#BUT if he somehow felt the motivation to fess up before then. it would be. such. an ordeal.

[heynhay]

you know i got halfway through this before realizing i probably subconsciously ripped the concept from an old tumblr post sorry

#and then keith would say something rude and they would get into an argument for 3 hours #klance #vld #voltron #art #my art #ok guys we're in the tags time for my character debrief that no one asked for or cares about #i imagine this as like. far enough into their friendship that lance doesnt IMMEDIATELY come to blows #but keith feels the immediate need to make his emotional constipation everyones problem. and instigates a fight. #obviously that fucker would have to be on his actual deathbed in order to speak from tjhe heart #BUT if he somehow felt the motivation to fess up before then. it would be. such. an ordeal. #lance would be scratching his head like. why is keith insulting me out of nowhere 3982 times this week. i thought we were doing better #little does he know every time is just a try and fail on keiths part #because he needs an emotional miralax. #bless his heart. #if youre writing keith and he isnt dragged kicking screaming and dyiing into his feelings #are you even writing keith? #anyway this one goes out to katie klanced #hopefully you approve

[oh-the--places--you-will-go]

crAcked: Chapter 2

Characters: Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin, Emily Fields, Alison DiLaurentis, Mike Montgomery, Byron Montgomery, Ella Montgomery, Darren Wilden, Jenna Marshall, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Ezra Fitz

TW: Grooming, fire, violence, death

Word Count: 1,861

Author's Note: This is a PLL fanfic that I mainly started writing for myself. It's been a hot sec since I've posted chapter 1 but I finally mustered up the motivation to write chapter 2. Enjoy!

In all the chaos of Alison's funeral and that scummy cop, Wilden, vaguely threatening Aria and her friends, the small brunette had almost completely forgotten all about how Ezra Fitz had turned up at Ali's funeral. If Aria hadn't been so damn captivated by him, she might've stopped to ask herself why exactly a teacher that had never even met Alison was attending her funeral services. Sure, maybe he wanted to support his students--especially one student in particular--but still, why attend a funeral for someone you'd never even laid eyes upon?

The two of them had only had a brief moment to talk but the short conversation left Aria with more questions than answers. He'd apologized for "being a jerk" and he'd insisted that he cared about her. While she thought it was sweet, more than anything, it just left her feeling very lost.

So lost, in fact, that she hadn't even heard Spencer at first as they were sitting at the Rosewood Grill after the funeral. "Hello, earth to Aria," the brains of the group said. "Do you think Wilden knows about... You know, the...Jenna thing?" Aria let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair. God, I thought we were fucking done with the Jenna thing, she thought to herself. "I don't know, guys. I mean... How could he know? We all promised to keep it a secret, after all..."

The Jenna thing, as in when the girls accidentally not so accidentally blinded Jenna Marshall, the new girl in town.

When Jenna first got to Rosewood, her long dark hair and her stunning green eyes had gotten everyone's attention. She was gorgeous and the minute Aria saw her at Noel Kahn's Halloween party, she knew Alison was threatened by her very presence. Not only was she beautiful, but she had made it clear that she was her own person who could make her own friends. Ali didn't like that, not one bit.

So when the blonde got the opportunity to get back at Jenna and her reclusive step-brother, Toby Cavanaugh, Alison wasted no time. Like so many bad memories, Aria could never truly get that night out of her head. It haunted her day and night.

You see, a little over a year ago, the five girls had been gleefully trying on clothes in Emily's bedroom. It was like any other sleepover until suddenly, Alison exclaimed "I can see you!" and raced to the window, pushing Aria out of the way. Ali insisted that she'd seen Toby in the window and that they all needed to go "teach him a lesson." Immediately, Aria had gotten a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had tried to push back but Alison was not having it. Looking back now, she knew that she should've just stood up to Ali when she had they chance--they all should have.

Before she knew it, they were at the Cavanaughs' garage, hurling a stink bomb through the door and running away. What started out as a harmless little prank quickly turned into a raging fire that permanently blinded Jenna.

"We had the chance to stop Ali that night," Aria said regretfully. Looking at the other girls' faces, they clearly felt just as much as shame about the situation as she did. But what could they do about it now? Surely, they'd be in some sort of legal trouble if the fessed up to Wilden about it, right? And how would he even know in the first place? After all, Ali had gotten Toby to take the blame, somehow...

That night, as Aria was lying in her bed, attempting to sleep, she kept thinking about what Ezra had said to her. His words rang over and over in her head: I care about you, Aria, but this just isn't right. And as much as it felt right to her, maybe he had a point. After all, he was older than her, and wouldn't that make him wiser than her, as well? As she drifted off to sleep, she'd made up her mind. Tomorrow, she was going to nip this in the bud and transfer classes. Besides, with everything going on with her family, that weird cop, and the fact that the whole world now knew that Alison DiLaurentis was dead, she really couldn't handle anything else on her plate.

The next morning before first period, Aria went and sought out Ezra, who was grading papers at his desk. God, he looked so handsome in his tie and button-down shirt. Dammit, Aria, focus, she told herself. You need to do this. Giving a soft nock on the door frame, she said "Hey, can I come in for a second?..."

The young teacher instantly lit up when he saw her face and nodded, beckoning her to come in. Getting up from his desk, he said "Yeah, of course," and walked past her to shut the door behind her. Gingerly, she said "Oh, this will only take a second..." Besides, she didn't want to give people the wrong impression with the door shut--she was ending this and that was that. She took a paper out of her binder and handed it to him. "I'd like to transfer out of your class."

At her words, a look of obvious disappointment crossed his face, which was honestly a bit confusing. "Uh, I totally understand, but, um... I'd hate for you to have to drop the class, especially since we've already started working on our first novel. If you transferred to another class, you'd already be behind..."

Nodding, she said "Yeah, I thought about that, but... I don't know, I just feel like it's the right thing to do..." Looking up at him, he was clearly searching for words to say and he opened his mouth but then closed it again, as if he'd thought of something to say but then changed his mind. "Okay, then I'll go ahead and sign the transfer paper," he said, grabbing the pen off of his desk. "Thank you," she said softly, taking the paper from him and giving him a small smile.

Honestly, she thought he'd look a little more relieved, since he was the one who told her this...thing between them wasn't right. But then again, she couldn't deny that she was at least a little pleased that he wasn't jumping for joy at not having her in his class anymore. Maybe that that meant what he'd said was true--maybe he did really care about her.

Taking the paper back, she said "Thank you, Ez--Mr. Fitz.. I appreciate it." With that, she turned and practically bolted out of the door, sure that she'd change her mind if she stayed just one moment longer. She hurried down to the registrar to turn the paper in before she headed to math class.

However, the transfer was apparently not meant to be. During science class, a student aid had come by her class and delivered her transfer paper with a brand new bright red "DECLINED" stamp on the top of it. Shit, she thought to herself. Is the universe trying to get me to fuck up? Then again...what if this was a good sign from the universe? Perhaps a sign that maybe, just maybe, there really was a chance for her and Ezra?...

When she arrived at English and set the declination on his desk, she could've sworn she saw a small smile perk up at the edge of his lips.

Even though whatever was going on with Aria and Ezra was confusing, being at school was a million times better than being at home, that was for sure. Before Aria had gone away to Radley Iceland, she'd been keeping a huge secret for her dad. It turns out, those rumors about him sleeping with his grad students had turned out to be very true. Aria had seen it with her own eyes and she knew she'd never be able to forget that image of his father kissing another woman in the back of his car for as long as she lived.

At the time, he'd begged her to keep it a secret. Aria's father had told her that if she told her mom, their family would fall apart. She could still hear her own words in her head when she'd begrudgingly agreed to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Through her tears, she'd said to her father's face, "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive you for this."

And she'd meant what she said. From the moment she'd gotten back from her sabbatical, she'd been short with her father whenever he attempted to speak with her. After all, over the past year, she'd had a lot of time to think about the situation and she'd grown incredibly resentful of her father. How could he have put all of that pressure on his own daughter? And all to keep his dirty secret of infidelity? What a fucking coward. What a fucking piss poor excuse for a father.

So on Saturday afternoon, when she arrived home from a coffee run, she didn't know what to say when her father confronted her about her attitude. "You're not very good at hiding your feelings, Aria. And your mother knows that something's up. You need to get past this."

"I need to get past this? I need to get past the fact that I caught you cheating on Mom? I need to get past the fact that you fucking begged me to keep that secret for you?" She shook her head incredulously. "You've got to be fucking joking." Her father looked hurt and taken aback by her harsh words but she couldn't hep herself. What else was she supposed to say? How could he expect her to feel any other way?

Still, she wasn't done yet. "Are you still seeing her?" she asked, her words as sharp as knife. Her father shook his head and said "What? Why would you even ask me that?"

"Answer the question, Dad. Are you still seeing her?"

He shook his head, but Aria really didn't know whether to believe him or not. "No, I am not seeing her. I told you, I'm done with that. I'm done with her. All I care about is our family." Yeah, fucking sure, she thought to herself.

"Whatever, Dad," Aria said with a heavy sigh, the feeling of exhaustion suddenly taking over her body. She couldn't keep doing this, she couldn't keep holding up all this weight on her own two shoulders. But, then again, she couldn't break her mother's heart like that--or her little brother's. She had to protect her family, that was her job. It was part of the reason why she'd done what she'd done that night...

As she started to walk away, her father said "Aria, where are you going? I'm not finished with this conversation."

"Well, I am," she snapped back. She turned away from her father and swiftly walked up the stairs. She'd be fucking damned if she let him see her cry again. She couldn't give him that kind of power over her.

#pretty little liars #pll #aria montgomery #hanna marin #emily fields #spencer hastings #alison dilaurentis #ali dilaurentis #aria #thriller #mystery #pretty little liars fanfiction #pll fanfiction #pretty little liars fanfic #pll fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #pretty little liars fandom #pll fandom

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 16 - Flame Twin

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

What happens when two Weasleys get too involved?

Absolute chaos. 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

OKAY! After 14 hours of traveling back home yesterday I fell asleep editing this chapter! So...I mean I do and I don't have any excuse for that. Thank you for your patience!

I am back to updating every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)!

I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it! And as always, please, please, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog. I LOVE interacting with you all!! 

Masterlist

<<<Chapter 15

   You are the hider

I am the seeker

My twin, I’m in flames

I’m rolling about

  I have a name

You call me by none

My twin, I’m on fire

Come put me out

  George Weasley loved his siblings very much. His eldest brother, Bill, was easily the coolest bloke he knew – somehow being a prefect, Head Boy, and working for Gringotts, without being dull as dishwater. His second eldest brother, Charlie, always knew what to say in a pinch; certainly, the most level-headed person in England, but then he’d have to be to work with dragons for a living. Percy, for all his downfalls, worked harder than anyone he’d ever known and sometimes George secretly wished he had an ounce of his ambition. Ron was always down for a laugh which George liked very much, but he also wasn’t afraid to challenge George more than any of his other siblings. Ginny, his little sister, was unapologetically herself and took zero shite from anyone. She also had a fondness for trouble, in her own special kind of way. But out of all of them, Fred had to be his favourite sibling by far. Sure, he was a bit biased considering Fred was his twin and all, but George reckoned he’d have no trouble disliking Fred if he were any different. While he and Fred were similar in many ways, they were also very distinct. Fred was more outgoing, daring, and had a penchant to take things a bit too far where he was more laid back, erratic, and carefree. George supposed that was because Fred cared more about things than he did. Most people assumed, if they even bothered to assume anything about him and his twin brother’s differences that is, that Fred was the more callous of the two. But where others saw reckless cruelty, George knew it was really the opposite.  

  Fred cared – a lot. Too much, in George’s opinion. He let his emotions get in the way of his thoughts and it often resulted in him taking things too far. He pushed people past their limits when he thought he knew what was best for them. He punished people too harshly when he felt they deserved it. For example, Fred was the first to suggest they find Percy and beat him to a bloody pulp when he’d made their mother cry. Fred didn’t care what the consequences were. No one made their mother cry.

But he also let the poor actions of those he cared about slide too much. Like with Angelina at the moment – there was no way George would ever put up with his girlfriend ignoring him without any proper excuse. But Fred wasn’t George. So, he sat in silent misery, justifying, and making excuses for why his girlfriend wasn’t in the wrong.

  Fred also forgave too easily where it wasn’t deserved. That’s why George knew without a doubt that Fred would be the first to forgive Percy if and when he inevitably apologized, and when Angelina eventually broke his heart, he would probably find some way to make it not her fault.

  All these things George loved about his brother. But it was also all these things that led to the one thing George did not love about Fred. He always had to be a bloody martyr.

  George knew Fred liked Hermione. He had had a subtle inclination that Hermione liked him back. And after yesterday morning’s little show in their bedroom, there was no question the two had chemistry. The way the electricity sparked between them…George was almost convinced they’d have started ripping each other’s clothes off if he hadn’t reminded them he was there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they’d already hooked up before, or something like it. But if that had happened Fred surely would have told him.

  In George’s opinion it would be the easiest thing in the world for them to just fess up to each other and finally snog it out. Damn Angelina and damn Ron alike. But that was too easy – no, Fred had to take everyone else’s feelings into account. He couldn’t possibly take what he wanted if it chanced hurting Angelina’s or Ron’s feelings and somehow those factors had made him blind to the way Hermione looked at him. Which only made it worse of course, because he was annoyingly convinced Hermione would never be interested in him. George didn’t know why – he was a handsome chap. But then again, he was a bit biased.

  It didn’t surprise him when Fred wasn’t in their room when he’d finally turned in for the night. He was probably somewhere in the house, sulking like the right stubborn prat he was. It was surprising, however, when he’d woken the next morning and found that Fred had never returned to their room. Where could he possibly be? wondered George, stepping out into the hall. He started with the kitchen. Fred was known to wake up early and enjoy a nice cuppa while he waited for the rest of the house to wake up. But the kitchen was empty – no signs of Fred or morning tea anywhere to be found. Peaking into the nearby dining room, he also saw no Fred in sight. Perhaps the parlour, thought George and he walked up to the second floor. Again, no Fred. He was irritated now. Was this tosser really going to make him search the whole bloody house for him?

  Stomping across the hall, he thrust the door to the library open and paused. He could just make out the top of Fred’s head, his red hair peaking out at the end of the sofa in front of the fire. George crept quietly across the room, expecting to give his brother a bit of a scare. He supposed the only benefit of having to go searching for his brother would be to get a good laugh out of it. But when he got close enough to peer over the top of the sofa, he didn’t find just Fred. No, instead he found Hermione Granger wrapped around his brother like a Grindylow attacking its prey. Even more curious, Fred was very much awake looking down at Hermione like she was a goddess divine sent from the heavens to please him.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” asked George, crossing his arms and grinning widely.  

  Fred’s gaze snapped from the girl sleeping on top of him to George. He looked guilty, splendidly so.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” whispered Fred, giving Hermione a tense glance when she stirred slightly. Fred only relaxed when he was sure Hermione was still asleep. She nuzzled her face further into his chest and her breathing deepened once again.

  George took a step closer, leaning against the back of the sofa and staring down at his brother who was looking especially uncomfortable. “Really? Because it looks like you’re cozied up on the sofa with Hermione,” George whispered back, fighting everything within him that wanted to jump and scream ‘GOTCHA!’.

  “We were only talking. She was knackered. She fell asleep.”

  “And you just decided to be a gentleman and be her mattress for the night?”

  Fred sighed quietly. “I fell asleep too.”

  “Mmm, I’m sure.”

  “Look, there’s no ulterior motive here. I’m going with Angelina.”

  “Sure didn’t look that way when I walked in. Now, correct me if I’m wrong since I’ve never had a girlfriend or anything, but are you allowed to lovingly stroke other girl’s hair when you’re in a relationship?” George tapped a finger to the end of his chin in mock contemplation.

  Fred let out a small groan of frustration, trying his best not to wake Hermione in the current situation. “Alright, fine. You’ve had your fun. You’ve taken the mickey out of me. Happy?”

  “Not necessarily, no,” answered George, not at all amused by Fred’s lack of fight.

  “What do you want from me, mate?” Fred asked in exasperation. He was bordering hysterics and George could almost see a bead of sweat forming at his brow. Good.

  “You know what I want.” George fixed him with a pointed stare. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Now’s the time Freddie boy, thought George.

  Fred opened his mouth as if to say something in response, but no sound came out and he quickly closed it, scrunching his brow. This process repeated a few times, making Fred look very much like a fish in George’s opinion. It took a while, but George was willing to wait as long as it took for Fred to give him what he wanted. That’s it, that’s a good boy, you can do it, George thought encouragingly in his mind, hoping that Fred could hear his thoughts.

  Finally he answered in a harsh whisper, “Fine! I like her! I’m raving mad about her! I fancy her more than I’ve ever fancied anyone in my life. Are you happy now?”

  “Extremely—” George pushed off the back of the sofa and headed towards the library doors “—see you at breakfast.”

  An hour later George was seated at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of earl grey, and flipping through the Daily Prophet. Goblin stock options – boring. New cauldron regulations – boring. Which witch and wizard’s fashion were in and out – double boring. A feel-good piece on the Minister – nauseating. He threw the paper down and folded it roughly with a sigh before pulling out his wand and charming the pages to fold themselves into individual little chickens. He didn’t know why he bothered with the paper anymore. It was just like his father said these days, all a load of rubbish.

  The house was mostly awake at this point. George could hear the hustle and bustle of his family combined with the odd Order member. They were always popping in. Sometimes they brought news, sometimes they were simply asking on the whereabouts of other members, and sometimes they simply needed a place to sleep. Despite housing a majority of the Weasley family, Sirius Black, and a full-grown Hippogriff, Grimmauld Place had more than enough room to spare. The kitchen was oddly empty that morning though, not even his mum had come down yet to start on breakfast. George heard the distant shuffle of shoes on hardwood as someone descended the staircase. He sat up a bit straighter hoping it was Fred. They needed to continue their conversation. The fact that Fred had admitted his feelings to George was a good first start; now he just needed to admit those feelings to Hermione.

  However, it wasn’t Fred who rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Instead it was his little sister Ginny, looking incredibly rumpled and cranky.

  “Orite, Gin?” George asked, eyeing her misbuttoned blouse and wrinkled shorts. Contrary to the last few days, the morning was uncharacteristically warm and when George had looked out the window earlier he saw nothing but bright sunny skies. Perhaps summer had finally come at last.

  “No. It’s going to be such a nice day out and mum’s got us cooped up in this ghastly place! I asked her if we could take the day off and go home to play some quidditch, but she said she found another Doxy nest in one of the fourth floor bedrooms,” whined Ginny, grabbing a loaf of bread from the breadbox on the counter and slicing into it with a sharp knife. “Toast?”

  George nodded, watching the paper chickens on the table chase each other down it’s length.

  “It’s just mental! We’ve always had chores and I’ve never complained…much, but we’ve also always had time for fun things too. But here it’s like every waking moment is devoted to cleaning this trash heap of a house and for what? Sirius doesn’t care, obviously and if Kreacher cared, well there wouldn’t be this mess in the first place!” She held a piece of bread over the flame of the stove, browning the side before turning it over carefully in her hand and toasting the other side.

  “Fuck!” Ginny exclaimed, dropping the toast onto the flame, and sucking on her singed pointer finger. She kept the digit between her lips for a moment before pulling it out of her mouth and inspecting the damage. “You know, this process would go a lot smoother if I had magic.” She shot George a pointed look.

  George rolled his eyes good-humouredly. With a flew flicks of his wand the bread began to balance itself over the stove flame, toasting to a golden brown before depositing itself onto a plate. While the bread toasted Ginny grabbed butter and jam from the fridge and placed it on the table before George.

  “Why don’t you just try out for the quidditch team Gin? You’re well enough at it,” said George, not really wanting to get into the endless number of chores they did daily. While he agreed, he’d also been listening to Ron and Ginny complain for a month now and he was growing tired of it. At a certain point whinging got you nowhere and it was better to shut up and put up.

  “Well enough? I kick yours and Fred’s butt more often then not. I’m bloody fantastic.” Ginny grinned widely, grabbing the now full plate of toast, and walking to the table with it. George grabbed a piece and began to butter it before globbing on an ample amount of raspberry jam. One of the paper chickens pecked at his hand and George broke a piece of his toast off, tossing it to them. The chickens pecked enthusiastically at it and George took a large bite off of the remaining slice. As he chewed, he looked across the table at his sister. She had four slices on her own plate, piled high with butter and jam. The amount was no surprise. Ginny always ate to excess. It was impressive more than anything. He honestly didn’t know where she put it all.

  “I think I’d want to try out for chaser this year. Are there any open chaser positions?” asked Ginny, taking a large bite.

  Fred shook his head. All the chaser positions were full. Ginny frowned.

  “But we need a new keeper. Still haven’t filled the position since Wood left,” George offered kindly.

  Ginny made a face that George didn’t quite understand. There was nothing wrong with keeper. It certainly wasn’t as cool as beater, but it was a respectable position. Perhaps it wasn’t exciting enough for his dear sister. She always did enjoy a bit of thrill, just like him and Fred. Speaking of Fred. His twin entered the kitchen looking wary as he sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. Shortly after Ron and Hermione joined them. The atmosphere around the table was tense. Or at least George thought so. Everyone was too quiet. They chewed too slowly, as if the lot of them had stayed up late the night before drinking deeply from a bottle of Firewhisky.

  “Everyone excited for a day of Doxy wrangling?” George asked cheerily, trying to lift the mood at the table.

  His three companions groaned, their shoulders sagging. Ron, who’d snagged a piece of toast from the pile, dropped his slice onto the table and laid his head in his hands. Honestly, what was everyone’s problem these days? People needed to learn to lighten up, live a little.

  George did not try to lift the mood again. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth trying, especially when Fred wasn’t in the spirit to help him. The largest of the paper chickens hopped across the table and pecked at Ginny’s hand. She gave a little giggle. George smiled. At least his little sister could still be agreeable when she was cranky. Looking to the others at the table, George caught Fred and Hermione sharing a look. To anyone else it might seem innocent enough, but George assessed the situation like a trained auror looking for clues. It was much easier to spot things when you were looking for them. Their smiles were a bit too warm, their glances furtive, and whenever they came close to touching they both stuttered away from each other. The idiots clearly liked each other but didn’t want the other to know. Ridiculous.

  “Could you pass the sugar please, Fred?” Hermione asked politely, pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot in the middle.

  “I’ve got it, ‘Mione!” said Ron enthusiastically. He grabbed the sugar before Fred could reach it and placed it in front of Hermione.

  Fred gawped, looking slightly put out, and sat back heavily in his seat. He crossed his arms, decidedly mopey once again. Great.

  “…thank you Ron.” Hermione swallowed thickly and began to pile sugar into her cup.

  The table fell back into a thick silence. Thankfully, it only lasted for a few moments more as the distant sound of his mother calling them from the parlour on the second floor broke the tension. Ron, Hermione, and Fred seemed to jump from their seats, rocketing towards the door of the kitchen like they’d been waiting at the starting line and his mother’s voice was the signal to run. George and Ginny hung behind, cleaning up the last bits of breakfast before they went to their mother.

  “Merlin and Morgana…could you believe the tension between them? Could cut it with a bloody knife,” said Ginny, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  George paused, the plates in his hand hovering in the air as he went to place them in the sink. “How did you…?”

  “Oh come on George. I mean, it’s pretty obvious they fancy each other. Hermione doesn’t think he does of course. Just wish that brother of ours would finally fess up and tell her. That way we’d finally stop having to watch them make sad puppy eyes at one another.” Ginny laughed, pushing off the counter and heading towards the door out of the kitchen.

  George stared at his little sister in disbelief. He clearly hadn’t been giving the girl enough credit. That or Fred and Hermione’s actions were more obvious than he previously thought. Either way, it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one in the house suffering because of them. He just wished there were a way to force them to—

  “Ginny! Wait!” George reached out and grabbed his sister’s arm. Ginny spun around, giving him a confused looked. A large smile spread across George’s face and he knew he must look like an absolute maniac in that moment, but he’d just come up with a brilliant idea. An absolutely brilliant, devious idea.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Ginny reproachfully.

  “Gin…how would you like to help me with something today?”

  “What? Like one of your pranks?”

  “No, not a prank. More like a…mission. A mission of love you might call it.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened in understanding and her mouth stretched into an equally evil smile.

  “Oh George, I thought you’d never ask.”

    Fred groaned. Just when he thought the day couldn’t get any worse, life found a way to torture him further. It was a hot day. England had finally found its summer heat and soon the temperature rose so high even the strongest cooling charm couldn’t cut the stifling warmth. As a result the lot of them had divested themselves of their layers until they were as stripped as was proper. Fred, George, and Ron were shirtless as they cleaned out the Doxy nests in the upstairs bedroom. Getting rid of the Doxies had been fairly simple, but the compact, intricate nests they’d made in the wardrobes and drapes was another story. It would have taken less time with wands, but Fred and George had made the mistake of launching one too many Doxies at Ron, and their mother had taken their wands as punishment. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had glared daggers at them as it really was a punishment for all of them. Now they’d all be forced to remove the nests by hand. Sweat rolled down Fred’s chest as he pulled out an old box from the top of the wardrobe to reveal another clump of nests. Damn Doxies.

  Across the room, balancing on a ladder, Hermione prodded at the drapes. Staring at the girl, he thought this must be what they meant when they talked about forbidden fruit. She’d pulled her hair up, twisting it into a knot at the back of her head, but after several hours of work, tendrils had fallen loose, sticking to her damp neck. Her vest top had risen at some point, revealing the creamy skin of her midsection just above a pair of shorts that had to be the tightest things in existence, Fred thought. She hadn’t been wearing them earlier in the day, but after lunch when they’d returned to their work, she’d entered the bedroom and Fred had nearly swallowed his tongue. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’d done it on purpose. To torture him. But that wasn’t right. It was foolishly arrogant to assume Hermione wore anything for anyone, especially himself.

  In addition to the true agony that Hermione was causing him physically, George was causing him equal turmoil mentally. No, he hadn’t done or said anything, but that was entirely the point. After catching him and Hermione together that morning and finally getting Fred to admit his feelings for the girl, he expected a bit more from his brother. He was sure his twin would pull him aside to continue their conversation, or at the very least make pointed jokes. But there’d been nothing. In fact, it seemed George was hellbent on acting as if that morning never happened.

  Fred’s thoughts drifted back to earlier in the library. Once George left, he took a few more minutes to bask in the glory of having Hermione in his arms before he woke her. She had been mildly embarrassed when she roused to find herself wrapped so tightly around him. But Fred played it off like it was no big deal. But despite the moment of embarrassment something definitely felt like it had shifted between the two of them. Fred felt a little less on edge around her and she seemed to be more relaxed around him as well. Perhaps realizing that she could be physically close to him without him making a move had her less concerned about being around him again.

  Although Fred figured if Hermione could hear his thoughts at that moment she’d feel anything but an ease. He had to physically bite his tongue when she’d hopped off the ladder and bent over to pick up the duster she’d been using. A tightness formed in the front of his trousers and Fred turned his gaze away, banging his head on one of the open wardrobe doors to. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he thought about boring things like owl post, third year herbology, and potions essays. When that didn’t work he thought of disgusting things like Blast-Ended Skrewts and Hippogriff dung.

  “Hermione, could you give me a hand with this please?” asked Ginny, motioning to the second pair of heavy drapes as she attempted to get behind the tangled mess of them.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Fred watched as Ginny piled the ends of the drapes into Hermione’s arms. “There’s a nest back here. I think if you lift the drapes high enough, I’ll be able to reach it,” said Ginny, instructing Hermione to lift the drapes higher in her arms.

  There really shouldn’t be anything sexy about cleaning out Doxy nests, thought Fred. But as Hermione raised her arms higher and higher, she revealed more of her sweat-slicked body. The wild-haired girl struggled under the weight of the drapes, now hold them high above her head. Fred supposed if he hadn’t been checking out Hermione in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen the way her arms buckled, dropping some of the drapes and tangling them in her legs. Sprinting across the room, he caught her just as she lost her footing, trying to untangle her legs from the heavy material.

  “Whoa!” Hermione exclaimed, landing hard in Fred’s arms, as the drapes fell back onto Ginny.

  “Hey! Hermione, what gives—oh…you okay?” Ginny had scrambled out of the drapes to see Hermione in Fred’s embrace, looking up at him in surprise. Fred’s mouth went dry as he looked down at the witch in his arms. Her face was delightfully flushed, and he could feel bare skin under his hands. He felt the tightening in his pants return and practically threw Hermione from his hold, stepping away from her.

  “Thanks,” Hermione muttered, looking pointedly down at the ground.

  “Yeah,” coughed Fred.

  He was just about to try and come up with an excuse to flee from the room when his mother entered, looking around the space appraisingly. “I think that’s enough for the day dears. It’s quite hot, why don’t you wrap up and we’ll finish this room tomorrow?”

  “Alright, thanks mum,” said George, wiping his grubby hands on his jeans and walking over to swing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

  “Uck! You’re all sweaty George!” cried Ginny, shrugging off George’s arm in disgust.

  George took a moment to assess himself, looking down at his sweaty form. “You’re right Gin. I think I could use a shower actually. What about you lot?”

  A chorus of agreement rang through the room from them all and they exited it, heading down to their rooms and more importantly, the bathrooms.

    Ginny was only slightly disappointed in herself. Her first “mission” with her older brother George and already she was failing at it. She’d never tell him, but she considered his invitation to be quite the honour. Sure, she’d helped Fred and George with some of their little schemes over the years, but never had one of them asked her specifically to help without the other. At first she wondered why Fred wasn’t involved in their plan, but they she realized it might be because Fred didn’t know Ron was desperately in love with Hermione and vice-versa. Perhaps Ron had only told George in confidence and didn’t want Fred knowing too – Fred was the type to tease Ron more than George would about something like that. Finding out that Ginny was clued in was probably a huge relief to George.

  “I’m not really sure how doing this will make them confess their feelings though,” said Ginny, knitting her brow and looking sceptically at her older brother.

  “Trust me, it’ll work. All we need is a bit of sexual tension to break them. Get them hot and bothered enough and they’ll be attacking each other before you know it!”

  She still wasn’t sure if she was 100% sold on the plan, but George knew about these things more than her. It had been her idea to spill pumpkin juice all over Hermione’s clothes after lunch, forcing her to change. She’d subtly offered Hermione a pair of her shorts, her smallest and tightest ones and a when the older girl had asked whether or not she should just wear her vest, Ginny encouraged it. A small part of her felt like it was a bit demeaning to resort to primping Hermione up like a prize fair farm animal for Ron to ogle, but at this point she was desperate to get the two of them to admit their feelings. Her wants in the world were simple. She wanted her siblings to be happy and she wanted her friends to be happy. If she could accomplish those things in one fell swoop then even better.

  When she’d piled the drapes in Hermione’s arms, she fully expected Ron to be the one to catch her. Bloody Fred and his chivalry. He already had a girlfriend, she thought bitterly, why couldn’t he just step aside and let Ron save the day?

  Either way, they were on to part two of their plan and Ginny would not let George down. Her job was to direct Hermione to the right place at the right time. Third floor bathroom at the end of the hall. George would take care of the rest. Easy.

  However, to her dismay, when she’d reached the third floor she saw Ron entering the first bathroom on the right and close the door. Damn him! Where was George? Wasn’t Ron his responsibility? Putting her ear to the bathroom Ron was currently in, she heard the rings of the shower curtain slide against the metal pole and the water turn on. Fine, she could improvise. This was fine. Ginny spun around at the sound of a door opening and closing and saw Hermione exit their bedroom with her towel in hand.

  “Ginny are any of the bathrooms on this floor open?” she asked, wiping a hand across her brow.

  “This one is—” Ginny stepped aside the door “—I started the shower, but mum called me and needs my help. You can take it!”

  “Thanks Ginny!”

  “No problem ‘Mione. What are friends for?”

    Hermione was grateful for Ginny giving up the bathroom. She was in desperate need of a nice long shower. For more than one reason. There was a moment in the fourth-floor bedroom that she thought she was surely going to combust. In what fair and just world should she be forced to stare at a shirtless Frederick Weasley for an extended period of time? It was painful how good he looked. Hermione cursed her inappropriate thoughts. He was a taken man. But then there was the way he’d held her in her sleep – the way he’d gently woken her in the library. She’d been embarrassed at first, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he almost seemed sad to part, but that was ridiculous. Again, he was a taken man.

  Entering the small bathroom, Hermione scowled slightly at the running water. Really, Ginny should wait until she entered the shower to turn on the water. It was such a waste to keep it running. She placed her towel on one of the hooks on the wall and grabbed the hem of her vest top, sliding it up her torso. The fabric stuck to her skin, damp from the sweat of a hot day and good, hard work. If she’d known she’d be spending a majority of her summer doing exhausting chores, perhaps she would have thought twice about abandoning her parents. But then Hermione’s mind drifted to the thought of her grandparents’ cat-fur covered sofa and dry Madeira cake and suddenly she was sure of her decision once again. She was just bringing the vest top over her head when something very odd happened. The sound of water stopped. Hermione froze, arms raised over her head and top covering her eyes. Turning towards the shower, she pulled her top completely off, freeing her sight just as the shower curtain pulled back revealing a very wet and very naked Ron.

  While in reality it was probably only a few seconds, for Hermione it felt like an eternity that she stood still as stone staring at Ron absolutely starkers. Ron stared back, eyes wide and mouth hung open. How? Why? What? Hermione had so many questions and yet, nothing came out of her mouth. In fact the only thing her mouth could do was open and close like an idiot before she finally let out a high-pitched scream.

  Ron screamed as well, bringing his hands down to cover his more…vulnerable bits. It was a bit late for that thought Hermione but closed her eyes tightly all the same.

  “What are you doing in here?!” she screamed, blindly feeling for the door.

  “What am I doing in here?! What are you doing in here?!” screamed Ron back, the tile squeaking under his wet feet as he exited the tub.

  “Oh my god—” Hermione desperately felt for the door handle, letting out another scream when she felt wet skin “—OH MY GOD!”

  “Bloody hell, Hermione! Get out!” Ron yelled.

  “I’m trying!”

  Finally Hermione’s fingers found the doorknob and she flung herself from the bathroom, running as fast as she could down the hallway.

  “What is it?! What’s going on?! I heard scream—oof!”

  Hermione collided into someone, her frantic fleeing impairing her ability to watch where she was going. Whoever it was, she hit them hard. Hard enough to knock her backwards. Desperately, she reached out to catch herself on instinct, but the only thing her hand found purchase on was the soft fuzzy fabric of a towel that gave easily as she fell backwards. Hermione landed hard on her backside, feeling slightly dazed. Looking down at the towel in her hand, she looked up in mortification. There standing before her, at eye level she might add, was Frederick Weasley’s entirely naked body. She screamed again, covering her eyes quickly this time, a little more prepared and a little more experienced at accidentally seeing naked boys now.

  “Merlin!” Fred cried, yanking the towel from her hands, and most likely covering himself. Hermione didn’t know for certain though as her hands were still tightly glued to her face. She wasn’t risking it anymore. If another Weasley boy were to show up in the hallway naked, she was prepared.

  “Oh my god. I’m so, so sorry!” Hermione cried, attempting to stand without her arms or her sight. She wobbled and bumped a bit, but eventually found her feet.

  “What the hell is going on?!” asked Fred.

  “Hermione I—” she heard Ron’s voice start and then stop suddenly before he let out a confused exclamation. “What’s going on here?!”

  “What’s going on here? What was going on in there?!” Fred asked back, sounding quite angry.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” Hermione chanted in humiliation as she was now blindly trying to find her bedroom door. She needed to get out of there desperately.

  “Bloody hell Hermione. You can open your eyes now,” groaned Ron.

  Hermione shook her head frantically. “Nope! Sorry. I’m not chancing it.”

  “What was she doing in there with you?” Fred questioned indignantly.

  “What was she doing out here with you?” huffed Ron.

  “I heard screaming!”

  “So you decided to come and investigate naked?!”

  “I wasn’t naked! I had a towel, but she pulled it off!”

  “Why would you run out in just a towel?!”

  “Sorry, next time I think there’s an emergency, let me just take my sweet time getting dressed before I come and help,” Fred bit back sarcastically.

  “Boys—” Hermione felt completely lost at this point, walking into a wall, and hitting her head “—ow! Please. Now is really not the time to fight. Can someone please just direct me to my room so I can kill myself?”

  “Stop being so dramatic Hermione,” Ron sighed. She could almost feel his eyes rolling in his head.

  “Yeah, it’s just a bit of skin ‘Mione. No need to be so affected,” said Fred.

  Hermione let out a high-pitched sound of disbelief. “Are you two seriously turning on me now?”

  “Well, you were the one who walked in on my shower,” Ron said sounded very irritated.

  “Yeah, and you pulled down my towel,” added Fred.

  “How in the world is this my fault now?!” cried Hermione, no longer attempting to find her room. Instead, she stood in the hallway, eyes still covered but entirely invested in the argument that was now happening between the three of them.

  It was that moment that they heard the loud and raucous laughter of two people from down the hall. Hermione knew at once who it was. Of course.

  “Ginevra Weasley, I swear to Merlin I will kill you slowly in your sleep for this!” Hermione threatened. “George, I know you were involved in this too! Don’t think for a second you’re in the clear!”

  Ginny and George’s laughter continued, both of them in hysterics at this point.

  “You two?!” cried Ron. “Why?!” He sounded deeply betrayed, as if he expected a lot from the two, but never something as horrible as this.

  “Merlin, this is…this is better than I ever could have hoped,” said George in between laughs.

  “Really George? Really?” asked Fred pointedly.

  “You know George, I was a bit disappointed you failed on your end of the plan, but I think this laugh was worth failing,” Ginny commented, finding her voice through deep breaths.

  “What do you mean?” asked George. “It was you that got it all mixed up!”

  “Me?! What do you—”

  “I can’t believe you two! Actually, George I could expect this from you but Ginny?” Hermione scolded.

  “Oh lighten up Hermione, it was just a bit of fun!” scoffed Ginny.

  “I mean, what was the point of this? Really?” asked Fred, continuing his rant.

  “I’ve been so nice to you lately George. I even did you chores the other day!” said Ron dejectedly.

  “Indecent George and Ginny! Absolutely indecent behaviour!” yelled Hermione.

  “That’s rich coming from someone only in their bra and trousers,” said George.

  Hermione gasped, pulled her hands from her eyes now and covering her upper half. In all the chaos and confusion she’d completely forgotten she was half naked herself.

  All five of them were now talking over each other, everyone yelling at someone different as they argued in the heat of the moment. The noise was beginning the rise in magnitude until the only thing that could be heard was the overwhelming sound of screaming voices.

  “SCUM! MUDBLOODS! BLOOD TRAITORS! IN MY HOUSE?! OUT! OUT! DISGRACESFUL! DIRTY! DIRTY!”

  Their arguing was suddenly drowned out by the horrid sound of Walburga Black’s portrait two floors down. Everyone stopped. Now they’d done it.

  Mrs. Weasley’s shrill and angry voice drifted up the flights of stairs and mixed horribly with the shouting portrait. They heard stomping feat on the wooden stairs and looked at each other in fear.

  “Don’t just stand here like idiots—” said George quickly.

  “—Scatter!” finished Fred.

Chapter 17>>> 

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

#Fremione #fanfic #fanfiction #fred weasley #fred x hermione #hermione granger #slowburn #mutualpining

[sector-i-closed]

I Won't Give Up

Warning: a little depressive

You had been trying not to let it show that your mental health was wrecking havoc on you again.

Having completely forgotten that you were afflicted with the symptoms ever since Hongjoong had came into your life and became your boyfriend, being a light in your life that you didn't mean to depend upon but you did.

He was your lifeline and motivation to live and you never wanted him to know of the pain that you felt inside yourself, wanting him to always see you at your best.

  Right now the numbness you felt inside ached and all you wanted to do was cry right now but your eyes defied you, keeping everything inside.

You hated that you ever existed and if you wasn't ever alive you could never hurt anybody should you die, there would never be anyone that would potentially miss you even though sometimes you felt that no one could ever notice your absence in their life.

Somehow in spite of those feelings you knew Hongjoong would miss you terribly. Your phone vibrated, jarring you from your thoughts as you stared blankly at the ceiling, you rolled over with a sigh and looked at your messages.

Hongjoong had sent a text and with reluctance you opened the message, not feeling like putting on a happy faced act.

Hongjoong: Y/N ❤ how are you doing? Have you ate today?

Tears filled your eyes as you read his message, knowing how he always tried to care for you. You had not ate today and you didn't want him to worry about it but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth or a lie.

You sat your phone down and lied back down, hot tears streaking your face as guilt resided in your chest. Ten minutes later your phone vibrated again and you glanced at the new message from Hongjoong, knowing that you had better say something to him or he would think that he had done something wrong.

Hongjoong: Hey, I don't know if you're busy or not but I'm still gonna check on you and if I don't hear from you soon I'll be coming over to personally check on you

You choked on your breath, panicking at him seeing you not put together in the least. Quickly you typed out a message of your own and pressed send.

You: sorry i am tring to nap rn and i'll try to get bsck with you later whrn i feel better

Within seconds Hongjoong sent another message.

Hongjoong: I'm coming over right now!

"Oh no!" You voiced out loud. This was the very last thing that you wanted to happen and there was no stopping it.

You rushed around trying to make yourself appear presentable but Hongjoong arrived at your residence before you knew it.

Hesitantly you opened the door for him and he quickly came in with a box of chicken nuggets and soda that he'd bought just for you and the gesture warmed your heart. He always knew what you enjoyed.

"Hi, Joong." Your voice came out in raspy tones on account of the crying you had been doing. "What's wrong, Y/N?" Hongjoong asked in alarm after immediately noticing your puffy red eyes and your disheveled state of dress.

"I-I just didn't want you to see me like this," You held back tears, not wanting him to worry anymore about you then he already was. "You're always beautiful, Y/N. Even when you think you're a mess you're beautiful beyond description." He looked deep into your eyes, letting you know that what he said was the truth.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, the small voice in the back of your mind told you that you've done nothing to be deserving this wonderful man in your life.

"I'm fine..." Tears spilled from your eyes and you buried your face in your hands to hide them.

"Something's wrong! Please tell me what it is!" Hongjoong spoke in a forlorn tone that tugged at your heartstrings.

He was worried that he had upset you somehow. You swallowed hard, bowing your head and facing the floor.

Hongjoong sensed that you needed a hug and he immediately stepped forward to embrace you warmly.

Your body gave way to his touch, melding to him as you buried your face in his chest. "It's stupid, just I've been better... with my mental health until today and I had....... a relapse." You sniffled, feeling ashamed for making the admission. "And Ididn't want you to have to know that about me." You fell silent, holding fast to him as he cradled you to him, stroking your hair absentmindedly while you remained close to him.

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N. We can be on this journey together and now that I know about this I know what I should be doing to look for any kind of.... helpful information and treatment that would be of any help to us." Hongjoong tried his best to utter what was on his mind. You somehow was starting to feel a little better after getting it off of your chest.

"Just try not to worry too much about me, okay? I don't want to cause you any problems." You still resented that he had to find out but he would not stop trying to find out until you fessed up.

"You never cause me any problems! You're my treasure, Y/N!" Hongjoong hugged you even tighter, emphasizing his words to you and for now you felt a lot better.

Determined that you would not give up no matter how empty and painful you felt, you would be strong for yourself and your boyfriend.

#ateez scenarios #ateez #kim hongjoong #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

[rinusagitora]

The love, lead, and the undead.

Fandom: Monster Prom

Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Vera Oberlin, Oz, Zoe

Pairings: Brian/Damien/Vicky, Oz/Zoe, platonic Vicky/Vera

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 1/7. WARNINGS--- smut;  Vicky has a lot on her plate between robberies and her love for Damien. Even though they're successful, problems from the past and present stand between them.

Vicky held his throat and pinned him to his plush mattress as she rode him. Brian, behind her, jabbed Damien’s prostate. Between the lack of air and sexual stimulation, Damien’s eyes were crossed and he was right on the edge of ecstasy.

---

When Damien woke up, he reached for Vicky, because his dream was amazing and her hip was flush against his and her butt was great and she smelled like an awesome, fruity perfume that he wanted to bury his nose in.

He opened his eyes to his arms around his poofy body pillow and he felt stupid and dejected and he kind of wanted to cry.

Instead, Damien made way to the bathroom, where he buried his feelings in his morning routine. He texted Scott about that afternoon's football meet. If he couldn't have Vicky, he could at least check out Brian's ass and daydream about the one party where they drank too much and made out.

Stan was in the kitchen with a mug full of disgustingly domestic hot chocolate.

"Where's Dad?" Damien asked.

"He’s showering. There's bacon and toast left over for you," Stan replied. "You look like you slept like shit."

"I was having a good dream, and then I woke up and realized it was a dream."

"I'm sorry. That's disappointing. If it helps, I dreamt Lucien helicoptered his dick at the Aquinos."

Damien broke into a grin. "That's a pretty sweet dream," he said. "I'm off now. See you later."

"Have a good day."

On campus, Damien lounged in the library and perused his hundreds of selfies with Vicky and Brian. Brian didn't smile a lot. It was still as gorgeous as Vicky's.

Beyond a bookshelf, Leonard's voice struck his ear like an icepick.

"God, this chick is an ugly, fake whore! She actually got this producer to agree to one of her hot takes on Makido the Giant. I swear. These SJWs are ruining all the good television shows."

Damien was not in the mood to listen to that neckbeard’s drivel, so he hopped over the shelf and landed in front of Leonard.

"Makido is my friend's favorite show, y'know," he snarled with a guttural, fiery edge. Damien grabbed Leonard by his neck and dragged him to the bathroom. Makido was a great excuse to beat out his anxiety.

---

Vicky loved a lot of boys. Like, a lot. Scott, Brian, Oz, Liam, Blobert, Cal. She loved them all. When they talked to her, the attention went straight to wherever made her feel like she was fucking invincible. It came to be that her infinite source of love focused on Damien as of recent, her most hot-headed classmate and friend, and for more than one week like the rest of her phases of attraction seemed to last.

Of course she gravitated towards him. He was all kinds of crazy like she was: the happy kind of crazy that felt like drums punched her chest, or that first second after she snort a ton of coke.

Damien held Leonard by the back of his head in one of the toilets. As much as Vicky loathed that obnoxious, holier-than-thou, nonsensical neckbeard, and as much as she enjoyed seeing him helplessly gurgle, Damien's heart didn't seem as invested into Leonard's torment as he usually was. No jeers, no curse words, just a lame, dejected sigh. It concerned Vicky.

"You look frustrated," Vicky, loyal captain of the generally disliked naval vessel the S.S. Obvious, remarked. "What's on your mind?"

Damien's eyes were so golden. A poet of ancient Greece would describe them as pure ore. "Nothing," he grumbled. He pulled Leonard out of the can and threw him out of the stall. "Scram, freak. You're no fun anymore.”

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"No. That was a blatant lie. I'm not sure why I did that."

Vicky reminded herself to trust her gut in the future. Things were always as they seemed when it came to Damien.

"I'm just… love is metal, man. Like, it's pretty badass to trust someone enough to be vulnerable around them.”

"Is… is philosophy making you upset?" she asked.

"No. But there's this girl I really like. Like, I like her more than anyone I have before. I feel like I'm on fire when I'm with her and the second she's out of sight I snuff out. She'll smile and I'll lose my breath. I like her more every day. This morning, and I'll kill you if you fucking laugh at this, but this morning I woke up and I was looking for her because I had a dream we were together. My chest felt like it would collapse when I realized it wasn't real."

Oh.

Vicky's chest felt like it collapsed too. He talked about that woman like Vicky was just one of the guys. Like she hadn't had Damien's back for a year, like she didn't adore all his adventures.

Yet as much as it hurt, Vicky only wanted to make Damien happy.

"Why haven't you told her yet?"

Damien's head fell into his hands. "'Cause I like this guy too, Vicky, and I want them both. It's gonna break her heart and I’ll lose both of them. This isn’t some kind of passing fancy. This isn’t me wanting a three-way. I adore both of them.”

"There are people like you," Vicky said, people like her who liked lots of boys. She’d stay with him, even if she didn’t like his other partner. “You should give it a shot.”

"I don't think I can. If I can't have them, even as friends, I’m not sure I could take it.”

Vicky held his hands. “Damien, you’re better than this,” she croaked. “You’ve never been so reserved. I hate seeing you like this. Please… tell me how I can help.”

“It’s…” Damien stared, his chest rattled. “I have to go.”

He pushed past Vicky. She collided with the locking mechanism, but she hardly felt it, because her chest hurt so much. Damien didn’t love her, he couldn’t tell her who he loved, he couldn’t even tell her why he couldn’t tell why he refused to tell her.

---

Oz wasn’t used to the weird couple walk Zoe adored. Not that he didn’t like it, because he did. Zoe fit underneath this shoulder like a puzzle piece and it was so fucking adorable, and she held his hip like it was glued there. But Oz was clumsy, and Fear wanted in on the action so he tripped over their excited bubbling. Zoe thought it was funny, at least.

“Y’know, I need to ask Damien something. Let’s sit with him.”

“Okay.”

Just before they sat down, Vicky rushed past them with a tray in hand and tears in her eyes.

“Wow, I’ve never seen Vicky act like this,” Zoe commented. “You guys are friends, right? What’s going on with her?”

Damien snapped his fork in half. “Not your fucking business, you nosy freak.”

“That’s Damien-speak for he does know and it’s probably his fault,” Oz whispered in one of Zoe’s ears.

“Dammit Oz, fuck off! If Vicky didn’t tell you, she sure as hell doesn’t want you knowing.”

“We’re her friends too, though,” Oz retorted. “You’re our friend too.”

Damien grit his teeth. “I fucked up, okay? I like this girl and I can’t tell her, and she tried to help me this morning, but I’m too big of a fucking bitch to let her know it’s her and it’s not her fault that I’m a fucking coward.”

“Oh my goood!” Zoe gasped. “You do like Vicky! I swore you were into Brian, though! What changed? Oh my god, is this a love triangle? Are you stuck between two lovers?”

“Can you fucking act semi normal for once in your motherfucking life!”

Fuck, Zoe was perceptive. “Zoe… let’s be more sensitive about this,” Oz said as Damien beat his head against the table.

“I like them both, okay? And I don’t want to choose, and I don’t want to hurt or lose any of them. I just gonna to keep this to myself.”

“Damien, did you tell Vicky you like her and Brian and you don’t want to choose? Or have you made these decisions on your own?” Oz asked. Mortals and their drama was both fascinating and obnoxious.

“... no.”

“Seriously consider it. You don’t know what she is okay with. Are you content living in safety and security? Or do you want to live vivaciously, even if your partners don’t end up being Brian and Vicky?”

“Okay,” Damien replied. “I will. Thank you.”

---

The school day wasn’t even halfway over when Vicky decided to go home. Vera's sleek, absurdly shiny limo pulled up to the sidewalk next to her.

"Get in, bitch," Vera said from the interior.

"I'm surprised you didn't poison me," Vicky said as she climbed inside.

"I’ve come to the conclusion you're more effective as my partner in crime when you're not foaming at the mouth. You look like you need a drink, though. Scotch?"

"Single malt," Vicky replied. "Fill the glass off and keep the bottle out."

"Sweet flaming baby Satan, what's up with you?"

"Damien. He likes another girl and it's not me, and he refuses to tell me who it is, and refuses more tell me why he can't tell me. Since these problems totally matter, I'd very much like to drink away the memory of today."

Vicky grimaced as Vera gave her a look of unbridled disgust. "Sorry, I'll keep it to myself."

"No. That was mostly for Damien." Vera massaged her sinuses. "You people are hopeless. Y'know, if I cared more about social graces, I wouldn't tell you this, but that girl Damien was talking about is you, Vicky. He's just too much of a pussy ass bitch to fess up to it. God knows he buries his feelings under his stupid sense of masculinity."

Vicky wanted to cry. All her work to get into his circle, all her effort to get him to realize how wonderful she was, had paid off.

But why in god’s good name was he so scared to tell her that he liked her? She didn’t care if he liked her and someone else.

Nonetheless, Vicky said, "Thanks. I don't wanna think about this right now, though."

"Why don't we rob a bank then? That always seems to put you in a good mood."

"Somehow I knew you had ulterior motives," Vicky said as she caught a ski mask and sweats Vera threw at her.

---

Seventeen hours later and about seventeen grand heavier, Vicky returned to campus with more pep in her step.

Part of her felt bad that Vera told her about something as private as Damien's feelings. Surely, there had to be a reason he hadn't told her. But she wanted to put an end to their charade so if Damien refused to tell her about his feelings for her, she would, and if he still refused to tell her, so be it. There were there fish in the sea.

If Vera's information was wrong, though, and Damien didn't return Vicky's feelings, their friendship would suffer. Collateral damage.

Vicky found Damien asleep in the shallow woods behind campus. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Damien, you're gonna kill your back sleeping up there!" He wasn't a fucking puma, or… whatever tree-dwelling cat was more apt for the analog she needed.

Did pumas even sleep in trees?

Damien flew upright upon disruption, and less than gracefully slammed his head into a thick branch above him. He cursed, lost his balance as he braced himself, and fell to the ground. Vicky yelped and ran to check on him.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Damien. Are you okay?"

"No. Holy shit, that hurt," Damien groaned. He curled up into a ball and held his forehead. "Fuck, why do I do this shit?"

"Sh-should I get you some ice? God, that's gonna swell like a bitch."

"Ice? Fuck no!" Damien snapped. "God, just… fuck….”

"Let's go to the nurse's office." Vicky reached to help Damien to his feet. He scrambled away like she burned him.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. Vicky's eyes watered. "Just… stop, okay? Worse has happened!"

Vicky's hands fell into her lap. She was a stupid little girl. "Sorry. I'll… see you around." She picked up her backpack and ran before Damien could reach her.

She tumbled helplessly into the bathroom. She slammed the stall door behind her, dropped her bag (with a very expensive laptop inside) on the linoleum, and she didn't even cover her mouth as she bawled. Vicky gave a whole new meaning to ugly crying. When she cried, the stitched skin on her face scrunched up and she had to push it into place when she finished, she never failed to hyperventilate so her face was always puffy, and whenever she cried, her snot always dripped down her face like her mother was Niagara fucking Falls.

When she heard a knock at her stall, Vicky covered her mouth (as if that would do anything) and hoped they'd pass.

"Bitch, it's me, open up," Vera said from beyond her stall.

Vicky unlocked her stall and let Vera inside.

"Sorry, not at my best right now," Vicky said.

"What the hell is going on? You're crying in here, and Damien reached a new record for amount of people he's beat the shit out of today and it’s only lunchtime. Already get into a lover's quarrel? He’s not telling me shit."

She shook her head. "No. He was sleeping in a tree, and I woke him up, and he hit his head and fell, and he got really mad at me."

Vera's hair bristled. "What a dumbass, cunt-blowing, son of a bitch."

Vicky was pulled to her feet and dragged behind Vera. She only narrowly managed to catch her backpack. Vera ignored Vicky's protests. She wanted to be seen when she fixed her face slippage, and she had to wipe her nose on her sleeve which was fucking gross. They were ignored though, because Vera's rage was palpable. Her snake-hair incessantly hissed and bared their teeth at passersby.

In the cafeteria, Vera unkindly slammed Vicky into a seat across from Damien and Scott. Until Damien saw her, he only half-heartedly picked at his food. When his eyes met her's, though, it felt like Vicky was kicked square in the gut because he dropped his fork and looked like she kicked him instead.

"Oh no, Vicky, what's wrong?" Scott cried. "Are you sad? Will balls help? Balls help me feel better when I’m sad."

The tension of Vera's death stare made Damien sweat visibly. "It’s nothing you need to worry about, Scott. Damien knows what he did," Vera said. "We're gonna sit here until he fixes it."

"Vera, it's fine. Damien and I can work this out."

Scott gasped. If he wasn't so stupid, Vicky would've guessed Scott deliberately rubbed salt in Damien’s wounds. "Oh my God, Damien made you cry? Dude, that's not cool. She's like your best friend. You don't make your friends cry! That’s not what good friends do."

"Scott, just, shut up for a minute!" Damien barked.

"Well, what do you have to say?" Vera said.

Vicky was caught between her loyalty to Damien and her own, awful, vindictive pleasure as Vera ripped him a filthy new asshole. She bashfully sat back and stared back at Damien.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I've been on edge lately. It kind of just boiled over and I took it out on you. That wasn't right. I mean, I don't give a shit about right and wrong, but your feelings… your feelings matter to me."

"And?" Vera said.

Damien's face glowed with… embarrassment, or something along those lines. "I really like you, Vicky. Yesterday, when we were in the bathroom, I was trying to tell you that, but I couldn't get it out. That's kind of why I've been so pent up lately. I keep trying to tell you and I keep chickening out."

Vicky's heart just about popped out of her chest and tap danced for them. Instead, she lunged across the table and squeezed Damien so hard his back cracked.

Damien didn’t seem to mind. He crushed her in his own embrace as he crushed her lips against her. Scott howled with excitement and drew the attention of their classmates. There was applause from their friends. Vicky was embarrassed, but it was buried under the noise of her own giddy. Not even lasagna smeared on her sweater was enough to put a damper on her mood because the only thing that could take her out of that moment would have been wedding bells.

#monster prom #vicky schmidt #damien lavey #vera oberlin #oz monster prom #zoe monster prom #brian/damien/vicky #oz/zoe #platonic vicky/vera #are there any ship names for them???

[isananna]

Posted Anonymously

Got this title from a title game from @suddenclarityharry and got inspired to write it. So here I am, three days later, with a Chris Evans fic on my hands. I may or may not work on more stuff in this AU. Who knows but I enjoyed writing this a lot!

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female OC

Word Count: 4785

Synopsis: She had no idea the amazing new guy friend in her life was the hot, popular, easygoing colleague everyone had a thing for. Until she did and it killed her to think that if he ever found out, it’d ruin their more-than-just-friendship friendship. Office AU

Tagging @suddenclarityharry @aeliad @klausgoldsteins @iwillpooponthefloor

Bailey stared at the man in front of her, his eyes sparkling and his mouth set into the widest, most charming smile she’d ever seen. No, she had to stay strong and not give in. It’s not like she was his personal analyst and could waltz right on over to her office (high walled cubicle that gave some modicum of privacy if she ever had short, not quite formal meetings with a colleague or a subordinate) and ask her for a favor. Except everyone was just a little weak to one Christopher Robert Evans, man or woman, and he knew how to play that fact very well. It was mostly innocent (if calling favors and giving his target the biggest, most endearing and soulful puppy dog eyes could be considered innocent) and it was for work. But still, she had to be strong but she could already feel her resolve crumbling.

“Come on, please? I’ll owe you one! My boss just sent over some last minute requests and my presentation is tomorrow.” He smiled even wider, like he was trying to highlight the beard he’d been growing recently.

Fuck him and fuck the beard that made him even better looking than he already was. It should have been a crime for anyone to be so damnably gorgeous and having the clearest baby blues she’d ever laid her eyes on that made her heart squeeze just a little bit tighter whenever he was in such close proximity.

“You already owe me a lot, Chris.” Bailey sighed, rubbing her temples. She already had a lot to do, what with one of her juniors out sick for the week and she had to pick up his work. Everyone else on her team was either fully booked or too new to take on the extra, albeit temporary, load.

“Please, Bails?”

There it was. She could feel the crack growing. She didn’t interact with him much outside of work, having different friend groups and working in different departments and all but she knew for a fact that he didn’t have nicknames for everyone he worked with, but somehow she wound up with one. Maybe because they both started in the company at the same time, her as a newbie and him as a hot shot marketing manager who transferred over because the hours and the pay were better. Everyone knew, of course, about the rockstar employee the company snagged when they joined almost ten years ago, and for some bizarre reason, they’d been joined at the hip for work projects ever since.

“I’m only staying at the office until seven. Whatever I have finished I’ll send. I trust you can handle the rest?” She looked up at him, eyes weary, then back down to his knees which was barely just a handbreadth away from her knuckles, Chris having chosen to sit halfway on her desk, leg dangling, as he leaned against her cubicle wall but more heavily on the foot planted on the ground.

“You’re the best, Bails!” His face brightened considerably as he pushed off his standing leg. “It’s not a lot but it’d be great if you could sort out and clean up the additional data tables. I could have done it myself but I’m still not done with the presentation deck.”

“Mmmm.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing sideways, only to catch him popping open his collar and letting his clavicle tattoo peek just a little bit. It was after hours anyway. No need to be all buttoned and suited up. “You have me for only an hour and a half.”

“Getting to it!” He grinned, rolling up his sleeves before walking away, soles of his leather shoes tapping smartly against the floor.

It was only when she didn’t hear his footsteps anymore that Bailey finally let out the breath she’d been holding the entire time. How was she supposed to know that the funny, interesting guy she met online on a restaurant review site, of all places, was her hot, popular, and easygoing officemate? It killed her to know that she was the only one who knew the truth about their… relationship, but how exactly was she going to ‘fess up to one Christopher Robert Evans that one Bailey Alexander Jones was the online friend whose taste in food was the only one he trusted? Other than his own of course.

It all started on an unusually free Sunday afternoon. She was looking at reviews for pet friendly restaurants, to widen her options, and each time she tapped on a restaurant’s profile and read through the reviews, there was always one user that caught her attention. The reviews he left that were detailed and full of all the reasons why he loved the place. Or if he didn’t like the place, his reviews were never terrible, but always worded well so that the owners could use it as suggestions for room for improvement. His profile picture certainly helped matters along too. It was his arm wrapped around the neck of his brown and white mixed breed (a rescue, according to his bio which made him all the more precious in her eyes). No face, just the arm of a man (who clearly went to the gym and took care of himself by the looks of things) and his dog, with the top buttons of his shirt open, offering a peek to his clavicle tattoo and on a whim she messaged him. With absolutely no ulterior motives (which was a flat out lie when she looked back on it, even before she found out it was Chris Evans she’d suddenly become friends with).

It was how she knew.

. . . .

Hey. Sorry, I meant to get back to you on that new bakery with stuff for dogs too but swamped with work. Big presentation tomorrow. Felt bad asking one of my officemates to overtime and help out a little.

Bailey stared at her phone. She was finally at home, seated on her couch and in clean clothes and warm skin after her bath, knees pulled up against her chest as she read the message for the umpteenth time. Chris didn’t realize he had both her work number and her personal number, so he couldn't put two and two together, but she did. And she felt terrible for keeping up the facade but how exactly was she going to bring this up? It’s not like she could just blurt it out, but it’s not like she was hiding some big secret. And wasn’t there some sort of office fraternization rules in the employee handbook? She really didn’t want to lose her job and she didn’t think that he would want to move to a different company either, if their ten year tenure was anything to go by.

It’s fine. Was a bit busy myself today. One of my teammates got sick and no one else could pick up the slack so I had to do it, on top of my own work.

She swallowed thickly. She didn’t mean for him to feel bad, or to fish for some kind words, but he was so easy to talk to on the phone. He was kind, considerate, sent her stupid dad jokes and pictures of his dog (Dodger she later found out after countless hours of messaging). Even if it was just an online relationship, she couldn’t help but feel the palpable attraction. He was the first, and the last, person she texted every day. She replied in turn with goofy pictures of her dogs, a beagle named Rocco and a corgi named Duke, they constantly messaged each other and talked about anything and everything and the only thing missing was that they actually meet up.

Oh? Sorry to hear. Hope your teammate gets better, for your sake too. Don’t want you to burn out or anything.

Bailey smiled, falling sideways into her couch, her dogs jumping onto the empty cushion above her head and making themselves comfortable.

Yeah, me too. He said he was fine today but I told him to stay home and take an extra day, just to be safe. Don’t want him relapsing. He’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll just be my usual busy self, instead of extremely busy.

She closed her eyes and pressed her phone to her chest. What she wouldn’t give to make this awkwardness go away. She desperately wanted to tell him. Every time she saw Chris at work and there was someone just a little bit too close to him, she wanted to tell them he was hers. Which was pathetic, because she didn’t think that falling in love would make her that girl, the territorial and possessive one but apparently that was what was happening. And the fact that she was even admitting to herself that she was in love with the man sounded strange in her ears and gave her some weird combination of a heady buzz and a headache. Her eyes opened halfway when she felt her phone vibrate.

Well, I’ve got to go home now. Still at the office but there’s nothing more I can do now except crack open a cold one, shower, and go to bed. Talk to you tomorrow after my meeting. Wish me luck!

She looked at the clock. It was ten but she knew his commute home wasn’t going to be too long. He lived just a couple of stops after hers and she only had a thirty minute train ride to work.

Night, you. Good luck tomorrow. Hope your presentation goes well.

It didn’t take him long to reply.

Night, you. Thanks for keeping me company, electronically anyway, while I worked!

Her eyes zoned in on the emoji he put at the end, the kissy face one. It was things like this that made her heart beat faster than it should, and why she was falling further and further in love with him, all sweet and kind and reliant on her.

. . . .

His presentation did go well, she knew both from his exuberant, but tired, face when he dropped by her cubicle  during lunch, slumping in the chair beside her desk with a couple of takeout boxes in hand as payment for her overtime. Although really, she knew more than an hour ago because the minute he was finished with his meeting, he texted her with a host of party popper emojis, and ended with his usual kissy face.

. . . .

She was thankful for the rare weekend off. Now was one of them, when marketing was starting to slow down because they’d done all the prep work for the upcoming busy Thanksgiving and holiday sales. Those were always done well in advance so they could put up quality campaigns. Sure they were still busy, but markedly less so, which meant she didn’t see Chris as often, which also meant she could ignore her bubbling feelings at work.

Have you eaten at the new European dessert place in Newton? I heard their ile flottante and their cannolis are to die for.

Bailey smiled, amused. Of course she did. She lived about a ten minute walk away from it and she couldn’t wait to sample their other dishes.

Yup! It’s near my place. I can walk there.

When she realized what she sent, Bailey’s eyes widened and she dropped her phone on top of her kitchen table. She did not just tell him the general area where she lived. No. He might interpret that as an open invitation to finally met up!

Oh you live in Newton? Me too, but not near Beurre et Sucre. Maybe you’d like to go together some time?

. . . .

Bailey shot down any of Chris’s attempts at trying to strike a conversation after that awkward exchange. She didn’t ignore him completely, but she did always reply with short messages or late, saying she was just so busy at work she couldn’t find the time. She felt guilty because he didn’t do anything wrong, but she just wasn’t prepared to face the music. What if he were furious at her for keeping everything a secret? Maybe if she let things cool that everything would blow over? She wasn’t planning on ignoring him for long, just for the next week or so. That seemed like a realistic enough time to be super busy at work. There was a stretch of a few days, soon after they started texting each other constantly, that she all but ignored him, when work just kept piling up on her desk.

. . . .

Hey. I know you’re busy but I hope things are going to look up soon. They should! It’s been almost two weeks and I miss talking with you.

Bailey’s brain conveniently ignored the ‘talking with’ in between the ‘miss’ and the ‘you.’

. . . .

I’m in your side of Newton. Want to grab a cup of coffee over at Beans and Bones while I’m in the area? Dodger’s with me.

Shit. She stared wide eyed at the message on her phone. She blinked a few times and even rubbed her eyes for good measure, to make sure she wasn’t misreading it. But there it was, plain as day. He was asking her out for coffee, strangely enough her neighborhood coffee place, a nice public space that never got too crowded but was never completely empty either. Nice and safe and obvious.

Ah but no pressure! Sorry, didn’t stop to think if you were going to be busy later.

She stared at her phone again, looking at the timestamps. He was really nervous, sending a barrage of messages. The three blinking dots at the bottom of the screen told her he was typing, then it stopped (he probably erased it) before starting up again, then stopping once more. Rinse and repeat.

Hey you there? Sorry I sprung it up on you. I just… I found myself here and was hoping you were home too? Shit. Was I moving too quickly? Oh God. Sorry. Forget it. Never mind. Turning back. I hope I didn’t scare you off. I just really wanted to meet you, I guess.

Her heart started to beat wildly as she fumbled with her phone, sitting up straight from her bed, never mind the wave of dizziness from suddenly shifting positions.

Hey um, yeah. I’m free! Sorry, I was just doing something. Didn’t get a chance to reply to your messages until now. I can be there in thirty minutes?

What the hell was she doing. She wasn’t only going to potentially ruin her friendship with him but she was risking a hell of a lot by doing this.

Great! I’ll see you then. I’m wearing a black leather jacket, navy shirt, and jeans.

She groaned. Of course he’d be wearing a black leather jacket. That’s just the vibe he gave when they were at work. That he was the hot, popular, easygoing one just everyone gravitated to. Not that she was quiet and shy by any stretch of the imagination, no, but they just hung out in different circles and had different friends and just always seemed to be at each other’s periphery if they weren’t talking shop. Usually, the only times they really ever spoke to each other at work, outside of project meetings, was when he sidled on over to her desk and blinked his damnably gorgeous baby blues to ask her for a quick favor and if she could pull up some data for him and prepare it for a presentation deck he had to finish. And somehow, even if she was busy, she managed to keep a straight face and nod, saying she’d have it done before the day was out and he’d smile that infuriatingly gorgeous smile, give her a wink, and walk away.

Leather jacket too, jeans, white button down, and rose gold Air Force Ones.

She fell back into bed, covering her face with her hands.

What on earth was she doing?

. . . .

Bailey gripped Duke’s and Rocco’s leashes tighter when she made her way to Beans and Bones. It was her favorite coffee spot, both because they made the best pick me ups after her weekend jogs and she could bring her dogs inside. Right now, she was hoping their food and coffee would be enough to help fix the inevitable breaking of her heart. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked inside, her dogs trailing happily behind her as she looked around for Chris.

He was at the corner booth, on the side facing the door, with his brow slightly furrowed, book in one hand, the other scratching the back of his dog’s ear. Dodger’s tail was thumping happily on the wood floor, mouth open and tongue wagging as he stared up at Chris. Just as she was about to take a step, his head lifted and his eyes caught hers. Her heart nearly stopped and she couldn’t look away from his magnetic blue eyes. He’d seen her, and by the appraising look on his face, he pieced everything together. There was no going back now. The only thing she could do was walk up to him with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Hey um.” She tucked her hair back behind her ears nervously, fidgeting as she clenched and unclenched her fist around the leashes. It’s not like she’d never been in close proximity with him before, but this was different. This was outside of work, in her favorite coffee spot, with their dogs.

“Why don’t you get something first?” Chris smiled kindly, leaning forward and reaching for Duke’s and Rocco’s leashes. “I’ll keep an eye on those two while you’re at the counter.”

“O-okay.” She let her grip go, wondering if he felt the static too when his fingers brushed her hand.

The trip to order her food and drink was quick and Bailey found herself back at the booth not even five minutes later. When she reached out to get her dog’s leashes, Chris only gripped them tighter and propped his elbow on the table, book discarded, as he grinned.

“Oh no. I’m keeping Duke and Rocco hostage for the afternoon while we sort everything out, Miss Jones.”

She hoped she managed to sufficiently suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at his words.

“I um.” She looked down at the table. What could she say? He obviously wasn’t angry. Surprised, but not angry. In fact, surprise easily gave way to a look that was equal parts amused and victorious.

“I had a feeling it was you.”

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. She wasn’t expecting the look on his face, something soft and tender and relief and happiness.

“W-what? H-how?”

“Lots of little things really.” Chris tapped his clavicle. “I pay a lot more attention to you than you think.”

Bailey opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the arrival of her coffee and blintz with strawberry compote. She mumbled a quick thanks before wrapping her suddenly too cold and shaking hands around her mug, hoping the warmth would help. She felt her ears grow hot when she heard him laugh, deep and warm and rich.

“From the way you reply too. I also live a couple of stations away from you and we’ve ridden the same train a few times. I get in earlier and get off later than you if we’re commuting the same time so I kind of figured you lived in the area. Imagine my surprise you told me you did, in fact, live in Newton.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it from you that I knew it was you.”

Chris shook his head good-naturedly, covering one of her hands with his own.

“Don’t be. I understand why you’d freak out about it.” His thumb was absently stroking the back of her hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do to calm her down. The dogs were sorting themselves under the table, trying to find a way to settle themselves in between table and human legs. “How long have you known?”

“Couple of months maybe?” She squeaked. The skin he was touching felt like it was on fire. “It was late, we were all working overtime to finish that presentation, and you ended up pulling off your tie popping open top buttons of your shirt at some point. I saw your tattoo when I looked over towards your general direction. It’s pretty distinct and it’s hard not to put two and two together.”

“Just my general direction? Not me?” He teased, eyes warm. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“You’re too full of yourself sometimes,” Bailey mumbled, averting her gaze but not doing anything to shake off his hand.

Chris laughed, tilting his head back, the hand with the leashes reaching up and pressing against his chest. The dogs scrambled beneath them, three furry faces staring at him like he was going to bring them out for a walk.

The rest of the afternoon passed by pleasantly, nerves on both their parts starting to fade. As it turned out, Chris admitted he was panicking after she didn’t reply to his text about going to Beurre et Sucre, and again (clearly) after he invited her out for coffee.

. . . .

“What would you have done if I said I couldn’t make it today?” Bailey took her dogs’ leashes firmly this time, her nails grazing his broad, calloused palm. She wondered why they were rough, like he spent years doing some sort of manual labor.

“Hate myself for scaring you away?” He shrugged, smiling a little carelessly. “To be honest I really didn’t think about it. I just had to know. My days were getting pretty boring without you and your witty remarks.”

“I have to admit I missed your stupid jokes.” She let herself smile a little too, falling in step with him as they started to walk towards her apartment building. He said he’d drop her off then make his way to the station and back to his place, then see her on Monday at work.

“You like them, admit it!” He grinned, blue eyes sparkling, as he tilted his head downwards to face her properly.

“Some of them were well timed. Shitty day because a certain someone dumped more work on me when I could have been home and lounging in a bubble bath!” she shot back playfully. It was nice, whatever this was between them. Certainly more than just a plain old friendship but she’d be lying if she thought that it was anything more than that.

Chris’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and his eyes shone with an almost wicked gleam at her last words.

“Pervert!” Bailey shoved his shoulder, face bright and burning, as she turned away, her dogs gleefully sniffing about as they led them home.

“Hey now none of that. Healthy adult male right here!” He laughed, wrapping his free arm around her shoulder and pulling her in.

Bailey snorted but let him drag her along to his pace just the same.

Their banter continued until they reached the stoop of her building, his arm around her the entire time like she’d up and disappear if his grasp wasn’t secure around her.

“Well, this is me.” She gently pried herself away from his side, a little disappointed at the sudden lack of warmth but there really wasn’t any reason for him to keep holding her anymore. Not that there was any during their walk but she just couldn’t bring herself to peel away from him. Whether it was because she just couldn’t find the timing or she actually liked the weight of his arm around her, the smell of his crisp, ocean cologne invading her nostrils, or the added warmth on a cool day, she didn’t know.

(Oh but she did, she absolutely did.)

“Um, see you on Monday?” She rocked back and forth on her feet, nervous again.

“Seems too far away.”

“Huh? What do you mean? Monday’s in a couple of days.”

With his free hand, he reached out and lifted her chin, leaning his head down as he kissed her. Bailey’s eyes widened and her hands instinctively pressed against his chest.

“Shit. Sorry, did I read that wrong? I was so sure…” He pulled away, apologetic, head down like an abandoned puppy. Even Dodger could read his body language, the dog wedging himself in the space between his legs.

Bailey’s fingers rested on her mouth, touching and pressing her slightly swollen lips like she couldn’t believe what just happened. She could not, in fact, believe what just happened and her mind was whirling.

“Bails?”

Her heart ached at how worried and flustered he sounded, like he’d just ruined everything he managed to fix earlier this afternoon.

“You, um. You like me?” she squeaked, looking down, hair falling and covering her face. She was sure her face was steaming.

Chris’s shoulders relaxed as relief spread through him. She sounded like she was amazed that he could even think of her that way.

“Yeah. You’re pretty cute and adorable, huh?” He tugged Dodger away, the dog dutifully following, as he closed the gap between them and pulled her flush against him with his free arm. He bent down and kissed the top of her head before resting his chin on it. “Yeah, I do. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“I’ve been told I’m bad at reading things like that,” she mumbled into his shirt, pressing her forehead against his chest.

“Well then. Let me spell it out for you, Bailey Alexander Jones. I like you. Would you go out with me?” he murmured into her hair, the arm around her squeezing tight like he’d never let her go unless she said yes.

She looked up at him, chin against him now, staring into his endlessly blue eyes and the warmth on his face. She tiptoed to close the space between their faces, eyes falling shut as she kissed him back, his hold on her tightening to support her weight.

. . . .

“Please? I’ll finish faster if you help.” Chris bat his eyelashes shamelessly as he leaned forward, elbow propped on her desk, hand cradling his cheek.

“Excuse me but I have my own work to do.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner!”

Bailey’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Was he really going to use that as a bribe?

“You’ll take me out to dinner anyway.”

Chris laughed, picking up his notebook as he leaned back.

“Was worth a shot anyway. Would have been nice to work together again.”

The first thing they did that Monday was to go to HR and tell them about their relationship. It wouldn’t do to both be assigned on the same projects, conflict of interest after all, and HR was more than amenable to finding a solution for them. They were in different departments to begin with and had proven themselves more than professional that the company was willing to work around their relationship. They weren’t the first set of officemates to find themselves dating and they certainly weren’t going to be the last.

“Go ask the data analysts actually assigned to your team. I’m sure they’re more than capable of handling your requests.”

“Fine. Spoilsport.” He stuck his tongue out childishly.

“Chris…” Bailey sighed, twisting in her seat until she faced him. You know wh—mmf!”

He cut her off with a kiss. She let herself be led along for just a moment until she remembered where they were.

“We’re at work!” she hissed, glaring at him.

“I know but your cubicle wall is pretty high! No one saw us.” He grinned, all cheek and mischief.

“Just… go back to your own desk. We both have work to do and I’d like to actually go out for dinner and not eat takeout.”

He leaned forward and kissed Bailey on her hairline, dodging a swipe from his girlfriend. His skin warmed at the thought.

“I’m going, I’m going!” He stood up, holding his notebook in one hand and pocketing the other. “I should be done at six. That good for you?”

Bailey glanced at her to do list, just three more relatively easy, but a little time consuming, tasks left.

“If you let me get back to work it should be.”

He laughed, nodding, turning on his heel to leave her alone. But not before winking and a whisper of ‘see you later, sweetheart’ right by her ear.

Bailey groaned and slid slightly down her chair.

He was equally as infuriating as he was adorable and that made things all the more challenging. Not that she would change it for the world.

#writing #fanfiction #chris evans #bailey jones #chris evans x oc #chris evans fanfiction

[walkerismychoice]

Betrayal (Damien X MC)

Book: Perfect Match

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1946

Author’s Note: This part 4 in the series chronicling my head-cannon of Damien and MC’s relationship up to present day, explaining why they have never been more than friends. Parts of this were not fun to write. Be warned there is angst. Parts 1-3 are linked below.

Part 1: For Safety | Part 2: Man of the Hour | Part 3: Sticky Situation

Shit, shit, shit. What am I doing here? Damien had thought about what he would do for a couple days before deciding to try and give Kyle the chance to do the right thing. He set up a meeting with Kyle at his office, which had seemed like the best option at the time. But now as he sat outside Kyle’s office doors, overcome with nerves, this idea didn’t seem so great anymore.

Kyle opened the office door, “Damien, please come in. What can I do for you? I’m not sure what legal services I can offer unless you are planning on turning your private business into a corporation.”

Damien closed the door on his way through. “I’m actually here on more of a personal matter. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Is this about Kai?”

“In a way, yes. I have something to show you. Damien spread the photos from Mike across Kyle’s desk.”

Kyle studied the photos and his expression turned from confusion to recognition to anger in a matter of moments. “Where did you get these? Were you following me? I should have known you were one of those sleazy PIs. You have probably been sleeping with Kai behind my back this whole time. You sure as hell spend more time with her than I do. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. ”

“Hey don’t turn this around on me. You are the one caught with his pants down, so to speak. I am just a good friend to Kai, and as her friend, I’m giving you the chance to make things right and tell her what’s going on.”

“This is between me and Kai. Leave my office now. You are not welcome back again.”

“You can kick me out, but I’m warning you: You tell Kai or I will tell her myself.” Damien slammed the office door and didn’t look back.

=====

Two days later, Damien hadn’t heard anything from Kai or Nadia that would suggest Kyle had fessed up to Kai. He walked up to the ladies’ apartment for their standing Friday night “date.” He was afraid Kyle might show up today just to spite him.

“Hey Damien, come in. Kai is sorry she can’t be here tonight, but Kyle surprised her last minute and is taking her for a long weekend in St. Thomas.”

Fuck. Damien hoped he didn’t say that out loud. He looked down at his phone and there was a text from Kai 10 minutes ago:

Sorry I had to ditch. Kyle is taking me away for the weekend last minute, and I couldn’t say no! Try not to miss me too much! 

“Damien, why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?” Nadia questioned with concern. “I know Kai is your favorite, but we can still have fun.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Sorry Nadia. I am glad to see you. I just got a text about a case that is stressing me out,” he lied. Yes he was disappointed that Kai wouldn’t be there, but he was seriously worried about Kyle’s motives.  Kyle could barely find an evening to spend with Kai lately, and now as soon as Damien confronted him about the cheating, he was whisking Kai away on a romantic getaway? He had a pit in his stomach that was growing in size.

“I have just the thing to cheer you up!” Nadia held up two romantic comedies. “It’s my turn to choose and Kai isn’t here to help you overrule me this time.”

Damien groaned. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“Complain all you want Damien, but I know you secretly love these movies.”

Maybe Damien was a bit of a hopeless romantic deep down, but the last thing he needed right now was to watch anything that would make him imagine what kind of romance would be happening between Kyle and Kai in St. Thomas. He would just have to suffer in silence.

=====

“This view is amazing!” Kyle and Kai’s hotel room looked out over the ocean. Kai sat on the balcony enjoying a cup of coffee as she watched the sun rise. “You should come out here and see it.”

“Just give me a few minutes. I need to finish up some work emails.” Kyle shouted from inside the suite.

Typical. Kyle couldn’t even unplug for one weekend. This place was beautiful and would be super romantic, but Kai almost felt alone, even with Kyle right next to her.

Kyle emerged 10 minutes later, but the colorful sunrise has passed. “Okay, I’m yours for the rest of the day, I promise. Why don’t we spend the day relaxing on the beach? Then we can come back and rest up for a bit before dinner. I booked a reservation for Oceana at sunset. Both the food and the view are incredible.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me!” Kai was determined to try and give Kyle the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he really could devote a whole day to her.

As the day wore on, Kai was pleasantly surprised. She thought hell must have literally frozen over when Kyle left his phone in the room when they went to the beach.  They were exhausted from lying in the sun all day, so they had a relaxing nap before getting ready for dinner. Kyle wore a suit and Kai put on a nice cocktail dress before heading to the restaurant.

“Seafood is normally not my favorite, but everything was delicious. How did you know about this place Kyle?”

“One of my colleagues recommended it. Speaking of work…”

“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to talk about work for the rest of the day,” Kai scolded

“Well this is important. I found out this morning that I made junior partner! That is what I was emailing about.”

“Really? I am so happy for you…and for us.”

“Regarding us, I have one more surprise.” At that moment, a waiter brought out what looked like a dessert tray with a cover over the top.

“Hmm, you got us a yummy dessert to share?” Kai opened the lid, but there was no dessert inside. Instead there was a small velvet covered box. “What is-“

Before Kai could finish, Kyle grabbed the box, opened it, and got down on one knee. “Kai Park, will you marry me?”

Kai was stunned to say the least. She was not ready for this question yet. They had been dating a couple years, but she had several doubts. At the same time, Kyle was everything on paper that she thought she wanted. They could build the type of life together that she dreamed of having since she was a child. She couldn’t turn that down. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you Kyle Turner.”

=====

Damien was finishing up reviewing a case when he got a text from Kai. She would be getting back this afternoon and wanted to meet him and Nadia at the local diner they frequented for dinner. She had something to tell them. Damien was afraid to guess what her news was. He had a feeling that no matter what, it wouldn’t be good for him.

Nadia was already in their favorite booth when Damien Arrived. “I came straight from work, so I haven’t seen Kai yet. I’m excited to hear about her trip!”

“Yeah, it should be interesting,” Damien mumbled.

Just then, Kai walked in with a beaming smile on her face. This somehow made Damien worry more about what Kai was here to say.

Kai sat down next to Nadia, and before anyone could get a word in, she enthusiastically held up her left hand. On her ring finger was a huge sparkling diamond ring. Much larger than anything Damien could ever afford.

“Oh my god Kai! Congratulations!” Nadia practically jumped off the bench seat as she turned to hug Kai. Damien knew that Nadia wasn’t Kyle’s biggest fan either, but that she would support whatever made Kai happy.

Kai turned to Damien with anticipation as he sat silently. He was trying to act like everything was fine, but the bewildered look on his face probably gave him away. “Oh, congratulations.”

“Damien is something wrong?” Kai asked.

“I’m sorry; it was just a really long day at work. Who’s hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s order.” Damien had actually lost his appetite but he wanted to change the subject fast.

Damien picked at his food and hardly said a word throughout dinner. He was kicking himself for trying to give Kyle a chance to come clean. Now things were so much worse. Why hadn’t he just gone to Kai right away?

Everyone paid their checks and Kai and Nadia put their coats on. Damien had to tell her. It was now or never. “Hey Kai, umm, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You barely said a word all night. Now you are ready to talk?” Kai questioned with a nervous laugh.

Yep, she noticed something was off. “Yes, could you please come back to my place for a little bit? I have something to show you.”

“Damien, I’m pretty tired and I have to work tomorrow. Can we do this another day?”

“Please Kai…there is something I think you need to know now before you make any more decisions.”

“Damien, I’m not sure what you could possibly mean, but fine. Let’s make this quick.”

=====

What is up with Damien? Kai wondered. If he had feelings for her and waited until now to do anything about it he was too late.  It seemed really important to him to talk to her in private, so she agreed, but she was not looking forward to the conversation.

They were silence the whole cab ride to Damien’s house and on the way inside.

“Do you want any water, a glass of wine, anything?”

“No thank you Damien. I just want to know why you asked me here.”

“Okay, I guess we aren’t beating around the bush.” Damien walked over to his desk and pulled out a file folder. He placed some photos on the coffee table in front of the couch Kai was sitting on.

At first Kai didn’t notice who was in the photos, but then she realized it was Kyle and a woman…a woman that was most definitely not her. “What is this? How did you get these?” Kai asked with an accusatory tone.

“I had some suspicions that Kyle was cheating on you, so I hired a friend of mine to look into it.”

“How long have you known?”

“I just got the photos last week. I went to Kyle right away-“

“Wait, what? You went to Kyle first?” Kai’s head was swimming. She felt betrayed on multiple levels. “I don’t know if I’m more pissed off that you went to Kyle instead of me, or that you took it upon yourself to investigate this in the first place. I didn’t ask you to do this. It wasn’t your business!” Kai was shaking with anger.

“I was just trying to protect you Kai. If I had told you I just thought Kyle was cheating without having any proof, you probably wouldn’t have believed me and would have pushed me away then.”

“I can’t say how I would have reacted, but I don’t think I would have felt anywhere near as betrayed as I do now. I need some space Damien. Please don’t contact me. I’ll call you if and when I’m ready to talk.”

With that Kai walked out the door. She used every last bit of strength to make it back home before she completely fell apart.

#perfect match #playchoices #damien nazario #damien x mc #my fic

[quietdaysco]

Primrose Path - Devlog #011

It's a brand new year and a brand new milestone! We've really missed you. Have you missed us? It's so great to be back!

Last devlog we said we were taking a break for the holidays. And we did, but between new jobs, family, college, and festivities, you couldn’t fully keep us away from the dream! All of December and January, we wrote. And now? 

The common route first draft is finished!

For such a wide and important aspect of our project, this is no small feat. We've been at the script for six months counting, and it felt so good to get another step closer every single day. 

Check the facts for yourself:

Main Game Progress

Writing

Common Route: 

Rough Outline: 100% ✓

Revised Outline: 100% ✓

Draft Script: 100% ✓ 

Words: 128,164 

Scenes: 99* / 99 

*Scenes are counted when they are ready for internal review, qualifying them as complete for the first draft.

Did you see that number? Yes, it's not a mistake. The common route is over 128,000 words! We love every part of it and we're very proud, but the journey isn't over yet. 

You might be thinking: “All that and you've only done the common route?!”

Yeah—it's a long journey, but one that we're happy to share with you! 

Since this is a major milestone, we wanted to share a few words of our experience until now:

Elm says...

I feel simultaneously relieved, proud and dead inside and, like all creatives and developers, I hope I get to keep feeling like this as we continue to hit milestones. Primrose is definitely something I consider to be too big a project, but I also refuse to let it go. It is a learning experience and a proud moment. As someone who has written things, but never really considered themselves a writer, this is a surprising feat and one that fills me with a great sense of calm. If I knew one day, I'd be working a full-time industry job with the typical hours and somehow managing to write over 65,000 words in just under half a year in my scarce free time, I would have said that's nice, but unrealistic. (If you told me I was going to work with someone else and double that, I might have told you to politely close the door on your way out.)

Nonetheless, I think I finally found my calling as the child who wrote manuals and to do lists before approaching middle school. Developing baselines are important for any project, and without it, I don't know where we would be. I remember saying, rather casually, we should be tracking our progress to establish a baseline as this is a first for us. I didn't realise it would be such an integral part of our process and leading to an understanding of what we can achieve. It started off as a nice thing to have, but without it I strongly believe I wouldn't be able to finish a project. That's not so uncommon, I think. We all have that pile of unfinished things that we don't expect. Except this time, I'll see it coming a mile away and work around it.

How much did data help us? I don't know. Our current average is 21,000 words a month between us. That's including a very low December, and a very high (39,000-word) January. I don't know if that's because our goals averaged at 20,000 more words a month, or if that's genuinely our limit, but it seems to be a healthy rate to allow us to do other things with our time.

I've always had an interest in production and management, a change in self has come over over the past year. One that is more confident, positive, understanding and encouraging towards myself and others. Creating a project is less like tending a well-oiled machine and more like cultivating a garden. Cogs wear down and get replaced, but people don't work like that. We need space and understanding, time to reflect, encouragement and the ability to know when we've had enough. I'm sure that shift of thought is just me developing a stronger sense of self, but it's one that I welcome and I hope will be reflected in the work I produce with Coda.

In the past, I've adamantly liked to work alone. I've wanted to push myself to the high standards I hold myself to, and I do feel it's unfair to treat anyone but myself like that. I still think this is true, but there is also pleasure in sharing work with others. When you're tired, someone else can carry the project forward. When you split the work, the other brings in an interesting and exciting twist you hadn't yourself considered. I truly believe, some of the best work isn't created alone.  With everything we do, we bring a little of ourselves into it and we make it personal. This story is significant in size for two people to attempt, but there are bigger, emergent narratives out there and maybe one day we can be a part of that too.

Until then, I'm happy to just make the kind of games that you load up on a quiet day.

Coda says...

This is the first time I’ve ever written this much content for a story in my life. 57,000 words in half a year. As much as I’ve entertained trying out hypernarrative models in personal projects, this is the first time I’ve actually done so. This is also the first time I’ve ever worked with Elm, and if I didn’t have such a competent, versed, and approachable partner, this passion project would have quickly become an untamed chore, much farther behind in progress than where we are today.

I’ve learned a lot over the past six months. I’ve been learning how I reframe my motivation to work so that I’m not chasing whims but developing a self-disciplined ethic. For me, that heavily involves pre-planning and tracking explicit goals. Elm operates similarly having such a strong interest in project management, so building up our workflow this way was to both of our benefits.

I’ve learned that I have a growing interest in narrative design. I’m spending more and more of my free time listening to lectures on theories and models to leverage player interactivity and agency, reading materials on mapping consequence, utilizing channels other than dialogue to exposit information, and learning new ways to breathe life into a scene.

And in deconstructing these concepts and figuring how to incorporate them, I find myself growing more and more with the characters. These characters are all stitched together from personal experiences—some as recent as these past couple months. They’re also those of friends and family, of passersby, of vocal strangers. They’re things I love, things I tolerate, and things I could do without yet exist. They’re research of facts, opinions I might share or reject, and trivia. These characters are points to make, and those points evolve and refine as we do.

My final thoughts are, whatever this project ends up becoming, I’ve enjoyed it so much. There are times when Elm and I have glanced at each other’s scenes and for me at least, I’ve had genuine reactions that’ve run the gamut. I have honestly gasped at these words before. I’ve laughed a great deal. I’ve nodded along and I’ve shaken my head. I’ve felt something. Whoever you are, reader, I hope you will too.

We hope these words mean something to you. If they don’t resonate, then at least they give you an idea of who we are as individuals and as a team!

So, what are our next steps?

We’re reconvening to address any pressing concerns.

The next few weeks will focus on a review pass for consistency and game flow.

Afterwards, we’ll move onto the final revision of the common route, assess, and then mark it “Done” once and for all! We'll have something else to offer once we do!

Oh, before we forget...

Here’s the last of our favorite unrevised snippets from these final two months:

RAFAEL: You've done me a wonderful favour. RAFAEL: And maybe saved my life. MC: Does it have something to do with the two over there? He glances over woefully. RAFAEL: No, they'll definitely try to kill me.

PRIYA: Someone is spreading a rumour that you had to meet with two extremely questionable kids in a trench coat. MC: God, is that what people are saying? PRIYA: No, that's what I'm saying, and if you don't fess up the rumour will only grow.

HARPER: It's a restraining order. HARPER: Been a while since I've seen one of those. This branding is nice, don't you think?

One of the pheasants stops and stares at us. It spreads its wings, revealing the second pair beneath them in a captivating display.

He buttons up his blazer. JUN LAU: (squint) Stop staring. MC: Literally, are you one to talk? JUN LAU: I’m not staring at your tits though, so don’t stare at mine. MC: Oh my God, I wasn’t even looking! It’s a lie because I totally was and I look so dumb for lying because he can read it all over my face, oh crap. Walk right past him, just walk, go go go go.

A light flurry falls from the night sky. The moon gazes through a break in the clouds, just enough to line them and every drifting snowflake in silver. A few flakes land on my nose and eyelashes.

I hum for brown paper packages tied up with strings. He recognizes the tune and smiles at me.

If this is the kind of content you like to see, we’d love for you to jump into our Discord server! We occasionally share much longer unrevised excerpts and discuss the game in much more depth with our community.

Behind The Scenes

Greyson Update

We’ve finally nursed Greyson back to health from a nasty bug, and upgraded him to the newest OS (as it goes with tech these days). He seems ready to get back out there on Twitter and help in March! 

One thing we noticed about the old Greyson is despite being cheerful, he spent nearly all of his time talking to himself, not utilizing the tools available to him to increase his presence. With his recent bug fixes, the new Greyson is now going to be out there actively searching for folks in need of some encouragement, widening his reach! If you get a message from Greyson, feel free to reply back! After all, he’s always there for you!

Side Projects

Clearly, Primrose Path is a large project and one that means a lot to us. We're under no illusion that this project will take a few more years. It's a little like our magnum opus in that regard and we're giving it everything we've got.

However, we're not the type who can sit in the dark for years on end. At Quiet Days, we recognize the benefits and importance of personal projects, and that is something the two of us will be doing more often. Whether it's game jams or comics, we hope to share them with you!

We’re focusing on monthly devlogs for our Tumblr, but we have to ask: Are there other kinds of content and updates you folks would like to see here? We want to know! Shoot us a message in our Ask the Devs inbox here on Tumblr, or hit us up on Twitter, Discord, and Lemma Soft!

Socials

• Micro-updates on Twitter!  ♦ Factoids with Greyson! • Writing Progress on GitScrum! • Live art development on Twitch! • Art logging on Instagram! • Ask us anything here! • Continue the discussion on Discord! • Master thread on Lemma Soft!

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Go Easy

Rating: T Pairing: Vetra Nyx & Sidera Nyx; f!Ryder/Vetra Nyx, pre-relationship Word Count: 1,794 Summary: Sometimes, Vetra wished she could see herself the way Sid saw her. Maybe then she would have the nerve to do something about Ryder, instead of just hopefully, hopelessly waiting. Notes: Post-‘Means and Ends’ (Vetra’s loyalty mission). No major main plot spoilers. Also on: AO3

Took a few days for Sid to cool down. Took a few days for Vetra, too. Every contact who didn't pick up, or gave her a hard time—it needled her a little, all over again. She'd spent time, dammit, not to mention resources, getting favors from those people. It wasn't like she had to start from scratch, but the dent was there.

She saw Ryder's side of it, though, as the days passed. That Sid was just trying to do something good. Those hazel eyes of hers soft when she said it. Ryder wasn't usually soft, human or not, but Vetra got the feeling she was a marshmallow with her brother. It Scott pulled the genome for cats out of storage, Ryder would probably just laugh.

But that was Ryder for you: did her job, but didn't dare take anything too seriously. Looked like a coping mechanism to Vetra. Ryder had been through a lot, the past couple months.

Before she could indulge that worry any further—she did too much indulging, anyway—Sid called. Finally.

"Hey, kiddo," Vetra said.

Sid sighed—sort of frustrated, sort of relieved. "You're not still mad?"

"Wasn't too mad to begin with." Just worried. So damn worried it had made her too short, too sharp. She hadn't brought Sid all the way to Andromeda for her to get killed. That kind of fear was supposed to be behind them.

"Really?"

"Yeah. If you hadn't stormed off back to the Nexus, maybe you'd have figured that out," Vetra said, letting the worry slide away, something more amused replacing it.

Sid was quiet, but Vetra could hear her breathing. She was safe, and whole, and maybe she respected the business a little more now. And maybe she understood better, too.

Another point Ryder probably had right.

"I am sorry," Sid said eventually.

"Yeah? Me, too." Vetra paused, drumming her talons on her desk. "Look, you probably don't remember a lot about those early years, but they weren't...good. I didn't bring you to Andromeda so you could deal with what I did."

"What you still deal with, you mean." There was something sad and sour about her tone. She really was growing up.

"Sure, but not as bad as back then. Still. It's a lot of headaches."

"I get it. Really. You and Ryder…I've never seen anything like that before." She stayed quiet for another beat, but then she added, "But it was cool too, you know? Like an action vid. Ryder's a good shot."

"I'm a good shot," Vetra protested.

"Yeah, but so's Ryder." Her subvocals dropped a little; Vetra heard the genuine worry there. "Hey, is she okay? She got thrown pretty hard by that fiend."

Vetra swallowed. She'd done this—parenting, smuggling, lying, whatever—so long that it shouldn't have been hard to control her voice, not give anything away, but this was her sister. Something probably snuck through. "She keeps telling me that human skulls are harder than turian plate. I'm not buying it."

"Hah." Sid chuckled, entirely too much delight in the sound. "You worry about her, too. Must kill you that you can't tell her to stay out of the field."

"I prefer Ryder in the field, backing me up, actually." Though sometimes, when things went really, really wrong, when a firefight twisted out of their favor or when Ryder got hit too hard, she felt like she'd been gutted. She usually only had to wait an instant for Ryder to get up, to shake it off and get in cover and keep fighting, but for an instant, she had to wonder. What if someday she didn't get up? What if that day was today?

"You two were a pretty good team. I could see you just sort of…reading each other, in every fight. Playing to each other's strengths." Sid's voice went sideways, teasing. "Hey, is something going on there? Are you like...dating?"

The question hit like a jolt of that awful Remnant goo, straight to the chest. For a moment, Vetra couldn't even think of a response, though the obvious, true answer was no. No, nothing was going on. No, Ryder wasn't interested in her. Well, she flirted, but that was probably just for fun. Didn't mean anything.

"Spirits," Sid breathed, practically giddy. Vetra just felt sick. "I was joking, but there is something going on, isn't there? Tell me everything!"

"Nothing to tell," she said, but she heard the disappointment in her own subvocals, betraying the otherwise easy words. "There's nothing going on."

"Oh." Sid audibly deflated. "Is everything okay? You sound…"

She trailed off. Vetra rubbed a hand along the ridge of her carapace, trying to figure out what to say.

"Ryder's a good friend," she settled for, finally, and winced at how flat it sounded. "I don't think there's more than that."

"You're always so sure of yourself," Sid said, anxious now. "I've never heard you like this."

She had, actually—she just didn't remember. When Sid was still so young, when Vetra wasn't as good at hiding how she felt, when she'd come home from an awful job and just cry. And no matter how quiet she was, or what nook she hid in, Sid would always find her and climb into her lap and hug her.

And it would all be worth it. It would all be okay. Because Sid was safe, and fed, and loved her.

"Hey," Sid said, determined, "I think she likes you. She came to see me last time she was on the Nexus, you know, before…" She cleared her throat. "She said she was really glad you joined the Tempest."

"You're making that up," Vetra said, but she smiled, too.

"Honest!"

"Sure, Sid."

Sid huffed. "I just want you to be happy, Vetra. Besides—I'll never repeat this, so enjoy it—you're so cool. Why wouldn't she like you?"

She was. She was happy. And she was happiest, stupidly, around Ryder—who was all sarcasm and nonsense until it mattered, and then she was soft and sweet and kind.

Vetra just didn't know what her motive could be. What could she offer Ryder that she couldn't get more and better of anywhere else? Even right on this ship. It wasn't like she was hurting for company.

Sometimes, Vetra wished she could see herself the way Sid saw her. Maybe then she’d have the nerve to do something about Ryder, instead of just hopefully, hopelessly waiting.

"That's sweet, kiddo," Vetra said, because it was. "Don't worry about my lack of love life. I'm fine, promise."

Sid gave it up this time. "When are you coming back to the Nexus?"

"Not sure. We're chasing something big and nasty." She both wanted to get it over with, and didn't. She was pretty sure Ryder felt the same. "Might be a while."

"Stay safe?" Sid asked.

"You got it."

They said goodbye, and for a moment, Vetra didn't budge an inch. If Sid could see it, damn, she was pretty obvious.

Or maybe her sister just knew her. Better than Vetra had ever let her, even. Something to chew on.

She was still chewing when someone knocked on the bulkhead, and the door slid open. "Well, well, well," Ryder drawled. Shit, this was a bad time for her to be happening by. "I've caught the one and only Vetra Nyx with her hands empty. No work to do?"

"Just hung up with Sid," she replied, spinning in her chair to face Ryder.

The funny drawl dropped away immediately. "Oh," she said, her eyes warming with concern. She took a step closer. "She okay? You two okay?"

"Yes, and yes. Said our sorries, moved on."

"Good." Ryder folded her arms over her chest, frowning. "I'm always off when I'm on the outs with Scott. I don't know if it's the same for you."

"Yeah. Hasn't felt great." She redirected, so that Ryder didn't get the chance to ask what else they had talked about. Vetra didn't know if her bluffing was good enough for that. "How is Scott?"

Ryder's frown turned a little deeper. A little sadder, too. "No real change." She rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I should visit more, probably. I just...hate seeing him like that. He's not like that."

"What's he like, then?"

"A goofball," Ryder said. "After noon, anyway. Not big on mornings."

"So, like you."

The frown faded a little. Moving in the right direction. "You think that highly of me, huh?"

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

"Mmm. Always." She sat down in a nearby chair, smiling now. "Do you have anything better in your arsenal than goofball?"

About a dozen things. Reliable. Trustworthy. Caring. The prettiest eyes Vetra had ever seen, somehow, whether narrowed with focused or—more often—crinkled up with laughter.

"You're a fair driver," she offered, to keep the mood light.

"Please, there's no need to sweet-talk me," Ryder said, but good-naturedly, and rolled her eyes.

Vetra chuckled. "So—is that really all you came down here for? Did you need something?"

"I'm sort of at loose ends, actually," Ryder replied. She fidgeted a little. "Thought you might be up for a game?"

"Gil won't play poker with you since you cheated, huh."

Ryder made a face. "I fessed up to it. What's the point of having an AI jammed in your head if you don't have a little fun once in a while?"

"No one likes a cheat," Vetra said, but without any real rebuke.

"SAM," Ryder said, keeping her eyes on Vetra's face, "scram for a while, huh?"

"Yes, Pathfinder."

There was nothing to signal that SAM actually went, of course, but the room became that much smaller, anyway: just her and Ryder, in the dim light from Vetra's desk and the background hum of the drive core.

Ryder pulled a pack of cards from the pocket of her sweater and waggled it enticingly. "Well? Easy money. Bragging rights."

There was always more to do. She was sure that Ryder would find something else, too, if Vetra turned her down.

But she didn't want Ryder to find something—or someone—else. Pointless as putting off the inevitable was, she was still going to put it off.

"Fine," she said, and got up to drag a crate in between their chairs. "But I won't go easy on you."

Ryder smirked. Vetra hadn't seen that exact expression before, the thing she was doing with her eyes—coy, flicking from Vetra's face, down her body, back up again, the dark shadow of her eyelashes almost dancing.

"Oh," Ryder said, and Vetra was glad that SAM had already logged off, that there was no one to mark the increase in her heart rate but herself, "I wouldn't want you to."

#vetra nyx #sidera nyx #female ryder #f!ryder x vetra #vetryder #me:a spoilers #for vetra's loyalty mission #no main plot spoilers #andromeda #pre-relationship #insecurity #some pining #fluff #humor #etc. #universe writes

[baronvoltage]

Doppelgänger [drabble]

Headcanon, the aftermath of Severed Ties.

Never let it be said that Caitlyn, Sheriff of Piltover, wasn’t a patient person. One had to be to hold onto the position for as long as she had. Her patience however was not endless and the current case valiantly and relentlessly tried her limits.

One busted ascender, two beaten up thugs, three dead bodyguards, one traumatized lady of high breeding and multiple eyewitness accounts of a woman with blades for legs. It should have been such an easy case.

If only her eyewitnesses stopped lying for two minutes.

She crossed her arms and gave the three a sharp look, two giant augmented bouncers framing the slight form of Lady Arvino as she tried to dry her tears, with no avail.

“Would someone care to tell me what have really happened here?“

“We ‘ready told you ma’am,“ rumbled one of the thugs, his voice oddly distorted by the breathing mask grafted onto his face. “We were sent to pick the missy up and bring ‘er to the boss, usual like. We were in the lift when crazy knife-legs attacked.“

“She busted the cabin open, and cut down the Arvino bodyguards,“ the other chimed in. The lady between them started sobbing once again and he patted her shoulder awkwardly with a shovel-sized hand. “Then she went for the young miss, but we got in the way. We got lucky, big lugs we are, tough to cut down, but she killed poor Eric when he stood between her and miss Arvino.“

“He started up ‘is fancy light show but she deflected it somehow.“ That was an interesting detail, one that Caitlyn was inclined to believe, despite the whole story sounding like a bunch of bull. “Guess he scared her tho, ‘cause she ran away after she killed ‘im.“

“Then we arrived down and called the police and here we are.“ Between the two of them, Lady Sofia managed a weak nod and sobbed into her handkerchief once again.

Caitlyn waited a spell, just in case one of them decided to fess up.

“Let me get this clear. You expect me to believe that someone attacked the ascender with the goal to kill Lady Arvino, but decided to leave the defenceless young lady alive, killed her bodyguards instead and then ran away into the night?“

“'t was in the afternoon,“ said the one on the left helpfully, but otherwise made no attempt to correct her.

“Do you think me completely stupid?“ she snapped, making Sofia start and the two thugs look aside sheepishly.

“No ma’am.“ Caitlyn frowned, pointing a finger at the three bodies covered with a heavy tarpaulin.

“You must think me stupid, or at the very least blind, because one of those is obviously Baron Marko Volkage, dead as a doorknob. It would be hard for him to be otherwise because he’s missing half of his head.“ All three shrinked back, the gorillas moving closer to support Sofia through another torrent of tears. “So, care to revise to fairytale to be closer to the truth?“

“No ma’am. That’s Eric, not the boss.“ Caitlyn stared off to the distance, counting silently to twenty. At the edge of the police barricade a heavily armed carriage rolled up with the Thunder Club’s luminescent flower painted on the door. A lanky man, a thug posing as a valet no doubt, jumped off and marched to the policemen. Cait was momentarily distracted by what had to be the ugliest fur collar she ever had the misfortune to cast her eyes upon. She shook herself and turned back to what had to be the three least reliable eyewitnesses of her entire career.

“Don’t play me. Why would this ‘Eric’ look exactly like your chembaron?“

“He’s a doppelgangster.“

“Doppelgang-... What did I ask about thinking me stupid?“

“He really was,“ Sofia spoke up at last, voice still small and weak. “Eric Weiss was Marko’s body double and secretary. The killer didn’t know... he couldn’t do the voice but he didn’t speak and he taught me some acting, what to say if the worst happens so she thought she was killing Marko.“ Her shoulders shook as she fought her tears.

Caitlyn was astonished. There were rumours of course, the sort that filled up the pages of tabloids, that Baron Volkage could be at more places at once, but she never thought there was any truth to them. It fit more into how she imagined the case, so she decided to play along for now.

“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you. If the victim was a body double, where is the genuine article?“ They all looked past her in uncanny unison and she turned to follow their gaze.

The fur collar was even more atrocious up close, sitting oddly around the man’s shoulders. His face was covered by heavy googles and a scarf that no doubt hid his breathing mask. He must have been persistent to get around the policemen.

“Caitlyn sheriff? I am to take Lady Arvino to the tower, for her own safety. I was told to extend an invitation to you too.“ He tilted his head to look up at the two men who rushed to stand at attention. “The oafs are expected at the repair shop, on the double.“

She recalled the delicate tubes and rigging curving around Volkage’s shoulder and resisted the urge to kick someone. They weren’t even subtle.

“Well, I can’t possibly turn down an invitation like that.“

It took surprisingly little to herd the two thugs off to have their eyewitness accounts written down, with a pointed warning from Ugly Fur Collar to tell the truth. Caitlyn found that distinctly funny and she got in the carriage with a smile lurking in the corner of her mouth.

“So,-“ she said, leaning back as they rocked into motion, fixing the man sitting across her with a look. “-is anyone actually deceived by the fur collar?“

Marko Volkage snorted, pulling googles off and tugging the scarf down.

“You’d be surprised.“ She looked him in the eye and held his glare as long as she could before she had to blink - the unfair advantage of mechanical eyes, she supposed.

“They say you are a proud man, Baron. Not someone I expected to use body doubles and disguises.“

“Proud, but not stupid. I have a lot of enemies, as you surely know. Trickery isn’t illegal.“ He gestured with one elegantly crafted hand. His trademark prosthetics were fascinating, if a bit creepy.

“Trickery isn’t.“ She confirmed. “Blackmail is.“ A leap of thought, but seemed like a good enough guess to tell why would the head of clan Arvino would meet up with a chembaron.

He smiled grimly.

“This is not what you think.“

“Then what is it?“ she asked with a provocative smile. She didn’t expect the answer to come from Lady Arvino, sitting quietly to her left.

“Courtship.“ She avoided looking at either of them, hands fisted in her skirt. Volkage's expression softened with hesitance before he gathered his composure again.

“Sheriff, I hope I don’t need to tell you that this is a secret.“ He was visibly tense, his eyes flashing bright for a moment.

“Are you two out of your minds? If this gets out, the Arvino family will be ruined.“ She glared daggers at Volkage who had the decency to look at least a little ashamed.

“We have a plan.“ Miss Arvino hurried to add. “We just need to keep this a secret for a little longer.“

Caitlyn felt a pang of pity for the woman. No doubt Volkage had talked circles around her.

“Miss Sofia, please consider it. Is this plan worth risking your future for?“ She expected Volkage to disapprove, but he seemed relieved to hear her oppose this mystery plan.

“Please talk her out of it, because I couldn’t.” Caitlyn huffed. She didn’t expect the Baron to be the reasonable one.

“Marko, I appreciate that you are trying to protect my virtue, but I have made up my mind and I’m not starting another argument about this.“ Sofia pouted - honest to gods pouted - at the Volkage.

“Hold on a moment, how long have you been dating?“ Caitlyn interrupted before the Baron could retaliate.

“Close to two years,“ Volkage replied courtly. “She started it after she turned eighteen.“

“Is that so, mister flower-scented envelope?“

Caitlyn suddenly felt like she was dropped in a kindergarten.

“Stop, stop, let’s pretend for a moment that we are all sensible adults and not five-year-olds.“ That shut the two of them up, if only for a minute. “Let me get this straight: you have been in a secret relationship for close to two years.“ Nod. “But you have exchanged letter before.“

“It was Lord Arvino’s idea,”  Volkage supplied, his fingers drumming idly on his leg. “He was grooming Sofia to take over after his death and I was a safe enough, interesting business partner to motivate a young girl to do her homework.“

The sheriff had to admit that sounded true enough. Lord Arvino was known to have a prosthetic leg, which was a simple enough tie to Volkage who specialized in prosthetics and other high quality precision gadgets. It was also true that the Baron’s recent reputation was a decent one, as far as chembarons went.

Interesting and dangerous without posing any actual danger. She could see the appeal.

“I feel the need to repeat my question: are you two out of your minds? Business partnerships can be covered up, but a relationship? How long did you expect to keep it a secret?“ It was a small miracle that they managed this long.

“For two more months.” Deciding that there was no more need pretend distance, Sofia slid into the seat across and grabbed one of Volkage’s hands for support. “Father always said that Piltover should be the city of the daring and the visionary and the old nobility is holding it back. That we are wasting opportunities by rejecting Zaun’s potential.” The later Lord Arvino had always been an eccentric man, Caitlyn recalled with some fondness. Nobody else would have donated to much of their money to the modernization of the police force.

“So he pulled a few dozen strings, dumped a lot of money into the academy, convinced some of the more well-off scientists to support his cause and here we are. The details are still all hush-hush, but the first big project is is almost ready to be unveiled; based on Thunder Club innovations, funded by Clan Arvino. The first big step in bringing Zaun and Piltover closer and brining fresh ideas into our stale academy.“

Sofia almost bounced in her seat in excitement. Volkage appeared more pessimistic about the plan, but it was hard to tell with the mechanical eyes.

“I urge you, sheriff, to keep what you heard here a secret. It would nullify years worth of work - not just the projects I’m personally invested in, but several others - and put Sofia in jeopardy.“

Caitlyn pursued her lips and made a show of thinking it through. On one hand, whatever storm the late Lord Arvino was stirring, it will certainly uproot the current status quo, causing untold chaos. On the other hand, even if the plan crashes and burns, the waves will most likely bring a lot of shady garbage to the surface and as someone who had been fighting an uphill battle against the corruption within Piltover for years, she could appreciate anything that made her life easier.

“I will keep this under wraps, on one condition.“ She slowly crossed her legs, drawing out the tense silence. “There is a murderer afoot. The one that earlier today assaulted Lady Arvino and her guards.“ Sofia went pale, remembering the bloodshed and her grip on Volkage’s hand tightened until the metal creaked under the strain. “I want your unconditional help in tracking her down, capturing and incapacitating her, then bringing her to justice so she can rot in prison until the end of her miserable life for every murder she committed. Do you think you can give me that?“

Volkage smiled, dangerous and dark and full of malice.

“Oh, sheriff. It would be my pleasure.“

#words on scented paper [drabble] #what makes him tick [headcanon]

[dannick99]

18th Birthday - Landmark for Mom

Just do it. Just pick one and run with it, like the wind. No looking back. Pick your *1 *out of 20 to 25 viable creative ideas that have been stirring in your head for years and fleshing themselves out as you age and grow and learn. Take it and run with it -is what I keep hearing… From God and from good understanders of me and my ideas and  how I tick.   Run with it, WW! Like the wind. No looking back and questioning whether it was the right one to start with......or not. The others aren't going anywhere any time soon, hopefully(?). Just do it, I hear Nike reverberate between my ears.  Just take the first steps and God will bless it. God and  other "importants" in my life are well aware of my ADD 'stuck'  struggle for years.  Too much creativity flow at times can be a problem when life is already slam- jam packed, full of necessary responsibilities and life's  necessities beaming at you.   That rare gift can be a gift(ADD), a blessing to be thankful for, which I am, but it can be a curse in other ways. So they say, and I believe them more every new year, indecisiveness is for sissies.....so here I go… Out into the wild blue yonder of this "reveal yourself" blog world. With my music, writing, photography, painting, appreciation of all things beautiful and creative/artistic, all based in love and positivity, it's time to Flow🌬🌬🌈☀️ And to start on the night after my son's 18th birthday (appropriately sentimental, as it should be), i'm tending towards introspection.   First of all, I feel enormously blessed and gifted as a mom in the parenting department of my three. They're the only three I can speak for. Parenting is NOT for sissies, especially single parenting(🙃), or lazy or settled or self-centered or too-busy-to-get down-to-it parenting. Ha, or all of the above, for that matter.. Judge not that you be not judged :-&! I'm the last to throw stones, at anyone, for anything, especially parents. I have had my share of plenty well-deserved stones thrown and plenty not-so- deserved stones. Something my parents didn't tell me enough… Life isn't fair!  Don't expect it to be. Even when you make mistakes and you fess up. Or even when others who have left you come back and beg your forgiveness and fess up themselves, (although, admittedly, that part Does feel more fair;)!) If nothing else, being the target/the focus of the gossip tree, will humble you and teach you to look outside of the box when it comes to what I may hear about others. I don't succeed 100% of the time, but I try to hear it from all sources before I speak.  I'll make my own decisions based on proper, well gathered facts, thank you very much ;) So, BY THE WAY, welcome to my free-falling (Tom Petty style🎵) - mostly - unapologetic  first blog entry of 2017!! 🎬🏹🔛🥂🆓🈂🔓✒️📆📬🎉🔮💡⌛️🌠🛤🎡🗽🚥🚀🎤🍻🌛🌙🌒🌝🌻🐶👢💃💁🗣👉🏼👻🤔🙀👣🇺🇸☮️ On THAT note, I'm already apologizing…😑- lol. I'm not one to go on an emoticon binge like this, but I have to say it's a pretty good description....one by one by one.....of where this, my new stream of conscious blogging very well may lead! 9 and 17 are my lucky numbers, I was born on July 17 and my son was born on January 17. J and A seem to be my letters. Numbers are always coming into play in my life in the wildest of ways. And lately #1 has been pretty damn cool (but more on that later). Craziness with that number and I've got photographic proof! For months now… Weirdville, I'm telling you! But more coming...soooo much more later. On so many subjects! Flatlining has not been my norm. I was born and taught by all the right folks in my life along the way, definitely including my parents and family, a very strong message of "Love is the most motivating factor, think for yourself, make things better for everyone, be authentic at all costs, keep God first and then, truly, in all manner of things, all shall be well😇. I am no angel but a very gratefully content 53-year-old mother of an awesome grown daughter (28) and two sons I adore as well - 18 and 15. I've been divorced a time or two, which yes deductibly means I've been married a time or two. More to come on that subject. Ive never been afraid to take chances and speak my mind when strong opinions and convicted convictions submerge. That may just set the stage for the up and coming Blogtone (shouldn't that be the name of a band?!) as its gonna pour outta me a couple nights a week. I'll try to choose a theme each time (So many to choose from, and yes, I'm sorry - and happy- to tell you, if you don't know this about me, that I have significant ADD! ).  You'll see… If you look for it. Its that freefalling thing I was talking about earlier :-& Anyway, this blog (I hate that word!? Come on… What else can we call it??) will always be supported with photographs, quotes, lyrics, songs, videos, and hopefully good writing along the way. Its part of a vision/dream in the making and something I feel led to get a move on with right now! January 18, 2017. Without long intro, the subject of the night is my oldest son turning 18 yesterday. It's a definite thing to take note of as a parent and as an 18-year-old. We did last night. I have two sons and a daughter I adore equally. Really, for all their different reasons and beings. But tonight I want to honor my son who's become man. Because he deserves it. Here's my letter to Brade: You've been through a lot son, and I only see that you come out stronger. Yes, I am a proud mom and a pleased one with who I can see you are today. God knows I've been learning as I go with boys, but you have paved the way, Brady, and while I couldn't adore or respect your sister any more than I do, you have paved your own way and I have done my part and been able to sit back and be mightily impressed with who this little boy has turned into and applaud the decisions YOU've  made to be your own person. You are kind, loving, empathetic, stubborn, demanding at times, messy as hell, but somehow stay on top of it all just enough to pull off a darn good balance in being a good well-rounded human being. Your 18th birthday was and felt significant. You're my son, a friend, one of the greatest companions ever, and still learning, until the day you leave for college! And this last semester of your senior year seems to have freed you from all the burdens and responsibilities that have  fallen on your shoulders. Yay!!🎉. As you know, I'm already crying....just with your 18th birthday, graduation tears on the way (it's OK, you know your mama ;)). Anyway, the birthday night looked like it might not go super smoothly, but God had his hand in it and all went just perfectly👍🏼. Brady got to eat his favorite cake and eat it too. And more cake coming his way. The beauty of a divided family… Many many celebrations for someone we/they all love.  What can be better than to be loved that much that there are too many celebrations to plan in a birthday week?!❤😘. Now he's looking for the perfect present to give his best friend Cameron, whose birthday is around the corner and who has life-threatening melanoma. Cameron is my early-on dubbed "third son". Brady and Cot (my youngest and a true soul) and all of Cameron's closest friends are keeping him strong along with his incredible fighting spirit. He's going to beat the odds💥🎯#cameronstrong! All this in the middle of my daughter's long life BFF almost dying through childbirth a week ago. Very scary situation, Campbell took off work and went to Birmingham for a week to help, as any bestie would do ;)  through a gazillion prayers and a lot of true faith, and miracles no doubt, she is not only surviving but thriving and more and has been able more every day. Her baby Max is too!  Looked mighty mighty dicey there for a while. We are all Thanking God, literally. I am a single mother, with a good supportive father, who has my kids half the time, who tries hard to make a difference when I do have them (and every day I don't) in the ways I feel matter as far as raising the best absolute human beings to go into the world and contribute in all the right ways and feel good about themselves in the meantime - that's my style of kid raising. And I hope that they will always know that they can ask God for the answers and he will provide. Because he does and as, hopefully, they will I've seen enough of that after a while to really know they can believe in him and his goodness and his ways. Anyway, to sum up Blog No. 1, from my Deck of Declarations, i'll say that my views good. Life is hard at times. My children inspire me to be a better person, so I can keep teaching them about all the things that matter the most and being a good human being on this planet... whether they become a sports star, a corporate magnate, a starving artist of some sort, a sitcom writer, a Brooklyn bridge salesman, a waiter, a rapper or a baker, or anything else (other than a drug doer/dealer or a criminal