Drew even started. You couldn't even describe what it was.

All you knew was how you felt when you looked at him. What he could do to you with a simple glance. It was getting out of hand, you’d both admit that. You couldn't even be in the same room together anymore without giving each other the infamous "let's get out of here" look.

It was a miracle no one had noticed, especially your cast mates. It was almost comical actually, that they hadn't. You knew they were clueless simply because if they knew, they would never leave you two alone about it. Madeline in particular, would have a field day with the information.

Maybe it made sense that no one suspected it, because admittedly you and Drew were an unexpected pairing. You were as different as two people could be, at least from an outside perspective. You'd always appeared to the media as innocent, shy, reserved, in other words - completely opposite of Drew Starkey.

You never would have thought you could feel this way about him, about anyone, actually. The moment you saw him though, you realized just how insanely wrong you were. You were an added character for season three of Outer Banks, and Drew had been the first person you met on set. One singular look at him; dressed in a suit, hair buzzed, smile on his face, and you knew you were done for.

You became extremely fast friends, going out to eat after nearly every day of filming, sharing things with each other like you'd known each other your entire lives. Within weeks, you couldn't imagine your life without Drew, and you considered him your best friend. Until you quickly realized you were much more. The rest is history, really.

There was a small, teeny, tiny part of you that wanted to tell your cast mates, to tell everyone, but you just loved the excitement too much. The risk of getting caught was thrilling. The thrill fueled your relationship - physical relationship, that is - and God did you love it. The stolen glances and 'innocent' touches in crowded rooms, the everlasting feeling of anticipation, the perpetual desperation you felt to just be near him. There was nothing else like it.

But that small part of you had been coming out to play more often recently. You wanted him to be yours. I mean, technically he had been for awhile, but you two were the only ones aware of this. You found yourself wanting to make it known that you weren’t just best friends like everyone thought.

But for now, until you figured out what you really want, and what Drew wants, you were fine with the thrill of it. You even had a little game you liked to play - drive Drew as crazy as possible in the most public of places. You had your game in mind when you picked out the dress you were wearing now as you sat across from Drew. You sat in the limo with the rest of the cast outside the red carpet for the season three premiere, meeting his eyes every couple moments to see him already looking at you.

You glanced down at your red silk dress, innocently adjusting the V-line to display a little more. "Y/n, that dress is absolutely gorgeous!!!" Maddie said next to you as soon as she'd noticed your attire.

"Oh my god it's stunning!" Madison said from the spot next to Drew, leaning toward you to touch the fabric.

Chase, Rudy and JD agreed with a simple approving head nod and "you look good."

Everyone's heads turned to an uncharacteristically quiet Drew, who was oh-so not subtly staring at your neckline. He snapped out of it after a second too long, "yeah-um, you look great," he managed to get out, tearing his eyes from you and down at his phone. "Shouldn't we get out there?"

A couple looks were exchanged before everyone agreed, positioning themselves to get out of the limo and immediately onto the carpet. As soon as the door opened, you could instantly hear the screams of fans and the shutters of cameras. "Woogity-woogity baby," Rudy said to all of you quickly, before being the first one to step out of the car.

You chuckled to yourself, before pasting a camera ready smile on your face. You got out second to last, Drew right behind you as you walked closer to the chaos. Before you could make it to where the rest of your cast mates were, already posing for the photographers, you felt a familiar hand on your waist, followed by a low whisper in your ear, "what do you think you're doing?"

You turned your head just slightly, so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. "Walking toward the red carpet?" you said innocently, smile still plastered on your lips, only growing when you saw the fire in his eyes. Not an angry fire, a lustful fire. Exactly what you anticipated.

His grip tightened around your waist, and he flashed a smile and a small wave to the fans that had spotted you two. “Why did you pick that dress?” he practically whined in your ear.

You shifted your body around, leaning into him ever so slightly careful to not seem suspicious, craning your head up so your mouth was by his ear opposite of the fans. "So you could take it off,” you whispered so quietly you weren't sure he'd be able to hear it. Drew's eyes widened, his polite smile for the audience faltering as he let out a breath. You pulled yourself out of his grip, a proud smile on your face at the confirmation that he had definitely heard you.

You walked toward the middle of the red carpet with an excited wave of your hand toward the fans, leaving Drew to quickly compose himself in front of hundreds of people.

You didn’t see or speak to Drew for nearly the entire rest of the time on the carpet, and you just knew that wherever he was, he was losing his mind. There was a reason you’d picked tonight to wear this dress; it was the busiest night of the year for you and the rest of the cast. Meaning you and Drew would never be able to slip away unnoticed, and you knew that would drive him insane. And maybe, just maybe, it would put the idea in his mind that things would be better if the world knew about you.

Now, standing at the bar at the after party you couldn't help but search the room for Drew. You leaned against the bar, mindlessly downing the drinks the bartender gave you as you waited for Drew to make himself known. When you finally found him, he was already staring at you from across the room. You didn't know if it was the alcohol's effect on you, or just your desire to finally be with Drew in public that made you start walking toward where he stood talking to Chase. You were nearly within his reach, when someone stepped into your pathway.

"Hey y/n!" Madeline said excitedly, her loud voice indicating that she'd also found the bar.

Your eyes stayed fixed on Drew for a moment, who'd witnessed the interruption. You looked at Madeline with a smile, "hey Mads. Having fun?"

You fell into a drunken conversation with Madeline, and you'd be lying if you said you were aware of what you were talking about. When you saw Drew stifle a laugh after Madeline had made a joke, you realized he was within earshot, and a plan formed in your intoxicated head. You fiddled with the straps of your dress in an obvious way with an obnoxious groan. "This dress is so uncomfortable," you said to Madeline with a sigh, "I think I'm gonna go change."

Madeline nodded her head mindlessly, "yes, go change. I'll see you later!" she slurred, pointing at you with her index finger. You let out a laugh, and turned around to walk toward the bathroom.

You only made it about halfway to the hallway before being stopped by a hand on your shoulder. You smiled widely, immediately knowing that your plan had worked. He was like a damn dog on a leash.

You turned around quickly-maybe a little too quickly-because you practically crashed into him, a chuckle involuntarily leaving your lips. Drew steadied you quickly, placing his hands on your hips.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he said after a moment, only a slightly hushed tone.

You pointed behind you to the bathroom, “to change,” you said simply, a knowing smile on your face.

His eyebrow raised, “I remember you saying I would be the one to take your dress off,” he said with a smirk, leaning in closer to your face.

You kept your eyes on his, not even thinking about who could be watching this interaction. “What are we waiting for then?”

Drew smiled and wasted no time slipping his hand into yours, pulling you along with him toward the hallway. You leaned into his chest as you walked, unable to hold in your chuckle at his eagerness. As you walked, you caught a glimpse of a few people sending confused looks your way. “Drew, people are looking,” you whispered, looking up at him to check for a reaction.

Drew simply tightened his grip on you, turning his head to place a kiss on your cheek. “Let them,” he mumbled against your skin.

“It’s about time,” you said with an ear-to-ear smile.

As the two of you stepped into the bathroom, you heard the angelic sound of Drew’s hearty laugh and the click of a camera.

taglist: @rafes-bae @willowpains @maybankslover @addisbooks

REQUESTS OPEN!!

check out my obx masterlist || taylor swift song fics masterlist

if u follow me & reblog my posts i’ll do the same for u !!

[omnomnomdomcaps]

White Rabbit (Remastered)

Another story from before my Great Purge, this one featuring the wonderful work of @babyfluffybutt. Be sure to follow and support her awesome content!

Allie looked up in her egg hunt attire Card-suits and checkers adorning her frock, A bow in her hair and a thick-crinkled bottom, And bunny-ears hanging she swore she'd heard talk. 

Daddy spoke up, "Remember the rules now, "Five in the basket, and I'll give you a change." Allie first smiled as she tried to acknowledge, But as brain worked to process, well, something felt strange. 

“The tapes that you gave me…” she started to mumble, And tried to remember what she heard on the way. Three hours’ ride to his house in the country, And it was all such a blank, she asked, “what’d they say?"

Daddy - he chuckled, and paused for a moment "You're in for adventure - I'll leave it at that." He patted her head and he kissed the Red Princess And gave her a wink as he tipped her his hat.

Finding the first egg was pleasant and simple On the ground by a bush where she’d happened by chance But as Allie looked up from this one step completed, She departed the egg-hunt and entered a trance.

A flashback - the first time out here in the courtyard When Daddy's estate was like nothing she'd seen She'd known right away that these fields were majestic The one difference being - back then, they were green. 

She couldn't quite tell if her eyes were deceiving: Kaleidoscope purple, blue, yellow, and red. They found the girl slowing and drooling and dizzy Joining the chorus of swirls in her head.

Allie came to, but not halfway as focused And the next rainbow egg was much harder to get When she finally found and bent down to retrieve it, A jarring sensation - bum heavy and wet. 

“You’ve be-puddled yourself!” came the voice of the rabbit, And Allie's face reddened with cheeks in a puff. “You thought that you wouldn’t need diapers this journey, And now you should wonder if one is enough!"

“Nuh uh!” she harrumphed, crossing arms in denial, As girls of her sort are just so wont to do, She’d never been one to quite master the potty, But being so wet and clueless was certainly new. 

The rabbit teased on as their journey continued. The princess, for her part, continued to slip. And by the time that she added one more to the basket, Her childish denials had started to flip.   

"That's three we've got total," the rabbit reported, "If five is our target, how many to go?" But Allie just giggled as her cheek met her finger, Grinned, "I'm just a baby, sir! How would I know?" 

Hours would pass, and the fourth egg eluded, And twilight’s temptation was casting its spell. Tossing basket aside, the girl started yawning, And with a plop and a squish to her bottom she fell.

Her thumb joined her mouth and she sucked without thinking And giggled at shapes that she made with her toes. Daddy came out - it was near time for dinner - And caught her attention by booping her nose.

A week after Easter, effects still persisted. The mind alterations had taken their toll. Eyes followed Allie as she waddled ‘round daily Filling her diapers with zero control. 

And though it seemed scary she barely could focus, Got mixed up when counting, and struggled with text, She licked lips looking back at her Wonderland journey, And dreamt when she’d go down the rabbit-hole next.

[eunoiathewriter]

.☼︎. 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫; 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

— Mattheo Riddle x Reader

— Summary: Years later. Sixth year has started but what started as a calm week turns strange when Harry comes into the Great Hall all bloodied down and soon after cones Mattheo Riddle, in the same state as Harry?

— Word Count: 2.4k

— Prologue

— A/N: This is Chapter one to my new Wattpad book that I've just started. My Wattpad is @/eunoiathewriter on there too and the name of the book is "Alwasy, Forever"

For the past hour and half, y/n had been standing in a window of the hallway down by the courtyard. Why? Well, it just was absolutely hilarious to watch the first years try to make their way towards the Great Hall for dinner, only to walk in the wrong direction. It had over the six years she'd spent at Hogwarts become something she found funny. Or, to be honest, she did not really start the tradition before third year when she had spotted Fred and Gerorge Weasley doing it.

y/n had simply asked the twins what in the world they had been doing only for the older boys to help her into the open window towards the courtyard. Telling her to just watch the first years wander around in pure chaos with McGonagall in the middle of it, yelling out directions and just making sure students knew their way about.

But the fun had ended when almost all the first years had understood in which direction the Great Hall was in and made their way there. That was how she now sat in the Great Hall among all the other Gryffindor students, picking at her food. Quite bored.

It seemed that every year the first year students would shoot glances at the quartet from the red and golden house. Of course having heard of the boy with a lightning scar gracing his face and his three friends that always seemed to be in the middle of it all.

So the looks from younger students no longer affected them as Ron kept eating on without batting an eyelash at them. Hermione had just finished looking around as if she was looking for somebody.

y/n sighed as she took a last bite of her chicken, pushing the rest on her plate to Ron who accepted what she hadn't touched. "Do you guys think this year will be chaotic too?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was the case," Ron answered the h/c girl from his side of the table.

"I guess I would be more worried if something didn't happen than if something does happen." y/n said and Ron nodded along before going back to his plate with food.

Hermione turned back to the table with a deep frown creasing her forehead. It catches the attention of y/n as she looks at the bushy haired girl with a questioning look. "What is wrong, Mione?"

Of course, many things were wrong for her. Lavender and Ron seemed to have a thing going on, something that was shocking for it only being the first four days of school. Hermione was also constantly worrying for her muggle parents' safety with all that was going on.

"Do you know where Harry is, y/n?" It made the e/c eyed girl stop and think. No she didn't.

"No, I haven't seen him since potions earlier."

Hermione sighed as she glanced around the Great Hall again only to not see the raven-haired boy anywhere. Looking back at y/n, she shrugged her shoulders, but it was obvious in Hermione's eyes that she was quite worried for Harry.

Ron, however, continued eating and aimlessly looking around like nothing was wrong and that clearly didn't sit correct with Hermione. She picked up her potions book that had laid beside her and hit his shoulder, between every hit she said:

"Why," Hit. "Are" Hit. "You" Hit. "Not" Hit "Worried?!"

It made y/n almost wanna laugh, as Ron just turned to her with questioning eyes, then flickering over Hermione's shoulder as he seemed to spot something. Hermione's brows were still furrowed as she stopped her little outburst. Ron seems to think of a way to tell her off without angering her even more.

"Because he's right there, you lunatic!" Ron swallowed and motioned towards the Great Hall's entrance.

Hermione turned quickly, y/n following suit as she was just wondering where the boy had been. But as they turned, something was off.

Harry walked with his head down slightly, holding something up to his nose. As he passed some other students he got a few side glances. When y/n really focused she could without hesitation day that he was bleeding, whatever he pressed to his nose was bloodied down and his white dressed shirt had quite a few red blotches on it.

"What happened to him?" Hermione leaned over the table to see better.

"Why is he bleeding?" y/n turned and casted a slightly worried eye to her two friends.

Harry still kept his eyes low so as to not get any unwanted attention on himself even though that mission had failed, poorly. He let out an annoyed grunt as he sat down on the empty seat next to y/n, still pressing the cloth to his bleeding nose.

"What happens to your face?!" Hermione's overly protective side immediately came out just as he sat down at the table. "Who did that to you?"

Ron did not exactly look worried, he almost looked kinda proud as it seemed Harry was not as hurt as he could have been if he had now been fighting someone. y/n was inspecting his face from where she sat beside him, trying to just make sure that it was no more than a nosebleed. Eyes looking for already forming bruises, swelling, just anything that could indicate he should go to Madame Pomfrey.

"Does that honestly matter, Hermione?" Harry asked with an agitated tone of voice, picking up the goblet in front of him with water and taking a sip. Momentarily removing the cloth from his nose.

y/n was quick however as she reached over to take the cloth and hold it for him. Not the least affected by the red blood covering it.

"You disappeared without a word for almost two hours!" Hermione hissed at him.

"It's no use, Mione, he won't tell." Harry was happy that y/n had that little extra understanding for him. She knew when to stop pushing things and when he just would not tell any more.

Hermione shrank back into the seat with a sigh and started to flip through her potions book, trying to find the page with the homework for next week so she could already know the questions and then do it later. Ron had only stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder before he sat down and went back to eating and reading the Daily Prophet that laid on the table.

"Here, fighter." y/n joked as she pressed the cloth gently to Harry's nose again, having noticed a little blood starting to trickle down again.

It took the green-eyed boy by surprise as the cloth met his nose once more, eyes moving over to see y/n just sitting there with that gentle and sweet smile felt. He did not know why he had done what he did, it was not like him to be so impulsive. But it was just something about the way he had heard him, Mattheo Riddle, tell that no way in hell would he walk up and ask y/n to hang out.

Over the summer months, Harry had been thinking long and hard about things. For five years he had been close friends with y/n. Five years of adventure. Five years of laughter. Five years of a friend that understood him better than he almost understood himself. He was far from sure exactly how he felt for her, but he cared for her more than many others. He felt the need to make sure she would not be put in dangerous situations. That was where he had started to think that maybe... just maybe it wasn't friendship he felt between them. But how could he be so sure, him, Harry James Potter, the boy who never really knew his own feelings towards things and people.

y/n noticed the way it looked as though he was deep in thought, it caused a bigger smile pull on her face. Harry always looked a bit funny to her when he was thinking. She shook her head a little at him and carefully removed the cloth from his face to see if the bleeding had stopped, which made Harry snap out of his deep thinking.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No it's fine," Harry gave a tight-lipped smile to the Whittier girl as he took the cloth from her. "Thanks,"

"Good, it no problem— Bloody hell!" y/n moved her head so she could see better, her eyes had gone a bit wide, mouth slightly agape as she looked shocked behind Harry.

Her exclamation had made not only Harry, Ron and Hermione look as with confused faces but those who sat close to them too. That being Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, a few older students and some from the Hufflepuff table.

"What?" Ron was clearly quite perplexed at the sudden outburst from the usually calm girl. Looking around to try and spot what she saw.

"I think I found the other fighter." y/n nodded behind Ron and Hermione who sat with their backs towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "Look behind you."

And as they turned, sure enough, there he was. Mattheo Riddle has just entered the Great Hall and clearly noticed the quartet looking at him. His face was bloodiest down, blood under his nose drying and a scratch across his nose that was bleeding. Just like Harry's uniform, Mattheos were also bloodied down.

Harry glanced at the boy who he had a problem with ever since starting at Hogwarts. Sure, Mattheo was the son of the man who took Harry's parents from him but it still was strange as to how much he disliked him. Mattheo had never really done anything and was probably the least problematic of the Slytherin gang.

y/n could see Mattheo glare at Harry before he rolled his eyes and walked over towards his friends at the silver and green table. Clearly not bothered by the looks he got from other students. All of their looks different. Some were judgmental, as if they knew this was truly who he was. Some wondered since when he got physical with someone as Mattheo was more a verbal person than physical person. Some seemed intrigued, mostly the first years who were interested in all the older students.

"You fought Mattheo Riddle?! Are you mad? " Hermione leaned over the table with a baffled face but her eyes were stern on Harry.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."

"My question is why?" y/n cut in either wide eyes as she turned to Harry and awaited his answer. The boy only opened his mouth as if to tell her something, but after a second thought he closed his mouth and only looked at her. Quiet, not answering her question.

Not getting a response from Harry was something she never really got. Therefore not getting one made her shake her head and just turn away from him with an exasperated expression. Hearing the bickering between Harry and Hermione continuing and Ron chiming in at certain times only to then let out a yelp when Hermione smacked him with her book.

She then turned, upper body rotating so she could see behind her over towards the other side of the hall. She had the luck of no Hufflepuffs sitting right behind her so she could see over towards the Slytherin table better. But as she spotted the person she had been turning to see she noticed his dark brown eyes already fixated on her.

Mattheo didn't listen to his friends who were all asking to know how he ended up looking the way he did. Only pulling his arm away when Pansy grabbed it and tried to hold his hand. Not in the mood.

His eyes stayed focused on y/n as she had turned. She, unlike many others, looked at him with just a perplexed face and not one of hate. As if she were only trying to figure out what had gone down. Mattheos stare was broken however by Theodore Nott, his elbow meeting his ribs.

"The hell do you want?" Mattheo turned to Theodore who held up his hands in retreat and shook his head.

"You know, we're just checking in on our best mate, who looks like he lost by the way." Theodore sarcastically commented ro Mattheo who took a last glance at y/n, seeing her turn at Ron saying something.

"What the hell happened to you mate?" Blaise asked from the other side of the table.

Mattheo only shook his head and picked up his goblet to take a sip of water. Pansy turned so she sat faced fully towards Mattheo and looked him over. "Honestly, I don't remember your ever being someone to become physical when mad,"

"Maybe that's because no one gives me a reason to." Mattheo rolled his eyes at the dark haired girl, not seeing the look she pulled as she turned back to Daphne Greengrass.

"No but seriously, mate, was it you and Potter? He walked in not looking much better, although he still looked better than you." Enzo said from beside the sulking platinum blonde of the group.

Mattheo didn't answer and only continued picking out what he wanted to eat. For six, almost seven years he had known who she was. He remembered her as if they were nine just yesterday and he asked her about her book. Every day after that, he thought of her and just how sweet she was. Many times he had run off from the boys home to try and see if she were there, but he never saw her again.

Not until he saw her standing next to a bushy haired girl at the age of eleven. Only, when he introduced himself to her as they walked into the Great Hall and he happened to walk next to her, she only smiled and told her name to him. No recognition, but maybe that would hit her later. But it never did.

"Did it have with Wittiher to do?" Blaise then hit his head on the nail, causing Mattheo to stop and click his tongue.

"Maybe."

"Are you actually gonna do shit about that little crush of yours on her or just sit around this year too?"

Enzo got no answer, but Mattheo was sure as hell not about to not do anything. That he was sure of.

[sgiandubh]

Gleberman's podcast, take 2: the video edition

I volunteered to take one for the team, again, this time watching (or trying to, at least) the video version of Gleberman's infamous podcast on Youtube (if you are a masochist, like me, feel free: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_md73Ws2O4&t=303s). You see, I was so intrigued by the OTT praise that I wanted to see the live reactions. To do so, I even watched it at a 0,25 reduced speed ratio, just to catch up those pesky, spontaneous facial expressions he couldn't possibly hide.

Let's start with what we all know: in 10 years, S is much, much better at hiding his game and almost proficient at mastering the poker face. But if you really pay attention (and I did), you might still notice some interesting things: after all, we aren't robots and we can't calibrate or control everything. So, here's my take on what I saw, with screencaps, and covering only the bits I quoted in my first post (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/733285180488450048/and-kia-ora-to-new-zealand-like-youve )- the rest was really beyond my patience and goodwill abilities, to be honest.

A word and a question on the staging of this podcast, before anything else. I am always paying great attention to the outfits of the people who participate, because I believe they are an integral part of the show itself. While Gleberman's was, to be honest, unacceptably sloppy, S was right on point the message he wanted to convey, with the short-sleeved (?) khaki shirt that spelled three things: Bachelor. Traveler/Explorer. Tropical Chic. As a side note, I wish he'd been dressed like that in the Nevis resort suite snippet: not the usual Peter Panesque/Marty McFly/boyz in da hood outfit. But hey, that's just me, what do I know, after all, maybe the boy really feels more relaxed in those. Brand-wise, however, I will never cease to drum up the urgent need to step up the outfit game and start aligning it with the real age.

The other thing that intrigued me is common to S and C: their love of cupboards and hallways when it comes to playing the show/not show game on podcasts 'from home'. Because they know we watch and because they know, by now, we are probably worse than the MI-6, we're left with... eh... nothing. He apparently found the perfect solution with that sort of a connecting space he is always showing us, lately. Seriously, though, who the hell places himself in front of an opening (sliding door?) to a bigger room, except when wanting to block both the view and any other interpretation? Heh. Things that make one go 🤔.

Anyways. Let's have a look at some reactions I have screencapped:

Gleberman: 'same sweetest person and like an amazing human being'.

Translation: I am pursing my lips and bracing myself for the rest of the #silly compliment. I can't possibly express how much this annoys and embarrasses the bejesus out of me. But hey, Monica, have at it and let's be done already with this circus.

Gleberman: '...and friend to talk to and I just love you.'

Translation: I close my eyes because I don't want to hear the OTT crap this woman is shamelessly peddling around. I cross my arms defensively, because this is the best I can do. I really pray internally she'd immediately stop it, somehow (though I am fully aware she won't and this is just the beginning). She definitely overstepped a red line and I don't want to be a part of it.

S: '.I think there's...there's a lot of smoke and mirrors, this is ALL fake.'

Translation: I am talking with my hands to make a point (and also to show off the damn rings - oh, Lord, let them talk about these to oblivion, on socials). I am also covering my face with a gesture evocative of a smoke curtain, because ultimately I feel the need to protect myself from the smiling entity on the other side of my screen and because, at the same time, I know exactly what I did here. Oops, I just unleashed another half-in-jest zeppelin, that people could pretzel exactly how they see fit. However, it's true: my public persona is a carefully curated lie. Peekaboo, underneath I know very well what my committed truth is.

S: ' I am the double'.

Translation: I am opening my arms and I am puffing out my chest. There, I've said it. Ha! I am in full defiant mode, now. I meant every single word I just said and damn the consequences.

I wish I'd had the patience to watch it all. But I think I've managed to analyze the most interesting part of it. Overall, there was quite a bit of stress involved on S's side (lots of chin grabbing, etc), the only one I was interested in. She was simply not worth my attention and I doubt she, unlike many other people in the media, 'knows stuff'. If anything, that only served to validate my first impressions.

And yes, always look for the presence of the teeny-tiny abnormal detail. Sometimes (not always) it can prove rewarding.

[yona049]

𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕆'𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

On a earth across the vast multiverse Miguel O'hara leaves a wife behind to grieve for him, she takes on the roll of Spiderman 2099, little to her knowledge another Miguel O'hara is about to find himself on her earth.

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩🕸️𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

Disclaimer°˚

>mention of death/Funeral

>slight intrusive thoughts

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Miguel O'Hara. A son, A Friend... A husband." This was all Y/n heard before her ears started ringing. Her brain scattered as she looked down at the freshly dug grave and clean polished tomb stone.

This wasn't right at all. Her whole body burning with anger when she saw only one or two friends had shown up to her husbands funeral. They'll never know what he did for this city! The pain he drove himself through, mentally and physically. Nueva York wasn't and never will be thankful for all his efforts.

Once she returned home she dropped down on the couch wearing the black clothing soaked in the rain that continually poured outside.

A once Happy household filled with laughter or the occasional fight, felt quiet. Unlike the house, the city outside was busy, traffic ushers angry drivers to a psychotic honking fit. This wasn't unusual, tho it was more active since the once hero disappeared without a trace.

Feeling drained of all emotion, Y/n looks over to the still filled trashcan. Bandages and futuristic heath packs filling it to the brim. That one horrible night is what brought this nightmare to life.

Y/n stood up from the couch and walks right by the bin and down the hallway.

When she stops in the hallway and looks at a hologram picture of her and Miguel at some vacation resort, hanging on the wall. She clenched her fists and grits her teeth. "Lyla, open the door, please."

The holographic picture quickly switches off before suddenly swapping to Lyla, wearing her usual white fluffy coat and pink heart shaped glasses. As she floats in the air in front of Y/n, she slowly removes the glasses. "This room is for Miguel's eyes only-" Lyla is suddenly interrupted by Y/n's sudden loud exclamation. "Miguel isn't HERE anymore!" This makes Lyla flinch back before she finally sighs quietly. Her eyes fill with sadness and sympathy as the pixels she's made of slowly fades out. A small opening starts growing bigger and bigger from where there was once a wall and finally Y/n walks through the doorway.

Once in the room, Y/n looks around at the walls with an infinite illusion of blackness. Completely empty and void of any objects she quickly calls Lyla again.

"Lyla, show me everything. Every file, every piece of tech, everything in this room that's hidden." she folds her arms into a protective self hug.

Slowly the infinite void starts to fill up with furniture one pixel at a time. Bits of suites in the making, a Soldering Iron and a motherboard laying on a desk.

Digital monitors watching all corners of Neuve York. Among all the digital things was real paper pinned to a cork board.

Y/n walks up to it and gently runs her fingers across the red thread. Just like she'd seen in all those old detective movies. She followed the thread to each pin seeing alot of different news paper cutouts. Tyler Stone, Carnage and Proteus. All classic villans of the great hero Spiderman.

Y/n finally spoke after a long few minutes of stareing and thinking. "The fate of Nueva York rested on his shoulders. He broke bones, scarred muscle and almost lost his life numerous times! And these people barely bat an eye. His efforts for them, all of this for THEM!"

Y/n makes a sudden scratch across the cork board! Papers are sent flying and pins drop to the ground, red thread hooking onto Y/n's fingers. This was anger, deep and uncontrolled anger. She kept clawing at the board. Ripping everything off and to pieces not bothering to take a breath or stop. When the board was finally free of all it's pins and papers, Y/n stopped, out of breath and not bothering to flinch at the holes the pins left in her hands and fingers.

A few moments passed. Lyla took this opportunity to appear again. "Y/n, your hands will get infected. I suggest disinfectant, and ointment. Please."

Hearing Lyla's worried tone, she slowly looks up though the loose strands of hair. "Lyla, I'm sorry. I-I'm.." she trails off as the warmth of tears cover her red puffy face. She sinks to the ground, hands too heavy to lift. All she could do was cry. A messy bundle of black makeup, tangled hair and bleeding hands.

After her hands were bandaged up, she was sat in the secret lab in her home. Dressed in one of Miguel's shirts with a cup of strong coffee. She looked around once more, the suit on a mannequin. No blood on the holographic suit, Only a large gash of broken pixels on the chest.

She looks back at the monitors now streaming some camera footage of all dark ally's or known crime hot spots. Her ears perk when she hears two guys waking down a particularly dark street and talking.

"This Spiderman hasn't shown up in almost 3 days now! Absent punk is binging all hell back to the city!" says a man wearing an irish cap.

His friend with a cigarette between his lips snorts and agrees "Yeah! No kidding. Well, it's not like much changed, villains always came back after he supposedly 'saved the day'. What a waste."

Y/n look a deep breath and exhaled a growl, she tried staying calm, but the anger in her boiled up once again. Her eyes seemed to redden before she looked right at the holographic suit.

Y/n Aggressively Brings the mug down onto the table.

"Lyla! That suit can be shaped to any body type right?"

Lyla looks at Y/n, not sure what she's suggesting. "Yes, but it's still a little damaged."

Maybe it was a chuckle of anger that escaped from Y/n's rapid exhales and inhales, but this ushered her on to stand up quickly and walk right up to the much bigger suit.

"Let's change a few things then."

°°

The men on the street are still chatting the night away. Taking about how they could easily be the Hero! How that would get them all the girls and money.

The cigarette smoke from the man, drifts up past the harsh gleaming street light. This is where Y/n hid. Ontop of a streetlight, effortlessly balanced thanks to the suit she wore.

Atone to her figure, the suit was no longer fitted to Miguel's large shoulders. The large opening of pixels still remained on her chest right below the collar bone. But something was different, the once blue and red suit now flipped in color. A blue symbol for Spiderman and a fully scarlet body.

Listening, seething with anger. They undermine her husband so easily. In the moment she was ready to charge, to use a powerful blow against these pests who dare to complain.

But something stopped her dead in her tracks. A melody she recognized instantly.

A small song being played on a very old radio by someone down the dark ally by a dumpster fire. A song that was playing the night she and Miguel met.

She had been invited to a bar to celebrate a colleges promotion, still being relatively new, she didn't know alot of people from Alchemax.

The rain was falling onto the glass windows. The bar stood out among the white plastic and blue lined technologies of the future, because of its original wooden texture and orange lights. The bar's "vintage night" a mixture of music and drinks they used to use in the far past.

The band played vintage instruments, and there it started, a guitar solo with a slow pace.

One by one everyone went to slow dance, long time friends and colleagues laughing their way onto the dance floor.

Y/n watched from the corner of the bar, no drink in particular, just whatever the others got.

She looked down at her phone for just a second when thunder suddenly struck. She lost her grip and her phone went flying across the bar.

"¡Oye, míralo!" a voice exclaimed.

Y/n Quickly collected herself and rushed to her victim.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, the thunder caught me off guard!"

Her eyes land on the hand holding her phone and as soon as she grabs it she looks up into his eyes.

A very tall man with incredible build and intense stare. Brown, near red eyes looked down at her curiously before letting go of the phone.

Y/n brings the phone to her chest looking a little worried.

"Did it hit you?" she scans his face for any obvious brushes.

"No, I have really good reflexes." he finally speaks with a dark chocolate voice.

Y/n nods and reaches to put her phone in her bag.

"Again I'm very sorry-" The sentence gets caught in her throat before she could finish when another bolt of lightning strikes.

Miguel seems to notice her distress before delicately offering his hand.

"The music is louder on the dance floor. C'mon!"

A little taken a back Y/n smiles and takes hold of Miguel's hand.

Finally on the dance floor Miguel places his hand on her side and takes her other hand. She clears her throat awkwardly before placing her hand on his shoulder.

"First I throw you with my phone, now you have to inconvenience yourself with me."

He smirks at Y/n's remark and shakes his head quickly.

"Its really the opposite." they gently swing side to side with a respectable distance between them.

"I was actually looking for a dance partner to celebrate my promotion with."

Y/n looks back intro his eyes before finally feeling more at ease and smiles.

"Y/n L/n" she introduced herself.

"Miguel O'hara"

°°°

Finally being brought back to her scenes, Y/n looks back down at the men she was fully prepared to charge at.

Her breathing was rapid, eyes ready to bring down a thousand rain storms. She lifts her hand and the electric webbing shoots from her wrists.

Swiftly she lands on a rooftop but as soon as her feet connect to the ground her knees give way.

Finally she gives in to the waterfall pushing her eyelids and yanks the mask off her head. Messy mask hair and puffy wet eyes.

With the sunrise rising over the city, her cheeks gleam in the orange light.

"Miguel... How can I bring you back to me?" She whispered with barely enough energy to go above a whisper.

After some distant staring, her eyes get a flicker of an idea.

"The spider serum!"

[baby--charchar]

A writing blurb/wip/however you'd like to call it. TBH I'm more self conscious about actually WRITING OUT STORIES, so I wouldn't mind constructive feedback.

‘Charlie had a rough day’ was a blatant understatement of how horribly shit hit the fan that day. But you wouldn't know it just by looking at her demeanor.

When a random gang tried to rob the hotel that morning, she handled it. When the entire septic system on the 7th floor exploded, she handled it. When Vaggie and Angel got in a screaming match over his ever growing drug stashes, she handled it.

It seemed that no matter how terrible, scary, or unexpected her challenges got, she kept smiling, kept going like she wasn't bearing the weight of so much on her shoulders already.

Of course, everyone cracks eventually. In some way or another. Charlie would like to think that she was using age regression to help mitigate those cracks. When she was feeling little, it was okay if she threw a tantrum occasionally or get snippy with Dad or Vaggie. If she let out a little bit of the pressure at a time, in a safe space surrounded by safe people, she'd be okay enough to keep smiling the next day. Of course, things don't always balance out like that in the end, especially with how much energy Charlie spent repressing negative feelings.

Upon coming home to their suite on the hotel's highest floor, Charlie collapsed on the floor in front of the TV. Vaggie watched her calmly.

“You feeling okay, hun?”

Charlie shrugged and brought her fingers up towards her mouth. Vaggie caught that glassy look in her eyes taking over.

“Feeling little?”

After a pause, Charlie nodded her head. Vaggie bent down to kiss her cheek before stepping around her.

“Okay, Princessa. Let me grab your things. Can I call your dad, or do you want it to be just us tonight?”

“...Call Daddy.”

“Call Daddy. I can definitely do that.” Vaggie had Lucifer on speed dial for these nights. He loved getting to visit Charlie when she was regressed, and they've healed their relationship a lot the past few months together. He was also great to tag-team with whenever Vaggie need a break.

After a quick chat on the phone, Vaggie refocused on Charlie. She grabbed one of her favorite outfits to wear in littlespace: a red, long-sleeve dress with gold foil hearts all over it; soft, stretched out black leggings; fuzzy pink socks; and the only part of it that Charlie hated, a simple pink pull-up without any designs or characters on it. Charlie genuinely struggled controlling her bladder when she regressed. Vaggie thought that it may have something to do with her brain not communicating with her “big girl” body properly. But while Charlie definitely needed them, she hated having to use pull-ups with every fiber of her being.

Vaggie approached her quietly, sitting down beside her curled-up form on the plush red carpet.

“Can I get you dressed, Princessa?”

“Mm…kay…” Charlie hummed. Vaggie smiled softly and started unbuttoning her clothes. Pants, blouse, bra, then underwear. Charlie wasn't all that helpful in the process, but thankfully she let Vaggie roll her around a bit in order to wrestle all her clothes off. Vaggie slipped the red dress over her head and pulled her arms through. She already looked so cute in her favorite cozy dress.

Vaggie stretched the pull-up out and subtly slipped it into the leggings. With one swift motion she got them both over Charlie's bottom, and thankfully avoided any fussing or tantrums over the oh-so-offensive pull-up. Lastly, she slipped Charlie's socks on and undid her ponytail.

There, cute as a button.

Charlie sat up with a dazed look on her face.

“Oh, my little one is so tired this evening. It's been a rough day, huh?” Charlie quietly placed her fingers and thumb in her mouth. 

“Oh, nuh uh uh mi amor. I got your binki. Let's try that with a binki.” Vaggie slipped a bright pink pacifier into Charlie's mouth, but no sooner had she done that, Charlie ripped it out and threw it at the wall behind Vaggie's head.

“No!” Charlie snapped. Vaggie blinked.“...Okay. That's fine. But listen to me-  Charlie, listen- be sweet tonight. Daddy's coming over and you know you wanna be kind to him, right?” Charlie scowled at the floor. Vaggie sighed. Oh lord, here we go again. Rough days lead to rough nights I guess, she thought begrudgingly.

[majimasleftasscheek]

Honestly if it’s ok I would like to hear your thoughts on Kazumi? I’m having brain rot at the idea of Kiryu being a drag queen or gender-fluid and there’s like no one talking about it and I just wanted to know how you’d picture it because your goromi headcanon is just so well thought out- if this is a weird question or a hard one to answer I’m sorry it’s my first time doing this-

no worries, I LOVE talking about good shit like this 👀

SO KAZUMI

I don't particularly see her as genderfluid like I do Goromi but!! I do see her as a drag identity, just not as bold as the former.

Kazumi in a sense is very much how I interpret Goromi - that being she's pretty much the same dude but now in a wig but with a few changes.

she'd for sure have a Kiryu-esque seriousness to dressing up as in treating it like some kind of mission than a more casual thing. she'd have to be reminded like yo this ain't a substory, you can put your lipstick on without the concentration of someone fighting for their life.

in a way being Kazumi is a sort of break for Kiryu. he HAS to chill out and it's rough at first but eventually he's like okay, this is okay, I can just be

she's even more quiet and reserved than Kiryu already is, preferring to be left alone. it's a mix of not exactly knowing how to feel in drag and general internalized embarrassment so she's not up to being social about it. there's certainly an uncharacteristic lack of confidence on her part and needs a bit of encouragement to really feel like she isn't looking ridiculous.

Kiryu seems like, a by the book type of guy, due to his upbringing and general way he carries himself, so putting on drag is very alien to him. like, he can certainly see other people doing it. but himself? wild. that said, he's bold and fairly immune to what people think of him but something about being Kazumi, for a good chunk of time, is very intimate, especially if he's around people he knows.

when she's with people she trusts, that's when she starts having a good time, maybe even being a lil bombastic then immediately covering her mouth when she laughs too loud. but if her present company comforts her, she'll be happy to let slip a more excitable version of herself. it helps knowing that, for the time, she's just someone else and that someone else can do whatever the fuck they want. it's even better that few people would recognize her, let alone even think a guy like Kiryu is Kazumi at first glance.

Kazumi is a bit of a tease, a bit more sensual. not flagrantly obvious but it's there, with the way she sways her hips and looks at you with those beautiful eyes™ that say everything and anything you wanna hear. Kiryu's a very reactive type of guy, doing this and that because of something else. Kazumi however takes the initiative in little ways as a measure of testing her own waters, as to do something Kiryu probably wouldn't unless provoked. Kazumi has no goals, she lives in the moment and wants to enjoy it on her own terms.

dresses in colors very much like her usual suit (red, gray, white). will be super self conscious about her ass hanging out in short dresses and if you come at her with the 'but you don't mind if you're wearing a fundoshi?' and you can literally see the gears turning in her head.

not super great at fighting in heels (compared to Goromi) so she's not pulling crazy moves or running around. she prefers beast mode and the graceful art of blunt force trauma to play keep-away

KAZUMAJI TIME I'm unwell

so the way Kiryu interacts with Goromi is SO important to me and it's equally just as important for my thoughts on Kazumi so you'll see a lot of parallels here.

Majima is MAD horny for Kazumi it's unreal. impressively brainrotted even by goblin standards. partly because it's very exciting to see Kiryu prettied up and partly because he can just see the ✨ gender ✨ radiating off of Kazumi even if it's not as much of a gender thing for her as it is for Majima. he gets that chest tight sort of happy seeing Kiryu try something so important to him.

definitely shows his love via gift giving and physical affection. Kazumi's not big on gifts in general because it's embarrassing so she has to often convince him to just take her out for a good time and that's fine enough. for her, the affection is more important than anything and she'll admit, she likes to be wooed

I have to include Haruka cuz how can I not 🥺 she definitely helps out with makeup and hair. it's not perfect but she's the only person Kazumi will not squirm around for. Kazumi will sit still a little for Majima/Goromi to help out but she's gonna complain about it the whole time.

every minute Majima's not hanging onto Kazumi like she's his trophy wife is another minute he dies inside. he makes it an event to let everyone know he's got the hottest girl in town and it makes Kazumi feel pretty damn good.

Kiryu knows he's hot as hell so that extends to Kazumi as well—small crowds preferably though. despite enjoying a bit of attention, she still prefers plenty of alone time. there is significant anxiety for her to be the center of attention either because someone might recognize her or because things going to shit is just how Kiryu's life tends to go.

she lovesss getting a rise out of Majima, especially if they're in a place he has to behave. since he's her biggest fan, she does like a good bit of ordering him around, often to the point he's actually irritated but that's just part of the game for them, being smug heathens @ each other. I'm a goblin for possessiveness and jealously so throw in a bit of that for flavor 😏

I have a Kazumi x Majima fic where she's very dommy mommy and he's a meek lil worm and I think that's a sign of nature healing.

BIG fluffy Goromi interactions, they're very affectionate together and Goromi's just so giddy to have Kazumi go out with her. she will however bite people's fingers if they so much as wave in Kazumi's direction. the excitement from Goromi does help stave off Kazumi's own insecurities.

being with Goromi does give Kazumi a bit of perspective she otherwise wouldn't really understand as Kiryu. I can see her having one of her typical "wow, people sure do live differently than I do and I've gained more respect for such things" sorta deal lol. basic stuff but significant to those around her.

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.14

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change

next chapter

"Here Lila" Abby called out as she handed your daughter a paper plate with a piece of confetti cake smeared all over it. If you were being honest the piece was too big for your liking and you were sure that Lila would be leaving with a sugar rush. But special occasions called for special acceptions, this being one of them.

"Thanks Abby" Lila accepts the plate and bounds into the dining area to go and enjoy her sugary treat.

"Should I cut you a slice?" Abby glances up at you, her large hand gripping the icing covered knife.

"Sure, that'd be nice." You reply and she lowers the knife back into the white frosted cake, littered with rainbow sprinkles. Much like Lila's, she cuts you an abnormally large triangular piece of cake, placing it on the polka-dotted paper plate and then handing it to you. She awkwardly smiles, grabbing her own plate and then makes her way to the dining room.

Things were still a bit tense between you and Abby after the altercation at Joel's two weeks ago. You'd assured her that she was forgiven after a lengthy heart to heart, but she was still doubting you and beating herself up. Ever since said altercation, no words had been exchanged with your ex-wife, save for a few updates about Lila's school and pickups but that was it. And you hoped it stayed that way. You knew they were both partly at fault but Ellie had started the physical fight, and she hadn't even made the effort to offer a genuine let alone any apology.

It was Abby's birthday and her father had invited you over to his, insisting you bring Lila along to help the Andersons celebrate. The home sprung memories of familial and domestic bliss. Streamers strewn about the dining room, metallic balloons that displayed '26', radio hits that you're sure Jerry didn't even listen to, booming throughout the house and an assortment of different coloured balloons held together by ribbon.

With your plate of cake in hand, you made your way to the dining room, where Jerry had Lila sitting beside him, the both of them looking through an old chunky photo album filled with baby photos of Abby and others of her extended family. Lila was "ooohing" and "ahhing" whilst simultaneously letting out giggles. Your eyes met the blue orbs of your lover who finally gave you a genuine smile for the first time in a week. You stride towards Abby, taking a seat besides her and taking your hand in hers.

"I love you." You whisper as you smile at her, leaving a kiss on her cheek, immediately she warms up, her face tinting to a light shade of red. She leans into you, placing a chaste kiss on your mouth where she mumbles an "I love you too." You're both interrupted by Jerry, who clears his throat and Lila's quiet "eww." The two of you pull apart, sporting mischievous grins on your faces when Jerry shuts the photo album and announces.

"Okay Abs, time to open your gifts." Lila's immediately trailing behind him as he makes his way over to the living room and the two of you follow suit. You were sat on the arm of the grey sofa, while Abby had Lila in her lap. The five year old had been so excited to pick out Abby's gift that she'd insisted it be the first one she opened.

"You sure this isn't a bomb Lila?" Abby jokes as she shakes the box, holding it close to her ears. You and Jerry simply chuckle at Abby's playfulnesses, but Lila finds it to be the funniest thing ever. She's hunched over giggling while Abby tears the wrapping off the small box. When she opens the box she's met with a vintage field watch, one she’d been raving about for the past six months.

“Y/n, you didn’t!” She yells, turning to you with a smile on her face and you simply smile. She reaches up and kisses you. “Hey, I helped wrap it” Lila exclaims hating the takeaway of attention from her. “Thank you too Lila” Abby squished her cheeks and then places the watch on her wrist.

-

“Thank you for coming Ms. Lila, I’ll see you next time alright?” Jerry waves off a tired Lila who’s hands are swinging behind you as she’s splayed out in your arms. “Bye, Jerry.” She mumbles, letting out a yawn in the process. You walk her over to the car and sit her into her booster seat, clicking it in and then shutting the door. Abby and Jerry are stood at the front door chatting, when he motions for you to come over.

“Thank you for coming over Y/n and bringing sweet Lila, you raised an angel.” He smiles, playing with the hair on his chin. You warm up at the compliment and offer him a genuine smile.

“Thank you Jerry for having us, and for the food and cake.” Abby pulls you closer into her and smiles down at her dad. “Alright dad, we’re going to head Lila’s done for the day.” She takes the box of cake from his hands and hands you the car keys. “Alright goodnight you two and happy birthday again Abs.”

The drive back home is quiet, the car being filled with only sounds of the heater blaring and Lila’s soft snores. Abby has her hand on your thigh the whole way home as you drive, not daring to let go. The two of you basking in the silence. As you’re making a left turn, she gives your thigh two small squeezes causing you to look at her. She gives you a loving smile and then rubs you softly. She didn’t have to verbally say it but you knew it was another apology, no matter how many times you’d forgiven her, she still felt responsible for the fight and she wasn’t going to stop atoning for her mistakes until she felt her forgiveness was truly earned.

-

Despite her protests, you’d managed to get Lila into the bath once the three of you had arrived back home. She whined and whined but you knew if she didn’t have her bath she would get restless at night. Once bath-time was over, you’d taken her into her room, read her a story from the array that were shelved in her bookcase and then proceeded to read.

“Mommy stop.” You were mid-way through a sentence when she’d lifted her sleepy head to stop you from continuing.

“What’s wrong baby?” You question as you drop the book into your lap.

“There’s two characters, and you’re not doing Mr. Flippers voice right. Can Abby come read that part?” She asks, genuine concern over the inadequacy of your impression. You call out to Abby, who was in your bedroom and she immediately made her way to the Lila’s room.

“Everything ok?” She asks, her hair wet from the shower she’d just taken, clad in an oversized hockey tee shirt and plaid pyjama pants.

“Can you help mommy read to me?” Lila looks up from the tucked in cover of her quilt.

“Really?” Abby asks a grin coating her face and Lila nods adamantly. The five year old falls asleep not even half-way through the book. Her head resting on her little pillow, hands tucked under her cheeks.

You kiss her goodnight as Abby switches on her nightlight, the two of you exiting the room.

“She asked me to read her a bedtime story.” Abby smiles down at you and you grin widely, nodding your head. The two of you make your way into the bedroom.

-

“So, how’s 26 treating you so far? You ask her as you straddle her waist, her arms immediately grabbing onto your hips and squeezing tightly.

“Pretty good, though I know a way that could make it great” She smiles at you, her fingers grabbing the hem of your pyjama shirt and lifting it over your head.

“Mhm, what may that be?” You lift yourself off her thighs and shimmy your way out of your pyjama shorts and underwear. She immediately pulls you back down to straddle her when you’re interrupted by your phone ringing on the bedside table. Abby’s let’s go of you waist but you continue.

“Just ignore it.” You mumble as the two of you come together in a kiss. You’re grinding against her in tandem as she sloppily kisses down your neck, making her way to your chest, when the phone begins to ring again.

“Just take it, baby” She sits back against the headboard and you un-straddle her. You reach over to your phone, and to your surprise the contact reads Joel. You’re taken aback, seeing as Joel never called you this late at night, ever.

“Hello?” You hold the phone close to your ear, as you fidget with the comforter. Abby’s warm hands stroking your back rhythmically.

“Are you on your own right now, where’s Lila?” He questions and you’re taken aback by his forward ness.

“I’m with Abby, Lila’s asleep. Joel what’s going on?”

“Y/n, you need to get down to the Oakwood Hospital right now, it’s Ellie.”

taglist;

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup @bratydoll @wakasaaa @catostrophiclesbian @dinas-a-bird @lazyunknownwerewolf @h3sitant-alien @ceo-of-ellie-simps @mechetegirl109 @kashoot-me269 @lonelyfooryouonly @ellieswifee @doodlebob-mp3 @ellieismami

[tellmeallaboutit]

AVERNIAN PSYCHO (BANKER!RAPHAEL / F!TAV)

never mind me, I am just goofing around with Modern AUs

TW: investment banking, crude, horrible, nasty, look away, look awaaaay, there's nothing but horror and inconvenience on the way.

"Is it time for fresh blood already?" Raphael asked, looking through the glass partition of the HR conference room. 

Valefar nodded slightly, a steaming cappuccino in his hand. 

"Oh, yes. Summer recruitment cycle. Make them bust their assess, crush their hopes and dreams, and fuck them over with job offers. Rinse and repeat next summer."

"Maybe I'll make an appearance," Raphael mused, looking every bit the devil in his tailor-made double-breasted silk suit. No brands for Raphael except for his timepieces. Those were strictly Patek Philippe or Vacheron Constantin.

"Why bother? It's an intern interview," Valefar scoffed. "Sheep for slaughter. Besides, she doesn't stand a chance. There are thousands out there who would swallow your dick whole and ask for more for a chance to enter this building".

Raphael made no reply. Valefar finally looked around the conference room. Across from Mizora, gorgeous in her white blouse and red satin D'Orsay pumps, was a twenty-something girl. 

Ha-ha, an interview with Mizora, the queen bee of the High Frequency Trading department. Someone is fu-u-u-ucked. When Raphael joins in, double fucked, no lube, won't be able to walk for the whole next week.

The girl already looked like she might faint at any moment, her knees clamped together like a vice, but kept an idiotically enthusiastic expression on her face. She must be talking about how excited she is and how much she appreciates the integrity and commitment to ethics at 'Asmodeus & Partners'.

It’s all about integrity here.

She was not an eyesore, brown wavy hair, doe-eyed, but her wardrobe was straight out of a dumpster. Brown pencil skirt and a baggy blouse that she probably thought screamed 'high society' - some outlet Ralph Lauren Basic, no doubt. But great legs, yes, great legs. What was her game? Gold digger looking for a husband? Raphael is still on the market. Watched too much Wall Street? Doesn't seem the type. 

Naive? Taken a wrong turn somewhere? 

Oh, Mizora will grill her to death and promise never to call her back. She'd likely spend the rest of the evening sobbing in some dingy apartment shared with her stoner roommates.

"Sheep, you say?" Raphael remarked, adjusting his platinum Patek Philippe Nautilus Limited Edition. "More like a mouse to me. A very lost and a very scared little mouse."

With that, he flashed his most charming smile and turned the doorknob to enter the conference room.

[happynowyo]

Reflection, part 3

Fandom: Six of crows

Warnings: Kaz Brekker and everything that goes with him

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Shadow Summoner!OC

Summary: The long-awaited meeting finally happens and Jess is left with choice between what's good and what's right for her

Word count: 2,5k

Tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @valkyrie05x, @parabatai-winchester, @footydais, @valeridarkness

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Inej, as the stranger introduced herself, turned out to be part of the Crows, who operated under Kaz Brekker's command. Jess didn't know him, but she'd heard his name dozens of times in the couple of hours she'd spent near the town square.

The guy was a legend among the criminals of Ketterdam, and for some reason she was not surprised that Nina was among his gang. Her passionate nature and love of adventure were bound to lead the Heartrender to something like that.

Jess made good use of her time before they reached the Crow Club, so she managed to get Inej to talk a little and find out details about their activities. The short story about the Crows being involved in the recent events in the Fold and helping Alina made her feel a little more sympathy for them, and judging by the respect shadowed on Inej's face, it was mutual when Jess shared a reciprocal story about helping Alina adapt during her first months in the Little Palace. Her heart was warmed by the pleasant thought that Alina had quietly and peacefully left after the big fight and, as Jess hoped, remained safe.

The memory of her father sent a wave of shivers down her skin, tightly concealed by a black suit that looked more like a man's, but Jess forced herself to clear her mind. In the darkened room with dozens of candles, where there was a cacophony of chatter, laughter, shuffling cards and clinking glasses, her whole body tensed, and her grey eyes scanned the space for nearby exits and guards with a practiced reflex. Inej's smile came out almost modest, but the pride in her eyes was too expressive. Whatever was going on in the Crow Club, that place meant a lot to her and all the other Crows.

Jess straightened in vain to regain the feeling of unshakeable confidence that had left her the moment Baghra had caught her in the bedroom with the story of the Black Heretic and told her to pack her things in a hurry. Everything that had been so dear, so ordered and familiar, had turned to dust, become another shadow, and the new reality still seemed too hostile and unsafe. Jess guessed that the illustrious Kaz Brekker would be a tough, brutal, cold-blooded and damned smart guy as everyone talked about him that way.

What would she offer him in return? What should she even ask him for? Nina was a part of his team, and Jess was definitely not in a position to run anywhere else on her own. She needed some company and support, but the Crows weren't an innocent group of interest. Being an old friend of Nina Zenik wasn't enough to stay with them, and that realization pierced through her, but all despair was instantly displaced when a familiar voice reached her ears.

— Apple pie!

God, Jess had once hated that nickname and had even fought Nina over it a couple of times, but now it sounded like a compliment from heaven. So familiar, in fact, that it brought tears to her eyes for a second.

It wasn't hard to spot Nina at the bar — the bright red hat on her head caught everyone's attention. Jess shortened the distance between them in two great steps, and Nina's warm embrace enveloped her like a fluffy blanket, bringing her joy and relief. Glancing over her friend's shoulder, Jess glimpsed those who were keeping her company — the tall well-built Fjerdan, whose surprise was most noticeable at the moment, and the same couple she'd spotted on the street. A dark skinned guy in a large-checkered jacket standing next to a slightly younger man with exceptionally lively facial expressions and dark hair sticking out amusingly in different directions.

— Am I still dreaming or is it really you? If I am, I hope the next moment a million kruge will fall on me and I'll never have to look at the horribly tasteless suits of these drunks again, — Nina's chirping voice reflected genuine hope, but Jess knew her too well to lose sight of the unease that lurked between the lines. — I'm so glad you finally ran away out of there! How long have you been staying…?

— Ran away? You look too good for someone who has been a prisoner or a hostage. You should have seen how beat up I was when we crossed… — Jesper had the audacity to interrupt the conversation, but quickly cut himself short when Wylan elbowed him lightly in the side with an evident hint. The crowded Crow Club definitely was not the best place to talk about the Fold.

Jess looked around confusedly, trying to find even a single free meter of space, and Inej understood her without a word, gently pulling her to the side and nodding to the left side door. Behind it there was a storeroom with boxes of liquor that stood in almost endless rows, and that's where Jess finally was able to be alone with Nina, having the relief of a semblance of silence.

She could see her friend more closely now, noticing that the years that had passed had added her some beauty and brought certain maturity. Nina was no longer that funny reckless teenager who'd helped her steal Tidemakers' notes or with whom they'd sneaked into the kitchen after lights out when their teachers prohibited them to be at the dinner as a punishment. Jess couldn't wait to talk to her friend about everything that had happened to them in the past few years, but first she had a much more pressing issue to deal with.

— Had Brekker really seen Alina? — she didn't doubt the truth of that statement, but she needed to hear it again to really believe it. Had Kaz seen her father? Had he watched the greedy gleam in the dark eyes of the one with whom she shared blood and power? Jess's gaze ran inquisitively over Nina's face as her palms gripped her shoulders tightly.

— Yes. I swear I was sure he was kidding me, but it was the truth. He snuck into the Little Palace with Inej and Jesper, actually you could have seen them there, during the ceremony.

Jess nodded automatically, hardly giving these words any meaning. When Aleksander stood beside Alina in front of the king and the mass of guests, she was too busy following the tracker Mal and helping Baghra get Alina out of the palace in the safest way possible. Though now she could fully recognize the irony of the situation. She could have escaped even then and ended up in Ketterdam the same way.

— Do you feel something? That connection you had with your father, can you use it again? Everyone says he died in the Fold, but you know that the Darkling is the oldest and the strongest among us. Is that why Baghra sent you here? What happened to her?

Nina was gabbling, caught in apparent excitement, and it made Jess smile fleetly. It was just like the old times.

— Baghra stayed at the Little Palace, but I don't know for how long. We heard the news and she decided we had to play ahead. If my father is alive, he will come for me. For both of us, — the thought of having to kill again for someone else's revenge and pride disgusted her, but the fear of Aleksander's anger was much stronger. — I need to hide for a while. Is Kaz Brekker really as powerful as people bubble on the streets, or should I not expect to sleep peacefully at night under his patronage?

— Kaz is a stubborn cruel weirdo, but he knows his business and he is the smartest man I know. I'm sure he can think of a way to keep you hidden while you're here. He helped me to get Matthias out of jail, even though he doesn't stop poking me about it every time he gets a chance, — Nina rolled her eyes with a chuckle and touched Jess' wrists carefully, making sure not to touch the bare skin near the edge of her jacket. A matter of habit still, no different even after these years. — You could have been a great addition to our team, you know? Any heist would be hundred times easier if we had your shadows at our disposal. But I know it would put you on the trail quickly if anyone outside the Crow Club knew about your abilities.

— Well, I'm still good with knives and hand-to-hand combat. It never hurts to have extra hands, does it? Where can I find Brekker?

— He's locked himself in his office. Opposite door on the right. Maybe I should talk to him first? He always seems indifferent, like he's doing you a favor by listening at all, but you can count on him if you can get him interested.

— You've already done so much for me, Nina. I'm glad you're okay, honestly, I was worried you might have gotten into trouble. Grishas were looking for you after you ran away, my father made sure of that. But now I have to learn to take care of myself, without him or Baghra. I'll find you later, okay? And, Saints, don't call me Apple pie in front of the others, it's outrageous!

Jess laughed briefly and placed a light kiss on Nina's cheek before she slipped out of the storeroom first. The cheerful mood was immediately replaced by the background anxiety, and every step to Kaz Brekker's office seemed long and exhausting, testing her to the limit. The rumors she had heard were enough to know that the Bastard of the Barrel was capable of any cruelty for the right price, and he could easily pass her off for a big sum as the Darkling's daughter or as Grisha with a special talent. He could not be trusted, but Jess had so much fear inside that carrying it alone was utterly unbearable at that moment.

— Jesper, I asked you to be at the door, should I say it in Kaelish or Ravkan so you'll get it sooner?

A harsh bark came from a guy with dark neatly tucked back hair. The sharp cheekbones and dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep were the first things Jess managed to notice, stoically holding back the barbed comments. Kaz was literally buried under a mountain of sheets and didn't even deign to look up at the guest, absolutely certain that an orderly tone would suffice.

— Ravkan works fine for me, but I'm surprised the famous Bastard of the Barrel has time to study languages in the midst of constant scheming and eliminating rivals, — her voice remained very formal, scrubbed of any emotions, but there was some amusement dancing in her grey eyes for a second. That only intensified when Kaz Brekker finally looked up, unable to instantly hide his surprise.

— Reception hours are long over. I don't recall seeing you before. How did you get in here?

— Inej brought me. I'm a longtime friend of Nina and I wanted to talk to you about a deal. I need some protection and anonymity, Nina said you were the best candidate in Ketterdam. That you know how to stick to your part of the bargain.

The stranger's businesslike tone didn't fool Kaz. She was clearly desperate or she wouldn't have come directly to him. It was the first time he'd heard of Nina having friends from Ravka, but his first instinct reminded him that she only knew someone in Ravka because of the Little Palace. What were the chances that Grisha came to him so freely? Other people's secret past interested Kaz very little, but he was curious about what he could get in return for his services.

— What about your part? There are many ways to save someone's life and many corresponding risks, — in another life Kaz might have been a great honest merchant who would never miss out on a good deal. But in that life his brain had already begun diligently calculating his options. He thought of the ship's departure schedule and went over the names of loyal Dregs he could have let go as an escort for a while. But his guest's reply threw him off balance, sending a questioning wrench into his eyebrows.

— I want to stay here. At the Crow Club or wherever you all live. You're one of the most dangerous men in Ketterdam, but more importantly, you're astonishingly clever. The closer I am to you, the more chances I have of safe few months. Besides, I missed Nina a lot, we used to be a good team.

That was pure insanity — that's what they both thought at the same time. She assumed Kaz was so powerful and yet did she naively believe that he would let some stranger be in his way every day?

— What will happen next? In a few months? Will you go back to Ravka or go somewhere else to find another fool? I sense a catch before I even know the details.

— People don't seek protection for nothing, Kaz Brekker. You may have forgotten the feeling, but some of us still fear for our lives when someone threatens us. After a while the situation will become clearer and I can either go back to Ravka or escape to Novyi Zem or Shu Han to steer the danger away and keep you out of trouble because of me, — Jess replied more sharply than she had planned and sighed deeply, dabbing her gaze into the left dark corner where shadows appeared for a moment threatening to grow bigger.

It wasn't safe to stay in Ketterdam. If her father remained alive, he would come here, and neither Kaz Brekker nor all the Saints would save her. But she still had the illusion of freedom, the illusion of choice, and she clung to it as best as she could. Her palm dipped into the deep pocket of her jacket, and the next moment Jess carefully set down an exquisite necklace of weighty emeralds braided on a gold chain on the table in front of Kaz. The yearning squeezed her heart at the memory of how Aleksander had given it to her two years ago.

— It is an old relic from a previous royal dynasty. From the Little Palace, if you care for details. You can sell it for about three hundred thousand kruge if you find some good trader. Would that be a decent payment for you? — Jess was tormented by the feeling that she was selling herself at that moment. As well as her attachment to her father, her hope and her fond memories. There was a grim determination on her face, and she knew she wasn't going to leave that place without Brekker's consent. Unfortunately, he understood that, too.

— You said you and Nina were a team. What can you do? You don't look like a Heartrender.

— Name at least three other Heartrenders, besides Nina, that you know.

— You are too straightforward. Inferni? — Kaz leaned back in his chair more relaxed and twirled the necklace thoughtfully in his gloved palm. He wished he had been able to bring the trophy back from the Little Palace, so now he was pleased to see such a piece. Especially with such a high value, that he got for nothing in essence.

— Keep guessing, Kaz Brekker, but know that I prefer not to use my powers. They will lead me into troubles. But I can fight and use knives. I can help you with your dirty business so I don't have to sit here with boredom though your team looks pretty packed as it is. How'd you get that big guy, by the way? He looks like a Fjerdan and he's a long way from home then.

— Nina brought him in and I was quite satisfied with his service. Perhaps it will be the same with you.

Kaz's lips curved slightly in an approving smile, and he stood up, showing that they had come to some conclusion after all.

— I'll think about what you can do for the team. There's a spare room on the third floor at the end of the hallway in the Slat, near Inej's. Welcome to Ketterdam, …?

— Oh, it's Jess, sorry, — she caught her breath and finally introduced herself with a playful curtsey. It was hard for her to stop the rush of joy, as now she was given a chance to have some real peace and a possible occupation beyond her endless paranoia. — You won't regret it, I promise.

Part 4

[lesbianspeedy]

I don't super hate Mia's outfit or anything, but looking at how she dresses casually or when she does vigilante stuff before becoming speedy II for real, she way prefers loose clothing, so her skin tight suit seems kind of.... not what she'd pick? I guess that's somewhat remedied but the cape, but I dunno, I don't think it's what I would have put her in if I were in charge of her suit design.

mhmhm yeah! i love her original suit just for how simple it is, but you make a great point, it's really interesting that one of the original "speedy suit" roughs was much closer to her casual looks (and closer to, as you said, her pre-speedy vigilante fits)

now thats the 2000s baybey! sonic ass shoes

moreover another of them, the one that WAS briefly used (in mia's dream sequence in #11), was pretty skin tight, but it obviously had more padding and shape. to me it feels very reminisent of roy in his arsenal era, no? and, through that, also feels similar to izaakse's current roy design.

there was even a corresponding ollie design to match! (i cant say im exactly sad these didnt come to fruition)

the last one is probably the closest ish to what we ended up with, very classic arrowfam

would've been cool to see mia with the classic arrow gloves, though im not sure about black, red, and yellow in one costume. you gotta wonder what went on behind the scenes for hester to pivot from these kinds of more in depth designs to well, what we ended up with.

also hey, phil agrees with you

i have to wonder what the actual ceo of mia dearden himself thinks of sean's redesign, maybe we'll find out when it actually comes to mia's return.

in relation to you mentioning her usual taste in casual clothes, please anon, hold hands with me and manifest sean not fucking that up.

[hurt-care]

The Wedding Date

I've had this idea for a fic for a few weeks and I just had to write it! It's been AGES since I've written and I got this one out pretty quickly, but I hope it's fun to read.

OCs, M/F relationship M, allergies Scenario - old college friends reconnect at a wedding. One of them is suffering from some spectacular hayfever. The other has a thing for sneezing....

-----

Pulling at the waist of her dress, Katie fidgeted as she looked around the gathering crowd. It was a warm spring day in Austin; not too hot but still brilliantly sunny. It was her first time visiting Texas and while she knew that she would eventually run in to some people she knew at this wedding, for now the people nearby were all strangers. She was in town to celebrate the wedding of her college friends, Ashleigh and Tim. They'd all met in Chicago but had since all moved away. Katie had continued on to Utah for a graduate degree and had since settled in Colorado. Ashleigh and Tim had moved to Austin where Tim had grown up. Katie was one of a handful of people who had flown in from out of town for the event while most of the guests were local friends and family of the couple.

Suddenly, Katie saw a familiar face across the lawn. They were all gathered on the grounds of a local museum in the midst of a beautiful five-acre property with sprawling gardens and trees. There, standing alone at one of the scattered cocktail tables, was Ben.

The last time she'd seen him was their graduation ceremony over six years ago. He'd lost some of the boyish roundness to his face and was sporting an unfamiliar scruffy beard, but he otherwise looked just the same as she remembered. Her heart skipped a beat as he looked up and met her eyes. She'd had an impossibly huge crush on him for all four years of school but she'd never had her chance to act upon it. He'd arrived at college already attached to a girlfriend from high school and they'd been together on and off all four years that Katie had known him. 

He started to cross the lawn towards her. He was wearing a navy linen suit with a green tie and as he got closer, she could see that he looked...upset? His eyes were red and puffy. Suddenly, he paused his stride and turned his head away, tucking his face into the crook of his arm.

Katie froze as she watched him jerk with a sneeze. Oh god.

She's had a weird kink as long as she can remember. She always found sneezing to be strangely endearing and now her college crush was walking towards her and he was clearly suffering from allergies.

He recovered from the sneeze and approached her.

“Hey Katie!” he said. “Didn't know I'd see you here!”

His voice was subtly congested and he sniffled audibly at the end of the statement. She tried not to stare too intensely at him but it was hard not to notice his swollen eyes and nose.

“Hi Ben!” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as they embraced in a swift hug. “So good to see you! How're things?”

He was smiling at her but his expression was faltering and his eyebrows furrowed while his mouth hung open and he panted with a few shallow breaths.

“Sorry,” he said haltingly. “I have to---teh...ehTSGHH!!”

He turned away again, catching the sneeze with steepled hands.

“Ugh, sorry,” he reiterated. “Allergies. It's my first time in Texas and I didn't really realize how bad it would be here.”

“Ah,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn and she hoped she wasn't visibly blushing as bright red as it felt like she was. “I hear they're awful here. Cedar or something.”

He nods, fishing in his pocket and retrieving a bit of a well-used tissue. “I should've taken something stronger than my regular stuff but I guess it's too late now. Anyway, how're you? You look great! Whereabout are you living these days?”

She feels herself blush more. “Thanks! Um...I'm in Denver, actually. Finished grad school last spring and moved there in the fall. So it's been about six months. I like it, but I miss Chicago. Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm still at the bank. It's good. I saw Tim and Ashleigh in the fall actually. They came up to visit, which was nice. Tim was in town for work so they made a week of it.”

He pressed the tattered tissue to his nose as he spoke. Katie bit her lip, watching him with a mix of awe and embarrassment. His bright blue eyes, the feature that had first attracted her to him, were still beautiful and stood out thanks to his navy suit. But they were bloodshot and puffy today, clearly irritated and itchy.

“Maybe we should find our seats for the ceremony?” she suggested, glancing towards the rows of folding chairs where much of the crowd was gathering now. “See if we can find anyone else from school? I heard Mark was coming. And I think Amy too.”

“Sure! Yeah, I talked to Mark and he can't make the ceremony but he'll be coming to the reception after dinner. I'm not sure about Amy.”

They made their way over to the chairs and picked out seats. Beside her, Ben sniffled thickly and rubbed at his nose. She took out her phone, subtly checking her appearance in the camera to ensure she wasn't beet-red. Witnessing him in the midst of the allergy attack was doing her heart-rate no favours. He groaned quietly and put a palm to his eye, wiping away some tears as they watered. 

When the ceremony music began, she gave mental thanks for the distraction from the spectacle at her side. The bridal party processed down the aisle and the crowd rose to stand for the bride. Ashleigh looked radiant as she walked towards the front of the ceremony space and stood opposite Tim. The officiant welcomed the crowd and invited them to be seated.

At her side, Ben turned and stifled two sneezes into his arm. Eh-GHXT! Tsh-GXHT!

He sniffled wetly and pressed his knuckles to his red, swollen nose. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie could see a damp spot around his nostrils. Digging in her purse, she retrieved a small folded tissue and held it out to him. 

“Oh god, thank you,” he whispered.

“I brought it in case the vows made me tear up but I think you need it more,” she whispered back. 

He pressed the folded tissue to his nostrils and almost instantly sneezed again, barely managing to stifle the sound.

Ehh-TSGHXXT!

Katie crossed her legs, feeling herself flooding with arousal and hoping that the ceremony would be short. Thankfully, it was. As the bride and groom were announced, the crowd rose to their feet and cheered the new couple.

“They look great,” Ben said as the bride and groom walked by. He turned and smiled at Katie.

“They do,” she agreed. His smile at her gave her a sudden jolt of confidence.

“Hey, she asked. “Are you still dating Amelia? Why isn't she here?”

“Oh,” Ben said, sounding a little surprised. “Oh, no, we broke up ages ago. When we were still in school actually. Close to the end of our last year.”

“Oh,” Katie replied, feeling herself growing bolder. “Are you seeing anyone else now?”

“No,” Ben said. “I've been single for a bit. Work is busy and all that. I'll get back out there eventually. What about you?”

“Err..no one at the moment,” she replied.

“Well then I hope you'll agree to be my dance partner tonight,” he said. “If I can stop sneezing long enough to dance.”

She was sure now that she was visibly blushing.

“I'd like that, yeah,” she stammered. “And it's fine. We know it's not contagious. Anyway, let's go find the cocktail bar. I need a drink.”

“Agreed,” he said. “My throat is so dry. Hopefully a few glasses of wine knocks the hay-fever out of me. Shall we?”

He extended his bent arm to her. She was surprised by the gesture but took his arm and smiled.

“Lead the way!”

They walked across the sunny lawn towards the bar. There was already a small line formed and as they took their place at the end, Katie could hear Ben's breath catch.

She tried not to turn and stare, but she couldn't help it. He steepled his hands over his nose and bent at the waist, sneezing forcefully.

Hehh-TSCHOOO!

He sniffled with a wet sound and didn't remove his hands from his face. She heard his breath gasp and he pitched forward with a small fit of rapid sneezes.

Nghh-TSGHT! Ehh-TSCHHT! Hehhh....ehhh-TSCHIIHEHHH!

He kept one hand over his nose as he fumbled for the tissue she'd given him earlier. A tear from his irritated eyes fell down his cheek.

“Bless you,” she said softly, feeling as if she was saying something much more flirtatious. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to clean himself up a little.

“Why don't you go find us a quiet spot to sit and I'll get the drinks?” she offered. 

“That would be great,” he said, his voice cracking hoarsely. “White wine please. I'll get a spot over by that gazebo.”

He gestured to a sheltered spot on the far side of the lawn and she nodded. “See you in a few.”

With Ben gone, she can let her guard down for a second and she exhales, fanning her face with her hand for a moment. The spring day suddenly feels much warmer. She gets two glasses of white wine and carries them towards the gazebo.

Ben is sitting on a bench looking miserable. His eyes are more swollen now and he is dabbing his nose with the rapidly-disintegrating tissue.

“Thanks,” he said as she handed him one of the glasses. He took a long sip. “Sorry I'm such a mess. It's really nice to see you, Katie.”

“It's fine,” she said. “Really.”

“You look great. That dress is perfect on you.”

She looked at him in wonder. Was he flirting with her?

“That suit is great on you too. Blue is your colour. I always thought you had the nicest blue eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I'm glad you're here. To be honest, I wasn't even sure I was going to come because I wasn't sure I'd know anyone besides Ashleigh and Tim. They're the only ones I've really kept in touch with besides Rachel but she just had a kid in March and couldn't come.”

She was momentarily distracted by the flaring of his nostrils and she stared as he built up to another sneeze. He gave a faint growl of frustration before he turned and sneezed into his arm.

Ehh-TSCHEHH!

“Goddammit...ahh, sorry,” he said with a sniffle. 

For a moment he stared at her and she stared back, unsure of what to say. In the distance, the DJ turned down the cocktail party music and announced that everyone should take their seats for dinner and the introduction of the bridal party.

“I guess we should find our seats,” Ben said. 

They were seated at the same table they discovered upon examining the seating chart. Also at the table were a few university friends and a few of Tim and Ashleigh's friends from Austin. The dinner conversation was casual and fun, but Katie found herself distracted by Ben's continued battle. He excused himself to the bathroom at one point halfway through dinner and he returned with a much redder nose, evidently having blown it multiple times. 

With dinner over, the DJ put on a popular song and encouraged the crowd towards the dance floor.

“I know I said I'd dance with you but I don't know how much longer I can stand this,” Ben said in Katie's ear. He gestured towards his face.

“Just a few songs and then I'll leave you to the mercy of an Uber to the drug store before it closes,” she said boldly. “You promised.”

They went towards the dance floor, joining the crowd. They started to dance and she moved her body closer to him, emboldened by the glasses of wine in her now. He was warm and his breath was hot against her skin as they embraced, swaying to the beat.

Someone came by with a tray of shots and they joined a group of cheerful bridesmaids, swallowing the tequila in one swift go before resuming their dancing.

“I can't believe I'm saying this but I had such a crush on you during school,” Katie says into Ben's ear. 

He looked at her and grinned.

“You did not!”

“I did!” she shouted back over the music. 

“Funny how things work out,” he said into her ear. 

The music shifted to a ballad and the crowd thinned a little as couples joined up to dance. Ben put his hands around Katie's hips and they embraced, moving to the music. 

“Would....is it okay with you if I kiss you?” he asked.

She didn't bother to respond, instead simply pressing her lips to his. Their noses touched and she could feel a bit of moisture from his. He pressed his lips back more firmly, getting lost in the moment. They broke the kiss and he turned his lips to her neck, kissing there. She ran her fingers through his hair, somewhat lost in disbelief that all her college fantasies were coming true tonight.

He froze in her arms suddenly, his lips leaving her neck. He didn't have time to react and she can feel him shudder as the sneeze bursts out of him unexpectedly.

Hehh-TSTZHHTT!

He managed to stifle it enough to avoid completely spraying her but she felt a small bit of moisture hit her skin.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” he gasped, pulling away and putting a hand over his nose. “I'm so sorry Katie. Fuck, this is so embarrassing.”

She burned hot from her own embarrassment and desire.

“Let's go somewhere else for a minute,” she suggested, taking his arm gently.

He let her drag him away and when they were out of sight of the other guests, he turned to her, looking humiliated.

“I'm so sorry...I didn't feel it coming and....”

She reached out and touched his cheek affectionately.

“It's okay,” she assured him. “I know it's not catching. I'm just sorry you're uncomfortable.”

He nods, staring down at his hands. 

“Damn it. I was really having a good time.”

His cheeks were flushed red now too.

Maybe it was the tequila or maybe it was the knowledge that tomorrow he'd go back to Chicago and she'd go back to Denver....but whatever it was, Katie found herself making a bold proposal.

“I have a suggestion,” she said. “It's....well, it's pretty forward but we've established that the crush is mutual, yeah?

He looked at her curiously. “Yeah.”

“I have a room at the hotel to myself. And I don't think the pollen count is going to improve tonight and you're just going to keep suffering if you stay here. So.....would you want to come back to my room?

His red, swollen eyes widened.

“I....well, yeah, sure....I'd like that. Can't be that attractive for you though, can I? There's a lot of snot happening, well...like all over here.”

He gestured to his face.

She remained silent for a moment, biting her lip. She'd never admitted her kink to a partner before. 

“I don't know if I can tell you this, Ben,” she said. “It's really....it's awkward. I don't know if I can say it out loud.”

“You can tell me. I promise I won't laugh.”

“It's...I have a thing. I guess you could say it's a kink. I...I don't mind sneezing.”

“You don't mind sneezing?”

“I guess I mean I like it.”

He stared at her a moment and then a grin split across his face.

“Oh!”

“Yeah...”

He laughed and shook his head. 

“I know I said I wouldn't laugh but I'm not laughing at you. I...jesus, Katie, I'd say you're in luck tonight!”

She grinned back at him.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Meeting #2. - OC Backstory

pairing: OC!Whiskey x MootOC!Valkyrie (platonic) words: 2.4K~ cw: canon-typical violence/talk, use of weapons, attempt at military accuracy(?? idk), humour/jokes

June 18th, 2019.

2317 hours.

St. Petersburg, Russia

Whiskey is lying by the window with her rifle, eyes locked on the building across from her, the green hue of the night vision scope allowing her to keep track of her target as he moves about his apartment.

The night is clear, the air is still, the window’s open, the curtains not drawn… She has the perfect opportunity to eliminate the target. Hell, it won’t get more perfect than this.

“Whiskey to Watcher-1, I have a clear shot on the target. Ready to engage.”

“Copy that, Whiskey. Hold your fire.”

Hold her fire? Whiskey cocks a brow and grimaces at the command.

She's dedicated weeks of her time tracking down and stalking Volkov, getting evidence of his deals to report back to the CIA and the UN and... what? Now Laswell isn't giving her execute authority?

“I have a clear shot, Watcher. It's now or never, I have less than a minute to engage.”

“I’m not a fan of repeating myself, Whiskey. Hold your fire, you do NOT have execute authority.” 

Gritting her teeth, Whiskey insisted, finger already curling around the trigger of the rifle, eyes glued to the target.

“Laswell, I’ve been after this motherfucker for three weeks, I have a CLEAR SHOT.”

“Do not fucking argue with me, Lieutenant. I cannot sanction an American operative to conduct an execution in Russian soil. Hold your fucking fire.”

Grunting and pulling her finger away from the trigger, Whiskey murmurs a “Copy that.” to her mic.

She had never been denied a kill. Not since she began this arrangement with the Agency. With Laswell.

“I’ll be sending an operator to your location."

Great. So someone is coming to sweep another number that she could add to her tally, from under her nose.

"Roger. Where's the meeting point?"

"Your safehouse."

Yippee. Someone she'd have to share her shitty, dingy studio apartment with?

"Should I continue tracking the target?"

"Affirmative."

"Copy that. Codename?"

"Valkyrie."

Whiskey's brow twitched and she grunted another 'Copy. Whiskey out.' comm before she turned off her PTT.

-

June 19th, 2018.

2132 hours.

The door to the safehouse swings open, causing Whiskey to throw a knife at the door, which Valkyrie just narrowly dodged, the blade ending up embedded on the door frame beside their head.

"What the fuck?! Is this how you treat guests?" Valkyrie complains loudly as she glances up at the knife beside her head, and then across the room, at Whiskey, by the windows.

Then, both Whiskey and Valkyrie draw their pistols and point them at one another, in the near pitch darkness of the studio apartment, only broken up by a table lamp by the pull-out sofa-bed.

"Lower your damn weapon before I fucking stab you myself." The bleach blonde spoke up as he closed the door behind himself, eyes still locked on Whiskey.

They were short. Shorter than Whiskey, wearing light tactical gear, and, especially, a vest that left their arms on display, per lack of a shirt underneath, but rather a tanktop.

Their extremely light hair nearly blends with their pale complexion, if not for the bright red strands strewn through it. They were no soldier. No soldier would look as ridiculous as that.

"Who the fuck are you?" Whiskey grunts as she glares at them, fingers gripping her pistol tight.

"Valkyrie. And you're Whiskey. Now that we're introduced, will you put your gun down or not?" Valkyrie asks sarcastically with raised eyebrows and wide eyes

Whiskey huffed and lowered her weapon, Valkyrie following suit, and both of them holstering them swiftly.

"Didn't Watcher tell you to knock?" Whiskey grunts as she pushes up from her squatted position against the wall, next to her mounted sniper rifle.

"She did. But what do I look like? Who the fuck knocks on the door of a CIA safehouse?" Valkyrie complains.

Whiskey rolls her eyes. "Don't fuckin' give me lip. There's a system." She murmurs, her southern accent a bit more prominent as she glares at the other operator.

Valkyrie crosses the room and sets her rucksack down on the 2-seater dining table, beginning to grab their gear from inside. "This is why I hate working with the damn government. System this, protocols that-" She grunts.

Whiskey crosses the room and rolls her eyes, pulling her knife out from the doorframe. "Well, maybe if you obeyed them..." She trails off as she sheathes the blade again on her thigh holder.

"Look, I'm here to kill the Russian, not to play the obedient little soldier, alright?" Valkyrie complains and rolls her eyes. "That's your job."

Whiskey scoffs as she takes her spot by the window again, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her foot on the wall behind her, scuffing up the wallpaper.

"Don't get too fuckin' big for your breeches now. I'm still in charge here." Whiskey reminde him.

"Yeah, yeah-" Valkyrie waves their hand dismissively, gesturing vaguely in the air. "It's 'your' mission or whatever."

"It is and if I were you, I'd lose the fuckin' attitude." Whiskey warns them.

They both go quiet for a moment, before Whiskey turns away and lays prone behind her rifle again, eyes locked on the target's apartment.

-

June 20th, 2019.

0154 hours.

The mission went tits up. Not anyone's fault. Not really.

A stealth drop-in, execution, and pull out... and yet the target's security guards were more alert than expected...

Long story short, the target made off, while Valkyrie was busy dealing with more bodyguards than expected.

As they returned to safehouse, Whiskey immediately began packing her gear.

"It took me three fucking weeks." She murmurs under her breath, disassembling her sniper.

"I can hear you, you know?" Valkyrie replies from the corner while wrapping her bicep in gauze after having been slashed through by a knife.

"Oh you can? Can you?!" Whiskey turns her head sharply to glare at Valkyrie. "That's real interestin' considerin' you didn't fuckin' listen when I fuckin' told you to WAIT." She scolds the other operator.

"Oh fuck you. There were too many of them. That's not my fault. You're the one that has been keeping watch for three weeks! If you did your job, we'd know he had a bigger protection detail than we thought." Valkyrie argues.

That causes Whiskey to drop the parts of her rifle and stand up sharply, glaring at Valkyrie from across the room.

"You wanna talk about fuckin' up my job?! You went in about as discreetly as a bull in a fuckin' china shop!" Whiskey raises her voice, which causes Valkyrie to rise to their feet as well.

"And you didn't hit a single shot while covering me!" Valkyrie gets closer and gets in Whiskey's face, their dark brown eyes locked on Whiskey's hazel ones.

"I don't have execute authority, Valkyrie! You know what that fuckin' means, don't you?! Oh, wait, no, you're not a fuckin' soldier, right?" The older operator asks with widened, angry eyes.

"That's exactly right, so why the fuck are you asking like I need to fuckin' listen to you in the first place? Who do you think you are?" Valkyrie lunged their head up a couple of times in an act of challenge.

"I'm the one representing the fuckin' CIA here, you're just a shitty mercenary. You have no goddamn authority!" Whiskey raises her voice as she leans into Valkyrie, using her height to her advantage.

"Now pack your goddamn gear. You're going to help me find the damn weasel that you let escape. And I don't want another fucking peep out of you." Whiskey adds with vitriol spitting from her voice, a finger pointing in Valkyrie's face.

-

June 25th, 2019.

1137 hours.

"Alors? (So?)" Valkyrie asks as she looks at Whiskey with a raised brow while she takes her seat across from her at the table.

They've been on the road for a few days, getting intel from both Watcher's informants and Whiskey's own previous research.

"C'est l'endroit idéal. La dame a dit qu'elle avait vu quelques « voyous » correspondant à la description que nous lui avions donnée, s'installer de l'autre côté de la rue. Il dit qu'ils viennent souvent chercher de la nourriture. (This is the spot. The old lady said she saw some thugs set up shop across the street. They come here to buy food every day.) " Whiskey tells her.

"Comment as-tu fait ça ? (How'd you do that?)" Valkyrie ends up asking in a murmur as she watches Whiskey spoon some soup into her mouth.

Whiskey cocks a brow, confused, as she glances at Valkyrie from across the table, popping a pelmeni between her teeth and huffing a bit at the explosion of warm meat in her mouth.

"Pour qu'elle s'ouvre à toi ? (Get her to open up to you?)" The blonde insists before she takes a sip of her own spoon of Russian soup.

She's noticed by now that Whiskey is a surprisingly resourceful woman. She drives well, knows how to speak and read Russian, is observant and detail-oriented...

Plus, she's paranoid as all hell, and demands they speak French and wear civvy clothes while out in public... Not to mention having Val conceal their hair under a baseball cap.

"Je parle russe comme un natif. Et lui a dit qu'ils faisaient du mal aux petites filles. (I speak Russian like a native. And I told her they've been hurting little girls.)" Whiskey replies and shrugs.

Valkyrie stiffens up a bit, his jaw clenching lightly after Whiskey explained how she got the intel she needed.

Whiskey catches the look in their eye and snaps her fingers in their face, drawing Valkyrie back from whatever thought they got lost in.

"Mange. Tu auras besoin de toute l’énergie pour les foutre en l’air. (Eat. You'll need all the energy you can get to fuck them up.)" Whiskey tells them... but her voice is just a bit warmer, before she looks away to her own bowl.

-

June 26th, 2019

0348 hours

"HOLD THE CAR STEADY!" Valkyrie shouts as they hold half of their body out of the window, a leg wrapped around their clipped seat belt to secure them in place, as they shoot their rifle at the van in front of them.

"I CAN'T, THEY'RE FUCKIN' SWERVING SIDE TO SIDE, VAL!" Whiskey shouts in response from behind the wheel, attempting to control the car while also dodging the shots the enemies were aiming back at her behind the wheel.

"WELL I CAN'T HIT THEM IF YOU KEEP SWERVING!"

"AND I CAN'T FOLLOW THEM IF I DON'T SWERVE!"

It's as they're arguing, that it happens. A Russian police car suddenly starts giving chase to them through the streets of the small city.

"GREAT, NOW WE'RE BEING CHASED."

"JUST SHUT UP AND KEEP DRIVING, I'VE GOT THIS." Valkyrie shouts as he swivels back and starts opening fire on the cruiser behind them.

"SHOOT THE RUSSIANS, GOD DAMN YOU."

"THEY'RE ALL RUSSIAN."

"NOT THE COPS, VAL, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"HOW ABOUT I SHOOT YOU?!"

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Whiskey grunts and pulls out her pistol, then takes a couple shots at the van before them and, somehow, they land.

The van's back tire pops and spins out, causing the van to swerve and, in a desperate attempt from the driver to regain control, crashes against a tree on the sidewalk, while Whiskey brings their own car to a stop.

A few bystanders start screaming, chaos taking over the street, more so than it had already, cars skidding to a stop and crashing behind them and around them to escape the crash and gunshots.

Whiskey immediately pops open the door, using it for cover so she can aim a few shots at the Russians who are already slipping out of the van to return fire.

Vallyrie is on the other side, trading fire with the Russians as well. The cops that bad been chasing them now lying on the street after she had taken care of them.

"Fuck I'm out!" They called out through the open doors of the car.

"What do you mean you're out?!" Whiskey shouts back.

"I'm out! No more bullets. Do you need me to say it in Spanish? Finito!"

"That's Italian!"

"Really?! Right now is not the time?!"

With a long sigh, Whiskey mutters a "Fuck it.", then tosses her pistol at Valkyrie. "USE THEM WISELY AND COVER ME."

Before Val can even process what Whiskey said, she's gone, slipping behind a crashed car beside theirs and rushing across toward the Russians.

Valkyrie's eyes widen when she notices Whiskey using a garrote to choke one of the bodyguards from behind, slinging an arm around his own rifle, and using it to shoot at his teammates while actively choking him out with the other.

This provides Valkyrie some time to approach as well and change spots herself, perching over the hood of the car to land a shot on another of the bodyguards.

Once Valkyrie makes enough headway into the van, she pops open the door, and with one clean shot and a couple of stab wounds, disposes of the last bodyguard and the HVT.

Whiskey rounds the car and approaches Val, rifle held at the ready and looking around as more sirens sound and echo from the nearby streets.

Val tosses the body of the HVT out with a thud at Victoria's feet, and takes a picture as a 'job done' security protocol for Laswell.

"We need to leave. Now." Whiskey murmurs as she looks around.

"It's done. It's done." Val murmurs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his vest. "We don't make that bad of a team. This was actually pretty cool."

Whiskey's hazel eyes lock onto Val's dark brown ones, then, she rolls her eyes. "Just get in the damn car." She grunts and nudges her along with her borrowed rifle. "Pretty cool my ass." Whiskey murmurs as she runs to the driver's seat.

"You should let me drive this time, you know?" Valkyrie goads as Whiskey puts the car in reverse and looks over her shoulder.

"That sounds like a terrible fucking idea. Why the fuck would I do that?" Whiskey shoots the car forward and swerves into a side street.

"Because your driving is about as bad as your aim with knives."

"Will you let that go? I wasn't aiming for your head."

"Even if you were, you'd have missed."

"You know, Watcher said I can't kill Russians on Russian soil... but didn't say anything about Canadians."

The Look™️ in question:

For @superhero-landing aka @/🔪 anon