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ghostofbambifanfiction · 1 year

Note

I just reread n00b. Can I just say how great it is!? I love your writing in it!

a preview of the next chapter for your kindness

Wizarding World Wars Homepage

HOGWARTS SECRETS SCAVENGER HUNT EVENT

24 HOUR CHALLENGE

Successfully complete 5 Hogwarts Scavenger Hunt challenges and collect 5 silver Quaffles for one month of unlimited Floo travel

Time Remaining: 23 hrs 16 mins 31 secs

...

Discord Server: WWW Marauders Alliance

Members: Ah-Idk, siriusblack, Bacon4Algernon, Wormtail, Josie

Channel: General Resumed: Monday 8th July 2019, 4:43 p.m.

====================

Wormtail: Guys guys guys!! Are you seeing this?!

Ah-Idk: Just saw it now. I'm free for a bit if everyone else is? No pressure on you @Josie if you're not available or only want to play on Wednesdays.

Josie: I've got a couple of hours to spare before I leave to meet my friend, so I can play for a bit.

siriusblack: Bacon get your arse home, I'm not passing up unlimited Floo

Bacon4Algernon: bugger off i'm busy and only josie calls me bacon YOU can't call me bacon this is not becoming a thing

Wormtail: It's part of your username?

Josie: Yeah guys Did you hear that? Only I can call him Bacon Only I am special

Bacon4Algernon: that is NOT i repeat NOT what i meant AT ALL you are DELIBERATELY misconstruing my words for your own illicit purposes

Josie: Do you ever ramp the energy down to anything resembling normal dialogue, or are you basically always Javert before he leaps off the bridge?

Bacon4Algernon: undermining me in front of the group pretending to have a friend that you "meet up with" as if you aren't a horned brute who festers like a wound beneath the earth's crust, both continental and oceanic time and time again, you tell these LIES

Josie: Call me Jean Valjean, I guess

Wormtail: Lol

Bacon4Algernon: i must insist that you do not reference french fiction at me at this time i am TRYING to set a romantic mood with someone here and it is extremely counterproductive to my efforts

Josie: Awwwwww, Bacon I knew you felt as I did <3

Bacon4Algernon: NOT WITH YOU

Josie: My sweet reine du drame

Ah-Idk: Because whoever heard of the words "French" and "romantic" being used in conjunction with one another?

siriusblack: For fuck's sake, your girlfriend can live without you for one fucking day 24 hour challenges won't wait, Prongs Shelve your frigidly polite over-the-clothes fondling and Uber back to the house I'll even pay for it, you left your debit card on your bed

Bacon4Algernon: so now having MANNERS is an issue?

Josie: Jesus

Bacon4Algernon: you know i'd actually BE at home right now if she didn't feel so uncomfortable around you that she doesn't want to come over, yeah??!

siriusblack: Tell her to change her entire personality

Bacon4Algernon: SIRIUS

siriusblack: Then she can come over whenever she wants

Josie: Oh my GOD Stop it BOTH OF YOU THIS IS LUDICROUS

Ah-Idk: Agreed.

Wormtail: ^

Ah-Idk: I'm getting really sick of this.

Josie: Nobody else in this Discord, and I mean NOBODY, Bacon, since all-caps theatrics seems to be the only language you understand, is interested in dealing with this Cheryl Blossom bullshit

Bacon4Algernon: ??R??GF

Josie: We're here to play a game. A GAME. You're neglecting your brother and he's jealous so he's taking it out on your girlfriend, WE GET IT, people with bigger relationship issues than this one have sorted them out faster than you two just have a conversation and let us live

Bacon4Algernon: firstly, you don't own this server so stop throwing your weight around and setting rules like you're my mother or something

Josie: Your mother owns this server?

Bacon4Algernon: sdhgiksfhd NO AND SECONDLY my biggest problem with sirius is actually that he let YOU into this discord, mephistopheles so stick THAT where your peg's supposed to go

Josie: I'll keep your thesaurus-assisted admonishments out of your arsehole, thanks.

Wormtail: Lmfaooooooooooooooooooooo

Josie: And if your biggest problem with Sirius is that he brought me into the Discord, and not that he's treating your girlfriend like a fucking dishrag, then you're not a very good boyfriend and she should dump you like toxic waste.

Bacon4Algernon: EXCUSE ME??!

Wormtail: DAMN

Bacon4Algernon: what kind of UNFOUNDED ACCUSATION????YOU ARE LUCKY THAT SHE DIDN'T READ THAT

Josie: Then put your phone down and pay her some attention? Anyway, about this challenge

siriusblack: YES, the challenge

Bacon4Algernon: @siriusblack she just insulted you too and what, you don't care?

siriusblack: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Josie: I've already found one Quaffle in Filch's office. So we only need four more to get the Floo.

Bacon4Algernon: WHAT? HOW? THE CHALLENGE STARTED TWENTY MINUTES AGO I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS

Josie: I know it did, it only took me ten minutes. I've had a look at the noticeboard in the common room and one of the clues is definitely pointing to the lake, and I think another's directing us to Myrtle's bathroom, but I'm cool with heading wherever if anything else jumps out at the rest of you.

Ah-Idk: Checking now.

Bacon4Algernon: WAIT WAIT WAIT DON'T DO THIS WITHOUT ME THAT'S NOT FAIR

siriusblack: Come the fuck home, then

Josie: Or maybe DON'T throw your girlfriend over for a game???

siriusblack: Anyone have gillyweed?

Josie: Unless you genuinely never want to get pegged by anyone at all.

Bacon4Algernon: HAH I DO I DO

Josie: Want to get pegged?

Bacon4Algernon: I MEANT THE GILLYWEED HADES

siriusblack: I'll rephrase that Does anybody present and currently still loyal to the party have gillyweed?

Bacon4Algernon: SIRIUS

Wormtail: I've got some gillyweed.

Ah-Idk: I agree re: the lake, it seems obvious from the clues. Happy to head there if everyone else is.

Bacon4Algernon: STOP LEAVING ME OUT. I WANT TO PLAY it's not fair for you all to PERSECUTE me for being with the woman i like and could see myself loving in 8 to 10 months i'm trying to be an attentive boyfriend don't make this my sophie's choice

siriusblack: I just put food in my stomach, you prick

Wormtail: Weird way to say "ate" but ok

Ah-Idk: Sophie had to choose between her children, Prongs. Her literal children. The one she didn't choose died.

Josie: Oh for god's sake, we're not starting this again, I can't deal. What time are you due to get home?

Bacon4Algernon: who?

Josie: YOU, FLOOZY WHO ELSE?

Bacon4Algernon: idk satan she's got to go to a thing with her parents at 7 so after that

Josie: Fine. I'll be back from seeing my friend at 9ish, I can play then if everyone else is free.

Wormtail: I can play at 9.

siriusblack: @Josie You don't have to pander to Prongs, let's just take the lake mission now

Josie: Including every member of the party isn't pandering? It's being a decent fucking person.

Ah-Idk: Happy to play at 9, I've got chores to do this evening anyway and I can't face Prongs and Sirius arguing AND looming dirty dishes all at once.

Josie: Cool. So we're all sorted.

siriusblack: Sorted according to who, exactly?

Josie: According to me. Take issue with it, please, I beg you. Then maybe you and Bacon can bond over what a hellish, nasty bitch I am and be friends again, saving us all from further aggro.

siriusblack: Nice try, compadre But you know I can't stay mad at you for long

Josie: -_-

siriusblack: I wish I knew how to quit you

Josie: Thanks...Jake Gyllenhaal?

Bacon4Algernon: fine then i'll be back online at 9ish

Josie: Not going to thank me for anything, no?

Bacon4Algernon: thank you for what, keeping winged monkeys gainfully employed?

Josie: Thanks for that babe, love you too

#n00b #snippet #well actually it's a whole scene

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

Text

Cupcake

I am back on my pseudo Modern!AU, crack, fluff bullshit. Sorry not sorry.

Special thanks to @melkors-big-tits, @mai-sau, and @thatfeanorian for having had that amazing convo that has started it all.

Words: 1.5 k

Characters: Gothmog, Melkor x Mairon

Prompt: Cooking Baking together

“Can we leave?” Mairon called in his most unnervingly threatening voice; they were already late – according to his timetable – for the activity that his Master had personally chosen and signed up for. One would have believed that, after whining and begging for days, the mightiest of the Valar would have been eager enough to get ready in a timely manner.

“My darling flame,” Melkor purred, hastening down the stairs at a breakneck speed, and stopped abruptly at the sight of his one true love. “Mairon, we are going to a baking workshop, not a forge…you are aware of that?”

“There will be an oven,” his lieutenant replied petulantly, “and knowing Gothmog, maybe even tiny hammers and sharp knives. I do not see why my outfit is any more offensive or inappropriate than whatever it is you have donned for the occasion.”

His colour-shifting eyes swept over the frilly, useless, purely decorative apron draped over Melkor’s expansive – shockingly naked – chest repeatedly in a desperate try to comprehend what he was looking at.

Practical to a fault, Mairon himself had tied up his hair in a neat braid and vigorously cleaned his newest apron, made from sturdy, heat-resistant leather rather than flimsy fabric, to attend the latest venture of their cherished friend and occasional lover.

“I look amazing,” Melkor insisted and twirled towards the open door and his waiting partner whimsically. “It’s a class about making adorable cupcakes,” he said with a smirk, “so I highly doubt that you’ll need your whole bag of tools.”

“Precision,” Mairon replied with that controlled, understated confidence that made people around him either fear or desire him, “in all things, Master, never forget.”

Melkor made a face; if his love and devotion to Gothmog had been any less strong or binding, he would have called the whole endeavour off then and there for he had a terrible premonition that his vision of baking and Mairon’s would clash horribly.

“Ah, how good of you to come,” Gothmog exclaimed, throwing up his arms in welcome and almost taking down one of the wooden main beams that held up the ceiling of the spacious kitchen that was his realm and his pride.

He wrung his clawed paws nervously as he nodded at a few terrified creatures, cowering in one corner. “What did they expect when they signed up for the ‘Wonderfully Wacky Workshop in the Balrog Bakery’? This is my first time as an instructor, and I admit that I am slightly dismayed by this reaction! One woman has been crying hysterically since she’s first clapped eyes on me…”

Mairon could appreciate that it was, at the very least, surprising to see the gigantic fire demon prance around the kitchen, wearing a similarly ludicrous apron. Gothmog’s bulk, the plumes of smoke accompanying his deep, resonating voice, and his generally dreadful and frightening appearance could easily distress weak-minded beings, this much was clear to anyone who knew him.

“Oh, they’ll warm up in no time. Surely, they’re only nervous because it’s their first baking workshop,” Melkor cooed soothingly, radiating confidence and reassurance.

Correction, Mairon thought as a wave of warm affection surged within him, neither his Master nor Gothmog himself seemed to find anything weird or counterintuitive in the fact that the Lord of Balrogs loved to share his other great passion – besides maiming and killing Eldar – with as many people as possible.

“Places everyone,” Gothmog called with a last grateful look at his friends who had come to support him so openly. “I’ve left a copy of the recipe at every station. Please take a moment to familiarise yourself with the tools you’ll be using.”

While Mairon unrolled his collection of tiny knives and chisels, surmising that the tools he used for separating and removing skin and sinew would also come in handy in the shaping of buttercream, Melkor inspected the ingredients dutifully.

Indeed, he took it upon himself to taste each and every one of them separately, thus upsetting the carefully planned quantities and ratios they were supposed to respect in their creation.

“Leave the butter alone,” Mairon hissed warningly, but his intervention came too late, and he would have to adapt their recipe according to their self-inflicted penury if he didn’t want to fail, which was – as far as he was concerned – never a viable option.

It soon turned out that Gothmog was actually a very good instructor – calm, encouraging, and patient – which made his friends’ inaptitude to follow even the most basic of explanations all the more devastating.

While Mairon stubbornly tried to improve the process by using the torture instruments he had brought in very creative but ultimately deleterious ways, Melkor found himself constantly distracted from his part of the kitchen duties by the mouth-watering appeal of their nefarious creation.

Thus, Gothmog tutted under his breath as he approached their workbench shortly thereafter and found the mighty Vala sitting on the counter in a most unhygienic way, dragging his broad, sensual finger enthusiastically through the remnants of buttercream stuck to the sides of a large bowl, and his indefatigable Maia frowning at a lopsided cupcake.

“You might have chosen another colour,” the kind teacher said. “Black seems a bit on the nose, no?”

“We were going for a more iridescent hue,” Mairon explained with a sour expression, “but someone has unfortunately misunderstood the order to gently swirl the buttercream, thus mashing it into a brownish sludge.”

“Your cupcake also looks a little…burned,” Gothmog commented, trying hard to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his maw.

“Someone,” Melkor interjected, “thought he could optimise the baking time by adjusting and modifying the oven.”

“You are incorrigible.” Dissimulating his laughing fit by coughing vigorously – effectively burning the poor pastry even further – Gothmog moved on to the next station where a short, chubby woman stared dejectedly at the ugliest pink cupcake smothered under a thick layer of limp, runny buttercream anyone had ever seen.

“If you need help with that,” the imposing balrog prompted kindly, “you can ask The Dark Lord for help. I’ve been informed that he is very good at beating the cream into shape.”

“I’d rather die,” she squeaked, throwing anxious glances in the direction of her neighbours.

“That can be arranged as well,” the instructor quipped and continued his rounds.

“I know how we can save the whole thing,” Melkor exclaimed and dashed over to the next station, making the poor woman fall to her knees in her desperate attempt to climb into the low cupboards to find shelter there.

“Master!” Mairon called warningly.

With a triumphant giggle, Melkor snatched up the various pots of decorations and edible glitter that the woman had set aside for her own cupcake and ran back to their own monstrous baked good.

“I was going to use that.” The pathetic whimper coming from far below him did nothing to dissuade Melkor from what he believed to be an ingenious and brilliant masterplan.

“I’ve almost got it now,” Mairon said, frowning with concentration as he chiselled off the singed parts and started painstakingly layering and sculpting the pitch-black frosting.

Before his scrupulous endeavours could come to fruition though, an avalanche of pink sugar dust was dumped upon the cupcake.

“Ah, wonderful!” Melkor hooted gleefully. “That reminds me of the time I inadvertently summoned a snowstorm. Do you remember? Wasn’t that fun?”

With a dull clanging sound, Mairon dropped his tools onto the scrubbed metal surface of the worktop and gazed upon the other pensively.

Melkor looked positively elated with their misshapen, grotesque cupcake; he was beaming with satisfaction and pride and – even though Mairon had envisioned the result of their first baking lesson quite differently – it was incredibly hard to resist that infectious joyfulness once it was unleashed in its full, blinding, overwhelming power.

“It…It suits us well,” Mairon finally conceded; he could have salvaged the thing, he knew, and it would have been clinically, impersonally, dispassionately perfect.

Leaning his head against Melkor’s shoulder in a rare moment of public affection, Mairon had to admit that he much preferred the unexpected, wild, fascinating beauty his Master infused into every aspect of his orderly life. Hadn’t that been one of the reasons they had even come here? To try new things and have fun?

“My precious flame,” Melkor purred into his ear, a scent of burned sugar wafting over him, “do you want to share our first cupcake?”

“Let’s leave some for Gothmog,” Mairon sighed, “he’s done so well with this class and I’m sure he’d be delighted to taste something made by your hands.”

“You can share your half with Gothmog if you want to,” Melkor replied, grinning broadly.

Shrugging good-humouredly, for he knew that his Master didn’t like to share his treats, Mairon drew forth a particularly sharp and menacing blade and sliced cleanly through frosting and juicy cake in one skilled movement.

They’d definitely come back and – in time – they’d surely get the hang of it!

@fellowshipofthefics here goes another one for the sweet bingo.

Lots of love from me

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2 - Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing, "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #Harry fic #harry styles au #ofc #reader insert #coworker!harry #office au #fluff #flirting #harry styles fluff

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 1- Respectable

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Masterlist

You sit down at your desk staring almost blankly ahead. “Hey Katsuki, can I borrow your hoodie really quick?” you ask the man whose desk has been next to yours for almost a year now and who just so happens to be the number three hero. He looks at you, then the leather jacket you’re clearly wearing, and raises an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “Bakugo. Hoodie. Now,” you try again, extending an expectant hand out to him. He notices the diamond engagement ring that had made its home there for the past couple of months is gone so he takes off and hands over his hoodie. “Thanks,” you tell him giving him a smile, before carefully folding up the hoodie and then promptly shoving it in your face to muffle your frustrated scream.

“Are you ok (y/n)?” a different voice asks full of concern. You lift your head out of the sweatshirt to find a freckle-faced man hovering in front of your desk. “I’m fine Midoriya,” you sigh. “Liar,” Bakugo scoffs. You glare at him before throwing his hoodie at his face. He still manages to catch it, the bastard. “You and Monoma broke up didn’t you?” he asks without missing a beat as he puts his hoodie back on. Midoriya’s eyes get wide as he turns back to you to confirm. “Yea, we did. For good this time,” you relent. “What happened?” Midoriya asks with sad eyes. God you’re too sober for his pity, but you’re also still at work so you guess you’ll just have to power through because there’s no way he’ll drop it now. “The usual. We fought and he got mean the way he always does. I just finally had enough,” you shrug. “Don’t do that (y/n), you know you can talk about it with us,” Midoriya insists, grabbing a chair from a nearby desk and pulling it up to yours. As he sits down you realize there’s no talking your way out of this. The lower ranking heroes were taking all of the patrols today so the three of you had plenty of time to go over your failed engagement.

“Fine! Geez, he basically called me a slut with no friends,” you finally admit. “What? None of that’s true!” Midoriya protests. “It’s kind of true,” you shrug. “Bakugo and I are your friends!” Midoriya insists. “Don’t rope me into shit you damn nerd,” Bakugo scowls. “He said you two don’t count cause you’re my coworkers and I almost never see you guys outside of work,” you reply. “That’s just because we all basically live at work,” Bakugo says rolling his eyes. “So we are friends then?” you smirk at Bakugo. “What are you on about?” he scowls. “You didn’t contradict the friends part of that sentence,” you point out. “Obviously we’re friends, dumbass. Shouldn’t have to fuckin tell you all the time,” he huffs, slightly embarrassed by the admission which makes you laugh. “You know you’re not a slut either,” Midoriya cuts in. “Nah, she was definitely a slut.” “Kacchan!” “What? If anything she should go back to being a slut. She was way more fun then,” Bakugo shrugs. “I agree with Bakugo on this one. Monoma is an asshole and I never would’ve gotten engaged to him in the first place if All Might hadn’t pressured me into a relationship with him,” you point out. “Wait, All Might is the reason you two got together?” Midoriya asks. “Did you not know this story? The tabloids were eating me alive because of all the one night stands. Monoma was the quote, unquote ‘perfect opportunity to make me respectable’ and get the tabloids off my back. I didn’t care but the agency has a reputation to maintain,” you explain. “Speak of the devil,” Bakugo suddenly says. You turn to see where he’s looking only to groan as you notice your now ex-fiancé storming into the room.

“We weren’t done talking (y/n)!” Monoma shouts as he rapidly approaches your desk. You quickly spin around so your back is facing him. “Do you think he’ll go away if I pretend I didn’t see him?” you ask Bakugo conspiratorially. “Doubtful,” Bakugo scoffs. You groan in response just as Monoma finally gets to your desk and spins your chair around to face him. “You’re being unreasonable, just take the ring back,” he insists as he holds the obnoxiously large diamond out towards you. “No Neito, I told you we’re done,” you sigh. “You don’t mean that. Baby, please,” he begs and it’s starting to tug on your heart a little bit. For one tiny moment you think maybe you’re being too harsh. After all, in spite of the circumstances from which it all started, you had grown to love him over the years of your tumultuous relationship. For just one moment you consider saying fine and taking back the ring. Then Monoma does what he always does: he opens his stupid fucking mouth. “I could make you golden if you’d just show some respect,” he promises and it’s so ludicrous you could almost laugh. Almost. “You know, I’d tell you to shove that stupid ring up your ass but I’m afraid it would never fit with your head already stuck so deep in there. Fuck off Monoma,” you tell him.

He looks like he’s about to protest again but Midoriya and Bakugo both are stood beside you in an instant. Having the number one and number three heroes as your closest friends has its perks. “Walk away extra,” Bakugo warns, his palms sparking. You see the green sparks of Midoriya charging up his own quirk out the corner of your eye and you’re sure Monoma must be shitting himself at least a little bit. “So you’re trading me in for some of the wondrous 1-A boys then?” he asks and it makes you roll your eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out. “No Neito. I’m just done with you and your bullshit,” you insist. “Please don’t go away,” he finally begs as one last ditch attempt to win you back. “It’s too late,” you tell him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally giving up and walking away.

When the door finally shuts behind him you sag in relief with a sigh. “Did he just refer to you guys by your class name from fucking high school?” you ask in disbelief as Bakugo and Midoriya finally relax and go back to sitting. “He did,” Midoriya sighs. “Jesus Christ I almost married that guy. I was prepared to have kids with that guy!” you groan. Midoriya gives you a reassuring pat on the back. “Why couldn’t All Might have tried to set me up with you instead Midoriya,” you pout. “O-oh! I’m flattered! But uh I really don’t think of you that way. Not that you’re not attractive or anything! I don’t mean it like that! Just yknow I see you more as a sister and uh-“ he stutters as his face goes red. His rant is cut off by the sound of your laughter. “Oh my god, Midoriya relax! I’m kidding! I know you’re very happy with Uravity. The two of you are adorable together it’s disgusting,” you assure him. “Hey why’d you say that shitty nerd over me?” Bakugo cuts in with a raised eyebrow. You roll your eyes. “You can’t fix my reputation Bakugo. The only reason you don’t have to fix your own is because you’ve had the same shitty one since high school so it’s just part of your brand now,” you point out. Bakugo doesn’t particularly like that answer but you’re not wrong so he doesn’t contradict you. “Whatever, at least there’s that dumb ass HPSC masquerade thing tonight,” he grouses. “How is that an ‘at least’? Those things suck,” you groan. “They aren’t that bad! A bunch of the retired heroes are gonna speak!” Midoriya tries to encourage. “That’s exactly why it’ll suck,” you sigh. “Wrong as usual, dumbass,” Bakugo smirks. “Oh really? Enlighten me then oh wise explosion murder god,” you say, turning to face him. He glares at your use of the old moniker but decides to give you a pass this time since Monoma was such a brat. “You only hate them because you’ve only been with the stupid respectable copycat where you had to make stupid respectable small talk to create a stupid respectable reputation. This time you’ll roll in with us, we’ll get drunk on the company’s dime while Deku fusses, and we’ll be anything but respectable. Fuck being respectable,” Bakugo asserts. “You know what? Fuck it and fuck being respectable,” you agree. Bakugo grins at you as Midoriya looks between the two of you concerned. “I guess you earned it,” he sighs and your grin only brightens.

Tonight is going to be one to remember.

Author’s Note: I honestly feel like Monoma is more of an asshole here than he is in the anime/manga but I mostly just needed someone to fit into this role and I couldn’t bear to have any of 1-A do it cause I love them too much so here we are 😬

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha

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prompt-master · 3 years

Text

THIS BITCH FUCKING DYING XD XD X'D

This is a lighthearted comedy fic, but I’m going to give a warning for mention/talks of suicide and death.

Now this may be a shocking sentiment to share; but being in a killing game fucking sucked, even if you were Momota Kaito. As ludicrous as that statement appears, heroes had a tough time in tragedy too. Kaito found himself feeling disappointed more often than he would like at the sight of his companions distrusting each other. How were they supposed to work together and escape if people were “scared” that they would be “murdered”?! Kaito believed in trust to the bitter end and he would see that philosophy through. To point the finger at others and accuse them of murder is simply what the mastermind wanted him to do, and if Kaito was anything he was not a loser.

But that’s part of what made his sidekick so incredible! No hero was complete without his supporting role! Of course, Shuichi was much more than a supporting role. In many ways he was the protagonist of his own world (Kaito is still the hero of this story, make no mistake). Even though Shuichi relied on the motivation of others to see himself through, he was probably one of the most capable men he’d ever met. His intinution and detective skills were essential to each trial when his thoughts weren’t fogged up by mental recoil. And despite his reclusive demeanor, he was a good friend to have that everyone wanted the best for. Shuichi was Kaito’s sidekick and it showed! For his sidekick had to stand on his own as one of the best!

...Well, maybe sometimes Shuichi didn’t have a leg to stand on because he didn’t look so dependable laying face-down on the ground.

“Shuichi! Are you- what are you doing?”

Shuichi was down on the ground in front of his Ultimate Lab with his foot stuck propping the door open. He didn’t lift his head up when Kaito called out his name, instead opting for a string of gibberish and raising one hand off the ground.

“No, seriously. What are you doing?” Kaito propped the dizzy detective up against the wall, catching him as he nearly swayed back down to the floor in response. Kaito took note of his flushed face and unfocused demeanor. There wasn’t...booze in this killing game right? That would suck. A killing game and booze wouldn’t mix well. Although some may disagree and say a pint is just the pick me up after watching one of your friends be slaughtered.

“M-Momota-kun…” it seemed Shuichi was gathering his bearings again. He braced himself against Kaito by gripping his sleeves.

“Alright, c’mon Shuichi. Let’s get you to the others. I’m sure they can help us out somehow!”

“Ah but...first things first…” Shuichi looked up at Kaito with a determined resolve in his eyes typically reserved for class trials.

“If I die, it’s a suicide.”

Huh?

HUH?!

WHAT?!

“Shuichi?!” Kaito shook Shuichi by the shoulders until he looked ready to pass out and keel over for good, “Why would you do that?! You have so much to live for!”

And Shuichi had the damn nerve to look exasperated by the panic, “Ack- Momota-kun please calm down it was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally kill yourself?!”

“Well it happens all the time really but-”

“That’s not reassuring coming from you! Just-” Kaito took a deep breath to steady his frustrations, “why the hell are you dying?”

“It’s- haha, well uhm, it’s a bit of a funny story you see-” Shuichi stopped his ramblings at Kaito’s unimpressed glare, Shuichi sighed and slumped over with a sense of shame and embarrassment, “I was in my lab familiarizing myself with the various poisons in case anyone tried to use one, but ended up dropping a bottle of powder on the floor and inhaling quite a bit.”

“T-that sounds pretty serious…” Kaito mumbled. “How do you treat a toxic inhalant?...How do I help you..? Just say the word and I’ll be there, sidekick!”

Shuichi closed his eyes and rested against the door. After a moment he said “At this rate, people will assume you killed me since you were with me all this time. So, to prove that it was a suicide-”

“Shuichi I asked how to save you not how to solve your murder.”

Shuichi tilted his head with a fog of puzzlement in his eyes, “...but solving murders is what I do?”

“Well don’t do it right now! I’m trying to prevent your death!”

“Hm.” Shuichi seemed to have to rethink his evaluation, but the situation hadn’t changed. “This is a killing game, Momota-kun. I don’t think surviving or saving is on par with the course of action the mastermind planned out.”

“W-well if there’s a poison, there’s an antidote right?”

Shuichi shook his head, “No, there’s probably enough materials to make one, but... I’m not a chemist.”

“Let’s ask Iruma to make one then!”

“She’s not a chemist either.” Not to mention Shuichi didn’t trust any sort of edible concoction Miu put together. He wasn’t sure what she would create, but he did know it would make him want to die even faster.

“Ok then, let’s ask Harumaki!”

“Wh- Momota-kun, Harukawa-san kills people!”

“Yeah, so maybe she knows how to unkill people too! I’m pretty sure she can do basically anything.”

Shuichi, with his head now in his hands, decided that it would be easier to simply go along with Kaito’s antics. His body felt weak and gross and his head was splitting, which was a shame because in all honesty that powder had smelt nice. If only it didn’t leave his lab in need of a quarantine. It could’ve been a good candle scent. Or perhaps Shuichi was just veering into delirium. Dying will do that to you.

He was definitely veering into delirium because one moment he was staring down at his hands and the next he was being carried by Kaito. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t match his daydreams of being romantically carried bridal style by his crush. Instead he was a heavy sack of dead weight plopped against Kaito’s back trying to keep his nausea down as Kaito descended a set of stairs.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Shuichi mumbled upon realizing that he couldn’t remember Kaito’s plan. If he had one.

“We’re going to get you help!” Shuichi thought it was a pretty bad idea. It would just make the trial even more confusing and he wouldn’t be able to clarify since corpses don’t make for good witnesses. Even if he wanted to voice that though, he ended up in a nasty coughing fit that left him gasping for air.

“Dammit!” Kaito hissed out, “If only Tojo was still here!”

That Shuichi agreed with. If Kirumi was here she would somehow manage to create a cure even though that was absolutely not in the job description of a maid. Her backstory concerned Shuichi quite a bit.

“There he is!” Kaito yelled out, picking up his pace from a light jog to a full run.

“We’re...w-w’re going to ask him for help...?” Shuichi mumbled, before letting out a loud groan, “no, that’s okay...j-just let me die then.”

“Oi Monokuma!” If it weren’t for the imminent danger that would result from it, Kaito would be throttling Monokuma until something broke. “You have to help Shuichi, dammit! Give him a cure or some shit!”

Monokuma tilted his head, looking up at Kaito with pseudo-innocence, “are you stupid or something?”

“Wh-” Kaito nearly lost his anger in confusion, only for it to come back tenfold, “you have to help him!”

“No I don’t, lol.” Monokuma shrugged, “I think the bastard dropping dead would be great! Honestly any of you mistakes would do, he’s not special or anything.”

“He’s our detective!”

“Yeah, you lot are screwed without him, huh?” Monokuma let out a cackle, curled in on his stomach like Shuichi dying was the highlight of his day. “Sounds so beary hopeless to be without a protag, huh! Man we’ve lost two protags in one show, that’s a new record! Someone write that down, I want a medal!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” Kaito shifted Shuichi higher up on his back, ignoring the mumbles in his ear of what evidence to use in the trial, “but don’t start planning yet! Shuichi isn’t dying on my watch!”

Monokuma nodded, “yeah, you are stupid.”

“Fine then I’m going to Harumaki! She was my first plan anyway since you’re so useless!”

“Useless?” Monokuma’s voice wobbled, his head tilted down like a child being told to apologize for wrong doing, “and after all I’ve done for you too...I don’t have to provide you lot with food and shelter, you know.”

“Ahh shut up! We don’t have time for your weird feelings!”

The world became another dizzying blur as Kaito ran off yet again. “Don’t worry Shuichi! I’m taking you to Harumaki! She’ll have everything figured out!”

---

“You inhaled a toxic powder from your lab?”

Shuichi nodded.

“And you’ve gotten no treatment this entire time?”

Shuichi nodded.

“How are you not dead already?”

Shuichi shrugged.

Maki sighed and pinched her nose, wondering how the hell these two idiots got themselves into such a mess, “Saihara, I always thought if you were going to die it would be from murder and not from some bullshit like this.”

Which was a fair assumption really. Being the detective among them, the group learned to rely on Shuichi’s deductions to solve the murders. Without him, there would be a lot of chaos that the killer could use to trick everyone. Wait. Why has no one tried to kill Shuichi again? Shuchi couldn’t tell if he was a lucky man or not, but considering he was currently dying on his crush’s back it’s safe to say he leaned towards unlucky.

Maki turned to Kaito, glaring at him in a way that said she wanted to help but the situation sucked to do anything, “what exactly do you want me to do about this?”

“Save him, of course!” “I’m not a doctor. I’m the opposite. I kill people.”

Shuichi wished desperately that he could say “I told you so”

“Look Harumaki, we can’t just let him die like this! We’re his friends so we have to do whatever we can to help him! Not just for us, but for Akamatsu too! She wanted him to live!”

Harukawa’s steel glare seemed to melt a little at that.

“So we need a plan!” Kaito said, “and the plan is to save Shuichi!”

“That’s not a plan, that’s a goal. And it’s a stupidly impossible goal too.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shuichi wondered if he could just close his eyes and die to avoid all the yelling he’s had to endure today.

Another voice joined the conversation with a loud cry of “what’s impossible!?” It was none other than Iruma Miu, confidently placing herself into the scene when no one asked her to. Kiibo was with her, following at a much slower pace with an expression that screamed second-hand embarrassment. With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, she ensured all parties had their eyes on her before speaking again.

“Because this hard-headed freak is right! Nothing is impossible with my beautiful plump brain around! What is it you’re looking for? A new way to pull off a fictional r18 move? I knew you three were depraved, but don’t worry Mama Miu has got it covered-”

“No, you idiot.” Maki cut her off without a drop of sympathy. Shuichi didn’t have any sympathy either though, so really it was just relatable. “Saihara is dying.”

“Eh? What?” Miu’s voice fell into a submissive whimper. She curled in on herself and fiddled her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“Yes dying is usually not good.”

Kiibo worriedly hovered near Kaito, trying to get a good look at Shuichi, “is he ok?”

“No. Because he is dying.”

Miu seemed to have panic in her eyes, “he can’t die! Not yet anyway! Who killed him huh?! Who’s trying to escape?!”

“Iruma!” Kaito ignored her questions, “you can save him, right?! He was poisoned, and you always say that you can do anything!”

“I-I mean yeah I can but… but I don’t know anything about biocompatibility... I honestly just put things in the body and hope it works…I would need more time...”

“Then what about you Kiibo?! Maybe you can...I don’t know- analyze the poison and come up with a cure!”

“My algorithm doesn’t do that...I could do a Google search if we were given WIFI access though...”

“Dammit does anyone have an idea to save Shuichi?!”

“Oh! Oh!” Miu raised her hand, “I’ve seen people induce vomiting in movies to stop poison! That’ll work, yeah?!”

Maki, realizing that this conversation was going to draw out far longer than to her liking, pulled out a chair and sat in it, “first of all: do not do that. Second of all it was an inhalant. I don’t think that will stop his lungs from shutting down any time soon.”

“I know!” Kiibo turned to Miu with a determined look, “Iruma-san! Repurpose my wiring so that my hands function as a defibrillator!”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Maki asked.

“Well it might stop Saihara-kun from dying if his heart stopped!”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Maki stressed, “we just have to lay him down, monitor him,, and hope he lives”

“Harumaki that’s the same as giving up!”

“Hey hey!” No. God dammit. Sure, let’s keep complicating the dialogue. Shuichi was having a very bad day. Could this poison just finish him off already instead of leaving him on death’s doorstep? Fucking rude. Ouma Kokichi, hearing the glorious sounds of frantic arguing, skipped over to the group with a peachy look on his face.

“What’s wrong with you all? You’re acting like somebody died.” Kokichi did a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth with his hands, “did someone die?! Did someone finally kill Keeboy?!”

Kiibo stopped debating with Miu to give Kokichi an unimpressed look, “seriously?”

“Nishishi- yeah, I guess that would be too lucky.”

“Can you take something seriously for once in your life?” Maki glared, “because somebody will die if we can’t figure this out. Saihara inhaled a toxic powder and we aren’t sure how much time we have left to save him.”

“Ehh?” Kokichi’s face turned from confusion to worry. He’d clearly thought Maki was messing with him until he saw Shuichi’s half conscious body draped over Kaito looking very much like a victim of poison. Just as quickly as his expression changed it turned into an over exaggerated ploy they’d all seen a million times. His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivered, his nose started to sniffle. With a hiccup in his voice he began to whimper, “one of you guys is trying to kill my Saihara-chan?! I thought you all were preaching about friendship and trust and ending the killing game!”

Kokichi tilted his head back as he fell into a full on sob. A loud childish ear-breaking wail resounded as tears poured from his eyes with practiced ease. “You guys are so awful!” he yelled in between his sobs, “how could you do this?! Saihara-chan can’t die!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, flat ass!’ Miu yelled.

And just like that Kokichi’s sobs had turned off. A complete 180 from his previous demeanor. It was like he hadn’t cried at all. His eyes weren’t red and puffy, his nose was dry, and his body was relaxed and poised. He stared camly down at his fingernails, examining them as though this situation was nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his day. “I’m serious, you know. I would never joke or lie. Saihara-chan can’t die, this game wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Kaito nearly asked Kokichi what he meant. Did he care about Shuichi? Did he care about their survival? Was he finally coming around?

“Oi Monokuma!” Kokichi yelled. Monokuma bounced into the scene as though he was on Kokichi’s beck and call. “Hey did you know that Saihara-chan is dying? Like right now? And we’re all just watching that?”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t starting his redemption arc then. Maybe he’s still the same piece of shit Kokichi.

“Ouma, what are-”

“Of course I know! It’s pretty funny, huh Ouma-kun?”

Kokichi laughed along with Monokuma, as though they were cut from the same tree. But then suddenly he was back to that semi-disappointed demeanor. “Yeah. Saihara-chan is dying. And doesn’t that really suck? This game is going to sooo be terrible without him. In his trial I bet we’re all going to die because these morons can’t think without him. You know that too, don’t you, Monokuma? WIthout Saihara-chan your show is going to be cut off in this most annoying and unentertaining way. Ahhh I can’t believe this is how the game ends. After all that build up too. I don’t think I even want to be a part of this any more honestly. I’d much rather pig breath die.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Monokuma seemed taken aback by Kokichi’s analysis. He pondered it for a moment, nervously looking around and imagining all the lovely executions that would go to waste if Shuichi died right now. With a sigh he pulled out a very suspicious bottle from-...actually where did he pull that bottle from? Not important. What was important was that there was finally a cure in front of them, the one they’d been asking for all this time.

“Give him this and the brat should be good as new!” and with that Monokuma popped away.

Kokichi, holding the vial, smiled brightly at the others, “Here you go! Don’t let Saihara-chan die again okay! I don’t care if any of you others do but Saihara-chan is very special m’kay?”

…

...

“So you mean…I really could have asked Monokuma for a cure?! The bastard was just lying to me!?”

#danganronpa #drv3 #ndrv3 #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #fanfic #fan fic

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 3 years

Text

Hi guys! As promised to that Anon, I wrote the timelines. I decided to write only the key points though because these are things we already know, and then, I’m sure there are more than a thousand proofs around and people who have already spoken about it. Enjoy.

Drum roll, please 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Let’s start with the first competitor: Tyrone William Griffin, aka Typical Dish Snacked Ty Dolla $ign 04/13/1982, the man who liked to tweet things like “I’m the curator of lesbians”.

PRen Tyren: As I already mentioned in the post “There is a light at the end of the tunnel”, it all started on the evening of November 15, 2016, when 5H went to the Epic party. Due to Laucy’s picture of the wedding and the ‘official’ coming out then occurred a few days later, on November 18, 2016, Lauren needed a boyfriend. That same night at the party, Typecast accepted the management’s proposal.

Typo tweeted “LMJ” on January 4, 2017, and then immediately deleted it. First move to create speculation since, presumably, Lauren ‘was’ still with Ludicrous. Shortly thereafter, a blind item about L who was having an affair with a married man came out. On January 10, 2017, Nicole Cartolano posted that picture of Laucy in the snow with a piñata. After wishing her a happy birthday, as we already know, luBYE. On February 13, 2017, there were the first PRren pictures at the Grammy after-party, so that people would start believing the blind item, BUT, making it clear that he wasn’t a married man, but a taken one, and yes, MAN, since Tyred is 14 years older than her, and therefore inculcating the idea that L was really cheating on Luggage. On March 9, 2017, Tymbal posted a picture of them together, coincidentally, the day after he advertised his upcoming album ‘Beach House 3’.

On March 22, 2017, we had ‘Bare With Me’ and Nicole Cartolano’s interview with MTV News. On the 23rd, we had, still very coincidentally and totally unplanned, “no I hate it because it’s invasive, scary, delusional, disrespectful to us both and was never real…Ever”, because, because, SHE DECIDES. NOT US. PERIOD. (sorry, I had to 😂. This is another of L’s tweets dating back to July 2, 2017: “I decide. Not you. Period.”) Joking apart, because she was single and she certainly couldn’t let the fans have hope for her and C, so she tried to kill the Camren ship for the umpteenth time. “Hey, hey, Lo, how’d it go? That bad, eh?” “Let me try again in 2020.” “Laur, babe, I’ll tell you what. I’m from the future, okay? It didn’t work, honey. And I don’t think it’s gonna work either in, I don’t know, in 2030.”

Back to the program.

The day before Nicole’s MTV article and eight days later, Twix posted a series of tweets (21: “Lo” - 30: “You look better on me 👀”, Cuban flag, and “I think she like me 😍”) [👈🏼 ‘Great grammar’ said in Lauren’s voice] which he then of course deleted to make everything more and more mysterious, and thus making people connect and figure out who was that ‘LMJ’ tweeted in January. On April 14, 2017, we had a picture of L with TyPod and his family dating back the night before when they celebrated Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’s birthday, followed by the blurred picture of the 15th of them together at Coachella. On April 18, 2017, Alycia Bella, Tinky Winky’s ex, tweeted “when you get cheated on w a 5th harmony member & all you can do is laugh.”, and then immediately deleted it, thus giving even more confirmation to people that both had cheated, despite Teletubbies denied and defended himself: “been moved on :) no cheating. Keep it Taylor’d. gang gang 🤘🏽🤘🏽”. The same Alycia who complained of being cheated on by Telly for ‘another girl’ during the reality show ‘The Platinum Life’ which aired on October 15, 2017 and that was recorded MONTHS BEFORE.

There were other tweets that Tyronic continued to tweet and then delete (April 1: “I think about you all the time” - April 3: “You my favorite” and “I don’t know what I did to deserve you” - April 7: “Really like what you’ve done to me”), Insta-stories and posts by both, and other public appearances together to increase the public’s curiosity. Such as: 1) Mani’s birthday. 2) August 16, 2017, when 5H did that famous and messy phone interview with The Sun for Dan Wooton’s podcast, one of Salmoned Cow’s well-known puppies friends, during which Dan asked Lauren about his relationship with Twinkly and she replied that they were just vibing. 3) Lauren’s birthday. 4) On September 11, 2017, Lauren posted pictures about the FentyxPuma party, and in one of those posts with pictures of her and Troglodyte, she put the caption with three hearts emojis, thus confirming to people that she and Tipsy were together.

February 2017 was the chosen month for Pukeren to ‘become’ official, confirmed by Typed in an interview at the Power 105.1 FM morning show The Breakfast Club on October 31, 2017, though, so a long time later and when the waters had already calmed down. By saying February, Tyring confirmed the cheatings exactly as it was planned. In another interview with BigBoyTV made on November 2, 2017, Typology showed the interviewees how even the background of his phone was a picture of Lauren. Picture that, by the way, Lauren herself posted 21 days before that by wearing Tijuana’s merchandise sweatshirt, so not even a personal picture that you’d normally expect to see from a real boyfriend.

Blah blah blah, Lauren never needed to defend a person so much in her life, blah blah blah, weed and booze and parties, blah blah blah, dogs (and fake allergies when convenient), blah blah blah, #Laurenthegroupie, blah blah blah, Tara and social media don’t get along very well, blah blah blah, #freepoorTweed ⛓️👮🏼 who was just having some fun with his friends, blah blah blah. We know the rest of the farce, and moving on to two years later, and therefore at the end of the PR, on April 15, 2019, Tic Tac tweeted a broken heart before zeroing his social media and Lauren a post on her social media, both implying the end of their oh so real ‘relationship’.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Let’s move on to competitor number two: Maturely Hushed Matthew Hussey, 06/19/1987. The scammer par excellence (since 2012). The salesman who pretends to be a life coach/dating advice expert by deluding poor women who fall into his bullshit. The charlatan who has an infinity of fraud charges and even a restraining order for stalking and harassment by a woman named Samantha C. of San Diego. [this woman continually talked about the situation on her Instagram account, cheating_matthewhussey. Even Chelsea Briggs liked a picture.]

Ewmila Mattmila: The skit was supposed to start a lot sooner in reality. They ‘met’ for the first time on September 29, 2017, on the set of NBC’s Today show (performance that C dedicated to the Dreamers), but nobody has heard much about it, right? There was only a single Billboard article that did that. Following that meeting, it was supposed to start in October 2017, when they also started to follow each other on IG, but everything was postponed because C’s album was postponed. The album was released on the 12th, and by pure coincidence, on January 11th, 2018, during the interview with Elvis Duran, and COMPLETELY OUT OF THE BLUE, C mentioned Matilda for the first time by saying she was a fan of his. The same Mattress (10 years older than her) who coincidentally was there that day, so a setup for the public to make believe that they’d met that day.

The next day, at the release of the album ‘Camila’, C performed at Good Morning America, and Macaque, again by pure coincidence, had a small slot in the same program. On January 15, 2018, during the interview with Zane Lowe, when he asked if she had someone special in her life at that time, she replied with “maybe”, which was a big yes when she read “I can’t say your name without smiling” just before from her phone notes. On January 22, 2018, on Zach Sang Show, C said that she’s a private person and that she doesn’t like the ‘public thing’ since the Austin fiasco. Another bullshit said to make the public believe that it was the truth and take advantage of the events that would happen shortly thereafter, since, literally 18 days later, on February 9, E! News exclusively posted the first Burpmila pictures on vacation on a beach in Cabo, Mexico.

Blah blah blah, we know, blah blah blah, they lived in airports to get papped, blah blah blah, they even paid fans to do it, blah blah blah, “He’s great”, blah blah blah, “She’s great”, blah blah blah, #They'reGREAT!, blah blah blah, let’s kiss in a children’s playground #Sinu #needyCamila #someonepleaseteachStMatteohowtoholdagirl #SofiwasdecidingwhethertoreturntotheSagradaFamiliaorgoontheswingratherthanwitnessthatugliness, blah blah blah, let’s get to the first oh so real oh so important obstacle in their story.

On August 12, 2019, a Dutch singer named Elieve did an interview in which she confessed that she and Camila were dating the same guy (Matchbox) at the same time. Elieve was in London from the beginning of January to the beginning of February 2018 and Matzo was in London from January 14 to 19, so they met on one of those days.

Blah blah blah, let’s pretend we’ve overcome this obstacle, blah blah blah, let’s pretend we’re a super happy couple, blah blah blah, Disneyworld, blah blah blah, let’s go skiing, blah blah blah, trip to Italy, blah blah blah, Shawn’s entry, blah bl- wait… Oh yeah, it’s the second PR’s turn. Goodbye Ew! ‘Thank you very much for nothing. Bye-bye!!’ said in Lauren’s voice. End of ‘story’ on May 11, 2019, that is, the last time they were photographed together, news confirmed on June 25, 2019, only 4 days after the release of Señorita.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Even if it wasn’t part of the request, this is a bonus of mine just because.

Señorita + Shitmila Showmila Shawmila: On January 27, 2018, Camila, Shaky, and Andrew, Shavable’s manager, were papped in a restaurant eating pizza before the Pre-Grammy Gala in New York City. That meeting took place to propose the idea of the PR to C to help increase both Shallow’s music sales and his image. Camila was uncertain. 2017 had been a great year for her as a first time as a solo artist, and she knew that she would’ve to play her cards even better during 2018; plus, the PR with Matryoshka hadn’t even officially started and had already been postponed for a few months because the release of her album ‘Camila’ had been postponed.

Andrew explained to her that the PR with Chauffeur wasn’t going to be done right away at all, also because as C would have her PR relationship with EatchEW, Shanty would have that kind of PR relationship/not relationship with Hailey Baldwin (now Bieber) that only served to make people speculate and maintain the idea that Shazam wasn’t gay. Andrew also explained to her that their future PR relationship would benefit both of their careers because there would be a collaboration, a number 1 hit, which they would look for and use as a launchpad for the narrative. #friendswhothenfallinlove #RomeoandJulietbullshit

This perfect duet, went first to knock on Camila’s door, and then to Shuttle’s one in April 2018 in the form of Andrew Watt who already knew everything about the charade. Watt (he also worked on Havana and 7 songs for Romance including Señorita) co-wrote the song in April 2018, shortly before contacting Shitto, along with Jack Patterson, Ali Tamposi (she also worked on Havana, Consequences, and 6 songs for Romance including Señorita), and Charli XCX. [The same Charli who did an interview on October 21, 2019, in which she gave the true version of the story without even remotely mentioning Scab: “This Latin Pop flare just wasn’t right for who I am because I am not a part of that culture, I’m not from there. Whereas Camila has that in her blood, so when we wrote the song we thought about her and sent it to her.”]

Now that they had found the perfect song, and with the addition of Benny Blanco and Cashmere Cat in the production, all they had to do was convince Camila and her team. Charli XCX and C were the opening acts for Taylor Swift’s Reputation Tour from May 8 to October 6, 2018, during which Charli tried to persuade her to do the song by explaining how perfect it was for her. And who knows, maybe even since then they started working on it together since Camila, as she used to do, rewrote almost completely the lyrics to make it more her own. Ask that also to ‘Care About Me’ who turned into ‘The Boy’.

On August 4, still during the Reputation Tour, Shampoo went to the concert date in Toronto, and Taylor posted an Insta-story in which she put make-up and glitter on Shank’s eyelids. Sweaty regretted giving Taylor permission to post the video because people have always thought he was gay for years, and on November 26, 2018, the RollingStone interview was released in which he admitted that he felt the need to be photographed and seen with a girl to prove he isn’t gay. This was a great leverage they used with Camila since she could understand and help a friend in need. The work of persuasion lasted for about 9/10 months, from January 27, 2018, to the end of November/beginning of December 2018. Indeed, on December 5, 2018, both posted a picture taken on the 4th in the backstage of KISS 108’s Jingle Ball 2018 in Boston. Thanks to those pictures and C’s comment, word of their possible future collaboration began to spread. The plan was by then in place.

P.S. remember what happens to Romeo and Juliet, don’t you? Yeah. They die. And like Romeo and Juliet, they’re gonna (metaphorically speaking, of course) die too. Be patient, my babies, be patient.

🎉the🎊end🍾

I want comments now, guys. Which of these competitors you can’t stand the most and why, I’m curious. Put this 🐙 for Tissue, this 🐽 for Matte, and this 🐔 for Shrunken accompanied by the motivation. Let’s have some fun. 🥂

🖕🏼 this is mine for all of them, by the way.

As always, thanks, Mari. 🥰 Bye guys, I love you. Always with love, F. ❤️

#submission #f anon #mattmila tyren showmila timeline #so funny #anon #ask #how many names on this post #thanks you too much faby

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jitter-bug · 4 years

Text

Just Like Me

Taglist: @artemisfowl11

Nines x Reader (Detroit: Become Human)

A/n: Did I hear costumes with a plot twist? And 10x scary???👀 so that the request wouldn't be too short ???🔫👀 I certainly fuckin' did. This one is too long. Sorry for rush. I love you :') plz enjoy(plz) I have so many request. And I am getting around to all of them. So don't worry for anyone that's waiting for your request, they will get done I promise! (Plz don't hurt me--)❤ enjoy- p.s I also had a hard time choosing the costume. I wanted something race neutral because as a person of color myself. There's not many couple costumes out there, that...you know. So 😌 uh. I had to run off a limb here for all my POC readers. (Gang gang 😩) (give me feedback if you any more of this, I know some people messaged me about continuing Fear. I don't do series. But I'll do em' we lit over here😩😪💅) p.s.s I edited it to gender neutral, so sorry for any errors-- (donthurtme)

"What do you mean, no?" The defeated tone of the detective echoed through the bullpen. Arms crossed as they stared at Hank. He was sitting at his desk. A hand placed on the desk as he stared at the terminal. In a way so he wouldn't have to stare at the perplexed expression of Y/n.

"Kid. I'm too damn old to be dressing up in costumes." Was his reply.

Y/n had woken up that very morning. An idea engraved in their brain like their body threatened them to remember it and not let the wonderful idea go.

The DPD was throwing a Halloween party. Which was really a celebration for Chris, he was finally promoted to being an official Detective, and for his celebration. There would be a themed party. Considering the fact that Halloween was creeping in around the corner. Y/n soon thought that they wanted to wear a costume, with someone that is. They thought sharing laughs or even going to the party dressed as characters would be fun and yet entertaining. Their first thought was Hank. But, he undoubtedly shot the idea down. And declined. Hank saw the unamused expression on their face when he tore his gaze from the terminal. Their fist was planted on his desk. As their hand was on their hip. Their eyebrows furrowed. Giving him a look that he was used to seeing when they helped him speak with suspects in the interrogation room. Though, their expression was not as hard and more so serious.

Connor, who was sitting at his desk. Across from Hank. Stared between the two. His LED teetering back and forth from yellow to stark red.

"Go ask Gavin." Hank brought up the name that seemed alien to him as he scoffed slightly at his name. Y/n quickly lost their expression before shaking her head. They couldn't say Y/n and Gavin were enemies. But they haven't interacted with each other to a point where Y/n would see themself asking him to join them on their dress up crusade.

"No." They replied. Hank has been staring at the ceiling. Arms crossed. Once hearing Y/n once again. He landed his gaze back onto them. His index finger tapping his arm.

"Go ask your partner."

Nines stared at Y/n. The two staring right through each other, but Y/n could feel themself crumble under his steel gaze. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. In an attempt to see through Y/n.

Nines originally was Gavin Reed's partner. Until Chris was recently promoted to a Detective and made to be Gavin's partner. Which pulled Y/n from Hank and Connor, into being Nine's newest partner.

Before then. They hadn't really interacted with him. Occasional greetings and ludicrous jokes between Y/n and Gavin. In which the rk900 ignored, he never cared to learn much about Y/n- or anyone at the station at that. He was reserved, observant, stern and very stoic. He...lacked certain things other deviant androids had.

Emotions.

People around the prescient knew about him. But never spoke to him, reasons being his lack of expressing himself gave people the assumption that Nines was genuinely just a rude android. Which...Y/n could see why. He didn't tolerate childish behavior, at all. Rarely participated in any outings the station threw, such as celebrations if someone was promoted. Birthday parties. Or just a genuine outing to celebrate and catch up with one another. Nines was always at the station, he - In a way deemed to separate himself from others. His eyebrows were always furrowed. In a way to resemble a scowl of some sort...which he always did.

Of course, Y/n could somewhat tolerate him, once they were paired together, Nines was non-stop pestering Y/n with things they needed to get done, things that weren't done right. He always pointed out the imperfections and mistakes rather than the good. Y/n couldn't say they were exactly friends with the rk900. He made it hard for it to be anything other than being partners. But, today was the day, Y/n decided it would be best to try and find a way through his cold exterior.

Nines didn't say anything. Y/n held her hands behind her back. The slightest smile trying to make its way onto their face. "So...I was thinking."

They started. They didn't feel nervous. But rather awkward from the sudden request. Nines didn't say anything. Instead keep his arms behind his back as Y/n slowly sat down on the desk. Planting their hands on their knees. "I was thinking, maybe me and you should go to Chris's celebration together tomorrow night, you know. As partners? Amigos? Buddies?" Y/n reached up. Placing a half-heartedly punch on Nine's shoulder.

"And. You know. Dress up? Costumes? I'd think you'd enjoy it. You know, you've been really working your heart out for these past few weeks Nines, and I think maybe you would like a break. You know, wind down." They explained. In their head. The explanation was fool-proof. Nines had been working a lot. In fact. The whole station was. With the new cases of Red Ice popping up around Detroit. Everyone had constantly been on their toes.

"I'm incapable of getting tired, Detective." Nines replied. He turned to fully face Y/n. His arms that were once behind his back, now by his side.

Y/n felt themself run into a dead end.

"I know that Nine's I'm not stupid." She muttered. Instead of replying. He only stared at her. Blinking once, that was so it took. Y/n could tell what he was thinking. They sneered.

"That's not funny, I'm serious."

"My apologies. I was unaware I was making a joke--"

"Anyway!" Snapping their fingers to get back on track. Y/n sighed. Rubbing their temple before looking back at Nine's form.

"If. You go to the party with me, and agree to wear a costume with me. I promise I'll stop fooling around on the field." They tried to compromise watching as Nine's was already turning away from her to walk over to his desk.

"I'll even stop making those lame ass jokes for an entire week. I can't say for..forever, But I mean a week has to be at least decent." They spoke up. Raising their voice so he could listen.

"A month." Nines said. His back turned from them. But Y/n could see him grabbing stacks of papers and placing them in their designated manilla folders. Y/n stared at his back. Eyebrows furrowed as they tried to piece together what he meant, the rk900 seemed to be aware of how perplexed she was.

"You'll focus on the assigned case you have, without constantly getting distracted, for a month. If you can agree to that. Then you've found yourself someone to go to the party with."

He explained. Y/n jumped slightly, the excitement shot through them like electricity, sparking them to life. This was new! Certainly new!

"Wait, are you serious? Oh my god!" They squealed. Kicking their feet so hard Y/n was afraid their shoe would fly off, flying across the room. As funny as the scenario might sound, Y/n was too distracted with the offer to worry about anything else.

"1 month?" They asks.

"1 month." He repeats.

"I mean...what about 2 weeks?" They bargained. A month, where they couldn't bullshit around at work. It felt like a sin to Y/n.

"1 month."

"But...Nines that's too long." They tried to whine. But Nines turned around. Holding the folders in his hands.

"1 month." He repeats.

"2 weeks?"

"1 month."

"....3 weeks?"

"1 month."

"No! Come on. 2 weeks. Take it or leave it!" Y/n shoots their hands in the air. Drastically expressing their distress. But Nines didn't seem to show an ounce of sorrow or care for the matter.

"Do I hear 2 months?"

"Okay, no! 1 month!"

With what Y/n assumed would be the end of the discussion to Nines. He nods.

"Okay then. Now. What is it that you have planned?"

"Okay. So. I think maybe we should do something scary. 2 years ago. Me and Hank dressed up as clowns, and scared the hell out of Gavin. It was hilarious." Y/n absently spoke. They searched through their phone for ideas that may spark interest in them. Deciding on creating something new and from scratch.

Nines was busy placing items in Y/n's bag so the two could leave the station and do whatever it was Y/n had in store.

Nines zipped up the bookbag before turning away from the desk to face. Only to find them already examining his form.

The yellow soon took the place of the blue on his LED. His eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" He asks. Y/n hummed.

"I was thinking of what would suit you." They replied. As they spoke Nines handed Y/n their bookbag, which they thanked him before slipping it on over their shoulders.

"We can head to my house and see ideas from there." Y/n started. Adjusting the straps onto their shoulders as they took several steps forward towards the exit. They didn't have much time from now till tomorrow night, the gears in Y/n's head were turning. What should they do? What should they dress as for their costumes? And most importantly. Make sure Nines had a good night out for his first ever outing.

Y/n placed the phone back in theirpocket. Before reaching over to unlock the door. They felt Nines walk behind them, swatting and flicking their hand away from the latch to open the door.

"I'm driving. You get to the passenger side and think about what your plan will be." Nines spoke. Y/n flinched their hand away from the latch.

"Ow, okay, okay--" they made their way around the car to the passenger side. Y/n was positive the only real reason he wanted Y/n to sit out on driving was because last time they were behind the wheel, a favorite song of theirs that they vaguely remembered from some time ago came on the radio station when they were patrolling the downtown area of Detroit.

All Y/n could say was how Nines was extremely pissed with their screeching out lyrics that he wasn't paying attention to. More of Y/n's abrupt screaming. Which is why he didn't want them touching the wheel while he was in the car with them.

Slipping inside the car. Y/n closed the door. Hearing from their opposite side that Nines was in the car as well.

"Keys." He spoke up. Y/n automatically reached in their dress pants pockets in search of the keys. Once feeling the cool metal against their digits. They handed them to Nines. Where as he started the car.

Y/n slide off their bookbag. And turned to toss it in the back of the car. Where a paper bag was seen lazily balled up on the floor. Seeing the Red Ice cases increased exponentially, there were many stakeouts that Y/n and Nines were assigned to. Sitting out in the car for long periods of time did spike up an appetite in Y/n's stomach every once in a while. Of course, Nines scolded them for not eating before arriving on the scene, but that didn't stop them from getting food.

Once situated and Nines driving down the street. Y/n slipped their phone back out.

"So. How do you feel being a butcher?" They asks. Nines stared at the road. Silent for a moment as he contemplated what Y/n said.

"A butcher..? Odd, how would that in any way be a good costume?" He asks. Y/n placed their phone their lap.

"Bloody butcher. You know. Kill people? Chop chop? Blood. Chains and all that jazz." They replied. Flipping through the many photos of cheap costumes that would wear out in later than a few months if they were to purchase one.

"I can't make a firm decision on what to wear. You do that." He spoke up. Y/n hummed in acknowledgment. As much as they wanted Nines to choose for himself. He often had a hard time doing so. Of course he did things his own way, but only for a purpose of doing his job. Completing his mission.

"Well then. Butcher it is," they replied.

Once making it into the warm house that groped around Y/n with its comforting warmth. Y/n dropped their bookbag on the ground by the couch. Plopping down onto the cushion. And letting out a long needed sigh. They heard Nines close and lock the front door.

The tension in Y/n's muscles slowly eased its way into relaxation. This wasn't the first time Nines had seen Y/n's place. Only resorting to be at their doorstep to wake them up at ungodly hours for emergency crime scenes that so happened to pop up out of nowhere. Or to drive them home when they are tired to do it half the time themself.

The TV was still on playing from earlier in the morning when Y/n left. On the same channel and same soft spoken volume.

"Alright. Come on. Sit." They finally mustered up the energy to speak. Nines - who was standing next to the couch, took a seat next to Y/n as they opened their phone once more.

"So. I was thinking on the way here. A bloody butcher. Both you and I. I think that would be fun." They proclaimed it was some extremely good news. But to Nines, it was more of good news to Y/n, but he didn't say anything. His pale optics pierced Y/n's face. His eyebrows raised slightly. Y/n gave him a smile, one of reassurance. "Oh come on, don't worry. You'll love it. I saw you have a knack for violent things." They chuckled. Moving over to their coffee table to pick up the laptop that was sitting on it. Nines LED flickered a stark red.

"I'm assuming you would think I'm a violent person because of how I handle things on the field?" It didn't sound like much of a question.

"Well duh. You do tend to man-handle the hell out of the suspects." Y/n replied. Nines didn't say anything else. Instead, watch as Y/n typed into the computer. After a while. They sat back on the couch and glanced at Nines.

"This should work out. Not to mention be a good sight for my budget." They said. Y/n turned the laptop around and showed a photo of the costume, which was just general ideas of what items they planned on looking for.

Nines stared at the screen. His LED circling around. Once. Twice. Before turning yellow.

"Are you purchasing these from a store?" He asks. Y/n nods. Nines nods as well.

"Yeah. Tomorrow after work we both are going to go gather the materials to put together the costume. Oh, this should be fun! Believe it or not. Gavin is such a scary cat. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to scare the hell out of him!" They gave a laugh before setting the laptop on the table.

"But, really Nines. Thanks for agreeing to do this with me. I promise. That when this is all over. I'll not goof around for 1 entire month." They said. Y/n lifted their hand, poking out their pinkie finger. Nines stared at their hand before looking at them.He lifted his hand before pushing Y/n's hand away with his back hand.

"I'll take your word on it, Detective." He says.

"Oh come on. Don't be like that. Smile for once. My gosh." Y/n lets out a chuckle. Lifting one hand to pull at his cheek. Her thumb tugging at the corner of his right lip in an attempt to tug it upwards. Nines - once again, swatted their hand away from his face. A scowl interrupting his blank expression.

"Stop."

"Whatever, tomorrow. It'll be great, you'll have fun, I promise."

Nines watched as Y/n stated at the rack of clothes. Having trouble deciding what Nines would best fit his costume. They decided to purchase his first. The two left the station an hour ago, to get ready for the party that was only 4 hours away. And time was ticking rather quickly with Y/n staring at the rack of clothes as if they had a hard time finding what to wear.

Nines felt his hand lift up. Rubbing at his temple. His elbow resting on his other arm which was across his torso.

"Y/n..."

Y/n let out a hum, signalling they heard what he said but kept their gaze on the rack.

"I think this would go by much quicker, if I were to pick out the clothes, and when you get home. You can put them together." He spoke. Y/n turned to face Nines. He saw them cross their arms.

"Are you calling me slow?" They asks. But, he could tell Y/n wasn't offended by their ack of anger that he so happened to be acquainted with.

"More, indecisive." He corrected. He saw their eyebrows furrow. But they quickly rose up as they understood what he meant.

"I'm not having a hard time picking...just--look, this is supposed to be a me and you thing. Partner to partner, friend to friend. You know. So we can spend more time together instead of always yelling at each other like at work."

It was true. Nines and Y/n rarely got a long at work, Nines being a reason for the constant start of an argument between him and Y/n. That being either working on a case. At the station. Or even at a stake out. He always seemed to feed the flame just to spark Y/n's anger into nothing more than a hungry flame ready to lash out at anyone. But that was because Nines wanted things done the way he wanted them done. And Y/n rarely gave him what he wanted...and that was being serious on the job. But the explanation did make sense. More time spent outside to get to know more about each other...or rather spend more time with each other, could lower their rate or going after each other's throats.

"So, you know. Come on. Let's Both pick our stuff out together." A hint of hope was evident in Y/n's voice. Nines nods, taking several steps forward, to analyse the rack.

"I think you can do something with this."

"Ow! Stop! Stop!" Y/n hissed in pain, feeling Nines peel off the face mask from their face. They tried lifting their hand up to push his hand away. But he was one step ahead. Smacking their hand away for the upteempth time that week. The two finished picking out the clothing and items for their costume, only had 2 hours left to get dressed and ready, a lady that was an entrepreneur and had a clothing line. Gracefully gave Y/n and Nines a discount on what they needed for their costumes. Finding the generous offer kind, Y/n paid more than needed for the clothes, and spent almost half an hour speaking to the woman. Which knocked off much more time than needed. And Nines didn't want any delays in getting dressed - so almost immediately once the two reached Y/n's house. He started laying out stuff so the two could get ready.

The first step being to peel off the face mask for Y/n so once they put the make up on their face for the costume it wouldn't be mixed with any bacteria and dirt. Which also was a pain in Y/n's ass to feel the mask pulling at their skin. And how Nines didn't seem to care much, instead. Resulting in him snatching off the mask piece by piece.

"You asshole! You're doing that on purpose!" Y/n barked. They reached up to punch Nines in his chest. But was interrupted by him snagging at the mask on their face once again. Placing the pieces in a trash can he took from the kitchen.

"It shouldn't hurt that bad, stop whining. Or else this will take much longer than needed." He finally spoke up. Y/n sneered slightly as they felt him tilt their head so he could get the rest of the god-forbidden mask that seemed to be glued to their skin.

After finally getting the pieces peeled off and placed in the trash. Nines stood up to take the trash back to its original spot in the kitchen. Y/n rubbed at their face. The skin feeling somewhat smoother, her pores finally able to get air comfortably.

"Okay. Happy? The horrible dreadful part, as you quoted, is out of the way." Nines said. As he spoke Y/n mumbled a 'fucking finally' - and stood up.

"Okay, we have plenty of time, Oh my god, this is going to be fun. Okay!" Almost immediately, Nines saw the excited expression overtake their expression again. Watching as they grabbed one of the bags and tossed it over to Nines.

"Get dressed. I'll come back in here when I'm done."

Y/n was surprised with how their costume came out. The idea in their mind wasn't as exciting as they once was thinking. But seeing the white knee length apron. Black dress shirt, the tattered jeans that were tucked into the dark rain boots showed that the costume was supposed to resemble some sort of butcher. A few things are missing here and there. But was still proud of how it came out.

Deciding on going back in the living room to get the last back on the coffee table they remembered leaving on the table. Which contained the makeup and fake blood for the costumes...which of course was supposed to be added last.

Walking down the hall and into the living room. Which was empty, in which Y/n didn't seem to take surprise. Thinking Nines went off somewhere in the house(such as the bathroom) , go get dressed. They didn't bother calling out for him. Instead, picking up the bag on the table to look through it. Seeing the many items in the bag, having a hard time choosing what to use first, they stared at the back in contemplation. Unaware of the sauntering figure that was creeping up behind them.

Deciding on finding it to be best, wait for Nines to come back and help with choosing what happens next. They places the bag on the table once again. They turned around to go and look for Nines. Only to quickly pause in their movement upon seeing the figure behind them Y/n jumped slightly. Their calves hit the coffee table.

It was Nines, dressed in the costume, the black apron tied to his waist tightly, instead of a dress shirt that Y/n sported, Nines had on a black turtleneck, which really fit with the costume. Y/n could see the chains wrapped around his wrist, the sound of the metal clanking against each other.

They saw the pig mask, the one Y/n picked out because Y/n found it oddly suiting Nines. The boar's head seemed pretty realistic, the blemishes and red markings on the facial area wavered Y/n's sense of security. They could barely see his eyes through the mask...where the eyes are of course.

"Jeez. You scared me there for a second." Y/n mumbled.

But, Nines didn't say anything. The feeling of his form towering over Y/n, made them realize how some suspects the two brought in everyday had to face his wrath in an interrogation...or just a simple ass kicking. From what Y/n remembers. Nines never lost in a single fight.

"Is this your way in trying to scare me? If so. It's not working." They let out a chuckle, which was half-heartedly. Nines - instead of replying. Let out a grunt. Which Y/n could deem animalistic. Y/n flinched. Shooting him a glare in a way to get him to knock off whatever he was pulling.

"The hell? Did you growl at me?" They spat. Instead of - once again. Not replying. Nines turned around to walk off down the hall where the bathroom was located.

"Where are you going?" They asks. There was no reply. Only the sound of the chains clanking against each other and the squeaking of the rainboots answered them question.

"..." Y/n felt their eyebrow twitch. Almost a second letter. Nines came back out the hall. Looking the same, except holding the boars mask in his hand, which he didn't seem to have any interest in wearing.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Nines looked at Y/n. His LED flickering to yellow almost instantly. He raised an eyebrow; "is there a problem?" He asks. Y/n scrunched their nose up and nodded.

"Uh, yeah. You were just out here - not even a minute ago. You just walked off. Not to mention, growled at me." They answered. Y/n saw the LED on Nines temple slowly circled to the stark red, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I was in the bathroom all this time." He said. Y/n only gave him a blank expression. Which only remsebled an expression that they didn't believe what he said.

"I was--"

"Anyway. Come on. Let's put this last bit of stuff on so we can leave."

"You're getting blood everywhere." Nines informed. Watching as Y/n drove down the ride they tried sitting themselves in the seat comfortably so the fake blood on the apron wouldn't smear on the car seat. It would be a pain to get it out.

"I know that, Nines. Shut up, pighead. Besides, it's not even real." They muttered. Nines lifted the corner of his lip in a way to sneer.

"Hilarious. I almost forgot to laugh at that one."

"You forget to laugh everyday." They quickly shot back. Nines only rubbed his temple with a sigh. "You truly are a mess." He sighs. Y/n laughed, keeping their eyes on the road.

"You're damn right, a hot mess. Trust me. Tonight will be fun! Don't worry, really!" Nines didn't reply. Instead watched the road and the many buildings that passed by. His gray optics flickered over to Y/n. Spending an entire day with his partner did have its ups and downs. But it wasn't as life-threatening as he thought it would be.

"So. Are you enjoying yourself so far? You know. Being costume twins and all. I think it's fun." Y/n asked. Nines tapped his index finger in his knee.

"Rather childish. But if it can get you to stop quiping me about dressing up with you. I guess this won't be too bad." He responds. Hearing Y/n tap the wheel with their fingers.

"Thanks for doing this with me, really. Maybe tonight you and I can go and get something to eat."

"I don't eat."

"....I mean. You could at least act like you do. Like jeez, what the hell." They muttered. Once again, complaining. Mumbling about. "Just stuff the food in your mouth and spit it out. Make it seem like you can or something--"

"Alright--okay. I'll take you out to dinner tonight. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Nines finally spoke up. Interrupting her from her charades of complaining. Almost quickly, a smile replaced their frown.

"Yes, sir. That's exactly what I want to hear. You. Nines. My partner. Taking me to get dinner." They quipped. Nines glanced at them. Shaking his head slowly.

"Holy shit!" Gavin stared at the two. Watching as Nines was busy behind Y/n speaking to Hank from behind the boar's mask. A smile graced Hank's lips. His hands on his hips. He didn't dress as anything like the majority of the people did. Instead...well...showing up in his casual clothes.

"Wow. Next year. Me and you and dressing up together." Gavin nudged Y/n's shoulder. Causing them to chuckle.

"I mean. I was going around the office asking people. And they either were dressing up as something already, or were dressing up as something already. Same thing. I know." They grinned, already knowing what Gavin was about to say.

"You didn't ask me you little shit!"

"Oops?"

Gavin rolled his eyes. Swatting his hands in a way to shoo the conversation away. "Nines look terrifying as hell." He looked over at their partner who was still speaking with Hank. Y/n nods.

"I'm not surprised. You're scared of everything." She said. Gavin shot her a look.

"Hey, plastic-prick. Over here!" Gavin snaps his fingers. Y/n saw Nines look away from Hank. And over to Gavin. Hank looked over as well. Nines walked over to the two. Once in earshot he turned his head away from Y/n to look at Gavin.

"Yes?" He asks. Gavin flicked the boar's snout.

"Sup."

"I don't know what I expected wasting my time walking over here." Nines muttered. Gavin laughs. Almost immediately, Nines jumped towards Gavin. Which also startled Y/n. The two shrieked at the sudden action from Nines. Hearing Hank laugh in the background was what pulled Gavin from his pose. Which he moved to grip Y/n's shoulder. In a pose like he was hiding behind them.

"You Jackass!" Gavin shouts. Hank howled with laughter. Walking over to give Nines a pat on the back.

"Good one!"

Y/n felt their heartbeat in their chest like drums. They couldn't find an exact reason why they got jumpy. Letting out a sigh as they placed a hand on their chest. Hearing Gavin bicker in the background along the lines of "I'll fucking end you!"

Meanwhile, Y/n stared across the street. Which had a good view of an alleyway. Seeing two figures facing each other. Once being noticeably shorter than the other. The short figure...which the two really resemble the silhouette from the lack of light in the area (considering the sun had set) the short figure seemed to be pointing its finger at the taller figure's chest. From the body movements the person seemed to be angry. As on the other hand the taller figure - standing still and stiff as a plank just stood there.

Y/n watched for a few more moments. Whatever commotion they were hearing on their side of the street was muffled to them.

Soon, the short figure head turned towards the direction Y/n was in - across the street. Which the taller figure took notice of. The two stared at them. The tall figure seemed to tap its leg. Causing the short figure the scurry off somewhere in the shadows of the alleyway.

Raising a hand. The tall figure that was left in the alleyway waved. Y/n furrowed their eyebrows.

Who the hell was that?

"Y/n! Come on, get your ass in here before you freeze!" Y/n heard Hank shout from the door. Y/n quickly snapped from their clouded reality. Looking at Hank who was holding the door open. Shoot a gaze back at the alley, only to see nothing.

"And I said. Give me my shit. Or I'll put a foot up your ass." Gavin said. The booth that was placed in the back of the room, either chuckled, laughed or said commented on his story. Which was Chris.

"Honestly. I wouldn't be too surprised if she got a restraining order on your crazy ass." Chris chuckled. Gavin only shot him a large grin. Chris's wife smiled at the two. Shaking their head. The majority of the party dressed up. Either it being werewolves, vampires, zombies. It was something...despite the fact that one of the officers came with a macaroni box.

The booth sat, Connor, Hank, Nines, Y/n, Gavin, Chris and his wife. Drinks were passed, and also laughs. (Will except from Nines of course)

The night was smooth. And not to mention fun.

Y/n, still kept tethering back and forth from the odd altercation at home with Nines. And from what they saw in the alleyway.

Nines sat next to them. Listening to Gavin speak. On and on.

"So. Are you two still together or not?" Chris asked. Gavin's and his significant other had...somewhat of a toxic relationship. Constant fighting, either it be verbal or...from what Gavin didn't want to admit. But it was obvious. Physical. From both parties. But, Y/n never really intervened. It wasn't their business. So they didn't care much about it. Though the stories were funny.

Digging into their pockets in search of their phone. They didn't feel it. Taking note they must have left it outside in the car.

"I'll be right back. I have to go get my phone."

Sitting in the driver's seat. Y/n checked to see if the device was at a proper percentage. She closed the car door and sighed. Scrolling through it sees nothing new. They turned around to face the building to return. They stopped and looked up. Seeing a figure by the light pole in front of them The figure had the same costume as Y/n. The apron. The boots. Pants. Looking up they saw...the same face. It was Y/n!

The dark circles under the eyes were much noticeable. The blue surgical mask covered the lower half of the person's face. But Y/n wasn't stupid. They saw themself many times in the mirror to tell who it was. And every strand of hair on the person's head. Could tell that certainly was Y/n.

The e/c eyes stared at Y/n's form. Boring into their face. A feeling they similarly got only from Nines. But the gaze coming from..them, made Y/n freeze.

Staring at the person. It was like an exact replica, a doppelganger.

Y/n could hear the sounds coming from the person. A muffled purr of some sort, scuffling shoes. It couldn't seem to stand still.

"...who are you--" Y/n was cut off by the doppelganger launching itself towards them - gripping the side of their face. It's nails digging into their skin. Y/n let out a surprised scream. Hearing the strained grumbles and grows coming from the thing on top of them.

Y/n felt themself land on the ground. The concrete knocking the wind from their body. Y/n was more surprised than scared. Of course they had many hand to hand combat on the field. But this didn't feel right at all.

Acting quick and raising an arm to shove off the doppelganger. Switching sides as they were now on top of the person, straddling it by the hips, Y/n felt it shift and swing an arm. Y/n quickly backed off of the person in an attempt to not get hit. It had a knife. Making it clear that it was meaning to harm Y/n. Y/n quickly backpedaled and stood up. The sound of their huffing and puffing. And both of their shoes scuffling on the pavement. The person stood up. Shaking itself as if to remove the dirt that collected on its shirt from the pavement.

"Y/n. What's ta-"

"Okay, so Nines! There's some weird shit going on!" Y/n jogged over to the door that Nines held open. He was now staring at Y/n's doppelganger who quickly had stood up staring at the two. Once it made eye contact with Nines. It seemed to stop in its former actions and stare, before scurrying away down the sidewalk.

"Who was that? What's going on?" He asks. Y/n shoved Nines into the building as he spoke.

"I don't know! But we have to do something!" She shouts. The LED on Nines temple was flickering from red to yellow. Y/n was already making their way towards the booth.

"Hank. You would not believe this. But I just got attacked by my own self. We need to find out what's going on." Y/n interrupted whatever conversation he was having with the group at the table. Connor was the first to look over.

"Yourself?"

"Yes! Now come on. This is serious." Hank could tell whether or not Y/n was joking or not. Which...truly wasn't that hard to tell if they were. He stood up from the booth, luckily he was seated on the outside.

"What's going on?"

Nines soon made his way over to the table.

"I was attacked by someone who looked exactly like me. Which, that can explain what happened earlier today. But! I have a crazy ass doppelganger!"

"Oh Christ." Hank muttered. Crossing his arms and looking at Y/n and then at Nines. And back at Y/n.

Gavin soon stood up.

"Oh, I have to see this." He spoke up. Hank ignored the man and looked back at Y/n. "Where did you last see this person."

"When I was outside. It attacked me--"

"The hell? Did you go after them?"

"No. They ran away before I can even do anything." Hank nods. Snapping his finger and pointing towards the exit.

"To the car. Let's go. Connor. Come on." Connor stoop up and stood next to Hank.

"Looks like we got some searching to do."

#detroit rk900 #detroit become human rk900 #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human #dbh connor #connor x reader #connor rk800 #dbh connor x reader #dbh nines #nines x reader #gavin x nines #rk900 x reader #rk900 #dbh hank #hank x reader

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dreamteamfanblog · 3 years

Text

Me? Making another post disagreeing with a lot of Techno Apologist arguments? It’s more likely than you may think.

1.) “Techno was betrayed during the Manburg Vs Pogtopia war and then later by Tommy during their team up”

Techno joined Pogtopia knowing full well the plan was to take back L'manburg, nobody promised him anarchy, in fact they did the exact opposite? He knew the plan, Tommy outright asked what he'd do when they take it back and establish their new government and he said, and I quote, "we'll cross that bridge when we get there". Nobody betrayed him. If he thought they wouldn't do exactly what they said they'd do from before he joined them he's kidding himself. If anyone was dishonest it was Techno. He was open about being an anarchist but every time he suggested he'd turn against them it was played vaguely or as a joke, the withers were gathered behind their backs, he sabotaged their armour without them knowing before the sixteenth in anticipation of the battle because he knew they had plans to start a government, and while it could be inferred that he'd betray them, he never actually said he'd blow up their city, he kinda just said ominously vague things about being an anarchist and wouldn't elaborate on weather he was going to turn against them or not. It was very similar during Tommy's teamup with him, Tommy made it clear from day one he didn't want to hurt L'manburg or Tubbo in any way and Techno brushed him off, hid plans to blow up the nation, and decided they'd "cross that bridge later" despite Tommy's boundary being pretty clear, when Tommy enforced that boundary and stood with L'manburg that wasn't a betrayal either? Now I understand Techno feeling upset he couldn't change their minds, if he expected them to see things his way and switch sides I get why he'd feel disappointed they didn't, however them not changing their views to fit his isn't betrayal.

2.) “Tommy owed Techno loyalty, Techno would have fought the world for Tommy, and Techno was going to help him get back his discs!”

Tommy has never valued the discs over people. To suggest so contradicts the text blatantly. If Tommy valued the discs first and foremost he wouldn't have traded them to Dream for L'manburg's independence. If the discs came first Tommy wouldn't have promised to put them aside again before the exile to fight Dream. If the discs came first he wouldn't have turned against Techno- who agreed to help get his discs back- and let Tubbo hand away Mellohi. Tommy has consistently valued his nation, his friends, and general morality over the discs every time a choice is presented to him. Standing in the wreckage of L'manburg he even outright asked Dream; "Why didn't you just burn the discs? Why didn't you just hurt ME?" and sounded completely and utterly distraught that Dream didn't. And if i’m being real, Tommy didn’t owe him anything tbh, the idea that Techno helping Tommy out means Tommy is obligated to go against his morals and let innocent people be hurt/have their livelihoods destroyed because he owes Techno now is ludicrous. Love doesn't come with strings, the second it does it's not love at all, it's manipulation. The idea that "I love you and have helped you so don't get in my way when I hurt people and things you care about" is a fair argument just doesn't feel right to me at all. If Techno cared about Tommy he would have cared how deeply L'manburg and it's people mattered to Tommy. He would have cared about the boundaries Tommy set on what he did and didn't support. He wouldn't have attached conditions to his kindness. He didn’t love Tommy and Tommy doesn’t owe anything to a dangerous terrorist that doesn’t even care about him. Note the interaction when Tommy was trying to convince Techno not to do this because they're friends, when Techno voiced his concerns- "I'm a person, Tommy!"- and Tommy agreed readily "Yes, yes you are! But so are we!" Something Techno didn't agree with or acknowledge, only going on to talk over Tommy and dismiss him bitterly despite Tommy's attempts at communication. Plus during their time together Techno wasn't exactly the perfect friend either, was he? He openly refused to respect Tommy if the kid didn't subscribe to his worldview and consistently ignored Tommy's attempts to set boundaries with him as well as hiding the extent of his terrorism plans. Not to mention offering to hand Tommy over to Dream if Dream called in his favour. This all on top of the 'friendship' being conditional on if Tommy was willing to abandon all his other friends, his home of many years, and his moral compass for the sake of appeasing Techno. Ofc he chose L’manburg over Techno and the discs

3.) “Techno was right, the government was corrupt! Just look at the decision to exile Tommy and The Butcher Army!”

Lmanburg's government isn't corrupt. It isn’t what got Tommy exiled. Dream did. Dream unfairly forced Tommy's exile, threatening to hurt people, destroy homes, slaughter innocents if Tubbo didn't concede, Lmanburg's government wasn't to blame for Dream, a hostile foreign entity, exerting unfair control over a group of people with no means to defend themselves. L'manburg has always been about fighting tyranny, they formed specifically to break away from Dream and his delusions of grandeur because he was corrupt. Dream is wealthy and powerful, L'manburg is a union of disadvantaged individuals that don't wish to live under tyranny and bound together to have a chance at fighting off Dream's rule. And on the subject of The Butcher Army? Techno never told anybody in L'manburg he was retired. He blew up their country, promised he'd do it over and over again if they set up another government, then went off to hang out in the woods and didn't say anything to any of them after that. Not to mention that the fact that Techno says he won't do it again doesn't mean he won't- especially since he was still grinding wither heads in retirement- and that "I won't do it again I swear" would never hold up in real life for literally any crime, like, you still get sentenced weather you're planning to reoffend or not, especially since Techno didn't even actually communicate that he wouldn't reoffend.

I think Techno's worldview itself is flawed, I think him seeing a small democratic government which was formed as a union of disadvantaged individuals attempting to escape oppression but still being shoved around by Dream's tyranny and deciding that this democratic government was the problem and needed to be taken down rather than focusing on the root of corruption from the overarching dictatorship of Dream really highlights that his ideals are flawed, I think his willingness to destroy homes and lives for the hypothetical moral highground it may give him is delusional, I think him believing that leaving L'manburg in ruins and at the mercy of the actual dictatorship that originally oppressed it's people to the point of them needing to bind together in the first place is selfish, I think Techno is wealthy and powerful and on the top if the natural hierarchy so doesn't grasp that other's may need the help of a community or even organized government, I think Techno puts an ideal over real human lives and emotions, I think Techno's methods of achieving his flawed ideology are cruel, I think his apathy towards suffering he causes and certainty he knows what's best for people that have been disadvantaged by the system he's promoting in a way he'll never be is, again, ignorant, I think his sense of entitlement towards understanding and coddling and loyalty from others when he attaches strings to his own love or loyalty is incredibly hypocritical, and I think his excuses are bullshit, quite frankly.

#long post #dream smp discourse #dream smp #mcyt

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outerbxnks · 4 years

Text

boneyard keggers - jj maybank

word count: 1.8k

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking. typical obx parties.

a/n: just finished writing + editing and it’s 5am so my brain is fried, please excuse errors! (also i suck at titles LMFAO)

requested: n/a

you brought the drink to your lips, allowing the burning liquid to make its way down your throat as you swayed happily to the music with your newfound friend, sarah. you’d just recently moved to the outer banks and were currently at your very first (supposedly notorious) boneyard kegger.

you quickly downed the remaining beer in your cup, and you figured since it was your first time at a kegger, you wanted to make it a night to remember. “i’m gonna go get another drink!” you told sarah, motioning to your cup. she shrugged, turning to her boyfriend and waving you off easily. you smirked, pushing your way through the crowd of strangers towards the large keg situated off to the side.

fresh drink in hand, you looked back to where your friend once stood, and noticed she and topper had both disappeared. shrugging, you moved to stand in a more secluded area, sipping at your drink. you didn’t mind being alone, in fact, it was nice. you loved sarah, but her friends (and boyfriend) were a lot. always going on about dirty pogues and whatnot, and a few names in particular stuck out, mainly some boys named john b and jj. not that you listened to their bullshit, anyways.

suddenly, you heard a commotion and pulled yourself up, trying to see what was happening. before you could even blink, a tall body came crashing into you, nearly knocking you right off your feet with the amount of alcohol in your system. “watch it!” you exclaimed, and he looked at you and back in the direction he’d come from anxiously, licking his lips. he glanced back at you, and then at the bucket hat situated on your head that you’d chosen to wear for the night. he seemed to ponder something, before he quickly snatched your hat right off of you.

you gasped in surprise, but before you could protest but he grabbed your hand, pulling you with him. “what are you doing?!” you demanded, trying to fight against him, though it was no use. he was incredibly strong, and you could barely stand up as it was. he ran with you in tow, choosing to ignore your questions. you arrived at the tree line, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he was quick to silence you with his lips on yours, pushing you and pinning you against a tree.

“where’d that piece of shit go?” an angered voice called out, and you heard what you assumed to be the footsteps of a group of people.

“who cares rafe, let’s just go back to the beach!” you recognized sarah’s pleading voice, faintly. you couldn’t process much else however, as you were currently occupied forcibly kissing a stranger.

“he couldn’t have gone far, he’s gotta be here!” the voice seemed to get closer to you, and you were sure by now they could see the outlines of your figures, making out against the tree. it was dark enough that they couldn’t see much more, though.

“rafe, look at them. they’re probably just some tourons getting it on! let’s just go man.” topper, you assumed.

“fine.” rafe finally muttered, and the group left. the boy who had you pinned pulled away from you then, peering out and ensuring the group had fully left. you attempted to catch your breath and blinked to process what had just happened. you’d certainly sobered up with the situation, but you were still beyond confused. he looked relieved, and you finally pushed him off of you.

he seemed to forget about you momentarily because he stumbled back, looking at you in surprise. “who the fuck do you think you are?” you snapped, and he took a step back, hands raised in the air in surrender.

“woah, there- calm down.” he tried, but you weren’t having any of it.

“calm down? some boy i’ve never met nearly runs me over, then proceeds to steal my hat, drag me into the fucking woods and then pins me against a tree and kisses me without my permission? what part of that should i be calm about?” you ranted, and he seemed to realize how poorly he’d thought his plan through.

“shit, you make it sound really bad when you say it like that.” at your unamused expression, his tone turned more serious. “i’m sorry, okay? you saw! i was being chased by a bunch of guys, and you happened to be my only idea of escape.” he explained, and you scoffed.

“whatever, if i leave are you going to chase me down too, or can i just go back to the party?” you asked sarcastically, and he opened his mouth (presumably to speak), before he decided otherwise, instead shaking his head and gesturing that you could leave. you turned to do so, making your way towards the crowd.

“hey, wait!” he called out, and you turned around with a huff, quirking a brow. “uh, thanks for at least.. you know. not making a scene when they were right there. i owe you one.” he scratched the back of his neck, and you looked at him ludicrously.

“uh.. you’re welcome?” your confusion was evident and you weren’t really sure how to respond. you two stared at each other for a moment, unspeaking. after a long, awkward moment you were desperate to break the tense silence, so you spoke up. “why were those guys after you, anyways?” you asked curiously, and he smirked.

“they came to get drinks at the keg, and i filled their cups with vinegar instead of vodka. can’t say they were too pleased.” he reminisced, and you gave him a ‘what the fuck?’ look. he laughed, “they’re bad guys, don’t worry. you should probably stay away from them.”

you scoffed, “oh please. i already know them. topper thornton and rafe cameron, resident rich assholes of the obx.” you confirmed, and he turned to you, confused. he now had the chance to properly look you over, and his face hardened once he caught sight of your clothes.

“you’re a kook.” he stated, his tone flat. you were confused at his sudden mood swing, until his words settled in and realization dawned on you.

“you must be a pogue.” he nodded, and you waited a moment. when he didn’t speak, you crossed your arms defiantly at his harsh gaze. “is there an issue?”

it was his turn to scoff, looking at you with distaste. “pogues and kooks don’t exactly get along.”

“you seemed fine a few minutes ago when you knew nothing about me. “i owe you one”, remember that? i just saved your ass from getting beat up, do you want me to go find them? i’m sure they’d be glad to pick up where you left off.” you spat, fed up with his attitude. he tensed, and after a moment deflated, giving into your intense expression.

“fine, you’re right. doesn’t change the fact that this can’t be any more than a one-time thing.” he muttered, and you quirked a brow, smirking.

“did you want it to be more than a one time thing?” you teased, and he flushed, turning away from you. “my name's y/n. how about you, oh-so mysterious stranger?”

he chuckled, and you noticed yourself really enjoying his company. “i’m jj.” he said simply, and you burst out laughing. he stared at you blankly.

“sorry, sorry- it’s just- of course you are. topper warned me about you. and i can see why; you’re clearly nothing but trouble.” you said thoughtfully, and jj arched a brow, teasingly.

“if i’m trouble, why are you still here?” he asked, stepping closer to you. you took a step back, he took a step forward. next thing you knew, you found yourself right back where you started, back to a tree and the handsome blonde trapping you against it. this time however, you didn’t object.

“well, lucky enough for you.. i like trouble.” you whispered, leaning closer to him. he caught on, quickly meeting you halfway in a heated kiss. this one was much more enjoyable than the first, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

you broke the kiss only for air, and smiled up at the boy in front of you. you went to lean in again, but your phone ringing pulled your attention. not moving from your position in jj’s arms, you pulled it out of your pocket, seeing sarah’s name illuminating the screen. “shit.” you muttered, motioning for him to be quiet as you answered the phone. “hey sarah!”

“y/n, where are you? we’re heading home, rafe has a girl with him, so we gotta go. you don’t wanna get on his bad side.” you rolled your eyes. “i’ll meet you guys at the car in 5.” you assured her and hung up, not giving her a chance to respond. you turned your attention back to jj, and pouted. ��looks like our time is up, loverboy.”

he shrugged, reaching down and snatching your phone out of your hand. you reached for it, but he held it high, only returning the device when he was done fiddling with it. looking down, you saw he’d put his number in your phone. “text me?”

you smiled brightly, leaning up and kissing his cheek, before slipping under the arm trapping you between his body and the tree. “will do.” you winked, walking backwards slowly. you gave a final waved before turning around fully and making your way up the beach.

“y/n wait!” jj called, running after you. you turned, and he pulled your bucket hat off his head and offered it to you. “you forgot this.” he smiled sheepishly, and you took it from his hands, but to his surprise, you only placed it gently back on his head.

“keep it. it looks better on you, anyways.” you winked, before quickly walking away, knowing if you were late then you’d be asked too many questions. jj watched your leaving figure in awe, shaking off his stupid smile and making his way back to his friends.

“y/n, there you are! finally, let’s go!” sarah whined, and you rolled your eyes, climbing in the back seat of topper’s car, the rest of the group piling in as well. “hey, what happened to your hat?” she asked curiously, and you waved her off, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“i have no idea, but who cares, it’s just a hat.” you mumbled, and she shrugged, turning her attention to a conversation with topper, and you pulled out your phone, making sure no one was paying attention as you texted jj.

“when can i see you again?”

you shut off the phone, looking out the window at the passing landscapes with a single thing on your mind, a distant smile found its way onto your lips. a buzzing in your hand caused you to lift the device, the bright screen illuminating your face.

“how does tomorrow at noon sound?”

you were definitely never going to forget your first boneyard kegger.

#jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagine

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ms-a-z-u-l · 4 years

Text

All Over Again (Goro Akechi x Reader)

Summary: Every time, you wake up in April 9. Nothing works and you’re beginning to think you and him are going to keep dying until fate gets tired of punishing you. Until Akira finds the most cruel solution to break the cycle that keeps causing Goro pain, and you have to decide if you want to follow or stay.

Categories: Angst

Warnings: Character death

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A/N: This is the last one I’ve written. I honestly don’t know why I took so long in posting in when it was done some time ago but I sorta got my motivation back (my college essays have been killing me) I hope I can start writing more and post more quickly and get more ideas on more characters. Thank you for reading!

****************************************

Over and over, the same events repeated until either or both of you ended up death, blood pooling from your bodies as your eyes went dull and everything faded.

The next thing you know, you wake up once again in bed with groggy eyes, as if what happened last time was just a nightmare.

Every time, you would go to the living room to find Goro sitting in the couch, staring at nothing. Sitting beside him, you stared at your hands, verifying that, yes, you were alive once again and that, no, the cycle that’s been going on for who knows how long now is still taking you back in time to April 9. The day He arrived.

From changing routines, a significant action, a specific response, to the tiniest of details, nothing seem to change what happens in the end. Even letting both of you be killed together, that was the latest tactic and yet you managed to see the repeated light of day. There was silence for minutes, wondering and grasping at possibilities of what could break the torturous cycle, something missing in the equation. Goro’s knee started to bounce, seeming at his wits end.

“I’m beginning to think this is punishment” he chuckled dryly, clearly tired and restless. “If it is, then they went all out, huh?” You replied sarcastically. “It should only be me to be pulled into this bullshit” hearing him whisper that made you turn your head to look at him. His head was down now, looking defeated, or perhaps guilty, you never knew with him. Even though you’ve been living in the same apartment, Goro never really told you anything about himself or his past, and you didn’t pry in fear of appearing nosy. It wasn’t until the first time reset after he almost got shot, but you took the hit and woke up in April 9 that he told you more than he did in almost two years of knowing him. After all, the others had already found out about his father and the shit he got put through in the engine room, might as well tell his assistant and what he could call a friend everything he bottled up.

You didn’t show shock or fear despite knowing his deeds as a hit man for Shido, instead trying to change his actions this time around. None of the Phantom Thieves seemed to notice the reset in time, except for of course the leader himself. Akira didn’t notice right away, it took him the second reset to feel like something was amiss, going to Shujin for the first time again, meeting Ann and Ryuji, feeling like the conversation already happened. You both managed to notice his awareness the moment you “met” his eyes narrowing at Goro, not because of his betrayal, but because he was alive. Revealing your awareness and explaining more in detail, Akira tried to contain his shock and most of all confusion, but agreed to help find a way out.

However, nothing worked and even he was getting desperate as each reset happened. This might be punishment, but what Goro wonders is why it wasn’t only for him, but for you and Akira as well. You sighed, slowly reading your hand to lay it on his shoulder, “Maybe because I was willing to take it with you. You don’t have to be alone, even in this- whatever you wanna call it, a punishment, curse-“

“You don’t get it!!” He pushed your hand away angrily, “The least I wanted was to pull you into this!! From the moment I stepped foot out of the apartment to go after them in Shido’s palace and told you not to follow, that was the goddamn moment you should of bolted and escaped from me!! But no, you decided it was best not to listen and be stupid by following me. You ruined yourself and for what? For a petty concept such as care and friendship” He sounded harsh, and yet you didn’t dare flinch, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Hah, it’s for the same thing that you’re saying this now, idiot” you huffed, looking at him as if he was ludicrous. “What did you-“

“You didn’t want to involve me for the same reason, Goro. Because you cared, because you believed that if I saw you like that, I would be hurt, but guess fucking what, I didn’t. And I didn’t because for once I saw you, not the “look at me, I’m so charming” facade you mastered over time, and I wanted- “ you paused as you were building your resolve and stared directly at his eyes, “I wanted to see more of you, no matter how terrifying it could be, because at the end I’ll see my friend, not a monster. And I’m not justifying you. Yes, I was furious at what you did, but that didn’t mean giving up on you was the best thing to do, or leaving you to die. You will carry on your sins, and turn them into resolve to destroy this shitty system. Now we might died just a few more times-“ you narrowed your eyes and pinched your thumb and index finger close together while he wore a dumbfounded face.

“Buuut, that’s the price I took even if it meant spending all my Aprils and Mays and Junes just to get to spend more time with you” you quickly added, “even if you can be an asshole sometimes” at that, he actually slapped his hand over your mouth to shut you up, trying to keep your laughing at bay, “Keep it up and I just might be the biggest asshole and throw you out-“ you laughed harder at those words, getting him more irked. He let out a long sigh and removed his hand from your mouth, “You’re impossible”

——————————————————————

Akira was finally able to find you in the park, alone since Goro still had his work going on again. He looked disturbed in a way and serious, as if he was anxious to speak. You looked at him worryingly and with furrowed brows, “You do still remember, right? It took you quite some time now call us” you heard him hold in a breath and after a few seconds, released and began to speak, “This time when I woke up it was different, it’s going to sound weird but I kept hearing a voice”

“A voice? Did it sound familiar? Or what did it tell you?” You were brimming with curiosity now, this time it wasn’t him telling you of those dreams where he was in a cell. If something different happened, it must mean something.

“I could only hear it saying... “you have to let go” and I didn’t know what it meant. I kept hearing it this week, what I could pick from it was “loop” “break” “let” and yesterday at night it said.. “Akechi”” and after that she appeared and showed me. Her name was Lavenza, she explained everything, why she couldn’t reach me, why time keeps resetting... what caused it, and.. she told me how to stop it too” Akira stayed silent, scared of your reaction if you had already figured out what he meant, but he continued, “She told me to let Akechi- that we were supposed to let Akechi die back in Shido’s palace” he looked down, dark hair obscuring his eyes. He didn’t hear and he was getting scared that perhaps he made you in snap, but when he felt a hand harshly grab him by the collar of his uniform, he saw the judgmental look in your eyes and tears of anger starting to brim. You hands were shaking but the hold was tight, wanting him to stay still in order to listen to her words, “How..could you think..that we should just stand there.. and.. watch him die DAMMIT!!” You bursted out, “You what me to just stand there and look as they shoot him when we could something??!! I thought you all of people had at least a little regard for him” you tell him with disappointment in your voice.

“It’s not that I want him to die either!! It’s that if we keep trying to save him, he’s going to keep dying and dying, hurting him more and more!! Don’t you get it we changed something that was supposed to happen and now it’s like fate itself is getting back at us for it! We disrupted the order, even with you we-“ He suddenly kept quiet and you looked up at him, frowning, “What about me?”

....

“Akira! What about me?!” You shake him in your grasp, trying to the answer out of him, “You were never supposed to meet him either. Before what you thought was the first reset, well it was already the second. Lavenza showed me what happened the first time.. and there beside him there was no one” your eyes widened and you slowly let go of him stiffly. He tentatively continued, “The first reset was because of me, I took the shot for him and even though I didn’t die I had already changed something. That time, no one noticed that we went back in time, not even Akechi. But for some odd reason, you appeared on his way home and stumbled upon him, and for another more weird reason you became involved in his life and work, not even Lavenza can really explain but she says she has a wild guess.” Either way, the truth of the matter is, that we have to let everything run its course, y/n, even if none of us want it, I prefer letting him go than having Akechi suffer thousands of deaths. If you care for him, please you’ll know what you have to do that day, for everyone and him” he hesitantly put a hand on your shoulder and silently retreated back to Leblanc, leaving you dumbfounded and lost.

What was right? Letting the person you cared about more than anyone die in front of your eyes one last time and ending up alone? Or keep trying to find a solution while making him feel pain countless times? With those thoughts going rampage, tears started to flow freely to the ground and tiny sobs bubbled up in your throat.

You knew the answer, and yet you kept imagining a reality in where both of you could actually exist.

——————————————————————

It happened in the blink of an eye, the last thing from him a simple message that made you cry uncontrollably in the couch. This time you didn’t get to follow, he left without warning. Of course, he had found out as well, what he needed to do, he certainly wasn’t dumb. Wether it was your longing stares, your sad tone after a day with him without work in the way, or the words “this time we’ll make it right” by Akira and the far away looks he gave whenever Goro went for a cup of coffee, you even dared think there was also a hint of longing in his eyes just like yours.

You kept wailing and sobbing, your mind full of memories, of feelings, of words you can never say now, hand tightly clutching your phone. The screen was still brightly showing his message, and it was the only comfort you had that he didn’t feel pain anymore.

From Goro:

Thank you for being the best living pain in the ass in my life.

Because I care too much, I want you to live as if everything started all over again and you took another route from mine that day.

Goodbye, y/n, and thank you for the last months of letting me forget the pain and put a tiny smile in my face.

—————————————————————

December 24, a supposedly jolly day. But as you unusual rain pouring down and bones protruding form the ground, you couldn’t help but say to yourself with a resigned smile, “What a shitty and unfair world we happened to live in huh, Goro”

#persona 5 #p5 goro #akechi x reader #goro akechi #goro akechi x reader #goro x reader #reader #fanfic #angst #its actually more platonic than i intended #oneshot #writing

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

For Better And Through Worse

Rodney Skinner (The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance

Summary: Y/N is a simple girl with big dreams. She works hard towards her goal of travelling the world, seeing all it has to offer. She’s also a devoted student, one with the hopes of one day fulfilling yet another dream of becoming a fashion designer and leaving the town her and her sister have been stuck working in. Her stars align and fate smiles down upon her one day when a rather mysterious man makes his way in the café she works at.

Requested by Anon. Hello there! I’m so terribly sorry to be posting your request so late, dear. I hope the fic makes the wait worth it. This is the first time I’ve been introduced to this character and this movie in its entirety and I absolutely loved it! Thank you so much for the request and for your patience. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

“Close that book, Y/N! Your shift’s starting!“ My manager scares me half to death when his voice suddenly booms throughout the empty diner.

It’s close to one in the morning and I’m stuck with the shitty overnight shift tonight because my older sister wasn’t feeling well. I arrived early while my friend still hadn’t finished his shift and decided to kill time productively by studying behind the cash register. Even though my shift has started, there is no real reason for me to abandon my book considering how dead the place is. Dead, eerie and unsettling. It’s 24/7 diner in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Well, our town in general is a big ‘nowhere’. If you came here on vacation - no you didn’t. You probably got lost along the way to a different destination. If you live here - good luck, hope you get out soon.

A young, 5′2 girl with only a can of pepper spray to defend herself with left in a café working the shift from one to eight AM. That’s simply ludicrous! I can hardly believe my manager has the audacity to leave like this. Not even a ‘call if you need anything’ out of politeness. Nothing! He doesn’t like any of the workers here so I don’t take it personal but he’s EXTRA mean to me because my sister turned his offer of a date down. It’s a surprise he hasn’t fired the both of us yet. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if he’d be doing damage or doing us a favor by firing us.

I wait for the jerk to leave before reopening my book and proceeding with my reading. I can’t contain the smile that automatically appears on my face whenever my mind wanders into the contents of the pages. Seeing the pictures of the fashion creations gives me hope that one day I’ll be standing in front of a mannequin that will be displaying a piece I’ve designed. A piece won’t be enough though. I want an entire clothing line. Several even! The fiery passion in me won’t be easily satisfied - I have a vivid goal in mind and I won’t rest until I have it in my hands, until I’m looking at my clothes in the windows of shops and in magazines.

I unintentionally stop reading let myself daydream - well, it’s more like dreaming with open eyes considering it’s one AM. My imagination is sometimes so real it scares me. It all feels like I can reach out and grab it, hold it close, live it for a little while. However, that ideal life is soon ended by the sound of the bell that hangs above the door of the café ringing. I come flying down from my daydreaming cloud with a startled jump. My heart is beating quickly for no real reason other than the fact that there’s a person here at this hour. Knowing the type of town this one is, they are either one of the local drunks or not local at all. An outsider. The ones that everyone assumes are criminals on the run.

I couldn’t blame them if they said that about this guy. Mysterious, shady, suspicious - all adjectives that describe him perfectly. His sudden presence makes me uneasy. Many outsiders who choose to stick around for a bit frequent this bar, therefore I know some of them. This one I have never seen before. He almost looks unreal - a walking doll. He’s got an abnormally pale, sheet white complexion, a top hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses?! At the dead of an already pitch black night. I’m surprised he hasn’t stumbled into something yet. Maybe he has, what do I know.

“Good evening. One beer please.“ He says, hopping onto a bar stool and resting his elbows on the counter top of the bar that some ways down from the cash register - the two counters are connected.

“Coming right up.“ That’s the usual response I give to customers but I’ve never said it so hesitantly. He’s not being creepy or anything, he’s not even doing the staring most customers do which while uncomfortable, I still have to tolerate. The only truly off-putting thing about him is his appearance and the fact that he’s here at this hour. Drinking beer.

I keep my gaze on him out of the corner of my eye as I go fetch a cold beer bottle from the fridge behind the bar. I typically do waitressing, but I know my way around the bar as well. I see him reach for yesterday’s paper one of the previous customers has left there. He’s still distracted by it when I approach him and put a coaster down in front of him as well as the beer bottle, mumbling a quick: “Here you go.”

He lifts his head only enough to give me a nod with a small smile. From that proximity, the color of his skin looks more like paint, which is even more unsettling. He has also taken off his sunglasses, his eyes now free to make direct contact with mine which makes me pause for a second before asking the second routine question, “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes....“ His eyes go down to my nametag, “Y/N, could you tell me where this address is?“ He slides a piece of paper over closer to me.

I reluctantly nod and look at the note he’s handed me. The letters are written in poor handwriting but I can still decipher the majority of what’s written. “This address is from the next town over, sir.” I inform him with a tightlipped smile that’s my way of sort of apologizing for the inconvenience.

He nods slowly, “Well, how far is this town exactly?” He furrows his brows at me and takes out a pen, taking the note back so he could write something at the back of it.

“It’s a city compared to this one. It’s a two hour drive from here.“ I tilt my head to the side, discreetly looking at what he’s writing down.

“Thank you.“ He puts the note and pen away, “By the way, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?“ He gives me puzzled look.

I scoff and shrug my shoulders, “Working, as you can see. I’m covering this shift for someone else, I don’t usually work it.” I respond nonchalantly.

“No, I mean what are you doing working here at all?“ He points at me, “That dress, it’s self-made, right?“

Ok that’s off-putting. Either he is clairvoyant or it’s so obvious that an amateur has made it that he couldn’t help but notice and point it out. All I can give as an answer is a slight nod, a baffled expression on my face.

“That’s what I thought. It’s incredible.“ He probably realizes that he has caught me off-guard and has confused me, so he shakes his head with a small chuckle and a wave of his glove covered hand. “I saw the book you were reading on my way in. Fashion and design. So you’re an aspiring clothing designer?“

I feel relief wash over me as the confused furrow and pursed lips are replaced by a relaxed smile. I take the few steps back to where I was previously sitting and where I’ve left the book. I hand it to him once I return for him to see. “Yes, but the course here is expensive and I can’t afford it without this job.”

He nods slowly as his eyes carefully scans the pages he turns. “Impressive, so a goal-getter as well.”

I can’t help but giggle, “And a traveler at heart. I also need the money for that...” I open the book to it’s last page and show him the list I have written of places I’d like to visit.

His eyes widen a bit in amazement as they go down the neatly written list. “You know, I’ve visited some of these places. I plan on visiting the rest as well. I could use a partner.” He winks at me playfully.

I roll my eyes, “As I said, I can’t afford it. You think I’d still be in this town if I could?” I say rather bitterly. Feels like the subject is an open wound and talking about it is the same as pouring salt on it.

“Who says you’ll have to pay a penny. I said I’d like some company, you’ll be paying me with your presence.“ His gaze is firm on mine, his tone suggesting he isn’t kidding around. I unintentionally let my disbelief morph into a ‘bullshit’ expression of distrust that causes him to raise his hands up as if surrendering, “No funny business, though I know what this looks like to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t offer that to just anybody. I sense how strongly you wish to fulfill your dreams. I see it all in your eyes, there’s a flame behind them. And...I’m gonna be honest, I’ve done many less than honorable things in my life. But when I see a chance to do good, I want to take it. Now it’s on you, take it or leave it.“

I’m stunned and frozen. I can’t even answer him. I’m just standing here with my mouth hanging open and eyes wide, staring at him awaiting for him to burst out laughing at any moment like ‘Did you really believe that?!’ But he doesn’t. He remains serious and after what feels like forever smirks, putting a hundred bucks next to the untouched beer bottle.

“If you change your mind...I swing back the same time tomorrow.“

Before I can even shake free from my shock he has already left. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t be here the same time tomorrow. I feel my heart sink as my mind races, two sides of me battling - one that wants to take the chance that’s being offered to me and the other scolding me for even considering it.

Dumb or not I’m rooting for the first side.

Eyes don’t lie. Just like he read me so well just by looking at mine, I read him by looking at his. All he said was true, not a doubt in my mind about it. He meant all he said and for some odd reason I believe him despite him being a complete stranger. I don’t even know his name, for goodness’ sake! But I want to go with him. The hard part for me would be leaving my family behind though.

Well, I have a little less than twenty four hours and a seemingly never-ending uneventful shift ahead of me to ponder it.

* * *

I can’t believe any of this - not what I’ve done, not what I’m doing and most definitely not what I’m about to do.

I have packed my bags and snuck out of the house, running at full speed to the café. When I arrived I was breathless, with a heart beating faster than a galloping horse.

I’m now waiting for the man. The stranger. The person who could be anyone or anything - including dangerous - but right now all he is to me is my path to success, the person who’ll guide me to achieving my goals.

I’m about to go running away with this man, off to God knows where. No one guarantees he won’t do harm to me. I can’t be 100% certain this won’t end badly for me. All I can do is take this chance if I want to. And I really REALLY want to.

Just as the clock strikes 1:25 AM, an old car pulls up at the curb in front of the café. I’m standing in the shadows, away from any windows to avoid being spotted by the worker who’s on the dead shift as I call it. The way the car has parked it’s positioned directly underneath a street lamp, almost like it’s under a spotlight. The door to the drivers side opens to reveal the same man from last night. When he steps out in the lamp’s light he looks to be glowing, his unusually pale complexion shinning in the light.

“Y/N!“ I call out to him, startling him for once instead of the other way around.

He stops and looks around, taking the sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his surroundings. I chuckle to myself and step within the line of light, “My name’s Y/N. You already know that.” His eyes land on me and a smile spreads across his face as well as mine. “I don’t know yours though.”

He takes a step towards me, “Rodney. Rodney Skinner. Though, please don’t let that name throw you off. It was given to me for far less sadistic reasons than you may be imagining right now.”

I can’t help but laugh, “All I ask is for you to not skin me alive.”

He gives me a small bow, “I shall respect your request. Now...“ he straightens his posture and turns to motion to his car, “To freedom and adventure?”

I don’t know what takes over me and drives me to close the space between us, but it is also to blame for the fact that I pressed my lips against him. Even after realizing what I have done, I don’t pull away. I don’t see my doing as wrong - in fact, I feel like I’m doing all the right things for myself tonight. He responds to the kiss after a second or two of stunned hesitation.

The little kid in me can’t wait for this journey to commence anymore so I pull away abruptly, giving him a bright, wide smile and my eyes bright. I watch as he comes back to the present moment and nods, mumbling as if to himself a quick, “Right...” before circling around the car and opening the passenger side door.

I gladly take a seat and fasten the seatbelt while Rodney takes my suitcase and backpack and puts them in the trunk of the car. Here it is, I’m seconds away from the biggest step in my life so far. A dangerous and risky step for sure, but the sense of freedom I feel is worth it all. The joy and excitement I feel as the car starts moving is all I need to keep looking forward and keep my mind off my family’s reaction when they find my goodbye note.

“By the way, what’s at that address you showed me yesterday?“ I ask to keep myself distracted from the aforementioned thought which is stronger than I thought it would be.

“Ah, a friend of mine, Nemo. He holds the vehicle of our travels. Tell me...“ his hand nonchalantly rests on top of mine between the seats causing me to blush, “have you ever traveled by a submarine?“

I physically jolt at the absurdness of the question, “You’re not serious!” I turn to look at him, my free hand covering my mouth which is hung open in disbelief.

He laughs, taking the hand he’s holding and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles which relaxes me. “I’m deadly serious, Y/N. Speaking of Nemo though, do you know of any good barbecue places in that town? He loves a good barbecue.”

I grimace, “No and I’d much rather never know or enter one.” He gives me a quick puzzled glance, careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, “I’m a vegetarian.” I clarify with a snicker.

I see the realization be processed and show on his face, followed by a laugh when he says, “Oh Nemo’s gonna love ya.”

I don’t know if that was sarcasm or ironic. I just know one thing - I have so much ahead of me at the moment. Travelling, studying, meeting new people, seeing a submarine, for the love of God! And even a potential romantic relationship. The future has never looked so bright for me, and this is all thanks to this abnormal yet hypnotic man next to me.

Freedom and adventure, here we come!

24 notes · View notes

perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

All the right moves (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! It's an idea that flew into my head and kinda refused to let go. It left me no choice, I had to get it out of my system, so here we are :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218528

Tag list: @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Ethan loathed the politics with passion. Not all the people involved in it though, just most of them. They were twofaced and fake, which rubbed Ethan the wrong way. If someone was going to lie to his face with an artificial smile, he couldn’t stop himself from cutting their bullshit immediately and just asking them to tell him what they wanted.

Claire, on the other hand, was brilliant with people, and he knew it. She was his lifeline, his saving grace, and he knew that no matter what, he couldn’t deal with it all without her. He couldn’t deal with salesmen without her either, a random thought that he never thought he would have, but here they were.

The diagnostic team was summoned that morning along with the Board of Directors to discuss the new conditions that Edenbrook had to face. Naveen was twisting his fingers restlessly when Ethan opened the door for him and Claire to walk through, going so far as to pull out a chair for her before he sat down himself. Of course, everyone knew that Ethan was a gentleman, so his behavior wasn’t that surprising, but the fact that he trailed the resident like her shadow when they were together raised a few eyebrows over the past weeks.

“What did they say?” Claire asked, her voice filled with uncertainty, not only because of the situation, but also because of the setting she was in. Being the youngest in the room, she felt as though she maybe shouldn’t or couldn’t speak. No matter what others thought, Naveen smiled at her sadly, then pushed a stack of papers to the center of the table.

“Their first decision was to take away our funding. No amount of convincing could change their mind, Mass Kenmore seemed like a better option for them. Of course, I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.” He laughed at that, shaking his head and pointing to the second pile of files next to him. “Somehow, I managed to convince them to reconsider. Your input did a lot, that chance is all because of your dedication.” His eyes swept over every single face in the room, warmth and gratitude in them. “And they gave us a condition. Make it happen, and we get our funding back.”

“Sounds like a trap to me.” Ethan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. Claire looked back at him, noticing how he tried and failed to look at the bright side of the things.

“They said that, in order to get the money back in our corner, we need to, ridiculous as it sounds, given the fact that they didn’t want to spend any money here in the first place, open a new place for the patients.” The Chief explained, his gestures conveying how ridiculous the condition sounded.

“First they don’t want to give us money, and now they want us to make a place so they can spent even more money here? Idiots.” June chipped in, mumbling the last insult under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, causing the room to laugh, the atmosphere loosening up almost immediately.

“Are there any conditions that the place has to meet?” Claire asked, drumming her fingers against her thigh gently. Ethan’s eyes strayed from the paper he was reading to the movement of her digits before he realized what he was doing. She noticed. Of course she noticed, smirking to herself when she traced a shape of a heart on her jeans and his cheeks reddened slightly, breathing in deeply. Their colleagues seemed oblivious to the teasing they were doing.

“They mentioned something about the amount of rooms and what had to be in them. It’s all in the papers in front of you, but what stuck in my mind was the very complex outline of how the waiting area is supposed to look like.” He reached for the paper, squinting his eyes so he could read what was written on it. “A fireplace, couches, blankets, cafeteria, a patio-“

“That’s ridiculous.” Ethan moved to stand up, only to be stopped by Claire’s hand, grabbing his arm and squeezing lightly. Their eyes met, a silent argument going on for a couple of seconds. Finally, he let out a huffed breath and sat back down, leaving Claire with a satisfied grin.

“So, what we should do now is… start looking for a house? Cause that’s what it is, right?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders slightly. It really was ludicrous, just like Ethan said, but in their current circumstance, they couldn’t do much.

“Essentially, yes. I’ve already looked into a couple of locations, and I think some of them have potential. But of course, we won’t know until we go there and see it for ourselves.” Naveen summed up everything with a bright smile, a glimmer of hope in his posture.

“We can start visiting those places after our shifts are over.” Baz chimed in, beating his hands against the table a couple of times, then standing up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to wait that long. If we’re going to find a place, get renovations done and move our patients there, we need to act now. I’ve already cleared Ethan’s, Claire’s and mine schedules, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

The meeting ended a few minutes later, and all the doctors left the room. Claire went back to the locker room to leave her white coat and grab her handbag. By the time she reached Naveen’s car, both men were already there, visibly arguing.

“I need my map, Ethan, and I won’t be able to look at it if it’s in the back seat.” Naveen grinned mischievously, leaning against the hood of his vehicle. Ethan’s face hardened, slowly realizing what the older man was trying to do.

“I can hold your map if you really need it, but may I remind you that you have a GPS?” he argued, trying his hardest to mess up whatever plan his mentor’s mind has created.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary.” The Chief opened the door, threw his bag and coat into the front seat, then turned around to say something, when he noticed Claire approaching them. “Dr. Herondale! Just in time, we’re about to head over to the first location.”

Ethan’s eyes looked over her briefly, his eyes widening when he saw the outline of the heart she drew during the meeting, still on her thigh. He cleared his throat to distract from the rather obvious rush of blood to his cheeks, for the second time that day.

Naveen nudged his head towards the car, indicating for Ethan to get in, then opened the door for Claire with a megawatt smile. She thanked him quietly, sitting next to Ethan without a single word, but her eyes locked on him. Her eyebrow shot up at the sullen look on his face, unsure what that was all about. Mostly because they didn’t have time, but also because they had company, she decided not to dig. At least for now.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the first destination. A large house on the beach, made of wood, with large windows. There seemed to be a bit of a backyard, but other than that, it was a plain building. Claire didn’t see the potential in the place, but for the sake of being precise, they had to see it. She could see Ethan scowling at the sight before him, and the last thing they needed was for him to be angry, so she walked past him, pinching his arm briefly.

“Chin up, smile on, Ramsey. You’re going to scare the walls off.” She turned around and began walking backwards to wink at him. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched her disappear into the house. Naveen stood next to him, smirking at the influence the young woman had on his friend.

“How long?” he asked quietly, waiting for the attending to look at him. Ethan took a deep breath, debating whether he should let him know that he knows exactly what he was asking or not.

“Since Dolores died.” A deep sigh escaped Ethan’s lips, his eyes falling shut. Before that exact moment, he thought about it only one or two times. And every time, he realized that it’s been going on for so long, that he barely remembered what it was like to not have her in his head.

“And how long are you going to be a stubborn ass?” Naveen asked again, waiting for the other man’s eyes to snap open in shock.

“Did you just call me an ass?”

“No, I called you a stubborn ass. You already know when she entered that mind of yours. You also know that no matter how hard you try, you can’t cut her out. So, it seems to me like it’s time to give yourself a chance to be happy.” The Chief concluded, seeing the battle that was going on in the head of the younger doctor. Heavy burden and underlying weariness were painfully visible in his eyes and on his face.

“I know I can’t run forever. I’m not that strong, I am going to break at some point. But that could be going hand in hand with a scandal. If I can postpone it, protect her, even if only for one more day, I will.”

“Did you think that maybe she doesn’t want you to protect her like that?” Naveen pointed out, opening his mouth to say more but in that moment, Claire walked back outside, shaking her head to confirm what they all already knew. Without another moment of hesitation, they went back to the car and moved on. Ethan’s head was swimming with all the possibilities and ways to resolve the knot in his head. He could feel her eyes on him, warming up the side of his face, wanting nothing more than to reach out for her, to tell her everything that weight on his mind, but it was not the time nor the place for that conversation.

Another thirty minutes passed, and their car got stuck in a bit of a traffic, right before they were to reach the next location. Naveen caught Claire’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and a second later, music blasted from the speakers and the two of them started singing at the top of their lungs. She laughed, leaning into Ethan and pulling him to her, trying to make him sway in time with the music. He knew his scowl wouldn’t discourage her, but he tried anyway, noticing how she smirked and then threw her arm over his shoulder, bringing their faces close together. Her voice got softer and gentler, singing quietly. Looking into the rearview mirror, he caught Naveen’s gaze. His mentor winked at him, nudging his head towards Claire, hoping to encourage Ethan, but all he got was a glare.

“Why do I put up with both of you?” he muttered, loud enough for both of his companions to hear.

“Because you love us, and you can’t live without our brilliant humor?” the older doctor offered, eliciting a laugh from Claire and a scoff from Ethan.

After what seemed like forever, they stepped into the second location. Naveen walked ahead, leaving the pair behind. They walked in silence, looking around the rooms, trying to gather all the changes and renovations that would need to be done, realizing more and more that it was pointless. The building was old, walls were falling apart, floors were damaged beyond repair and window frames were barely hanging onto the walls.

Claire was examining the ceiling when Ethan tripped over some debris and stumbled into her, sending them both onto floor. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck to shield it from the impact, not having enough time to do anything else. He kept himself up on his arm to avoid falling on top of her, a sharp pain radiating from his elbow to his shoulder. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, but neither saying a word. It’s been a while since they were this close together, and while they knew there was nothing remotely emotional about their circumstance, the silent exchange between their eyes told a different story.

Ethan’s nose brushed against hers, his gaze falling to her lips and lingering there for a much longer moment than it should. When he looked at her again, he saw vulnerability and impossible softness in her eyes, something he knew for a fact that she could see in his too. The distance between their faces grew smaller and smaller, until their lips were mere inches apart. He could barely hear a thing that happened around him, his blood was rushing in his ears, tuning out everything else.

“Now that is a beautiful sight.” Naveen’s voice broke the connection between them, causing their heads to snap to the side, only now noticing the Chief, who must have been standing there for quite some time, watching the situation unfold. Ethan cleared his throat, shooting up to his feet, then offering his hand to Claire. She took it gratefully, letting him pick her up, both of them avoiding looking at each other or their friend. “Come on, you two. We have a few more places to see.”

Maybe they expected it to be the case, maybe they didn’t, but it turned out that every place they visited was worse than the one before. How that was even possible, they didn’t know, but somehow, each building was falling apart more than the previous one, slowly, gradually descending into the pits of despair. They were ready to throw the idea away altogether and just give up, when they pulled up to the last location.

It didn’t look like anything they were looking for. Stone walls, floors lined with stone panels, white windows and wooden door. Everything made up a warm feeling to the place, inviting to take a look inside. Claire smiled gently, being the first one to step forward, leaving the other two behind.

Rooms were big and in a surprisingly good state. Various tables and chairs were scattered among the building, some had couches and armchairs. She found a piano in the room at the very end of a house, sitting next to it. Having played it in the past had its perks, but ever since she went to med school, she didn’t have time or opportunities to practice, so all she had going for her was the kinesthetic memory of her body.

Her fingers brushed against the keys, the delicate memory filling the room. She closed her eyes, slowly remembering how the notes went, gaining confidence. As the music went on, she got lost in her head, drowning out her surrounding, reaching with her memory back to the time when her life was easier. She wouldn’t exchange the one she had now, even if she could, but it was nice to look back at her younger self.

Unknown to her, she had two pairs of eyes on her, both stunned into silence. Ethan was enchanted by the melody flowing from underneath her fingers, stepping closer to her like he couldn’t stop himself, until her was standing right behind her, mesmerized. The room soon fell silent, save it for their breaths. Claire’s shoulders moved up and down, her head turning to the side, revealing the smirk on her face.

“You couldn’t possibly be staring harder, Ethan.” She teased him, turning around fully. Ethan’s cheeks reddened slightly, his gaze avoiding her. Naveen clapped, smiling widely at her.

“That was beautiful. I didn’t know you could play the piano, Claire.” He applauded her, walking over to them both. She shrugged her shoulders, pressing a random key on the piano.

“My Dad wanted me to play an instrument, but him and my Mom never quite agreed what I should play.”

“What they were torn between?” this time it was Ethan that asked the question, finally finding his voice. Her lips curled into a fond smile.

“Piano and a violin.”

“Piano won I guess.” It was a valid assumption that Naveen made, but, to the surprise of both men, she shook her head, answering with humor in her voice.

“Bold of you both to assume that I didn’t learn both.” She observed how their eyes went wide and then they laughed, Naveen’s whole posture shaking. “My brother had it way easier.”

“He didn’t have to learn any instrument?” Ethan snickered, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the side of the piano.

“Oh no, he tried. But he is tone-deaf and ‘absolutely garbage’ as my Mom used to say, so they gave up.” she explained, applying her British accent to her Mom’s words.

Without another word, she stood up and moved to another room, still feeling Ethan’s eyes on her. For a man that insisted on them keeping the professional relationship, he spent and awful lot amount of time by her side, observing her, looking at her when he thought no one would notice. She does, every time, and sometimes she chooses to tease him about it, sometimes she lets him think he is sneaky in his actions.

While walking through the long hall, her eyes registered the change in the pattern of the wall. To her left, was a window, with one of the most beautiful stained glass designs she’s ever seen. The sun illuminated it softly, enriching the colors, creating rises and falls, curves, various tones to the pieces that came together in harmony.

“They bring out your freckles.” Ethan’s smooth voice filled the void in her mind, grabbing her attention. She tilted her head slightly, not looking away from the picture in front of her. “And your eyes. They sparkle more, though perhaps it has nothing to do with the light.”

“You must be diagnostician, Dr. Ramsey, for you are very perceptive.” She mused gently, turning to fully look at him. The darker parts of the glass casted intricate swirls onto his face, interlacing with the mimic lines that were already there. Her finger traced one of the paths, barely touching his skin, just enough to make him shiver. He couldn’t fight the smile that pulled on his lips, reflected clearly in his eyes. “There’s that smile I wanted to see.”

Never giving him enough time to say anything, she took a step back, glancing at him with a type of regret that he knew all too well. He felt it every second of every day for what felt like ages, the burden he himself chose to carry, and only he could relief himself of it. All it took was a simple ‘yes’.

More exploring of the building revealed that they may have found a perfect match. It was big enough to fit the requirements, and new enough to not require that much work to be transformed into a medical place. Just to be sure that they had everything they needed, Naveen decided to split up, leaving Ethan and Claire alone to examine the other part of the house while he inspected the rest and checked the details on the blueprints.

He walked slowly, observing how her eyes lit up when she found a new stained glass or a new fireplace. She skimmed her fingers over the stones on the wall, counting in her head how many rooms they were passing through. Ethan started thinking about to future purposes of the spaces around them, seeing in his mind how it would look once all the renovations were done.

“Ethan.” She muttered softly, standing in the doorway leading outside. He walked over to her side, looking down at her, and when she felt his gaze on her face, she nodded towards the view before them.

The same walls that made up the house lined out the patio, letting in just enough light of the afternoon sun to bathe them both in warmth. His fingers brushed against hers and then slowly laced with them, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her thumb caressed his palm, tracing soothing circles. She took a step forward, then another, pulling him along with her so they could see more.

The multiple plants lined the sides, a small, round garden filled with green bushes. Yet another fireplace with a few seats placed beside it was situated next to the door, an old string of lights hanging over their heads. Ethan reluctantly let her go, focusing on the technical side of the building while she watched the nature.

He did a round along the walls of the patio and then stopped by the table, standing next to the window. His eyes trained on Claire, watching how she muttered to herself about all the different kinds of bushes and flowers.

“I didn’t know you knew your way around plants.” She turned to look at him, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

“Good to know I can still surprise you.” teasing him, she strolled over to the table he was standing by. He placed his hands on the flat surface, leaning in her direction. “My Mom loves plants, so I picked up a lot of her knowledge when she was gardening in our backyard. She uses every winter evening to read the gardening magazines and she does sketches of her plans.”

“She seems very dedicated to the things she loves. Must be where you’re getting it from.” He mused, his eyes roaming her face with a ghost of a smile. She bit the corner of her lip cheekily, mirroring his stance, their faces close enough for him to notice the golden specks in her eyes.

“Aren’t you smooth.”

The air stood still, not moving even one strand of their hair, the absolute silence deafening. Electricity cracked between them, charging the atmosphere, and to Ethan it seemed as though keeping away from her even a second longer was simply impossible. Like two magnets, the pull was too strong to resist.

His hand grabbed the collar of her shirt, creasing the material, and pulled her to him gently, fitting his lips to hers. She hummed, letting the kiss linger, moving her lips once, twice. She wouldn’t be the one to lean away, he started it, he would have to be the one to end it.

It came later than she thought it would, his face still close, his grip still tight. Their gazes met, her irises so dark they were bordering on being black, just like his. He was afraid to step away, afraid to face the fact that she may realize how much she’s putting herself through for him and just stop trying. Her silence didn’t do anything to make him feel better either.

“Come back.” She whispered, reaching with her hand for him. Her fingers dipped into the gap between the buttons of his shirt, grasping the fabric and yanking him forward, slamming their lips back together.

It was his turn to moan, barely above a whimper, eyes falling back shut. With both hands, he gripped her hips, picking her up and sliding her over the smooth surface towards him. Her knees pressed into his thighs from both sides; she threw her arm over his shoulder, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp softly.

His embrace was everything at once, both strong and gentle, tight and loose, too much and not enough. Claire leaned backwards a bit with Ethan following suit, the kiss deepening with each move of their lips, with every heavy breath, every single pant and groan that escaped them.

He aimed his assault towards her neck, his stubble tickling her skin more with every move he made. She giggled, combing through his strands, endorphins rushing through her bloodstream. Her ankles crossed behind his back, pushing him a bit closer to her. She pulled him back to her, biting his lower lip and pulling on it, a deep growl reverberating in his chest.

“So… should I leave you two here or…?” Naveen’s voice sliced through the mist in their minds, both of them looking to the side to see their friend, leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest and a wide smile. Ethan cleared his throat, taking a step away from Claire, doing anything he could to avoid looking at either of them. “How about that, I’ll go back to the car and give you a few minutes to talk it through. We need to head back soon.”

Once they were alone again, the tingling in his hands appeared again, pushing him to touch her again, to hug her again. Watching her he noticed how she chewed on her lower lip nervously, already feeling yet another rejection from him coming. It stung him to know that he did it enough times for her to expect it.

Something changed. Maybe it was Naveen, much more at ease than either of them when he caught them tangled on top of the table. Maybe it was her, and him not being able to resist her. Or maybe it was simply that he’s kept himself away from her enough times for him to get tired and just give in. No matter what kind of a combination of all those reasons settled into his mind, it caused him to walk back over to her and press his lips to her forehead.

“Come on, we need to go. We have a lot to talk about.” He murmured, catching her hand with his and lacing their fingers together. Her eyes widened slightly, unsure what was happening. He laughed breathlessly, helping her stand up.

Naveen sat behind the steering wheel in his car, combing through his brain to find anything to say to Ethan that would break that stubbornness of his. To him it seemed fairly simple, and he knew for a fact that other people around the couple knew it too. The only blind people in this were Claire and Ethan themselves.

Something flickered in his peripheral vision, making him look up, just in time to see the two of them walking towards the vehicle. Ethan’s face was like an open book, something that didn’t happen often. All the nervousness, anxiety, relief and hope he felt, all right there, spelled out on his features.

Claire was a different story. It was as though they swapped their mind sets and demeanors, most likely due to the severe stress that they’ve both been under. If Ethan was easy to read, she was impossible to decode. Nothing was certain, nothing was clear, but he couldn’t really blame her. From what he gathered, Ethan has pushed her away enough times for her to develop a coping mechanism.

Despite the mixed emotions emanating from them, their hands were intertwined tightly. The touched lingered when he opened the door for her, the faintest of smiles on his lips when he looked at her. She observed him, still hesitant when it came to his sudden surge of delicate affection. It just wasn’t like him to behave like that and she couldn’t shake away the feeling that he would backpedal, and she would end up getting hurt all over again.

As soon as he sat down next to her, he grabbed her hand again, tracing her knuckles with his thumb. He observed her, desperation slipping into his eyes. He was the one that wronged her, he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to talk to him, if she wanted him to leave her alone.

It was as though she could hear the noise in his head, the frightening thoughts that covered everything else. Naveen always knew that she was the one thing that could calm Ethan down, but for the first time in so long, he saw her doing it. Something so simple that it almost seemed impossible to work, and yet it did.

She leaned towards him, slowly and carefully, as though she was defusing a bomb, then rested her head on his shoulder. Both her hands grasped his, her eyes locked on their fingers. Any tension that was in his or her body dissipated soon after they fell into the comfortable science, and Naveen knew that, while they still had a long way to go, they would be alright.

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