#this is the same reason I hate scintillating

[girl-next-door-writes]

You've Got That Something

Characters: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Summary: Something has changed, something almost imperceptible, and now Ominis is left longing to reach out in a way he has always avoided.  

Word Count: 1593 words

A/N: I have a few feelings about this character. Hope you enjoy.

The early autumn sun shone through the window to his right, casting a warmth over his cheek that he loved to bask in. He had sat in the same seat since first year, partly because he liked to be a creature of habit, but mostly because the sunlight combined with the scent of old parchment was soothing enough to lull him to sleep when combined with Professor Binns drone. He felt relaxed here, as if the whole world slowed down around him for an hour or so.

This year however, something seemed off, something unsettled him. He was sitting in his usual seat, his parchment and quill on the desk. The shaft of sunlight warmed his skin, and his ears slowly began to tune out the words of the professor until they became white noise. The scent of ink and leather mixed pleasantly in his nostrils. So why did he have this strange sense of nerves?  

With a soft frown on his lips, Ominis leaned his chin on his hand, trying to pinpoint his discomfort. Something to his left, that’s where this strange tingling sensation began. He could feel the hairs on his arm raise beneath his shirt sleeves as he tentatively leaned in that direction.

You had sat beside Ominis regularly for the last few years, and he had appreciated the times you had shared your notes with him or ensured he awoke just before the end of class so he would not be late for his next one. Although he would not refer to you as a ‘friend’, you were something more than an acquaintance, and your presence had never bothered him before. Perhaps you had changed something about yourself and his failure to place it was what caused his irritation.

He could hear your soft, steady breathing and he did not need to use his wand to know that you had drifted off amidst the scintillating story Professor Binns was imparting to his class. Imagining you casually leant on the desk while you slumbered brought a soft smile to his lips, amusing him for some reason. Focusing a little more, he could smell the familiar scent of your soap, your shampoo, the two mingling together to make an intoxicating aroma that he believed would make a rather successful perfume, if it wasn’t available as one already.

A sudden desire to sit closer to you overtook him, and before he could catch himself, his arm had brushed against yours and a pleasant shiver ran through him. Well. That was certainly something new. He had been so busy attempting to analyze this new experience that he failed to notice his movement had woken you rather suddenly.

You sat up rigidly, your arm flailing and your hand coming to rest on his for a moment as your fight or flight responses calmed within you. As soon as you realised that you were not in any danger, you removed your hand and gave him an embarrassed chuckle.

“Sorry about that, Ominis. Must have dropped off for a second.” You whispered sheepishly.

“It’s alright.” He returned, although internally it was as if a warning siren had gone off and everything was launched into panic stations. He rarely allowed any form of physical contact from people, not wishing to be seen as weak, but the warmth of your skin on his, even for that fraction of a second, had changed him irreparably. He felt as if his nerve endings were all aflame, and the only way the agony could be quashed was by your touch. This was most certainly an unfortunate turn of events.

The ghost of your touch haunted him. He would run his fingertips over the back of his hand, believing you must have left some physical mark. How could a moment which occurred weeks ago still plague him?

“Ominis, mate, I don’t think it should be this colour.” Sebastian’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he hummed in annoyance. He hated potions.

“And what colour, prey tell, is this concoction supposed to be? And how do you propose we rectify this?” He snarked, already frustrated with this brew.

“Hey, don’t get your pants in a twist, I was just saying, I think we might have gone a bit wrong somewhere.” Seb turned his attention back to the recipe, trying to figure out what they had missed.

“Ooooh, looks like you gentlemen may need a little help.” Your voice had Ominis straightening up his already fairly impeccable posture. He turned in your direction, all hint of irritation banished from his face.

“I fear it is rather a case of the blind leading the blind over here.” He sighed, his joke earning him a chuckle from you. The sound made his chest swell and he felt the desire to make you laugh again.

“Let me see.”

Ominis was aware of you moving behind him, coming to stand between himself and Sebastian as you peered into the bubbling cauldron.

“Ah, you haven’t put the sneezewort in there. It’ll change the colour, but be careful, you only need a sprinkle. Here, if you grind some like this…”

Ominis’ world tilted on its axis as he felt your fingers brush his, placing a pestle and mortar in his hands. When he failed to actually grind the small white flowers, you had wrapped your hand around his and helped him, completely unaware that your touch had caused the poor boy to entirely shut down.

“Right, now, if you pop a pinch in the potion, you should be back on track.” He could hear the smile in your voice, and he wondered if it was aimed at him or Sebastian.

Ominis was so distracted by this thought that he did not pay attention to how much sneezewort he picked up and tossed into the mixture.

There was a loud bang and suddenly his face was covered with a sticky substance. Realising that if he was covered, then you would be too, he immediately began to apologise profusely.

“Don’t worry, Gaunt. Green might just be my colour.” You had chuckled, reaching up with a tissue to wipe some of the potion from his cheek.

“You three, go get yourselves cleaned up.” The crisp tone of Professor Sharp’s voice rang out and Ominis felt you pull away, leaving him craving more of your touch.

Sitting in the Great Hall, he could hear the scratching of quills on parchment, the soft whispering of those daring enough to risk the wrath of the professors in charge of study hall, and the frustrated sigh that escaped you as you studied beside him. Whatever assignment you were working on appeared to have you rather perplexed, and he wished he could give some insight that would ease your worries, but he had found himself struggling to form coherent sentences around you since the incident in potions class.

Ominis felt you shift beside him, your knee brushing his for a fraction of a second, but that was all it took for his entire body to scream out for you. The warmth of your touch, the tenderness, it made him feel so happy deep down in his soul, made him believe that true happiness not only existed but that he was capable of having such a thing.

Sebastian looked up from his scribbling and smirked. His friend was definitely not as skillful at masking his new found feelings as he thought. The light dusting of redness on his cheeks, the way his head tilted towards you that let Sebastian know Ominis was listening intently to you, it was incredibly obvious that the Gaunt boy was infatuated.

Imelda nudged Sebastian and nodded over to Ominis with a grin. Seb gave her a warning look, not wanting Ominis embarrassed. As the two of them watched, their friends hand came to rest on the table, fingers twitching slightly every so often.

“This is painful.” Imelda whispered, rolling her eyes but unable to keep her attention away from what was happening for long.

Ominis’ fingers stretched out, as if he were just relieving some tension there, and his little finger grazed against the cuff of your robe. And there it stayed for what felt like an eternity.

Sebastian held his breath as he noticed you glance down at Ominis’ hand, the corners of your lips quirking up. Slowly, you extended your little finger, until it came to rest pressed against his.

Imelda’s eyes widened in excitement and Sebastian punched her in the arm to stop her from saying something.

Ominis’ heart was racing as he felt your finger next to his. Perhaps it was an accident, but then you hadn’t pulled away. Wanting to test his ‘accident’ theory, he hooked his little finger over yours and waited with bated breath. Gosh, it was hot. Had it always been this warm in the Great Hall?

Your hand shifted, and suddenly he felt your palm pressed to his. You had turned your hand, so the back now rested on the table and had interlaced your fingers with his, giving him a light squeeze as if to ask if this was okay.

Ominis dipped his head, failing to hide the goofy smile that now pulled at his lips as he squeezed your hand in return. He was not the sort of person who would usually indulge in such a public display of affection, but having your hand in his finally calmed him, allowed him to actually focus on his assignment.

That was until Sebastian fell off the bench when Imelda sought payback for the arm punch.

[fatedevour]

♢  —    @bogachs​​​​​​​​​​​​​ asked:   ❛ i really hate you , sometimes . ❜ deadly nightshade starters: NOT ACCEPTING  

   Having a previously concealed KNIFE pointed up at the vulnerable skin of the chin and throat would dissuade MOST. The typical person would flinch, recoil, roll over with their tail between their legs. But Dottore is in no way MOST PEOPLE. He grins at how gleaming blade scintillates between the two of them.

   “  You don’t.  “  Dottore’s voice doesn’t FALTER or tremble, but speaks with utter CONFIDENCE. There was no doubt to be found roosting anywhere in the nook of his words or tone. A hand lifts to wrap around the wrist POISED with the knife, pushing it aside just a fraction so that MONSTROUS visage may lean closer.  “  Though I don’t DOUBT the heat of your fury at times.  “  He’s been SCORCHED by them before when he spent far more than intended or allotted when the other had FIRST joined their ranks. He’d made sure not to make an error like that again.

   It is...STRANGE whenever Dottore happens to think on it; to not be HATED, to not be FEARED. He doesn’t opt to dwell on it long in the face of multifarious experiments and plans. And maybe for a more PERSONAL reason. For the SHARPNESS of a silver tongue that could RIVAL the knife in hand, Dottore knows it is only said for APPEARANCES sake. He still does not understand the obsession Pantalone holds with that. He has long accepted he likely NEVER will. A difference of values so EXTREME neither can quite understand the others lack of regard or too careful regard for it.

   He MIGHT feel the sting of leather for the thought that dances in his mind. Yet it is ENTICING all the same in a way not unlike how people RISK burns to taste their favorite foods hot from the fire. His head bends and he licks away the splatter of crimson staining the regrator’s otherwise FLAWLESS visage. A CHESHIRE CAT GRIN plasters itself to his face as he leans away with a satisfied era.  “  All GONE, no need of complaint now is there~?  ”  (There IS and he knows it’s inevitably coming with a disdainful scorning of how disgusting it was. It does not dissuade him and it surprises NEITHER of them.)

   “  Besides,  “  he loosens his grip around the caught hand, allowing his fingers to TRAIL over Pantalone’s inner wrist with TENDER care before falling away completely as he leans AWAY.  “  Hate still secures me a CENTER position in your eyes.  “  An abnormally SMOOTH line - often they came at RANDOM without deliberate thought from the doctor.

    “  We’ll be at the city in a short while, the NOISE will keep any other BEASTS from crawling out from here on.  “  A remark tossed CASUALLY out when his form turns away from the ninth to the glow ahead of them.  “  And yes there is a tub as you so DEMANDED.  “

[residentdragonfucker]

I just found out how scion is pronounced and I'm not surprised but I'm still disgusted

[ruki--mukami]

I got inspired while reading romeo and Juliet, hence why the writing might be more.. fancy? //

This was their first faithful encounter, the hunter attacked the vampire before her savagely but it was clear that her heart held no will, he mind kept no hate, towards the vampire before her, for her attacks were slow and like moves of a dance that she wished to put out with him.

Each one of her steps were light on the ground below as the harsh rain soaked her up from head to toe, allowing her hood to fall off at once, revealing a face so beautiful it would put Aphrodite to shame.

Beautiful thin green eyes, pillow like pink lips with cheeks that were adornes with freckles, hair a deep orange that framed her pale face beautifully.

Those eyes held not a look of hatred, but one of love from the bottom of her heart, for she had fallen- but it was a love that was destined to drive them both mad and leave each other longing for more.

The silver claws she adored fell to the ground as her knife stabbed to the ground deep and hard, she was trapped in an embrace given by the vampire to seize her movenents all at once, and it left her staring longingly at him.

Love upon the first sight she put upon him, she couldn't stop the fluttering of her heart as it roughly slammed itself against the hard bones of her ribcage.

“You… How dare you,” the Vampire lowly commented upon such sudden proximity. What might have appeared as an embrace shared between those typically reserved for affectionate couples was Ruki’s way of incapacitating the hunter before him, the clanging thud of a silver knife scraping against the asphalt outside the manor’s entrance amidst the surrounding petrichor permeating the air and a torrential stampede soaking the paved roads. Taking the woman into his arms was simply his instinctual response to what he already surmised was a concealed weapon beneath the cloak that concealed a world of beauty, from her scintillating tresses of sunset to refulgent peridots that harbored not one iota of a threat. “Have you suddenly lost your courage? Normally I’d decapitate the likes of you by now, but I must admit… I’d never take one of your appearance as a hunter who slays my kind.”

Chests melding into one another, the Vampire could practically sense the thunderous pounds of her heart akin to the storm off in a distance that rained the carnage of electricity to end any mortal’s life. That same voltage, the flowing current as fast as light itself, coursed through Ruki the moment their eyes met. Confusion suffused him instantaneously, the only response he could muster being a desecration of the hunter’s fallen hood and by extension her dark cloak reminiscent of umbral hours. First her neck came to view, then her shoulder once he shredded through the weak fibers with protruded nails only a supernatural could summon. The very ones she most likely detested, given her occupation.

“What’s the matter, little hunter? Afraid you won’t land a single blow? Well, that was your first mistake.”

Thousands of thoughts and speculations flooded his mind like the incessant rainfall as Ruki wondered about her reason for visiting the Mukami estate. Did she hold a vendetta against all Vampires, or was her purpose more specific than that? Perhaps someone hired a hit on him specifically. Regardless, the sharp ivories he brandished with aplomb carved their way into the hunter’s jugular, then her shoulder, all in search of the sweet ichor that would grant him unparalleled satisfaction. Abounding pulchritude before him fueled each vehemently passionate bite, blood besmirching his ashen and frigid lips.

“Ahh… Imagine my luck, encountering one as delectable as you… How does it feel, being bitten by he who will tame you?” The embrace only grew tighter as he drained her redolent life force, caging her body in his. “Hm… I should like to make you mine in due course. Tell me why you came here today and perhaps I’ll be gentle with you.”

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Just Right (3)

Part 2

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: Someone throws a wrench in the plans.

Chapter Warning: Footbal AU. Don’t hate me please 😬 angst, implied smut, and some very petty behavior.

If you want to read more here’s my masterlist and you want to be notified when I post here’s my taglist

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The next morning, you had a pep in your step. Angel left you in bed with breakfast and a note saying he went on a run.

Coming downstairs you heard Angel’s voice, you assumed he was on the phone and not talking to the devil herself.

“Adelita, this is a surprise.” Angel backed away from her when he heard your voice.

“Y/N,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. Backing away she twirled your hair around your finger. “I see the drought is over. Who’s the lucky guy?” If Adelita wasn’t so damn conceited she would’ve smelled Angel on you. But of course, you wouldn’t be able to bag a guy like Angel.

Angel cleared his throat and stepped in between the two of you, grabbing onto Adelita’s hips. “Uhh, let’s leave Y/N alone. I’m sure she’s not the kiss and tell type.”

“Not around you.” She joked, patting Angel’s chest. “Once we’re done talking me and you can have some girl talk like old times. Just you’ll be the one sharing stories this time.”

The nerve. This is the second time in your life that you wanted to knock Adelita out. “Yeah sure.” You gave her a tight smile over your shoulder and went back to your room.

While walking you could hear the hushed whispers and the sounds of lips kissing. As soon as you knew you were out of sight you ran to your room and immediately started packing.

“What are you doing?” Right after Adelita left, Angel ran to you. “What does it look like Angel?”

Tugging your pants out of your hands, Angel stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“And what?!” You screamed in his face. “Stay here with you and Adelita?!”

He tried to hug you, but you pushed him away. “You really must be crazy. How are you just gonna take her back?”

“She was my fiancée, she deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Angel explained like it was a one size fits all reason.

“Oh, the same fiancée that dumped you once your future was unsure.” You scrunched your face up. “The same fiancée that told you it was over through a letter? The same fiancée that was all over social media hanging out and partying while you were in rehab? The same fiancée that so happens to ‘coincidentally’ come back into your life after you just made the biggest comeback ever?” You brushed past him went out the door. “Yeah, you can miss me with that bullshit.”

Angel trailed behind you, hoping he could amend things with you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Whipping around you shoved him. “Yeah, you are. You know honestly, I don’t feel bad for myself as much as I do for you. I pray to God that he never makes me as pathetic as you. Have a nice life, Angel Reyes.”

Opening the front door revealed a sympathetic Mr. Felipe and an angry EZ. They both tried to stop you, but you kissed each man goodbye promising to keep in touch.

EZ waited until he saw you drive away to attack his brother. “What the fuck did you do?” Angel blocked some of his brother’s punches, but EZ managed to get some in.

Felipe was able to pull his youngest off his eldest. “EZ that’s enough!”

“Nah, Pop! You saw her. She practically ran out in tears.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Ezekiel!” Angel tried to walk away from them, but Felipe stopped him. “Explain yourself, son.”

“Adelita.” Both his father and brother groaned at that name. Now they knew why you ran out like that.

EZ didn’t have time for whatever excuse that his brother had. “You two deserve each other. And I hope when you come to your senses it’s too late.” He slammed the door on the way out, too disgusted with Angel to stay.

A few moments later Felipe followed his son out. “Pop,” Angel cried out, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy. “Not right now, Angel.” He stopped at the door and looked back at his son. “Unlike your brother I hope it won’t be too late for you to come to your senses. When you stick your head out of your ass, you and Y/N are perfect for each other.”

Once he was alone, Angel sat on the staircase wondering if he made the right decision.

Losing Angel just wasn’t about your heart breaking, but also losing your best friend. Those months spent with him was probably the best time of your life. The only thing that got you through the days were work and Rio.

At first, he assured you that he could just be your friend but someway somehow, he wormed his way into something more. You told him that you didn’t want him as some rebound, but he cockily said, “Ain’t no way I’m a rebound.” So, you stayed and started dating him.

You were reading a book when Rio came and laid his head in your lap. “Mamaaaa,” he sung kissing the little bit of your exposed fupa. “What do you want?” He was only this adorable when he wanted something like that extra cookie that would mess up his diet. “Nothing extra. Just go to dinner with me.”

“That’s it?” You closed your book and set it down to look at him curiously. “Yeah, I got a dress picked out, hairstylist and makeup artist on the way.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner is this?” Dinners with Rio never required all the hoopla. “The league always hosts a dinner for all the teams in the semifinals.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Rio trampled over your words, not letting you get a word in. “I know that dumbass is gonna be there, but I think it would be the perfect place to show him what he’s missing out on.”

If you went this would be the first time you saw Angel and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Last time he made you look like a fool. “I don’t know Rio.”

Sitting up, Rio picked you up and sat you down in your lap. “But mama,” he attacked your neck with his lips, adding a little bite every now and then. “I’ll be bored without you. And who am I gonna shove in a closet and fuck her like a dirty girl?”

“You’ll be fine without me for a couple of hours.”

“Alright, time for the big guns.” Rio led you to his bedroom with a covered mannequin in the center. Unveiling the mannequin, he revealed the most beautiful dress. You would be crazy to not wear that dress.

“Ok, I’ll go!” Rio pulled you by your hips against him. “Good, I thought I would have to use my other negotiation methods.”

“Nah, I still need convincing.” Rio backed you into the bed and pulled off your shorts. “Okay, but you got 15 minutes to cum two times before the stylist gets here.”

Angel was doing his best at trying to keep his cool. Adelita was making her way through all the owners, sponsors, and players ‘networking’ to gain traction for her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t support, actually he was very supportive of it, but this night was in celebration of him and the other players. And he couldn’t ask her to quit it without looking like a complete douchebag.

“Are you two seriously making bets?” Angel wasn’t paying that much attention to Coco and Gilly until they said Adelita’s name. They were betting on when she would corner their team owner, Miguel Galindo. “How else are we gonna pass the time? Ain’t like there’s scintillating conversation.” Coco collected money from Riz and put it in his breast pocket.

“Pendejo,” Angel ordered another drink and while waiting for it he heard Coco whistle. Turning around to see what made Coco speechless, Angel was glad that he already set his old glass on the bar top, because he would’ve dropped it. There you were in the most beautiful dress looking like a goddess, but his mood soured when he saw that it was Rio escorting you.

Bishop walked up beside him and smacked him in the back of the head. “Fucking dumbass. Now she’s with that asshole.” Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bishop held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. And you better leaver her alone, she looks happy.” His coach pointed his chin towards you and Rio kissing. Angel slammed back his drink and ordered another one. This was about to be a long night.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Bishop and the guys.” Rio looked for your friends and saw that Angel was right there next to them. “You sure? You want me to go with you?” It warmed your heart that Rio was so protective over you. It was unfamiliar territory for you. Usually, you were the one protecting others. “No, you stay here with your team, I’ll be okay.” Rio quirked his eyebrow, questioning you. He was trying to break you out of the habit of you masking your feelings, pretending you’re fine when you’re really not. “Rio, I promise. I’ll be good.” You patted his chest and started to walk away, but then he caught Angel staring at the two of you real hard and he couldn’t help but give him a show.

Spinning you around into his arms, Rio smashed his lips against yours. His still taste a little bit of yourself from when he wanted to make you his meal. Rio’s hands drifted to your ass and you did little to stop him. Ending the kiss, he tugged your bottom lip slowly releasing it and ending your connection. “Go say hi to your friends.” He whispered in your ear, fixing some of your lipstick that got under your lips.

Angel wanted to knock Rio the clean the fuck out. Who the fuck did he think he was practically dry humping you in public like that? “You better keep your mouth shut. You lost your privileges to be mad.” Coach Hank warned Angel as he saw you approach the group.

“Hey guys!” You were genuinely happy to see all of them. Since, you cut off contact with Angel you haven’t talked to any of them at all.

They all lined up to hug you, almost fighting each other to be the first one. But Angel waited his turn. He had a lot more to say than just hi.

It was a bit awkward at first. Neither one of you made the first move. Eventually, you threw yourself in his arms and you were almost a goner. You did not know that hugging him would bring back all those feelings you tried to bury deep down.

“You look beautiful.” He kept a hand around your wrist, his thumb stroking the inside of it. “Thank you.”

His eyes kept dipping to your dress. There were some cut out pieces revealing more skin than he cared for. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

Snatching your wrist away, you crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from slapping the shit out of Angel. “Rio doesn’t seem to mind.”

Angel invaded your space and glared down at you. “Do I look like Rio?”

“Do I look like Adelita?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he had no reason to question you. You weren’t his, but damn it he wanted you to be.

“This was a mistake coming over here. Go back and talk to your fiancée.”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

Skrtt, you stopped your retreat. “Say what?”

“I said she’s not my fiancée.” Angel wasn’t able to explain further. Adelita finally came and graced you with her presence. She didn’t pay any attention to Angel. All her attention was on you. Adelita was actually pulling you away to talk to one of the other coaches about joining their staff.

This was almost as torturous as talking to Angel. Adelita barely let you get a word in. She was acting like she was your damn agent. Luckily, Rio came and saved the day.

“Where are we going?” You whispered as he pulled you into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.” He jiggled each door until he found an unlocked door and pushed you through.

“Rio no,” you weakly protested clutching onto his tux. “What? You don’t wanna give daddy a little something something?” He pouted, knowing it was your weakness.

“Okay, but it has to be fast.” Rio kissed you some more knowing how turned you got by simply making out.

Due to your combined breaths getting heavier neither one of you heard the turning of the doorknob. It wasn’t until the light from the hallway shone on you and Rio, exposing your dirty deed.

“Oh shit, my bad dawg!” Angel lifted his head from Adelita’s neck and apologized to the other couple. He didn’t mean it all. Angel saw Rio lead you to the hallway and by the mischievous look he had on his face, he knew his opponent was up to no good.

The little smirk on Angel’s face told you that none of it was an accident. “It’s okay, I wasn’t feeling well anyway. I think we should go home.” You smirked back at Angel. He wasn’t the only one that can play games.

“C’mon Angel, they need to get home.” Adelita winked at you and led an unwilling Angel back to the party.

You were almost out until you got stopped by Mr. Galindo. He was the only team owner you hadn’t talked to that night.

With Miguel Galindo trying to convince you to join his staff and Adelita standing next to you patiently waiting for her chance, Angel and Rio were left alone with each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stay the fuck away from Y/N. You’re no good for her.” Angel had to refrain from snatching up Rio as he laughed. “You got jokes man.” Rio stepped closer to him, they were basically nose to nose. “At least when I make her cry it’s from my dick and not from being a dickwad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watch on Rio and Angel. Those two couldn’t be alone without trying to fight in the first 30 seconds.

The scene before you was getting to be too much, but you couldn’t do anything without being disrespectful towards Miguel. Thankfully, Coco and Gilly were watching them too and were able to pull Angel away.

Somehow Miguel talked you into staying for the entire dinner. And because the universe loved you so much you and Rio were assigned to the same table as Angel and Adelita.

After Adelita formally introduced herself to him. And you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but it seemed that she was flirting with Rio. Not that you had anything to worry about. Rio wasn’t entertaining her at all.

“She take my money when I’m in need. Yeah, she’s a trifling’ friend indeed.” As soon as you recognized the notes, you tried to stomp Rio’s foot, but he was too quick.

“Huh, what was that?” Adelita didn’t quite catch what Rio was saying. “Oh nothing, I just got a song stuck in my head.  Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she ain’t messing’ with no broke bro.”

Angel had to admit to himself that was funny, but ain’t no way he’ll let Rio know that.

“Stop it!” You whispered in Rio’s ear. Even if Adelita was oblivious to him making fun of her, everyone else surrounding them wasn’t. “Now you know you always tell me that but we both know you don’t mean it hear or at home.” Heat crept up your face and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of Rio’s neck. Rio slightly turned to kiss your forehead while fingering the bracelet he got you.

Once the glint of the bracelet caught Adelita’s eye she snatched your wrist from Rio. You didn’t mind though because you and Rio were off in your own little world. Not even the harsh stare from Angel could tear your eyes away from Angel.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Angel?” Adelita rubbed at her ankle. “My bad.” He frowned as Rio smirked at him knowing full well he was the intended target.

As the night went on, Rio’s and Angel’s antics went up. You don’t know what you did, but you had two petty kings arguing over you. And at times it was funny but also stressful.

The little innuendos concerning you flew over Adelita’s head but everyone else was getting them. They were getting so vicious that Coco and Gilly started another bet on who would swing first.

The event was concluding when things got downright ugly. Angel once again voiced his concerns of Rio dating you. Rio had enough and went for the low blow. “You’re just mad because I already took your girl and I’m about to take your city and your ring.”

Coco and Gilly’s bet was long forgotten as Angel went for Rio. “Don’t be mad, Reyes. I’m just spitting facts. If I’m wanna keep it hunnid, if I threw the right amount of cash, I could have your other girl too.”

“RIO!” You scolded him trying to pull him away. Thank god, Adelita was nowhere near to hear that little bit.

“Nah, babe fuck that.” Rio shrugged you off of him and stood toe to toe to Angel. “You ain’t on top no more big dawg. Get use to it.”

Angel just shook his head and turned around like a wounded animal. “Coco, give Gilly his money.”

“What?” Coco asks too late because Angel threw the first punch at Rio. And once they started fighting it was hard to get them to stop. Even Gilly couldn’t hold Angel. It wasn’t until you did something that they stopped.

Bishop tried to stop you once he noticed what you were attempting to do, but you slipped right past him. The boys were in between blows giving you the perfect opportunity to step in the middle of them. As soon as you became an obstacle each man lowered their fist.

Angel actually started to cower some when he saw your face. This was like your training face but a thousand times worse. Rio never saw you this pissed and he was beginning to get scared to breath the wrong way. Either way both men knew to shut the hell up.

Facing Angel first, you shoved him in the chest. “Angel Ignacio Reyes, I know you were raised better than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Angel mumbled, his eyes downcasted.

“And you!” You faced Rio, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“Next time leave your petty bullshit for the football field.” You told the both of them before heading out without even waiting for Rio. 

Damn, you knew you should’ve stayed your behind at home.

Tagging: @tashawar​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11​ @otomefromtheheart​ @miss-nori85​ @xsweetdellzx​ @cocogodess15​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @sesamepancakes​ @literaturefeen​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @blessedboo​

[ra-ttdrp]

Ricochet

Dr. Ra:

I bring Nash back in the most basic way trying not to set off anything coming out of his genes. He reminded me so much of Nemo I felt more numbed guilt. It was easier to abuse him when I hated Lor'Ra enough to betray them all. Or maybe it was having all the his memories in my head to be more sympathetic and regretful. Now they're both dead when I tried to take it all back. I should have never did it.

"Nash...? What is it?? Why are you so upset?"

He was crying and not making much sense .. like his father..

The kind if despair felt all too much, I wonder if he posioned himself it seemed more like a reasonable theory of what happened.

Then he finely has enough clarity to bash the light panel above him on the table. My face viser goes over my eyes so I don't get cut by the glass.

"Ahh.. not helping kid! If you cant tell me I cant help you!"

(Nash): "No light no light..."

He doesn't want to recharge the Scintille crystals in his body that makes the energy?.. not that there is alot left after he posioned himself..

"Then...put the moonstone in a ...tooth filling or something...earing? DONT EAT IT!"

I snap at how crazy this was. Maybe I need to think of him not as the same case as Nemo after all. It passed.. generically..

....what the hell did I make???!

Borin comes in and I go into bitch mode cause I felt so guilty about..all of this.

"Prince??? I..brought him back...like you said.."

I bow a little bit but he seemed... upset. Maybe Soren got taken..

How nice..the whole family can be together ...

*rolls eyes jealously*

(Borin): "Oh good you're alive, now I can RING YOUR STUIPD NECK DID YOU SET ME UP!!!!????!!!"

(Nash): *looks surprised then goes with it hoping Borin kills him* "Maybe I did...did you really think you could trust me???" He tries to hiss but Borin shoves the medical table shoved backwards and Nash tangled up in the ivs with a painful yelp.

(Borin): "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY ME FOR THOSE SAVAGES!! I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD!!!"

"Borin I JUST put him back together, please errr!!" I look alarmed at how violent he was being..so unusual for Borin....

My worms - that still are enhanced with Perry's venom - easily detect the posion in Borin's system. But it was different then what Gwen got. It was effecting his mind.. he seemed unrationaly violent.....

I should..probbaly...do something but I get a Mhy space message and I send it to my face visor to block out deranged Borin traumatizing Nash more so then he already was obviously in the background.

"Settie!! Where are you?!!" I try to hold back my glee despite the terrible scene I found myself in.

(Settie) :"I dont know!!? In a cave..somewhere..like theres big furry spiders outside.."

"Is Perry there??"

(Settie): "No he left hours ago...and I went on MHY SPACE and HE HAS AN ACOUNT. WITH MY LAST NAME..LIKE I AM CLEARLY LISTED AS HIS SON. I THINK HE KNEW ALL ALONG! I GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!"

...yeah.... no one in the resistance checked their 'congratulations' on your clone child message. I TRIED.

I never knew if Lor'Ra hid her dirty secret so good or if everyone just thought it was fake news and didn't even bother to open it. Spam inbox? I dont know. I really tried to get him out of here..before I got..attached..

*twitch*

"Uh Borin, I'll patch up Nash in like a couple hours kay? Gotta go.. Julian ... red alert..stuff." *flies out the window in OP suit before he can King Order me not too*

[pixielix]

magic!au felix

pairing: pixie companion!felix + gn witch!reader genre: fluff word count: 0.7k warnings: none ― @districtninewriters writers’ room weekly prompt ↬ shoebox

“please, just get in the shoebox”

“it smells like feet”

“of course it does, it’s a shoebox!!!”

felix huffs, folding his arms over his chest as he slumps further into the palm of your hand, “shoebox shmoobox...”

you gently lift him up to your face so that he can’t avoid your pleading eyes

“lix, i want to make a good impression in front of my new human friends”

“and you don’t think they’d like me?”

“they’d love you! everyone does!”

you gaze down at your pouting companion, who measures up to no more than the height of your thumb

“i just don’t want to frighten them, that’s all. you could always just stay home. or would you prefer if i transfigured you into a mosquito again?

felix shudders, stretching his lips in a look of defeat

“box it is”

his wings flutter delicately as he leaps out of your hand and into the open shoebox, perching himself upon a ball of cotton that you’ve crafted into a tiny chair

“you’re sure we can trust them?”

“seungmin and jeongin are harmless” you respond, your new emerald silk scarf gently weaving itself around your neck as you summon it with a wave of your hand, “they aren’t like the others”

“that’s what you said about the others” he mutters

you pause to turn and narrow your eyes at him as he stares up at you defiantly

it’s very unlike him

your scowl blends into a knowing grin as you notice the tips of felix’s silver hair start to glow a subtle green tinge

“...are you jealous?”

“wh- no!” felix scrambles to conceal his hair by lifting his arms over his head, but you can still see a few strands starting to transition to a lighter pink colour

the same shade as his cheeks and the pointed tips of his ears

you bring a hand to your mouth trying to hold back your laughter

“no- i- ah whatever!”

he makes a quick escape as he zips behind the velvet black curtain that leads into your potions room, leaving behind a trail of luminescent dust

you decide to give him some space, knowing well enough by now that sometimes lix just needs some alone time to cool off

he is a pixie after all, one of the most temperamental creatures

and being a pixie means it’s in his nature to cause a bit of mischief wherever he goes

you’ve become akin to the symphony of noises filling this house since you became a fully fledged witch and felix was assigned as your companion

but at least it fills the silences with as much laughter as there is chaos

to prove your case, a clattering of glass vials and bottles rings out from the direction of your potions room just as you’re buckling up your favourite leather boots

“felix?” you call out, being met with silence

you sigh preemptively, preparing yourself for whatever mess you’re about to walk into

hesitantly, you peek your head through the velvet curtain and scan the potions room

“lix what did yo- WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

you find felix gaping at his own reflection in the glass of an empty teardrop-shaped potion bottle

with human-sized hands, his fingers trace the rounded tips of his ears then reach around to his back, peering over his shoulder for something that’s not there like a dog chasing it’s non-existent tail

“it worked....”

‘you’re-”

“i’m human!” he shouts, turning to you with an eager grin

“how did you- AH”

felix tackles you into a hug, blissfully unaware of his newfound strength that nearly knocks you off your feet

“woah woah” you steady yourself by gripping felix’s shoulders

your hands find their way to his cheeks as you scan his sharpened features, your eyes wide with concern and fascination, “...incredible”

“any headaches?”

“no”

“nausea? dizziness?”

“no and no” he shakes his head vigorously between your palms, “i feel great!”

he catches you off-guard with another big hug, just because he can

for some reason you feel tense and uncertain in his arms

maybe it’s because you’re only familiar with pixie-sized hugs

the way he’s almost always clinging to your shoulder or the sides of your thumb

felix-sized hugs, small but safe

instinctively mimicking the way you usually pet his head with your fingertips, your hand delicately strokes his hair

he smiles against the familiar feeling, burrowing his cheeks into the crook of your neck

“now i can come with you, right?” he grins hopefully, slowly untying his arms from around your waist

“...sure” you concede, chuckling at his excitement, “you really want to come that badly?”

“of course, i always want to be with you” he smiles bashfully with bright, brown eyes that are scintillating with affection

“plus i really hate the shoebox”

m.list

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 12, 2019 // the kidnapping

okay yall heres this! see you in two weeks! 🥳

-ik george called everyone to help but i get such a thrill from people asking nancy for help bc they know she can do it. (its a real contest sometimes between nancy over-inserting herself into peoples business bc she thinks she knows better vs her actually being the one to call)

-maybe an interesting facet to nancys tendency to lack emotion comes from mystery solving- being able to stay calm and objective when people like george are frantic and anxious. think rationally. search for clues. follow logical footsteps. this is where her predicting human behavior scientifically and not socially prevails. you might think youre behaving rationally but it takes a cold clocked brain to really do it (the 'wall' that carson mentioned)**

-owen is so cute lmfaoooo

-once again bess's particular attention to detail wins the day

-they totally stole this sharpie + back of menu thing from victoria

-wonder what gomber asked for from simon

-chief has absolutely zero hesitation to sharing things with nancy now lmfaoooo

-"just dont slow me down" all im picturing is nancys face when carson says how bout a father juxtaposed with s2 ryan and carson stalking her and pretending to hide in their car when they got caught

-"commentary rescinded" lmfaoooo we all judge him for the weekend sweater vests but he is undoubtedly the most capable character on this show for taking care of a kid

-"your memory is relentlessly specific" would honestly hate to be raising that kid lmfaoooo no winning arguments here. thats probably why carson is the way he is though, soft, small, open and unguarded - no reason to start arguments. perfect calm happy family

-okay lbh. was karen a dick for snooping in nancys room y/n?

-nancys face when carson offers advice on the phone call lmaoooo

-**so now wonder if that "calm" carson mentions as a survival mechanism is manufactured. that would be an intereting parallel to s2 premiere when nancy confesses to the wraith that shes afraid. then with nancys constant conflict of wheter to engage with mysteries or not when they are such a part of her is brought to scintillating focus if we consider this cold clocked calm during panic is actually based in something painful and tragic, and the real truth is that nancy is too afraid to even solve mysteries anymore (afraid of what tho? herself? hurting others? her own mystery-solving ability?)

-carson still has his supernatural nope hat on

-her frustration with her "memory in pieces" become so much more interesting considering it as a control mechanism- nancy is obsessively in control of what shes thinking and feeling and executes that control firmly in pretext of solving mysteries - she controls and solves them, they dont control her. like cancer was "the mystery she couldnt solve" and she just spiraled from there. like in the first ep she says "it was more than just a hobby, it was part of who i was" past tense. shes trying to reclaim parts of her identity that she thought were unshakeable, like mysteries and who her parents are, yet these parts of her identity that she still picks up and engages with turn out to be destructive both to herself and those around her. does her ability to draw the line differ? like the mysteries are a comfort/lacking stillness to avoid dealing with emptiness: did mysteries always hurt her parents/friends/others when she was younger, and she just never noticed because their lives werent permanently damaged like nancys picking apart these secrets did?

-"superstitions and rituals are all part of human behavior, its not proof of something inhuman" -discuss 🧐

-this ep and that hug made me ship george/nick

-love this bess/owen bonding time 💙

-love the contrast between nancy rejecting nicks help to george with "my trucks outside" (THE TRUCK omg foreshdowinggggg)

-damn casting did a good job finding a creepy bitch to play moira (shes sooooo weak tho lmfaooo)

-wonder if mcginnis can sense anything when gombers arm starts to bleed

-"TED!" "...yeah?" 😰😴🤦🏼‍♀️😂

-wonder what a relief nicks help is to george when even her own mother cant help her

-love this branch swinging bit for nancy. one hit for every memory taken! reminds me of our good ole tazer ep. and loving these physical outbursts from nancy.

-carson saying "i'm here" just like he did on the bluffs 😭

-UNPOPULAR OPINION: "just out of curiosity..." and gomber indulges her! what an interesting weirdcreep nancy/gomber (+simon as an extension) for a what if scenario. "i can still smell him on you" 👀...something about the children who were chosen first as little girls that come back as grown women (like an addiction/cant stay away/been marked/curiosity)

-owen holding bess's coat for her 🥺

-"we can enter our homes justified tonight" nancy would love that.

-irony: asking where kate will be in heaven bc lucy never made it to heaven/stuck as a ghost in purgatory (and why nancy always feels so lost bc she cant find kate bc kate's not hers)

-nancys old notebook is the same blue just like her blue car 💙😚

-mcginnis reaches out to nancy physically during/after carsons handcuffing by karen but just barely makes contact- so physical after meeting with mcginnis/him saying "work together" and seance/ceremony - now that opposing forces of mcginnis' law and nancys ability to get results have mixed and "been resolved" - emotional conflict nullified which allows for more genuine emotion/"paternal" instinct of older man-younger woman dynamic to come through (ironic since her actual parent is getting carted away)

and lastly

-"tell them you didnt kill her!" karens look at carson when he doesnt/cant say anything speaks volumes.

[iloveitxwhenaplanxcomestogether]

Random but Amy was one of my favorite characters, it was so sad when she had to leave 😩 I like to think that after season five she came back from her "overseas assignment" and started working with the team again (and that Stockwell and Frankie left. I hate them...) Idk, what do you think?

Hiya darling! It’s great to talk to another fan! 

Honestly, Amy has always been one of my favorites!!!!I I agree, her forced departure left a terrible hole in the entire show. Tbh she was and is a well thought out character. Her involvement with the team was spot on and she could have been a hundred times more badass than they allowed her to be. 

Honestly, my plots tend to revolve around - (1) her never leaving for that overseas assignment or (2) or after her time in Jakarta she come back and rejoins the team or (3) Amy comes back from Jakarta after having Face’s kid in secret, if you like angst. The third one is a result of a conspiring session between myself and @avictimofthejazz  (4) the fact that she comes back with connections- higher powers in other countries that might come in useful when fighting back against Stockwell, Decker, the CIA or any other threats.  

As strange as this may sound, I never really minded Frankie. I think his character is interesting even if he doesn’t have the appeal Amy did with his team based operations. I like the fact that Frankie isn’t a gungho commando type. He’s just a prop guy, a stunt coordinator or stunt guy. He’s an average joe-schmoe sucked into a terrible predicament. He reminds me of a skittish squirrel. 

Do I think how Frankie  got on the team was handled well- HECK NO. There are a thousand good reasons to be displeased with him. The least of which being his lying to the team and spying for Stockwell. I can totally understand why people dislike him. I think, in his own way, he spends the rest of season 5 trying desperately to make up for the mistake of helping Stockwell.  

As for Stockwell, I kind of loved and hated his character at the same time. He was really the first antagonist I ever felt conflicted over. I loved Decker which was plain and simple to me, but Stockwell fell into a grey area that I never knew existed. I never could predict what he’d try and pull next nor could I predict the moments when I might root for him as I did with Decker. I liked how he was endangering the team one minute and fighting on their side the next. His motives were purely manipulative and he had the power to go places and do things Decker couldn’t. That made him a pretty serious threat. Plus, he never revealed all his cards. So he remained this enigma the entire season. Do I agree with Stockwell’s methods- NO. I think they were pretty disgusting. However, I did find them cinematically scintillating.   

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .2.

sunday

Warnings: non/dub con sex (kissling and touchling) psst that’s a game grumps joke which I don’t know the reference for, but seriously, warnings people.

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader struggles through a restless night.

Note: Part two has arrived. There will be six total (She leaves on Friday, y’all so not an entire week but close enough right!) Hope you guys are having fun with this, it’s a bit of a slow burn but it gets hot! I promise.

We get a sexy dad!Steve who’s a bit more devious than dark and well…I’ll let you guys figure it out for yourselves! I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

The long drive and day in the sun coaxed you into a deep sleep. You awoke as the sunlight peeked in around the heavy curtains and stretched across the queen mattress. University had conditioned you to a narrow twin bed and home had seen you sleeping on an aged double. This was a true vacation even if set in the middle of suburbia.

You rose and readied for another day. You'd bask in laziness for as long as it lasted. A pair of torn denim shorts, a loose tank top from that concert you attended during frosh week, and the most comfortable bra you had short of none at all. 

You stepped out into the hall. The house was quiet. The silence even more daunting as the grand halls were airy and seemingly endless. You tiptoed down to Kylie’s door and knocked. No answer. You gave another tap and turned the handle slowly.

Kylie was goddess-like in consciousness, but asleep, she was a bear in her cave. Her snores met you first and then the sight of her. Stretched across her canopied bed with a blanket twisted around her long leg. Her phone was still in her hand just beside her pillow.

You backed out and gently closed the door. You hated waking other people. You could wait for her. It was early. Only seven. Maybe you could do something nice. Breakfast? Kylie was nice enough to host and her father was tolerant enough to allow her. It would be a pleasant surprise...if you didn’t destroy the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, you paused and looked around. Even if it was a kind gesture, you wondered if you were overstepping. Staying in another’s house was always a high wire act. A little too far one way or another and you’d be falling to your demise. You bit your lip and your eyes focused on the silver coffee maker at the corner of the counter. Coffee wouldn’t be too much.

You neared and leaned over the marble. Alright, this was a fancy machine. Where exactly did you put the water? You ran your fingers along the top as you felt for a lip but it was entirely smooth. You frowned and traced your fingertips down the back. Was this magic? Could they afford even that?

“You alright?” You were drawn back by the voice, a pathetic squeak caught in your throat. Steve stood at the end of the island. How long had he been there? Watching?

“Yeah, I uh...was trying to figure out how to make coffee. I mean, I know how to I just--”

“It’s fine,” He assured you and rounded the island, “It’s a stupid machine.” He neared and leaned over the counter. You were pinned against the curve of it as he pressed his fingers around the other side. The top popped up with a click. “When we were still together, my ex-wife hired an interior designer who shared her taste in the extravagant. I’ve just never bothered to use it too much but Kylie thrives on her lattes.”

“Oh,” He backed up and opened the cupboard above. He shifted through the boxes of tea and spices. He pulled out three bags of beans. “She has...Colombian, espresso, and...salted caramel? Hmm, didn’t know coffee was so fancy.” He looked back into the cupboard. He could see much more than you could. “I’m sure she has more.”

“It’s fine, Colombian works for me,” You assured him and made yourself look at him. His hair was slightly damp with sweat and his thin shirt clung to his chest.

He left the Colombian roast out and closed the cupboard. He opened the next and pulled out the grinder. You watched as he plugged it in. It was usually instant or pre-ground for you. You felt even more displaced.

“Thanks.” You mumbled and he smiled as he took the top off the grinder and opened it up. “I think I can figure it out from here.”

“I’m sure you can,” He handed over the detachable cup and backed up. He grabbed the empty plastic tumbler he had left on the island and went to the sink. He rinsed it out as you loaded the beans into the grinder. “I’ve already had my wake up,” He said as he placed the cup in the dish rack and worked on cleaning the lid. 

“Work out?” You wondered. The shorts, the shoes, the sweat. It was easy small talk.

“Try to get them in before Kylie wakes...which these days isn’t before noon,” He turned off the tap and leaned against the island as he watched you. He paused as you clicked the cup into place and nodded for you to hit the button. He waited as you ground the beans. “Not used to having her back. Last summer she had a job but she’s back to her mom’s in two weeks so we’ll see if she can find anything there.”

“Oh, it must be...crowded now,” Your words turned to a grunt as you tried to untwist the cup. It was jammed. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t put it that way,” He replied, “Wait, don’t force--”

He was behind you but not fast enough. The top of the grinder released and grounds dusted your front. Down your face and neck, all the way inside your tank top. His laugh kept your from cursing.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you,” He took the grinder from you and shoved it back. He opened a drawer and grabbed a cloth. You turned to him as you tried not to spread the coffee to the floor. “Hold still.” 

He started to wipe you face, surprising you as you thought he was focused more on the counter. You blinked and let him. You didn’t know what else to do. He chuckled as the cloth swept around your chin and down your neck. 

“Well, I guess this is one way of getting a caffeine rush.”

You shook your head and his hand hovered just above your tank top. You both froze at the realization. His eyes went to his hand and your breath caught. You reached up and snatched the cloth from him and he quickly rescinded his arm. You turned and continued to wipe away the grinds on you before focusing on the counter.

“Sorry, I’ve made such a mess.” You tried to ignore the rising tension. That was weird.

He was beside you again and he reached for the cup. He held it up. “I think there’s enough for a pot.” 

He stepped behind you as you bent slightly over the counter to get the stray grounds. You could feel him against you as he reached around and grabbed the filter from the machine. He didn’t back up as he filled it and put it back. 

“You should go get cleaned up. I’ll take care of the coffee,” He took the carafe and finally backed away. “Don’t worry about the counter.”

He filled the pot. You peeked over at him as you straightened up with a hand full of grounds. You swore he was smiling. Rather, smirking. You tore your eyes from him and searched out the trash bin at the end of the counter. You hit the step and dumped the handful inside and shook out the cloth.

“Thanks,” You said as you neared and set the cloth beside the sink. “Again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” He twisted the faucet off. “Figured you girls would need a hand around here anyway.”

You nodded and rushed out of the room. You had embarrassed yourself enough. You didn’t consider his words until you were halfway up the stairs. Kylie said his plans had been cancelled but he made it sound like it was more of a choice. Maybe it had been to keep her from Taylor after all. 

You shrugged. It wasn’t your problem. It was more a father-daughter issue and you preferred to ignore it and enjoy your reprieve from the real world.

-

Your second day went much the same as the first. Sunbathing, swimming, and scintillation. At least the novel tried to be steamy but it was more hot air.

You were on a lounge chair, sunglasses hid your closed eyes, and you sighed. You didn’t want to get up but there were limits to your sluggishness. You were thirsty and the heat wasn’t helping. Kylie was on her phone with her legs in the pool. She had been chattering for the last hour trying to arrange some get together.

You stood with a stretch. “Hey,” She covered the speaker of her phone, “You going inside?”

“Just grabbing some water,” You said.

“Can you get me a cooler. There right in the back hidden behind the eggs.” You frowned. You didn’t want to abet her in her deception but you also didn’t need to argue with your host. 

“Fine,” She was already back on her phone, knowing your acquiescence was granted.

You slid the glass door open and stepped inside. The kitchen was enticingly cool. You poured yourself a water and set it on the island. You  already made enough of a mess in here and you weren’t eager to outstay yourself already. You opened the fridge and searched out the eggs. They were beneath the butter dish and an unopened carton of cream. 

You bent and snaked your arm over the dairy and felt around for the secreted coolers. Jesus Christ, this fridge was the second portal to Narnia. Nothing. A shadow appeared over you and you stood so fast you hit your elbow on the fridge door.

Steve leaned against the freezer door as he grinned down at you. “I moved the coolers,” He said. “Just under the crisper.”

“Oh,” You chewed your cheek guiltily. “I--”

“Kylie’s not as clever as she thinks. Besides, I always told her, under this roof and within reason, she can indulge. She’s an adult by law but can’t buy a drink or rent a car. Rules don’t always make sense.”

You backed up as he knelt down and reached under the drawer and revealed a bright blue vodka drink. He stood and offered it to you. “You grabbing one for her too?”

“This is for her?” You hesitantly took the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Not much of a vacation,” He snickered.

“Water’s fine,” You backed up and started to close the fridge door. He caught it swiftly.

“You sure? I got beer?” He offered.

“No, really. I shouldn’t.”

He laughed and let go of the door. “You know, Kylie doesn’t usually have such straight-laced friends.”

“I’m not straight-laced,” You said. “I just...don’t want any.”

“No judgment from me,” He held his hands up as you stepped past him and grabbed your water. “Either way. Offer stands. Beer’s in the mini-fridge in the garage. Or you can try your luck at bartering a cooler off Kylie.”

“Thanks,” You were curt. You didn’t mean to be but the tension from earlier started to nip at you. These little run-ins were starting to be less spontaneous. His little jokes were not as amusing. Not so transparent. 

You held the bottle under your arm as you slid shut the glass door behind you. You peered through it as you did and found Steve’s gaze well below your eye line. You turned quickly and acted like you didn’t notice. You didn’t. It was all your imagination. Surely, it had to be. If you couldn’t turn the heads of frat boys, you were nothing to the established suburban man.

-

You couldn’t sleep. You could blame the usual reticence of being in another’s house;the feeling of displacement that made it hard to settle down. Homesickness, even. But likely it was the argument that had ended your night. You came here to live it up with Kylie but she had other plans. Well, she always had other, better plans.

She was sneaking out to see Taylor. Not only were you offended that you were being ditched, you didn’t want to be dragged into her deceptions. It was one thing for her to lie to her dad but another for you to do it. As far as you were concerned, he was footing the cost of your visit and it was becoming more and more obvious. You felt more a boarder than a guest.

Of course, Kylie was stubborn. You never won an argument with her. She did as she pleased and you just rolled over. Fine, let her go out. If you were sent home early, maybe it was for the best. You were already dreading the pool party she had planned for the next night. For her it was a reunion, for you, a night of introductions. Those never went very well.

You pulled the pillow over your head and growled. Sleep, please. You wouldn’t be so mad in the morning and your anxiety would die down by the time of the party. Hopefully. Another fifteen minutes tossing and turning and you threw your pillow.

You grabbed your phone as you sat up and checked the time. One in the morning. Kylie had messaged you shortly after her escape. ‘Be back before morning’. Great, not vague at all. You rolled your eyes and dropped your phone onto the bed. You needed something to ease your nerves. Tire yourself out.

You didn’t bother flipping on the light. The moon streamed in through the open curtains and you searched out your most comfortable shorts and a tank top. You were glad you had the sense to pack a sports bra. You anticipated joining Kylie on one of her morning runs. She hadn’t yet woke up early enough for that.

You pulled on your sneakers and stood. You weren’t really a gym person but you might as well take advantage of it while you were here. You stepped out into the hall, keeping your footsteps light as you found the railing and carefully descended the stairs. Your eyes attuned to the dark and you were more confident in your path.

The gym was at the east end of the lower floor. You stopped at the end of the hall and listened. The echoes of your sneakers stoked your paranoia. Both Steve and Kylie welcomed you to enjoy the house’s perks. You were doing nothing wrong.

You opened the door and flicked on the light. You should’ve grabbed your phone. Music always went well with exercise. Oh well. You just wanted to work off some of this excess energy. You stretched and climbed onto the bicycle. It faced away from the door and out the large window that peaked out onto the finely trimmed garden. The yard was almost eerie at night. A labyrinth of shadows.

You pedaled for about ten minutes before you felt like falling off. Your muscles burned already. It might be a good idea to use the uni gym when you returned to campus. It was included in tuition and you’d hate to toss away money for nothing. 

You kicked your legs back to their limit and the door clicked. You stopped suddenly and the pedals pushed on your feet uncomfortably. You peeked over your shoulder as the door opened. Steve looked surprised to find you there and his blue eyes flashed. 

“Oh, sorry, thought maybe I left the light on,” He said. He wore nothing but a pair of dark blue shorts. A towel was over his broad shoulder and you made sure to keep your eyes above it. You untangled your feet from the pedals and stepped down from the bike with a small stumble. As graceful as ever.

“I was just...um, well, I couldn’t sleep, I thought…” You stuttered.

“It’s fine. That’s what it’s here for.” He smiled. “Must be contagious. I haven’t been able to settle down either.”

“Ah,” Your eyebrows twitched as you did your best to humour him.

“Heard the Mercedes about an hour ago. That didn’t help,” His voice turned stern. “Kylie thinks I still don’t know about that trellis she likes to climb down.” You glanced away guiltily. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you lie for her. I’m good at acting oblivious.”

You looked to him and frowned. “I told her not to go.”

“As I said, she’s an adult. You’re an adult,” He waved his hand nonchalantly, “I just happen to live here.”

You didn’t know what to say. You exhaled and glanced around the room. You were ready to go back to bed.

“Anyways, I didn’t mean to interrupt or reprimand you,” He pulled the towel from his shoulder and held it at his side. “Was just on my way to the hot tub and happened to see the light.”

Hot tub? You couldn’t help the tilt of your head. This house had everything. 

“No worries,” You assured him, “I was just about done.”

“Oh yeah?” He planted an elbow on the door frame. Don’t look, you warned yourself. Don’t look at his chest. Or his abs. You didn’t know men as old as him had abs. “You’re welcome to...join me? Hot tub’s warmed up and ready to go.”

You chuckled nervously. “No, I don’t...I appreciate it but I don’t even have my suit.”

He raised a brow and thought. The corner of his mouth lifted just a little. “You don’t need it.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. You weren’t quite sure you got his meaning. Or you did and were in shock. Either way, all you could do was stare.

You giggled. It was nervous and shrill but it was all you could manage. Your eyes slipped and you saw the twitch in his shorts. Oh god, you were starting to get light-headed. You were asleep. Dreaming. Right?

You barely noticed as he stood straight and crossed the gym. As he neared, he reached behind you and draped his towel over bicycle seat. You wanted to step back but you couldn’t make yourself. 

“It’s a vacation.” His hand was on your arm, “The hot water might even help you sleep. I’ve always been told as much.”

Your chest rose and fell and you murmured. There were no real words.

“It’s just a soak.” His voice was gristly. 

You were so stupid. Your head snapped back and you shook away the clouds. You had totally misunderstood him. You were a fool.

“Uh, sure,” You shrugged but sounded less than casual. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I mean...it’ll be nice.”

“You’re tense,” He squeezed your arm and let go, “It’ll loosen you up.”

-

Just down the hall was the jacuzzi room. There was a small sauna at its far end. The hot tub was the centerpiece and filled the small space with steam. Steve waved you in first and closed the door behind him as he followed. He left his towel on the long bench beside the door and wasted no time in approaching the tub.

He walked down the steps and sighed as he settled against the wall of the tub. You wondered, even if you had wildly misunderstood him, if this was at all appropriate. Kylie wasn’t even here. That made it feel even worse. 

You watched Steve stretch his arms across the lips of the jacuzzi and you pondered the rippling water. The jets were screaming your name. 

You started with your sneakers and socks. Those were easiest. The tank top was harder. Your sports bra offered enough coverage but wasn’t as thick as your usual one. You rolled down your shorts to reveal your panties. It wasn’t much different than a bikini but the panties were a bit too short in the back. You kept your front to Steve as you approached the tub. You could feel your butt peeking out the bottom.

You slowly descended the steps. The water lulled away your nerves as you got deeper and waded over to the bench, just at the end of Steve’s reach. That was an acceptable distance. Not far enough to offend but not close enough to disturb.

His head was leaned back, eyes closed. He was entirely unbothered by your presence. Why did you always do this? You always got so worked up for nothing. It was nothing! You exhaled and relaxed against the tub. You let your arms fall to your side and the water embraced you.

But you still couldn’t relax. Your heart was beating so fast. You fidgeted every time you started to sink too far and finally you sat up. You crossed your legs and examined the wrinkles along your fingertips. You felt a warmth on your shoulder just above the water. 

You looked over as Steve slid closer on the bench, his hand on your shoulder. “Just relax. Enjoy it,” He said, “Here, I’ve got this little trick for tension.” 

He was right against you as his hands went to either side of your head, his arm bent around your shoulder. He pushed two fingers to both temples and rubbed. 

“Come on. Close your eyes.” 

You didn’t know why you listened. It was wrong for him to touch you like this. You should say no but this was his house. He invited you in here and you couldn’t turn him away.

He rubbed your temples and your heart slowed. Then his fingers tickled along your cheeks and he massaged the back of your neck with his thumbs. Then he moved to your shoulders, a hand slipped and his arm was around you. He pulled you close as he continued to work your muscles with one hand moving back and forth between your shoulder.

You leaned your head back against his arm and let out a long breath. You were almost suffocating as the heat of his body melded with that of the tub. You felt pressure on your lips and your eyes snapped open. He was kissing you. His hand drifted from your shoulder and cupped your breast through the thin sports bra. You were certain he could feel your nipple as it hardened.

Your eyelids fluttered and you brought your hand up between you. You pushed on his chest and he ran his tongue across your bottom lip. You pushed harder and finally he parted. He sat back but kept his arm around your shoulders.

“I…” You touched your chest just above the bra, your lip trembled. “I should go.”

You stood and he caught your wrist. He clung to you until you turned back. “You don’t have to. Kylie is gone, we’re all alone.”

“I...I can’t,” You wiggled your arm free of his grasp. 

You turned and pushed your body through the water and dragged yourself along the metal railing. You didn’t look back. Only gathered your clothes and hurried to the door. The water stirred but he did not leave the tub. 

“Goodnight,” Steve called as you opened the door. “See you tomorrow.”

You closed it behind you and nearly slipped on your wet feet. What did he mean? Was it a courtesy? A promise? A threat? You didn’t wait for the answer to come as you raced down the hall.

-

tags to be added in reblog

[jaybear1701]

Chapter Summary: Raelle and Scylla get a bit, um, physical with their training before Scylla must leave on a new mission.

Scylla’s fist slammed against the punching bag, the blow reverberating up her right arm to her elbow and shoulder. She jabbed with her left, then followed it with a right hook and a left uppercut. Muscles burning, it felt good to release all the pent up frustration that had been steadily building over the past few weeks. Here, she didn’t have to think about the Spree, the Army, or the Camarilla. Didn’t have to think about Anacostia and her lofty expectations, or about Willa and her growing disappointment. 

And, most importantly, it kept her mind off Raelle.

She threw a particularly vicious right cross, powered by an unintentional Seed sound, sending her poor workout partner flying into the air. Cassidy landed a few meters away, the impact echoing loudly throughout the empty rough room. It was early enough that they would still have the space to themselves for at least a few minutes more before it would be crammed full of eager War College soldiers. 

“O-kay,” Cassidy groaned as she rolled to her side, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I think I’ve had about enough of that.”

“Sorry, Cass.” Scylla walked over, clasped Cassidy’s wrist, and helped pull her to her feet. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Wincing, Cassidy palmed the back of her head, just under her ponytail. “Sadly, this’ll probably be the highlight of my day.” 

“Training’s going that well?” Scylla wiped sweat from her forehead with a small towel, and flapped her sleeveless gray shirt to cool off.

“I think that one mean sergeant with, uh, you know, the eyes… the scary eyes. Quartermaine?” Cassidy shuddered. “I thought she was for sure gonna liquefy me because they weren’t ready for the next mission. Actually, she’d probably do it anyway if she caught you and me,” she curled her fingers into air quotes, “fraternizing.”

Scylla chuckled. “Try not to let Anacostia scare you.”

“Is this where you tell me her bark is worse than her bite?” Cassidy gave her a skeptical side-eye.

“Oh no, they’re equally terrifying,” Scylla half-grinned, walking to the edge of a sparring mat and exchanging her towel for a water bottle. “Just try not to let her scare you, anyway.” 

“Great, thanks,” Cassidy muttered, grabbing her own drink and guzzling it down. “Between her and Collar’s kid, I’m not sure who hates me more.”

Scylla’s hand stilled as she brought the bottle to her lips. “You’ve, um, met Raelle?” She kept her voice light and uninterested, hoping it belied the way her pulse quickened.

“Met?” Cassidy grimaced. “No. But she gives me the evil eye every time I see her. What’s up with that?”

What, indeed. Scylla shrugged noncommittally even as her stomach fluttered. 

“At least I won’t have to see either of them for a while after today,” Cassidy said. 

Scylla’s brow scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re being dispatched in less than 12 hours,” Willa Collar’s voice cut in.  “Which you would have known if you’d bothered to show up to last night’s debrief.”

The hair along the nape of Scylla’s neck rose as she turned to watch Willa approach, lips pursed, boots clicking ominously on the hard floor. She was in uniform, crisp and neatly pressed. The perfect image of the perfect soldier. It was impressive, really, how well Willa could disguise herself in a lie. Scylla really had learned from the best.

Willa aimed a thin smile at Cassidy. “Do you mind if we have a minute, Cass?” It wasn’t a request.

“Sure thing, Boss.” Cassidy nodded, gave Scylla a look that implied behave, and headed out.

Scylla uncapped her bottle and took a long drink, if only to prolong the inevitable. The cold water did little to soothe the dryness in her throat as Willa peered at her in that unnerving way of hers, cold and appraising. Scylla still remembered when her blue eyes had been warmer and full of life. The past year clearly had not been kind. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Willa said when they were alone. 

“No, I’ve been busy with assignments you’ve forced on us.” Scylla set her water back down. “There’s a difference.”

“And how have those been going?”

“I thought you read all of my scintillating status reports.”

Willa lifted one eyebrow. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Most of them understand the basics of the Work,” Scylla said. “Craven and Moffett show the most promise, but none can maintain it under duress. Not yet.” They had all been frustrated in the last session when Scylla had dispelled their Work with a simple Seed of Disruption. 

“And Raelle?”

There it was. The real reason behind Willa’s questioning. All their conversations always came back to Raelle, eventually. Scylla was surprised it took this long.

“She should probably stick to Fixing.” That wasn’t exactly true. Raelle was no better or worse than the others, but Scylla wanted to get a rise of Willa. And it worked. 

Willa exhaled loudly, annoyance seeping into her already tense posture. “I mean, how is she?”

“Ask her yourself.” Scylla crossed her bare arms. 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Try harder.”

Willa’s eyes flashed, dangerous like a stormy sea. “If you had just done your job to begin with–”

“And if you had just told her the truth,” Scylla interrupted, her own ire rising with the agitated beats of her heart. “You wouldn’t be in this mess. And neither would I.” 

“You know why I couldn’t.” Willa took an intimidating step closer and Scylla resisted the urge to retreat. 

Scylla did know. Knew all too well the lengths people would go to if it meant keeping their loved ones safe. But still… 

“I’m not helping you with Raelle. I thought I made that clear.” Scylla closed the gap between them even further. “I won’t hurt her. Ever again.”

Willa’s vice-like control over her emotions slipped. “She’ll be hurt if she stays in the Army. Or worse. You know that. She belongs with me. With us.”

“She’ll get hurt with us, too,” Scylla whispered, taking no victory when her words hit their mark and hurt rippled across Willa’s face. “But whether she stays or goes, that’s her decision to make. Isn’t that what you wanted? To give her the choice you didn’t have?”

Scylla stood her ground, planting her feet firmly on the proverbial hill she’d die on, neither of them wanting to be the first to flinch in their latest battle of wills. The double doors of the rough room burst open as several soldiers entered for early morning workouts. One stormed up to them. 

“What are you doing here?” 

It was Raelle. 

Willa blinked, and Scylla broke eye contact, head ducked down as they both moved away from each other. Yet another stalemate ended.  

“Having a conversation,” Willa answered, mask firmly back in place. “If you can recall how those work.” 

Raelle’s gaze was icy. “Seems you forgot yourself ‘bout a year ago.”

Like mother, like daughter. The two women stared each other down, reminding Scylla of two gunslingers locked in a duel at high noon. She took the rare opportunity to observe them both, noting the similar intensity in their profiles, the same conviction in nearly identical blue eyes. Together, they were Scylla’s past, present, and future, both evoking a complicated swirl of emotions within her. 

Willa lips flattened into a tight smile. “You can stand down, Private, I was just leaving.” She turned back toward Scylla, expression clear that their discussion was far from finished. “As for you, you’ll receive orders shortly.”

With that, she left them both. 

Scylla breathed out, long and slow. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though tension lingered in her neck. Her heart rate remained elevated, far from calm now that Raelle had fixed her attention on her. 

“Are you okay?” Raelle asked tentatively, gloved fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeveless black shirt.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Scylla attempted what she hoped was a convincing smile, hating the awkwardness between them. They were friendly, but far from friends. Stuck in a limbo of polite caution where they revolved around each other at arm’s length, neither willing to disrupt their new status quo.  

“You sure?” Raelle licked her lips, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Looked like you two were about to throw down.”

“Yeah.” Scylla nodded. “You Collars are nothing if not fierce.” She began to undo the straps of her training gloves, pulling at the velcro with a sharp rip. 

“You want to work it out?”

Scylla paused, unsure if she heard correctly. “Sorry?”

“Release some steam.” Raelle self-consciously raked her fingers through her blonde hair. “If you wanted.”

Scylla’s pulse kicked up even more. “That’s not necessary.”

“Come on,” Raelle insisted. “I’ve always wanted to see a Necro in action.” She flashed a grin; nervous, but real. It reminded Scylla of carefree days long gone.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle a Necro,” Scylla scoffed, paying no heed to the way her stomach flipped.

“Then you’ve got nothing to lose.”

It was a bad idea. A terrible one. Scylla knew it. And yet Raelle looked so playful and expectant. She was trying . And Scylla couldn’t resist. 

“Fine.” She re-tightened the straps of her training gloves and walked over to the sparring mat, bouncing on the balls of her feet to shake off the nerves that crept into her confidence.

“You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” It slipped out, the phrase Willa was so fond of using, and Scylla inwardly cursed when Raelle’s easy gait stuttered as she took a position opposite Scylla. They both  assumed a fighting stance, fists up.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Raelle said as she threw a few light jabs that Scylla deftly dodged.

“You can ask me, you know,” Scylla said as they circled each other on the mat. “About her. I know you want to.”

“Will you tell me the truth?” Raelle feinted a punch and followed it with a front kick. Scylla blocked and countered with her own combination of strikes, hitting only air until she finally landed a glancing blow to Raelle’s chin.

“Yes.” Scylla backed off from pressing her assault, breath growing short from the exertion and the fact that it was the first physical contact she and Raelle had shared since their reunion at the massacre site. “The more important question is: will you believe me?”

Raelle’s fingertips skimmed the spot where she’d been hit, just underneath her scar. Impressed, she smiled and put her guard back up. “You work for my mom.”

“ With her,” Scylla corrected. “But you already knew that.”

“When did you meet?”

“About two years ago. After my parents were killed.” Scylla managed to hold her emotions in check, stemming the tide that always swelled within her whenever she thought of that horrible night. “She told me her name was Wilhelmina Smith.”

Raelle paused momentarily, nostrils flaring. “Smith was my dad’s name before they got married.” 

Their dance of offense and defense continued, attacks quickly parried, breaths growing heavier. They seemed evenly matched, though Scylla wondered if Raelle was holding back, just as she was, both not wanting to hurt the other. 

“She found me a place to stay,” Scylla continued. “Where I’d be safe.” 

“With the Spree?”

Scylla nodded once.

“So you knew her for a while?” Raelle asked, a tick in her jaw, throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“No.” Scylla shook her head, managing to avoid Raelle’s attempt at a leg sweep. “She’d check in every once in a while, but I rarely saw her. Not for a year, at least.” 

Scylla could practically see the cogs turning inside Raelle’s mind as she calculated the timeline of her mother’s “death.”

“And then?”

“And then she sent orders remotely.” Orders to say the words and get conscripted. Orders to let the Army make her strong. Orders to stay away from the cell at Baylord.

“Like recruiting me?”

Scylla hesitated on her next punch, giving Raelle the opening she needed to grab Scylla’s wrist, and twist her body until she could seize Scylla from behind. 

“You didn’t know she was my mom when I was your target.” It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” Scylla struggled to break free, hands clasping at sweat-slicked skin and toned muscle that wrapped around her. 

“If you had, would you have delivered me?” Raelle’s breath was hot against Scylla’s ear. 

Suppressing a shiver, Scylla snapped herself forward, using Raelle’s own weight to flip her over her shoulder and onto the mat. Raelle landed with a hard grunt, the wind knocked clean out of her. Scylla took the advantage to swiftly pin Raelle’s arms above her head, and trap her legs between her thighs. When Raelle tried to buck her off, Scylla only squeezed tighter.

“No,” Scylla panted out, chest heaving and blood pounding in her ears. She was so close to Raelle, too close, that she could feel Raelle’s harsh puffs against her face. Could smell the familiar clean scent of the Army’s regulation soap mixed with the sharp tang of sweat. Scylla’s gaze darted from Raelle’s dilated pupils to her lips and back, a familiar ache beginning to pool deep in her belly.

A loud and exaggerated cough came out of nowhere. 

They both glanced up to see Abigail towering over them, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Next to her was Tally, mouth dropped open and eyes so wide they could pop right out of their sockets.

“Excuse me, shitbirds, but this is a rough room,” Abigail quipped. “Not some cheap no-tell motel.”

Face on fire, Scylla immediately rolled off Raelle. They both refused to look in each other’s direction. 

***

The world seemed to tilt off-axis as Scylla stumbled through town, trying to reach the bus station before she met the same fate of her parents. She could still see the fear on both their faces as they had raised their hands in surrender; how her mom’s eyes had slid toward the garage in silent warning and love; the sickening thud of their bodies; the way the MPs chuckled after the execution. It was seared into her memory.    

A nauseating wave of anguish hit her and she retched on the side of a dark street. It wasn’t the first time that night, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. 

Legs weak, Scylla rounded a building about a block away from the depot. She was a mess and she needed a new lighter as soon as possible, having left her favorite one in her bedroom. They hadn’t even been there a week before they were found, boxes still left unpacked around the house. 

Panic overwhelmed her already churning stomach the second she set foot inside the small station. The military was already there, with MPs stationed at each gate. As casually as possible, Scylla pulled the hood of her dirty sweater up and fixed her attention on the arrival and departure board, watching out of the corner of her eye as one bus unloaded and a few more soldiers joined the ranks. She had to get out of there.

Scylla waited until she could slip into a large enough group of departing passengers, blending in with them until she could peel away. She headed deep down a nearby alleyway, head pounding, eyes stinging, staggering until her back hit a brick wall and she slid down to the ground behind a green dumpster.

It was hopeless, she thought as she wrapped her arms around her knees and curled into a ball. She was only prolonging the inevitable. Maybe it would be better if she just gave up now and turned herself in. Join her parents in the afterlife. At least then she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Are you okay?”

Scylla’s head snapped up and her heart stopped. A soldier approached slowly, hands up, placating. She was an older woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun.

Backing up against the wall, Scylla tried to remember one of the defensive Seeds that her parents had taught her, but was paralyzed with fear. This was it.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” the woman said, azure eyes kind. “I just wanna help.” She slowly crouched down carefully to not spook Scylla. “I’m Wilhelmina Smith.”

Scylla couldn’t speak even if she had wanted, not with the way terror gripped her throat. She was shaking so badly that she was surprised her teeth weren’t chattering.

“Listen,” Wilhelmina said softly. “If the MPs are this deep in the Cession, that means they’re lookin’ looking for one of two things: deserters or dodgers. You don’t look old enough to be a deserter. What are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Scylla managed a nod.

“Parents?”

Try as she might, Scylla couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. They answered Wilhelmina’s question for her.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can get you somewhere safe.” She held out her hand. “We have to move quickly, though.”

Scylla stared at the proffered hand, weighing her options between a rock and a hard place. She could take a chance with this stranger, who could be leading her to a trap. Or roll the dice and run, risking capture.  

“Why…” Scylla’s voice came out raspy and rough. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have a daughter. ‘Bout your age. If she was in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her too.”

There was something about this woman. Something calm and gentle. Something that made Scylla want to trust her even though she had every reason not to.

Scylla took her hand anyway.

*** 

Deep below Fort Salem, the Mycelium Wall stood as it had for centuries, opaque and shrouded in mystery. White wisps swirled in a crystalline mist, undisturbed by the experiment being conducted in its space. A distorted Seed sound wrapped around the participants of the cold, gray room. Although barely audible to the naked human ear, it made the witches present wince in pain. 

“This isn’t working,” Abigail huffed out, breaking her link with Raelle and covering her ears.

Izadora, whose face was scrunched up in similar displeasure, raised a hand at Scylla, who quickly shut the lid of a small wooden box. The noise mercifully ended, and the resulting silence soothed Scylla’s frayed hearing. 

“What the hell was that?” Raelle asked, fingers massaging her temples. 

“Something the Camarilla cooked up,” Scylla said from the corner of the room. “They’ve been layering it at the massacre sites.”

Leaning back up against a wall, she pointedly avoided Raelle’s gaze as she spoke. Whatever ground she and Raelle had gained with each other–in terms of getting back to…well, not normal , by any means…but to some sort of truce–had taken a major step back because Scylla hadn’t been able to say no to Raelle earlier.

“Bastardizing our Work with the dead,” Izadora crossed her arms in disgust. 

“And this is supposed to be related to the witch bomb?” Abigail asked.

“Not necessarily.” Izadora walked in a circle around where Abigail and Raelle sat facing each other in front of the Mycelium Wall. “But we had to eliminate the possibility that the Camarilla used it on the Altai Mountains, or that it played a role in your explosion.”

Abigail slumped into her chair. “So, basically, we’re back at square one.”

“Patience, Private Bellweather.” Izadora patted Abigail’s shoulder. “This isn’t an exact science. We’ll get there.”

“There must be something else,” Scylla said. “Something small you may have missed.”

Raelle shrugged up a shoulder. “We’ve been over it a hundred times. I got stabbed.” Scylla frowned. “Abigail tried to link with me. And the next thing we knew…”

“We were walking through mushroom land,” Abigail finished.

Scylla pushed off the wall and approached the Mycelium, drawn to the power in its murky depths. It resonated in the marrow of her bones, comforting and peaceful. “No.” She stopped a respectable distance from it before Izadora could object. “Something from before then.”

“We’ve established that Private Collar had contact with the Mycelium and somehow forged a link with it,” Izadora recounted.

“Yeah, she’s got a knack for touching shit she shouldn’t,” Abigail muttered, which earned her a kick to the shins from Raelle.

Scylla turned to face Raelle. “When did it happen? And why were you down here?”

Raelle’s eyes shifted to Izadora then back toward the ground. “It was a few days after the wedding. I thought I could find answers.” Raelle looked directly at Scylla, whose breath stilled. “About you.”

Ignoring the twist beneath her ribs, Scylla focused back on the wall. This wasn’t the time to unpack that tangled revelation. “Why did you touch it?”

Leaning forward, Raelle rested her elbows on her knees, idly rubbing at her left index finger. “I dunno. I just…” She shook her head. “It felt like the right thing to do. I can’t explain it.”

“And then what?”

Raelle turned up her hands. “Nothing. I had some of it on my finger, but it’s gone now.” 

“No.” Scylla began to pace. “Something else had to have happened between then and the Tarim mission.”

“She took a shitload of Salva,” Abigail offered.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Raelle snapped, cheeks darkening. Scylla made a mental note to dig into that nugget of information later.

“Salva exits the system within 24 hours,” Izadora noted, eyes drawn back to the Mycelium. “The doses you took should have been lethal, but they weren’t.”

“Is there anything else?” Scylla asked. “Something you might have encountered, or anyone else you may have linked with?”

“I don’t know. There was Treefine when we learned about linking.” Raelle shot another look at Izadora, who only shrugged, unfazed. “Tally at City Drop.”

Abigail suddenly sat up in her chair. “Khalida.”

“Who?” Scylla asked.

“The Tarim refugee,” Izadora answered. “Private Collar cured her of the Camarilla’s poison when even our best fixers could not.”

“After you fixed her,” Abigail snapped her fingers, “you said you normally take on the disease.”

Raelle’s eyes widened. “But I didn’t.”

“Exactly. It just disappeared. Melted into the ground.” Abigail looked expectantly at Izadora, who rubbed her chin. “What if it went somewhere else?”

“The Mycelium,” Scylla breathed out.

Izadora walked quickly to her desk and pulled out a ledger. “Around that time, I observed an unusual phenomenon with the wall. It turned black for a few moments before reverting to normal.”

“Could Raelle have transferred the poison to the Mycelium?” Scylla joined Izadora to scan the notes. 

“It’s possible,” Izadora nodded, an eager glint in her dark eyes. “Did you have any other contact with the Camarilla’s disease?”

Raelle’s lips parted. “There was a boy in the mountains. I fixed him too.”

“Right before the bomb,” Abigail confirmed, swiveling in her seat.

“It’s possible the Mycelium absorbed the poison, converted it somehow, and then released the energy through Raelle,” Izadora hypothesized then let out a short laugh. “It’s the best lead we’ve had in weeks.” 

Excitement shot through Scylla. “Have you cured anyone else since then?”

“No one else has been sick,” Raelle said.

They all fell silent, weighing the potential implications of the connections they had forged until Scylla’s wristwatch buzzed, spoiling the moment.Scylla looked at the time. She would be late if she didn’t hurry and the last thing she needed was another argument with Willa. 

“I have to go,” she said apologetically.

“What? Now?” Abigail almost sounded disappointed. “We just got started.”

“Sorry, High and Mighty. But duty calls.” Scylla nodded at Raelle, who inclined her head slightly, brow creased. 

“Good work, Ramshorn,” Izadora gave her a small, proud smile before reaching out and touching Scylla’s elbow. “We need samples of that poison,” she added, her voice low.

“I’ll see what we can do.”  

Night had blanketed Fort Salem by the time Scylla emerged from the Necro facility and returned to her temporary quarters, gongs echoing in the distance to mark the start of curfew. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, it had been a trying day, to say the least.Exhausted, Scylla ran a hand down her face, reminding herself it could have been worse. It always could be worse. 

She entered her room, wanting nothing more than to crash onto her bed and surrender to a long, dreamless sleep. But, no. She had to report back to Penelope Road. Eyeing the full-length mirror on the wall, Scylla moved to the closet and began shedding her uniform: unzipped and shrugged out of the jacket, unbuckled the belt, pulled off the shirt, and slipped out of the pants. She rummaged through the closet and fished out the jeans and light plaid shirt she had arrived in.

When Scylla was fully dressed again, she glanced at her reflection. A sense of freedom washed over her, mixed with an unexpected ripple of melancholy. Shaking it off, she tucked her Zippo into her pocket, then grabbed her journal and checked that the worn photo of her parents was still tucked safely within its pages.She pulled it out, reverently tracing their faces with the tip of her finger. Not a day went by that she didn’t wish they were still alive, wondering whether they would have approved of her path or would have been severely disappointed. Often, she feared it was the latter. 

Her mind drifted to Willa and Raelle, and their stubborness. How they had the luxury of taking new pictures, creating new memories, but would rather waste time and butt heads. It wasn’t Scylla’s place to make them see eye-to-eye. And yet…

Heart clenching, Scylla stuffed the picture back into her journal, which she placed inside a small backpack. Scylla didn’t want to leave anything of note behind, in case she didn’t make it back for a while. Or at all , her mind whispered.

The campus was quiet and still when she left the dorm, save for the occasional chirp from crickets in the grass. Scylla carefully avoided any patrols on the paths toward the pickup location at the officers’ barracks, cutting through fields and ducking behind trees when she needed. 

She was nearly in the clear, about a few hundred meters from her final destination, when a figure appeared at the end of the walkway. Scylla tensed up, expecting a dressing down by a clueless patrolwoman who knew nothing of Alder’s Accord with the Spree, only to relax when she recognized the soldier. 

Anacostia.

The sergeant, strolling with her hands linked behind her back, stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on Scylla.

Anacostia eyed her civilian clothes and backpack. “Going somewhere?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the memo.” Scylla half-smirked as they drew closer to each other.

“Right.” Clearing her throat, Anacostia turned and fell into step beside Scylla. “Of course. How long will you… How long is the operation?”

“As long as it takes.” Scylla lifted one eyebrow. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, I’ll miss you like I miss a sharp stick in the eye,” Anacostia reassured her, and Scylla chuckled. 

A comfortable silence settled between them, their steps soft on the pavement. If someone had told Scylla a year ago that Anacostia Quartermaine would become one of her confidants, a steady rock amid turbulent waters, she would have laughed in their face. And Scylla would miss her while she was away.

“Is Willa Collar going with you?” Anacostia asked, almost hesitantly. 

“I’m not sure,” Scylla answered honestly, hitching her backup up higher. “But I doubt it. She’s too important to risk.”

“And you are?”

“Careful, Sergeant, I just might start to think you like me.” Scylla winked, drawing a scoff from Anacostia. “Does…” Scylla started to ask even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Does Raelle know?”

Anacostia paused. “No. But she’ll find out soon enough when we cancel your classes.”

Scylla’s chest twinged as she wondered if Raelle would even care that she was gone. Not that it would change anything even if she did.  

They reached the side entrance of the officers’ quarters, and Anacostia turned toward Scylla.  “How are things?”

“With Raelle?”

“With anything.”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” Scylla teased. 

Anacostia only blinked at her.

“It is what it is,” Scylla said because there wasn’t much else to say. “I have my mission. That’s enough. Izadora should have a promising update for you tonight.”

Anacostia’s lips parted, as if she had more to add, but instead she nodded and held the door open for Scylla, who paused before she crossed the threshold.

“Would you do me a favor?” She asked.

“I make no promises.”

“Fair enough.” It was a long shot, Scylla knew, but she had to try. Despite her many issues with Willa and Raelle, she felt she owed them at least this much. In case the worst happened. “Could you,” she took a deep breath, “talk to Raelle about Willa?”

Anacostia stiffened, grip tightening on the door. “Why?”

“Because our moms can’t come back from the dead, but hers did.” Scylla’s lips trembled slightly as she attempted a smile. “I know she’s hurt. Angry. And maybe Willa doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” Maybe I don’t either. She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Raelle could at least hear her out. Before it’s too late.”

Anacostia exhaled forcefully, tension evident in the rigid way she held herself, spine straight. “I’ll…see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Scylla said, genuinely grateful.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Anacostia muttered.

Schooling her features once again, Scylla sucked in a deep breath as she turned to leave. “Wish me luck.“ 

She was out of earshot when Anacostia finally responded with a whispered, “Good luck.” And was long gone by the time Anacostia let go of the door, flicked open a lighter, and raised the flame to her face.

[norwegianpornfaerie]

Dear Yuletide Writer 2020

First of all, thank you! This is an unusual year for us all, and Yuletide is one of those few things we can still enjoy just like usual. So I’d like to thank you not just for taking part in this wonderful exchange, but for taking the extra time to read this letter. Please note that I don’t expect you to adhere to everything I say here; I’m providing it in case you’d like to know more. And since you’re here, I’m assuming that’s the case. You’re already doing a great job!

Most importantly: Don’t try to bend over backwards to make your story fit my prompts and suggestions, if you’re not feeling them. I’m assuming you signed up to write my fandoms and characters because you have a genuine interest in them, and that’s what makes for the best stories. So let the optional details be optional, and take the below as a guideline and inspiration!

Do Not Wants: You will find these in my prompts, below the cut.

Things I really enjoy:

First time stories! I absolutely prefer this to anything else, in relationship-focused stories. As I tend to say, I’m secretly an 18th century romantic poet. Slow burn, UST, all that good stuff. I’d rather have one smoking sex scene at the end of a story, with a lot of build-up, than five scattered throughout. I realize you’ve got limited time and words here, but whatever you can give, I will happily take.

Casefic! I love detective stories, especially the classics, so anything in that vein will make me very happy indeed.

Plot, and plot twists. Plot is delicious. I don’t mind character studies, but a good plot will make me happier than anything. And a twist in the tail is my everything.

In-character, explicit sex. If you enjoy writing that sort of thing, I am a sucker for a well-written explicit sex scene. I love reading sex scenes that let the characters shine. Much more interesting than plain porn!

World-building. In science fiction or fantasy canons in particular, I can never get enough of this. Let me know what people have for breakfast, how their clothes are made, where they shop, where they go on vacation and how - tell me about the three seashells! (#obscureDemolitionManreference) In short: Details!

Humor! Humor is so important, in life and fiction alike. Some of my fandoms are humor fandoms, but even those who aren’t, can absolutely benefit from humor. I believe humor is what makes us who we are and keeps us going, be we alien hybrids or robots or just plain humans.

A note on shipping: If I’ve specified a ship and you don’t like it, please don’t feel obligated to write it. I’ve tried to make that clear in the prompts, but it bears repeating.

Now, author, if you’ve read the above and think “but I only write gen” or “but I hate plotty stories” or “I couldn’t write casefic to save my life” - really, really don’t worry. You matched with me because you like one or more of the same fandoms and characters as me, and that’s more than enough. I trust you to write the best story you can, and that means writing it the way YOU want to. I’m obviously very happy if you chose to include some of my likes, but don’t feel forced to do so.

If you’ve read all the above, and you’re still not sure about something, maybe my fics on AO3 might be helpful? I generally like to read the same type of stuff I write.

Thank you, thank you yet again, and have a great Yuletide!

See below the cut for my sign-up details and fandoms.

Robot Series - Isaac Asimov          

R. Daneel Olivaw

Elijah Baley

 Caves of Steel is probably my favorite novel of all time, as are the rest of the novels, and I am very fond of Daneel and Elijah. I find the world they inhabit fascinating, both the future society of Earth, and the Outer Worlds. As I both love detective fiction, science fiction and above all robots, these stories may as well have been written specifically for me. A lot of the appeal lies in how the stories manage both to deliver an entertaining mystery, as well as heart-felt interpersonal drama in a straightforward way. Daneel is one of my favorite fictional characters; the way his empathy and personality shines through programming and limitations.

Wants: Casefic. Seriously, if you can write me casefic for this fandom, I will be delighted. A murder mystery would be fantastic. I do ship Daneel and Elijah, and I would love to read about the unresolved tension between them. Explicit sex would be great! World-building and exploring whichever location they are at, be it Earth or one of the Outer Worlds, or on a space ship or station, etc. Exploration of Daneel's character; Elijah stuggling to come to terms with his feelings for him - preferably romantic feelings, but if you don't want to write that, feelings of deep friendship. Bickering and banter and held-back affection!

Do Not Wants: Daneel or Elijah shipped with other characters. Canonical relationships are okay to mention or feature, but I don't want them to be the main focus of the story. No mention of Elijah's death, please, and no mention of Daneel's ultimate fate - though a story reuniting them after Elijah's death would be more than welcome. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse          

Reginald Jeeves (Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse)

Bertram "Bertie" Wooster (Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse)

 This is one of my comfort fandoms - I take such joy in the language and the characters and the masterful plots... but mostly in Jeeves. I have great affinity for Bertie, and can identify with him quite often, and so it's no wonder that I, too, am deeply fond of Jeeves. I see him as a deeply feeling person with masterful control, and scintilating intelligence. Who also happens to be petty and jealous when it suits him. It is the character interation and interpersonal relationship I adore the most, as well as the clever, intelligent humor.

Wants: I do ship these two, and I would absolutely adore some UST ending in, erm, resolved tension. If you don't care to write that, I'd love a story based on their mutual admiration and friendship. Ideally, I would prefer a story written in first person, but I have no clear preferences as to who should be the narrator. Bertie, of course, narrates most of the stories in canon, but if you are more of a Jeeves, or would rather write in his voice, nothing would be better than that. I believe Bertie is genuinely intelligent and clever, and I love when this is shown in writing. Particularly if Jeeves comes to realize it/comes to Bertie's defense if someone belittles him.

Do Not Wants: Jeeves or Bertie shipped with other characters. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

  Hot Fuzz (2007)  

Nicholas Angel

Danny Butterman

 Hot Fuzz is my favorite of the Cornetto Trilogy, and just plain one of my favorite films overall. I love the details, the clever writing, the loving genre references - but most of all, I love Nicholas and Danny. There is something quite wholesome about the two of them and how they grow together; the joy of two people finding one another a perfect fit. Danny and Nicholas make one another better without changing who they are, which is a wonderful thing. And then there's the tone of the film, which is perfectly balanced; it's funny without being silly, realistic without getting grimdark. Just right.

Wants: I do ship Nicholas and Danny, so I'd love a slow burn romantic story. If you don't ship them, a story about their developing friendship would be very welcome. Domestic scenes and village life! For some reason, I really like reading about these two in a holiday setting, so that would be wonderful. Awkward miscommunication which gets resolved sweetly is my jam for these two. Haplessness and held-back affection and building a life together.

Do Not Wants: Danny or Nicholas shipped with other characters. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

    XCOM: Chimera Squad                    

Cherub (XCOM: Chimera Squad)

 I absolutely love the XCOM franchise, so I was very excited to play Chimera Squad. I was particularly interested to see what society would be like after the war, with human and alien cultures blended. There was a little bit of that in the game, but not nearly enough to satisfy my curiosity - I'm hungry for more! What I love about XCOM, beyond the game mechanics, is the setting and the world-building. When I see a Muton in a t-shirt, I want to know more! I've requested Cherub because he's my favorite character, but I'd prefer something not too character-centric.

Wants: World-building! And lots of it. Show me where people live and work; aliens and hybrids and humans all. How do interspecies relationships work? Can humans interbreed with aliens? How has alien culture affected society? Burger Palace: We need to know what's going on there. What's popular culture like? All that good stuff.

Do Not Wants: Anything too character-focused or introspective. Any ship is fine, slash or het, so long as it's not the main focus of the story (I want to see the world). No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

[sasorikigai]

How do you feel about Dr. Sakai? ( for modern Kuai cos reasons; if you wish you're welcome indulge me with Hanzo's & Shinjiro's opinions as well :^) )

Ask my character "How do you feel about ______?" Can be an idea, person(s), place, or thing, and they'll have to answer honestly. || @sonxflight || always accepting!

“I love him, as simply and as complicated as that. I love him and it’s the beginning and the end of everything,” the multi-potentialities of their relationship already existed even before they were pinned towards one another in the same division, but different squadrons. Hanzo Hasashi had been in the deepest gutters of his life, staring at the unfathomable distanced stars above the sinking horizon as he had been coaxed to become the intrepid explorer who would be driven by his hyperactive curiosity and perseverance to thrive, lest holding multitudes of darkness inside him. And his darkness had manifested into scorching conflagration ablaze; burning excessively and brutally, even to those who wished him good. Perhaps he had let himself go; pulling himself out from the depths those thoughts that even he did not understand. Hanzo Hasashi would simply spread them out in the sunlight to perceive the meaning of them, as he would create things out of despair, struggle, and loneliness. 

More freedom and power would originate since he lived to exist each day with kindness and gratitude towards himself and others. He will no longer be controlled by feelings, for he will always remain hopeful that one day, it will not be a strenuous challenge, but a habit that would enrich their shared worlds and make them scintillate in radiance just a little bit more. Hanzo Hasashi will always overflow; his desires inventing new desires, his body swelling full of luminous torrents of love and devotion that he could burst and immolate with impassioned fire. He will love Ryou Sakai so much so that their bodies will tangle up with his lover’s in the shape of infinity. The constant brilliance of his feelings will radiate through him like a solar flare, and Hanzo Hasashi smiles, one of those passing smirks that radiate with blossoming sincerity. “Our shared worlds may continue to be tainted and corrupted by death, but I would no longer be entrapped by the darkness dwelling deep inside my heart, thanks to Ryou Sakai.” 

Kuai Liang may be forever intoxicated on his apologies and always high on hope; the mellow crime profiler couldn’t handle even a small shot of hard liquor - he most hates struggling with his thought processes with his excessively beating heart and his buzzing mind of chaos and disquietude - and he is a hard man to love. Loving him is like trying to rescue anyone from drowning when they both know they can’t swim. Love itself feels like a stake piercing through the very depths of him, rendering him to writhe in excruciating pain as rushing surge of ferrous magma would choke him into the inevitable oblivion. He had been so exhausted of waiting for his parasomnia and slew of other mental disorders he chronically struggles with. Maybe it was his own fault, still, for believing in something unmeasurable, for holding out for hope like frayed rope, like broken prayer. 

“He has unwillingly witnessed my utmost witless hours, staring at a blank wall like it was made of majesty, finding nothing, seeking solace from something solitary, even when my mind had numbed to shine with a mother-of-pearl monstrosity of absolute stillness,” frail and falling all the same, perhaps flat-lined, into the void of plaster and white-flecked alabaster, as he would be rendered into a slave to the silence. The slate sky would saturate his handsome face, radiant moon and his skin ghost white as the multitudes of nights would swallow him like the obsidian night would the burning sunset. “He is the last person who needs to refamiliarize with the moribund song of eulogy I continue to speak of in my unfurling subconscious. He has seen me surrender in the rigor mortis of my fading life, as well as the zenith of my brilliance. I have nothing, but a deep reverence and respect for him, but I often wish I could ask for his forgiveness, for making him unnecessarily suffer.” 

Abacus ribs ebb and flow in gentle fluidity beneath the impeccable suit of Shinjiro’s form, as the singularity of a thought forms. Shinjiro reminisces the steps of his refurnished life, a necessity he had partaken in order for his body, mind, and soul to feel like they all belonged to a proper home again. As a field agent under Commander Hasashi’s leadership, he had been broken with bloodstained teeth and shattered morale, despite within him, a ravenous, vicious wolf scratched at the walls of his throat. A wildness whose howl begged to escape him. He had been at a place that weighs no title, nor fame, nor triumphs. The tender euphonious heartstrings pulled taut beyond the threshold in which Shinjiro Ishikawa could handle - in his poised demeanor and genial aura, his heart’s sweet timbre would freeze and shatter. 

Now, preventing death and seeking the pursuit of happiness, he is trying to keep his patients away from the current catastrophes and mistakes to plunge them towards the inevitable. His subconscious and thoughts, even his shoulders and head itself that processes all the abnormalities may be burdened with permanent ache, but his altruism, along with a penchant for listening, to encourage, support, and understand had fruitfully blossomed not only his career, but his relationships as well. “There were times when I could not fathom why Ryou would give his everything for so many others, some did not deserve his altruistic sacrifice, but he did anyways for the camaraderie, and the country we were sworn an oath to protect,” the crashing pride and respect towards his long-time friend and a commanding officer of before extends through the timbre of his sonorous voice. “Our love had been a struggle of expectations and full of blind mistakes on my end, but I will continue to work towards the momentum, where I will serve in tandem with Ryou in order to heal and righteously lead our patients towards proper recovery.” 

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[christinaroseandrews]

We’ve reached the end of our journey. Time for a nice summation and some tea.

If you missed the Previous parts they can be found here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Let’s go.

So this book is about a shark researcher and underwater filmmaker who find love while filming a documentary about sharks and an underwater sonar shark detection system.

Not gonna lie, I bought this for the sharks. And I was hoping that this book wouldn’t do what a lot of books do when they feature sharks... turn them into the big scary villains.

And I was to be disappointed.

That’s pretty much the story of this book.

It’s a disappointment.

It felt like I was reading fanfiction, bad fanfiction, you know the kind where the author takes huge chunks of another fandom’s text/plot and plops it into a new fandom but doesn’t manage to file the serial numbers off?

Like if you dropped Edward and Bella into the Hunger Games but kept all of the same plots, beats, and even lines from the Hunger Games.

That’s this book with Sharks.

It’s essentially a Real Person Fanfic featuring Ocean Ramsey as Grace and Andy Casagrande as Alec running into the various shark encounters as seen in such things as the filming of Jaws and pretty much every shark week special ever... Including the gods-awful Megalodon pseudo-documentary.

And the author didn’t even try to dispute this. She out and out states that she lifted the stories from documentary after documentary as well as Instagram stories and other social media influencers. In fact, she listed more social media influencers as her inspiration for her facts than actual renowned scientists.

Sigh...

I hated this book. Even my love for sharks couldn’t overcome the craptacular characterization and plotting. It was basically like... oh we can’t have the leads actually sit and bond we need more shark action.  And by shark action that meant encounters.

Every time the heroine went into the water, or even on the water, she was attacked by a great white shark. EVERY TIME!!! It’s like Jaws but without the redeeming Indianapolis monologue or the adorable kid mimics parent scenes. I feel like this book helps to popularize the myth that sharks are mindless attackers and they aren’t. There are videos after videos of sharks just out there living their lives next to swimmers and surfers. They’re like any apex predator, respect them and stay out of their way and you won’t get hurt.

The story jumped from scene to scene without any real forward motion. The actual villains of the story weren’t dealt with. Plots were dropped all over the place going on for pages and pages and then ending up nowhere. The whole reason why they were out there was hand-waved away with a time skip that came out of nowhere and one of the worst time skips I’ve seen.

And worse... the sex sucked.

Here’s a taste of the book’s scintillating sex scene...

I could write better in my sleep... and this is not hyperbole... ask Rose.

The only real good thing about this book is that technically it was well written. As in the grammar was on point. The writing for the most part flowed. It just seriously needed a sensitivity editor or six, a content editor, and a crash course on how to write smut.

This book just made me angry. And disappointed.

I’m still angry and disappointed.

“The Meg” and “Deep Blue Sea” do a better job of shark rep than this book. I am not joking.

I hate this book

One Star

If you really want to read the horror that is this book, you can get it here.

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