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anxious-witch · 8 months

Note

NaceKris prompt since you like angst and hurt and comfort: Kris is losing his shit over being compared to his dad again and feeling like he's not good enough, and goes to Nace to vent (I can't wait to read this one this is also very much for my own pleasure)

Sorry this took so long, this drabble got entirely too long. I hope you like it!

That said before reading. I wasn't actively trying to write Kris as autistic, but I might have slipped up. The meltdown he has is definitely...indicatory of that so just heads up for that. In case it may trigger someone, maybe skip this one

Kris stared at the headline of a portal on his phone. He shouldn't click on it. He really, really shouldn't.

Is Gušti's son on a way to surpass his father's fame with his band?

It was a click-bait. Kris knew it was a click-bite. And he knew his day was already shitty so he though: Oh, why the fuck not at this point? He clicked on the article. The article went in depth about Miha Guštin's career, and compared it to Kris'. And in comparison, Kris did not look particularly great.

And then the article ended with saying that a more appropriate comparison would be perhaps between Gušti and Bojan.

Kris closed the article. He put his phone on the table, away from him, but the words haunted him. How could he ever compare?

His whole life he was always walking either in his father's shadow or Bojan's. And he felt like a wilted flower, tired of forever trying to get to the sun.

No. He didn't think that. Being in the center of attention could be even worse. He saw the toll it took on Bojan. How his father still couldn't go anywhere in public without being recognized or photographed.

He just felt so...useless. Plain, in comparison. Bojan used to joke when they were younger that every good main character needs a few interesting side characters. That's exacrly what Kris was. A side character.

There is also a question of if Gu��ti's son would have ended up on the musical scene at all without the influence of his father.

His breath came in short gasps. Kris closed his mouth and forced hinself to try and breathe through his nose. Breathe in for four seconds, gold for seven, exhale for eight. And again.

He grabbed his phone and dialed a number he wanted before he could think about it.

"Hi, Kris," Nace's deep voice greeted him from the other side.

"Can I come over?"

Nace paused, no doubt hearing his voice wavering. There was sizzling in the background and Kris realized that Nace was probably in the middle of making lunch.

He truly knew how to pick the time for a mental breakdown.

"Of course. But are you...okay? Do you want me to come to you?"

"No, no. It's fine. I'll...we can talk when I get there."

Kris could practically see Nace furrowing his brows. Worrying if Kris was truly well enough to walk to his place, like they didn't live ten minutes away from one another.

"It's fine, really. See you in a few."

He ended the call before Nace coukd say anything else. Even just hearing his voice calmed him down a bit.

The walk to Nace's apartment wasn't long, but to Kris' spiralling thoughts, it felt like ages. When he finally reached it and rang the doorbell, he felt overwhelming relief.

Loud barking came from the other side of the door. Kris heard Nace cursing as he tried to get around Ollie and unlock the door.

Kris did his best to put on a smile as the doors opened.

"Get in quickly, before he gets out," Nace said urgently.

Kris stepped through the door, shutting it behind him. Ollie immediately began jumping at him and demanding attention. He crouched down to pet him and let him lick his hands. He grit his teeth and counted to ten to not flinch from it.

"Right. Ollie, that's enough, let him breathe."

"It's okay. Really."

He was still crouching down, so he had to look up. Of course, that was the moment he noticed Nace was wearing a black tank top.

The bassist didn't wear sleeveless shirts often, but God we he did...fuck. Kris had to concentrate.

"I'm okay, I think. It was. I read an article I shouldn't have and I just..."

...wanted to see you. He swallowed. Thankfully, Nace seemed to understand. He offered Kris a hand to pull him up.

"Let's go to the living room first."

Saliva from Ollie licking his hands suddenly became very uncomfortable. Almost burning. And Nace was probably going to eat.

"I'll just go wash my hands first," Kris said, getting up without taking Nace's hand.

Ollie whined sadly at the lack of attention and Nace gave him a worried look right before Kris dashed to the bathroom.

He took a few deep breaths, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. Then he thoroughly washed his hands with soap. He stopped when the skin started getting red. He didn't want Nace asking questions about that.

He found Nace setting up the table in the dinning room. He put down two plates. And on the left side, where Kris prefered to sit, there was a fork, a spoon and a knife he liked. His chest felt warm. He never explicitly told Nace this, but he noticed anyway.

"I wasn't sure if you ate already but I figured it won't hurt to put another plate for you."

"Thank you," Kris said quietly.

He sat down and only then did he dare to sneak a look at Nace, who sat at the opposite side of the table. Maybe it was the light. Or the fact that Kris felt shaky and Nace was always so solid and steady. Like Kris could lean on him and he would not crack under the weight Kris was carrying.

Whatever it was, it made tears suddenly run down his cheeks. Like the pressure caught up with him all at once and was now crushing his chest.

There was a sound of chair scrapping against the floor, and it seemed so loud at the moment Kris had to cover his ears. He was sobbing, he realized, almost distantly.

It felt like he was shifting in an out of his body. One moment he was so overwhelmed with all the sensations and in the other he felt completely numb. He knew he was crying but felt none of it.

Then the lights turned off and the radio that played in the background was silenced, too. All he could hear for the moment were his own sobs and heavy breathing.

"Kris?"

Nace's voice was soft and quiet. It didn't feel like someone scratching their nails over his ears. Kris slowly lowered his hands from his ears.

"Can I touch you?"

Kris considered it. He didn't think he could stand that yet, though. He shook his head.

"Okay. How about we go through the exercise we do with Bojan?"

Kris almost snapped that he wasn't having a panic attack. That this was different. That everything was just too much. But that would use up too much air. And Nace looked so worried. He nodded.

"Okay. Only focus on five things you can see, okay? You don't have to tell me which ones out loud, just count them."

He didn't have the strenght to roll his eyes. Instead, he counted. One, Nace. Two, red tablecoth with a horrendous Christmas pattern. Why did it have Christmas pattern? It was October.

"Don't get distracted," Nace gently reprimanded.

Right. Counting.

Three, the table. Four, the plate. Fifth...the fork.

He looked back at Nace and nodded once, indicating he was done.

"Alright. Four things you can touch?"

One, the hoodie he was wearing. Two, his jeans. Three, the chair he was sitting on. Four...

He reached out and carefully grasped Nace's shoulder. Well, a place between his shoulder and neck, so his hand was touching his shirt. It felt more bearable when it was him touching Nace and there was a layer if soft cotton between their skin.

"Three things you can hear."

Nace's voice. Faint buzzing of the refrigerator. Their heavy breathing.

He nodded again.

"Two things you can smell?"

Tomato soup on the table, steaming from the pot. Faint traces of Nace's cologone.

Another nod.

"One thing you can taste?"

Nothing. Just water he drank earlier. He supposed that counted, though. He nodded.

"Okay. Do you feel a bit better?"

He considered it. He felt exhausted but certainly less overwhelmed. And his hand on Nace's shoulder wasn't painful sensation, but just a neutral one. That was a good sign.

"Yes."

"Alright. Do you want to eat, or would you prefer to lie down on the couch for a bit?"

"Lie down."

This time, when Nace offered him his hand, Kris took it. It was warm and slight callused. Steady.

He took him to the living room and covered him with a blanket when Kris laid down. Turned off the lights.

"I will just go get my plate."

So that was how Kris ended up with his eyes closed, listening to Nace eating his soup. And really, it should have been an annoying sound but somehow...it wasn't.

Then Nace put his plate on the coffee table with a dull clank. Kris cracked his eyes open, just to see Nace looking at him.

"Can I get you water? Or juice? Or...something?"

"Water would be nice."

When Nace came back with a glass, he held it to Kris' lips instead of letting him take it. His cheeks warmed. He drank and tried not to think about how suggestive this looked like.

Nace quietly set the glass aside after he was done and sat back down. Silence streched.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kris huffed. He supposed he should. He did just barge into Nace's apartment and had a meltdown. Potentially scarred his dog, since Ollie was nowhere to be found.

"I just had a really shitty day. My coffee maching broke, so I had to get a coffee to go from a cafe, which meant I was almost ten minutes late to the practice. And you know how that went, you were there. Jan managed to cut his finger on a string badly and there was blood and I couldn't find my first aid kit because Bojan put it in the wrong drawer-"

"Kris. Breathe."

He fidgeted with his sleeve and took few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He rubbed his hands over his jeans, letting the texture ground him.

"Right. And then I came home and I was scrolling through Instagram and someone mentioned an article that talked about me and my dad. So I looked it up and it went on to essentially explain how I will never measure up to him and they are sort of right because. No I won't, our careers are different anyway, but then I realized how fucking useless-"

He stopped as Nace took his hands in his own. He gently rubbed over his knuckles and suddenly Kris was tongue-tied.

"Sorry. Should have asked before touching you."

"It's okay."

More than okay, now. It was comforting. He didn't always like touch and not from anyone, but he didn't mind it now.

"You are not your dad and you don't have to be. You are your own person, with your own way of doing things."

Kris opened his mouth, but Nace raised his hand to stop him.

"No-don't interrupt me. I know you know that, but you still try so hard to be perfect all the time. Jesus, Kris you sometimes hold yourself to such impossible standard, it pains me to watch."

Kris simply stared at him. No one ever put it that way. It was always just "You don't have to me like your dad". But never "You don't have to be perfect at all, even in a way specific to you".

"Oh."

Nace's expression softened. He gently pulled him into a hug, Kris' face perfectly fitting between his shiulder and neck. Few tears escaped him as Nace stroked his hair.

"You are good enough as you are. You don't have to try. And you don't have to compete all the time with Bojan, either. Life isn't a competition."

Kris chuckled, despite the tears.

"Kind of feels like it for me."

"Because you never let yourself relax and just...be yourself. Breathe. Relax. I promise you are safe."

Nace's words slowly sank in and to his surprise, he felt like he could finally relax. Let all the bitterness slip away for a moment.

He pulled Nace closer, so they somehow both ended up lying on the couch that was certainly not made for teo men their size. Still, they managed.

"Can you help me with that?"

"With what? Being yourself?"

Kris rolled his eyes and slightly pulled back so he could look at Nace. He reached his hand out and cupped his face. Stroked his thumb over his cheek. Finally allowing himself to do it.

Nace's breath hitched, but he didn't pull away. His eyes carefully considered him.

"No. To relax."

"I don't think your definition of relaxing is a good idea right now."

Kris huffed. Maybe it was the bone deep exhaustion that started to settle in, or the fact that he figured that surely, this day can't get much worse. Whatever it was, it made him lean in, pressing a quick kiss to Nace's lips.

Nace didn't kiss him back.

"I'm sorry-"

"I am not rejecting you. I just don't think this is a good idea while you are this upset."

That was...infuriatingly reasonable. Still, Kris felt embarrassed and slightly disappointed. It felt like a rejection.

Nace sighed.

"Kris. I promise we can talk about this later. For now...how about you get some rest? You look tired."

Kris bit his lip. He was tired. But he was also very comfortable with Nace next to him. He snuggled back into his neck.

"Only if you stay."

Nace kissed the side of his head.

"Always."

Not everything was okay, and however his talk with Nace later went, not everything will magically get solved. But maybe for now...Kris could relax. Just for a bit.

With that as his last thought, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Safe and sound.

#nacekris #my writing #joker out fanfic #kris guštin #nace jordan #joker out

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theanothersherlockian · 5 months

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Me nace del corazón || Frankie Morales x Latinx!Reader

Just a quick drabble. I wanted to make Frankie embrace his Latin side jeje.

Reader is gender neutral, no physical description. She understans spanish and speaks it.

The translation of the song at the very end.

just 500 words

this might or not might be self indulgent (it is c: )

Music was always in the scene, no matter how the mood was. It could always lift him up if Frankie had a bad day at work, or keep the good energy on a good day.

You hadn’t gotten him to admit it verbally but he loves to dance, especially if it's with you. Well, he only likes to dance if it's with you. Swirling you around, humming along to the song, not minding where you were, not worrying about prying eyes, being with you was enough to take him out of his comfort zone.

You had a stressful day. Things at work didn't work out how you wanted, making a domino effect on everything else. It just wasn't your day. You just wanted to get home and de-inflate, laying on the couch with Frankie, maybe even starting a movie that you probably sleep through.

Once at home, you started making dinner, something small for the two of you. You put your playlist on your phone, something with a fun tempo to make you feel better, and in no time you started singing and dancing along too.

Frankie didn’t make a sound when he unlocked the door, he had made it sure to be that way when he heard you through the walls, your voice and laughter making him soft every time he heard it. He opened the door and made his way in with light feet. He stood there watching you, he couldn’t believe this was his life now, after everything he's been through at the military, he now can be at ease. If only young Frankie could see how his life would do a total 180.

You turned around, and saw Frankie there.

“You’re early” you say laughing

“Hey baby,” he said, walking closer to you, pulling and hugging your waist. He started to swing you slowly to the tempo of the music. Until it changes to a different song.

He grinned knowing the song. He would always sing that to you. The trumpets making the entrance.

“Frankiee!” you said playfully laughing into his neck.

“Me nace del corazón” he started singing along the song “Decirle que usted es mi vida, que no se vivir sin usted disculpe que se lo diga.”

Frankie started swinging at you jumping on his feet at the new fast tempo. His right hand held you tighter to the waist while the left hand intertwined your right hand, making it go up and down.

His voice was playful but at the same time his low voice made you feel something. He swirled you around on your feet. his right hand always knows its way to your hip. You both were dancing through the kitchen.

Your laughs impregnated the room. You were always happy to be with him, he made your days brighter no matter how bad they were.

“Y quiero sentir sus besos, su manos que me acaricien” you started singing with him as well “quiero comprobar que vivo, no quiero morir de amor”

You both were breathing fast, giggling into each other when the song was over. Your head resting on each other, lips bruising.

“I love you” you whispered to him, the breathing slowing as a sense of welcoming washed over you.

“I love you too baby” he whispered back to you. His soft eyes linger on your face

*~*

the name of the song is “Me nace del corazón” and it’s specifically Juan Gabriel’s version.

ME NACE DEL CORAZÓN DECIRLE QUE USTED ES MI VIDA: It is born from my heart to tell you that you are my life.

QUE NO SE VIVIR SIN USTED DISCULPA QUE SE LO DIGA: that i don’t know how to live without you, i’m sorry for telling you.

Y QUIERO SENTIR SUS BESOS, SUS MANOS QUE ME ACARICIEN: And I want to feel your kisses, your hands that caress me.

QUIERO COMPROBAR QUE VIVO NO QUIERO MORIR DE AMOR: I want to check that i’m alive, i don’t want to die of love.

#frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfic #triple frontier #frankie morales x latinx reader #frankie morales x latina #frankie my beloved #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales

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sepetajmikolikomehoces · 6 months

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Collected works

Supervoimii:

It’s a strange sensation, Jere thinks, like there is some unimaginable void threatening to open wide inside of him and consume him, something so beyond him that he will drown in its depths.

Bojere oneshot, a quick little hurt and comfort piece for anyone wishing to relive the grand final.

sä saat mut:

It's all a bubble, Bojan thinks. Different place, same kind of strange removal from reality. This is both better and worse.

It is better, because it is less eyes, less pressure, less intensity. It's worse because… Because it's them.

Bojere oneshot. Tavastia 1.0 was beautiful and nothing hurt. So gotta make it a little bittersweet. But mostly fluffy and gentle on the feelings.

hukun täällä lakanoihin

It starts as a joke.

What else?

Everything between them has been a joke from the very beginning, until it hasn’t. Hamming it up for the cameras, for the gram, for every bit of publicity somehow grew into a friendship, grew into something that Jere has been feeling at odds with ever since May. It’s hard to think that there was a time when Bojan wasn’t a part of his life, when touches were simple and words were uncomplicated things that he bent and twisted to his will.

Bojere oneshot. The fix-it I personally needed after the Euro tour. Angst, fluff and smut, in that order, because it always has to hurt a little.

it's that time of the year (when the world falls in love)

Jan exhales, condensation dissipating in front of him. It feels… odd. The quiet after a long tour season, a Christmas that passed in a blink amidst family, and three final concerts; it sits like a square peg in a round hole.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Nace looks unbearably soft, hair messy and glasses perched on his nose, a contented smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jance oneshot. The end of the year and birthday celebration I so wished for these two. Soft, sweet, with a bit of gentle smut for good measure.

poljubi

For all that they manage to carve out little pockets of time spent alone and offline, for all that happens away from prying eyes, they never actually kiss in Liverpool. A tale of a first and a second, and the differences between them.

I discussed possible Bojere kissing with punanenmarli, tossed out a two line hypothetical and got asked if I could write it as a drabble, and well... who am I to deny a friend?

(meidän välillä on) katkematon lanka

“Äiti, when did you dream of isi?”

“When I needed him the most.”

Jere thinks about that exchange now, a year down the line and staring the harsh reality of his life in the face. A year has been enough to chip away most of what he was, all of what he had. If ever he needed the Dream, the one where he’d see his soulmate and know, then is this not it?

Bojere soulmate WIP, in which you see your soulmate in your dreams. When? When you most all need it.

šepetaj mi koliko me hočeš

It’s not that Bojan is… a prude. He has needs. And usually, he would address those needs the way he’s always done; bar hopping with his university friends, finding a willing someone to burn off the tension that has gathered in his body and parting ways before the sun has time to shine a light on his choices.

The picture is cropped, showing a bare-chested man, a hint of a tattoo, gorgeous hands with green painted nails and the hint of a smile that just tugs at him.

paidatonriehuja

Bojere WIP. Oh my god. The one that got away from me and got me bopped in the head by Apollo's dodgeball. Went from oneshot to two-part to "every ounce of control I thought I had over these clowns was imagined, so fuck it, we ball". Gorgeous art by @lumea-art and @lhma linked in first chapter

#P writes #writings from the gremlin #bojere #käärijä #bojan cvjetićanin #Jance #Jan Peteh #Nace Jordan

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girlintotv · 2 months

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20 questions for fic writers

Thank you to for tagging me, @mamadoc. This means a lot to me.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

101! It feels like such a dream to be over 100 fics.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

1,434,829 total since mid 2022 and 387,124 just in 2024!

Word count means a lot to me.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Written and posted for: Chenford (The Rookie) 80 fics, Stris (SWAT) 15 fics, Buddie (911) 3 fics, Nace (Nancy Drew) 2 fics, Dramione (Harry Potter) 1 fic and it was a birthday gift. I don’t even go there, and Two&Three (Dark Matteter) 1 fic.

I’ve written for other fandoms (that’s a longer list), but I haven’t posted those old little pieces of drabble, and I never intend to.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Sorry, friends, I don’t check kudos. I appreciate them, but I don’t look at hits, or kudos, or subscriptions, or bookmarks as units of measure. Ever. I can’t control how many and who likes my work, and so I don’t want to think about my work based on those numbers. I look at my word count, and that’s what I’m proud of. That tells me I’ve found a certain amount of time to do what I love, so I’ll go with Top 5 Fics by Word Count:

Limelight Love Story (Chenford)

Let’s Get Together (Chenford)

A Full Moon Curse (Chenford)

For Fake and For Real (Chenford)

King of My Heart (Chenford)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! Anyone who takes the time to leave a (positive) comment is someone I really appreciate. It means SO much to me, since that’s the only way I gauge engagement (as I mentioned before, I do not check kudos, etc.). It does take me a while to reply to comments, which I do apologize about. When I have a few minutes, I can either reply to comments or keep writing, and I tend to pick to keep writing, hence the delay in replying, but I will. I promise.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Written and posted so far: All Dogs Go To Heaven. I will truly NEVER live that story down. Sorry!!!

Second place is: You’re Losing Me (Pt. II).

I love angst. So much. Angst at the beginning of a story, angst in the middle, angst at the end…all of it! I do *tend* to write happily ever afters that are hard won, but nothing hurts like a super sad ending that will make you enjoy a good cry. I’m damaged. Leave me alone.

Also, I have my own angst scale to assess the pain of my stories (attached to this post for reference and in my profile on AO3). My love of pain is very serious. I already mentioned I’m damaged. Leave me alone.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my multichapters have a sugary sweet happy ending including a fluffy epilogue, because after the rollercoaster of angst, I feel like the beloved ship I’m writing for deserves it (also anyone who reads my fics and rides the rollercoasters deserves some happiness…usually) I think I Pretend You’re Mine might be the happiest, or The Story Of Us, or Let’s Get Together? Someone else might be a better judge.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

ALL.THE.TIME! Since I started actively posting very regularly at the beginning of 2023 to now, I haven’t gone a month without receiving hate on a fic. It’s exhausting at times and, admittedly, has slowed my writing down a bit as of late.

Fun fact: I got some smut hate and quickly wrote and dedicated a smut fic to “my hater” called: A Great Way to Start the Day

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write mostly E and some gentler M smut. Nothing too kinky (posted thus far). It’s all been for Chenford as of now, and I have fun with it.

Smuttiest fic I’ve written: Lucy Chen and the Deadly Pixies

Second place: Out With A Bang

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I’ve got half of an outline for a Caskett x Chenford crossover somewhere on my list. I hope I get to actually write it someday.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Who would steal MY insanity? No, I haven’t (to my knowledge).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve been approached a few times. I would be open to someone translating one of my fics into another language. Feel free to reach out!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

It’s been a privilege to co-write Even If Saving You Sends Me To Heaven with heartofrookie and Somebody Save Me and Our Secretly Perfect Holidays with thatfandomwriter.

Always open to a collab!

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I could NEVER pick, but Chenford has my heart right now by a LANDSLIDE.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I really believe I will finish all of them. If I start posting, I will finish the story. I hope I have the inspiration and time to write everything I have an idea for.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Being passionate and outlining. I think the passion of a writer will ALWAYS come through in their work. It’s so clear when someone is having fun with their story, and I always ALWAYS do, or I won’t write the fic. Also, I really thoroughly outline my stories before I ever write a word. It’s really important to me to have everything planned out to execute a story that has all of the aspects, plot, arcs, and development I want to include. Also, angst just won’t hit the same unless it’s outlined and well thought out. Otherwise, it can feel unnecessary, but all my angst has a reason.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pretty much everything especially fluff. I’ll never say I’m a great writer. I know that I’m not. I will say, I always enjoy myself and make myself happy with my work (or a friend on their birthday if I write them a birthday fic). That’s all that matters to me. I don’t need to be good or be a strong writer. I’m okay with being meh.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve thrown in some Spanish for Chris in a Stris fic, but otherwise, haven’t done it yet. If someone else is comfortable speaking another language that a character speaks, I say go for it!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically, I wrote a story when I was REALLY young about Zack and Cody’s parents getting a divorce. I wrote it on my phone, and never posted it, and have long since deleted it (I am so embarrassed that I am sharing this right now). First fandom I posted for was MacRiley (MacGyver). My friend and I were obsessed with the show, it got canceled before the ship went canon, and so I wrote what I would have written for the final season. I posted it on WattPad. It’s not very good, but I did it and posted it per a friend’s request. Don’t judge me.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

There are a few.

Favorite MCD: Back to December (Chenford) This is the only story of mine that I’ve reread for pleasure.

Favorite vulnerable Tim: I Just Want You To Know Who I Am (Chenford)

Favorite I’ve written when I was in a dark place but still made something I think is beautiful: You Can’t Spell “Time” Without “Tim” (Chenford)

Favorite because someone told me they refused to take their own life until the story ended and sought help before I finished posting, so it’s the reason they’re still alive: King of My Heart (Chenford)

Favorite guilty pleasure story I’m glad I wrote: Let’s Get Together (Chenford)

Favorite because it was my first real multichapter Chenford fic: For Fake and For Real (Chenford)

Favorite breakup fic with a happy ending: You’re Missing From Me (Chenford)

Favorite Stris fic I *will* finish eventually: STRIS Season 6+ (Stris)

Appreciate being tagged and asked to talk about my fics. It’s been a pleasure to answer these questions.

Alright, time to go back to writing.

#chenford fic #chenford #chenford fanfic #fanfic #fanfic writer #fanfic writing

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honey-tea-and-lemon-trees · 10 months

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…bagels 👀

hello. below (and on ao3 because I don’t know how to write short lil drabbles apparently) is pure, silly, tooth-rotting fluff. established nace, same brain silliness. please enjoy <3

————————————

It’s been a long, frequently employed, running joke amongst their circle - how similar they are.

Since the beginning, it’s been years of shared chuckles and rolled eyes as they observe Ace and Nancy talk to each other in half-sentences, communicating in a language only the two of them can understand. Cries of disbelief as Nancy finds Ace’s eyes across the room at exactly the right moment, and knows in her bones that he’d cracked the solution to a case; feeling his gaze on her seconds before she beats him to the answer; or best of all, when the only way to beat something is to swirl their thoughts together in one glass, the solve a well-mixed cocktail of them two of them.

It’s mostly limited to eyebrow wagging and shaking heads when their poring over murder boards, but stems into full blown outrage at family game nights.

It was established, fairly early on, that they weren’t allowed to be on the same team due to unfair advantage.

‘What advantage?’ Nancy head yelled, disgruntled as she threw her legs across Ace’s on the couch.

‘That thing you two do,’ Ryan had murmed with narrowed eyes. ‘We’ve collectively agreed it shouldn’t be allowed for fair and square games.’

Ace’s eyes had swung to Nancy’s, his mouth pinched in a, ‘ huh’ .

Nancy raised a brow, to which he shrugged.

‘Yes!’ Bess had clapped her hands furiously, ripping their attention away from each other. ‘That’s the thing!’

‘No couples allowed!’ Especially you two weirdos,’ George had said decisively. She waved a hand in Nick’s direction, on the other side of the room, as if to prove her point.

‘I object,’ Ace said lazily, as Carson strolled into the Drew house living room.

‘Overruled. Sorry kids.’

Then, it was decreed they weren’t allowed to be on opposite teams because they both got too caught up and competitive until George snapped that they were giving her a headache and to ‘fucking chill out.’

One… particularly heated , incident gets them slapped with a ban from the next two game nights. Nancy’s left yelling on the doorstep, Ace’s jaw still hanging open as Nick closes the door to his and George’s house with a regretful shrug, with a stern dad look about his face.

Nancy scoffs and turns to Ace. They blink at each other in the soft evening light.

‘That was your fault.’ Nancy pokes Ace in the ribs and tries to stop her traitorous lips from curving into a smile.

‘I have no defense… Game Night Ace is a passionate guy. Sometimes he takes the reins and I don’t come-to until the yelling cuts through the trance,’ he mutters, looking convincingly sorrowful. Hair hanging over his wide, blue eyes in a gut-wrenchingly innocent puppy dog gaze.

The smile blooms fully across her face, even as she rolls her eyes. ‘Game Night Ace is pretty ridiculous.’

‘You’re tellin’ me.’ He shakes his head as he offers Nancy his arm.

She snakes her hand around Ace’s bicep and embraces the magnetic pull of her body towards his, despite the still sticky heat of the evening.

They didn’t bring a car, it’s not a far walk from Nick and George’s to their place. They stroll in companionable quiet until a townsperson inevitably stops them every few minutes and they have to engage in conversation. Nancy knows as many of them as Ace does, has reasons to like each of them, but can’t say she’d stop her journey for every single one, if not for the humanoid golden retriever she’s attached to.

Nancy spends the walk, and intermittent conversations, tracing mindless patterns on the warm skin of Ace’s arm, shown off in one of his short-sleeved floral shirts that she loves, tinged golden from weeks of warm, summer sun.

They’re nearly thirty minutes into their nine minute commute home, and yet Nancy doesn’t want to burst the bubble of the evening yet. She’s drunk on the laughter of her friends and family, the ridiculousness of getting thrown out of game night because of the man she loves.

She nudges Ace’s shoulder with her chin as he waves to Mrs Feldman, finally retreating. ‘Do you want to see if Cindy’s still got the ice cream parlour open?’ She murmurs softly, nuzzling her nose against his shirtsleeve slightly.

Ace looks at her with an impossibly tender expression, a smile curling his lips and a hand suddenly clutching his heart. ‘You just read my mind, Nance.’

In the absence of game nights come bets.

They start because there is only one blueberry bagel left.

‘That bagel is mine, Drew.’ Ace looks at her with widened eyes, hands held out cautiously in front of him as he slowly shuffles towards her.

Nancy yelps as he suddenly darts around their kitchen table, narrowly missing his hand grabbing for her waist. She readjusts her hold on the plate where her bagel precariously resides.

‘Seeing as it’s in my hand, I don’t see how that can be true, Hardy,’ she muses, continuing to pace backwards around the table.

‘You acquired it through nefarious means and you know it!’ His voice is a scratchy, morning rumble.

She shrugs. ‘Nothing you can prove.’

‘Maybe so…’ He breathes a laugh, straightening and running a hand through his still sleep-mussed hair, the muscles in his arm bunching more deliciously than a blueberry bagel.

This man plays dirty, it’s an attack on all of Nancy’s weak areas and he knows it.

Unfortunately it works. Her stomach is still fluttering even as she shrieks a laugh when this time, his hands do encircle her waist. He walks them backwards until she’s boxed in by his hands on the counter either side of her body, the plated bagel trapped between their chests.

The corners of his eyes crinkle with lines that weren’t there when they first got together. Evidence of years of smiles just for Nancy, like a whisper in her ear, on a man who they’re hard to coax from.

Gotcha , his smirk says now.

‘Fine,’ she mumbles grumpily, as Ace lets out a quiet victory laugh and drops a kiss onto her bare shoulder, where the strap of her tank top has fallen down. ‘I’ll share.’ She holds it out half for him, and he takes a bite without removing his hands from beside her, letting out a happy hum while he chews. ‘But only because I know how grumpy you’d be without your morning bagel.’

He huffs with his mouth full. Presses a blueberry flavoured kiss to her lips before he says, ‘Not exactly cutting coming from you, Nance.’

Her jaw goes slack with mock shock as she offers him another bite of bagel. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re grumpy as hell if you don’t get your morning bagel fix,’ he murmurs before he tears another bite off. He kisses the edge of her mouth again and pushes off the counter. ‘But you eat the rest of that, I’ll get dressed and go grab some more.’

‘Nope, you have it,’ Nancy says, holding out the plate to him, chin lifted indignantly. ‘And don’t worry about going out… I don’t need a bagel.’

Ace raises a brow at her. She mirrors his expression challengingly.

He cautiously takes the plate from her outstretched hands, eyeing her carefully.

‘In fact,’ she muses. ‘I won’t have any more bagels… this week!’

‘Nancy…’ he drags out her name in a groan that makes her chest flutter. He discards the plate on the table and grabs her waist. ‘I’m just kidding around. I’m grumpy without my bagel too!’

‘I know you were, but you presented a challenge. And I don’t back down from those.’ She smirks, winding her arms around his neck. ‘Do you think you could go without for a week?’

He blinks. ‘ Could and Wanting to… very different concepts here.’

She pouts her lips, eyeing him teasingly. ‘You couldn’t then.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying…’

‘Well, prove it then.’

Ace narrows his eyes. Nancy pokes the bear.

‘I bet you cave before I do,’ she whispers against his lips.

His whisper is immediate and cursing. ‘God dammit.’

‘What’s wrong with Nancy?’ Bess hisses at a volume she thinks Nancy can’t hear, but Icarus Hall (the newly established premises of the Historical Society, since Ace and Nancy found a place in town) is echoey as hell.

Ace hisses back through the corner of his mouth. ‘She’s trying to win a bagel bet.’

‘In words we’ll all understand please, darling,’ Bess prompts.

‘We swore off bagels until the other caves and eats one. Haven’t had any in a week.’

‘Oh god…’

Ace hums consolingly. ‘We had to walk past the store and smell all the freshly baked cinnamon bagels. Mrs G’s new recipe… She isn’t taking it well.’

‘Ooh… those are to die for though.’

Ace groans, dropping his head onto the desk. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

Nancy swivels in her chair, calling across the room to where the pair of them are sitting. ‘He’s so close to giving in, I can taste it.’

‘I am made of stone. Nothing can break me,’ Ace says, completely deadpan.

‘Ha!’ Nancy shuts the door with a smug grin on her face, on Day 8 of the bagel bet. If the Horseshoe Baygles bag sitting on the counter were not damning enough, there’s a half eaten one hanging out of Ace’s mouth. Game over.

‘She got me! Mrs G cornered me and asked why I hadn’t been in! She said she’d been worried about us, Nancy!’ He collapses into a chair heavily, wraps his mouth around another hulking bite. ‘I was gonna just take the bag over to my mom’s but once I had that smell circulating in Florence… I was a goner.’

Nancy laughs, as she slips off her shoes and pads across the floor towards him. She nudges his knees so she can step between them, cradling his face to tilt up to her.

‘You really can’t resist an old lady offering you bagels?’ She brushes a knuckle against his cheek.

‘I really can’t.’ He shakes his head gently in her grip. ‘May or may not have eaten three already.’

‘You’re going to have a stomach ache.’

‘I’d do it again. These are fucking delicious,’ he whispers seriously, coaxing another laugh from Nancy.

‘I love you, strange man.’ She leans down and Ace smiles into her kiss. ‘Did you at least save me some?’

‘Do I wanna live to the end of the day? ‘Course I left you some,’ he mutters with a smirk.

Nancy immediately leans over him reaching for the paper bag. ‘I already have ideas for new bets… I want to keep this winning streak going and I think I can beat you again.’

Ace chest rumbles with a rare, bursting laugh, tugging her waist until she’s fully seated in his lap. Nancy lets out a surprised yelp, barely keeping a hold on her bagel bag.

‘I love you, strange woman.’ He gazes at her, and her chest throbs with the tenderness splayed across his face.

Even after all this time, the loving him isn’t the slightest bit tiring.

‘Tell me your ideas, Nance... But be warned. This time, I’m beating you.’

#nace #nancy drew #nancy x ace #ask games #prompt fill

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winterlovesong1 · 2 years

Text

{happy holidays}

Based on the prompt: "you always see the good in people. even me. For @scarletslippers - Also on A03

-/-

“You always see the good in people.” She pauses briefly, “even me.”

There’s hardly a beat before he answers.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you know…” mumbling into his cotton gray sweater she bought him last year, “I’m not the most warm person during the holidays.”

“Nancy, you are a toasty cup of cocoa compared to George’s icy lake personality.”

She elbows him softly in the abs as she lays on his chest on the sofa. Coughing through a breezy laugh he settles into a slightly edited phrase.

“Her lovely pristine ice lake personality.”

He adjusts himself so he can rest his chin upon her head and trails his fingers along her side.

“So what do you mean?”

She debates about the truth and mulls it over in her mind like a pro and con list to buy or not buy the perfect gift for someone, knowing full well a purchase is going to happen.

“I mean, however much the holidays get filled with family and friends, there is still one missing and sometimes I take that bereavement out on you.”

He tugs her closer into his chest. He smells more and more like evergreen this time of year. She breathes in heavily.

“Sorry.”

He waits a few seconds taking in her apology for her snapping behavior lately and tilts her chin up to his eyes with his left hand l.

“Never be sorry for grieving, Nancy.”

There’s a weighted beat of recognition and she swallows hard, but not without tears welling her eyes glassy with salt.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to her lips.

Happy holidays may be corny but moments like this seem to bring that sentiment to life.

#in which I convert old prompts into holiday prompts #nace drabbles #nace holiday drabble #nace

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hotcat37 · 4 months

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🌹

"Whose bitch are you, Nace?" Jan chuckles, barely audible over the sound of the headboard smacking against the wall.

(from a smutty Jance drabble based on the Nace's bitch glasses 👀💕)

#hotcat ask #writers game #this is fun!!

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aces-drew · 7 months

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Hi! I just wanted to drop in and say that I adore your two Nace fics so much to the point that I have probably reread them about 20 millions and if you ever want to write for them again I would be more than WILLING (and to tell my soul) to supply you with a slew of ideas because I have plenty <3 your writing is absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!

hi anon, you have no idea how often i think of your ask and how much i've come back to it since you've written to me. i hope you're still around and still somewhat part of the nd fandom, and that the series finale was something you could enjoy and be satisfied w! truth be told i fell out of the fandom at the end of the third season, it was for a lot of reasons - personal and just the time passing, and with it also came half-baked word docs of nace fics i started but never really got around to finishing. and i never wanted to answer your high compliments with the answer of never considering to write for them again, and in all honesty i forgot my written drabbles in a folder on my laptop for the better part of the last two years. but i went through it on a whim today and actually found something i think is worth sharing, and since your message has stayed with me, i'm going to post it for you and you only, as both a thank you and im sorry i couldnt really give you more. writing for nace was one of my greatest joys in a truthfully very difficult time in my life, and im so glad it was as special for you as it was for me! so here's almost 5k of nace being in their pre-relationship, best friends in tension phase dated to the 21st of dec 2021 - it's certainly not my best work and may seem a bit half-baked, but there is so much love in it, and its happy and sad and hopeful all at once, and reading it again with fresher eyes, it would've been a shame for it to rot in my gdrive with no audience, so yeah thank you for reading this my dear anon. i hope you like it, take care!!

***

Ace let out a soft mumble of a curse under his breath.

‘Florence, this is not the time girl.’

The exasperation in his tone was refreshing to Nancy. Rarely was Ace ever off-centre; he was always the one who held down the fort, who grounded everyone, and especially her, to whatever it was they were working through at any given time. So the fact that car trouble was what got Ace ticking made her chuckle.

And among other things, she had to admit how adorable it was – his brows creased in annoyance, hands resting on his steering wheel, fingers drumming on the small surface in agitation. (Nancy tried to force herself to look away when her mind started to focus on how long and sturdy his fingers were in comparison to the lining of the steering wheel, ignoring the unnatural hike in her pulse).

Nancy observes his leg start to bounce restlessly in its place, his growing frustration rivalling Nancy’s ease. He looks at her through the rear-view mirror, sparkly blue eyes that seem to brace for her remark knowingly, ‘You’re not allowed to say I told you so.’

Nancy playfully clicks her tongue, ‘I told you so.’

He groans in response, but there’s only levity in his tone. When she looks at him amidst her unhelpful giggle, for the briefest of seconds, she sees a ghost of a smile on his lips.

‘Okay I’ve got Earnie on speed-dial, he should be here in like 45 minutes.’

He looks at her readily, waiting for her to take a jab at the fact that he’s on a first-name basis with the Horseshoe Bay’s finest mechanic and tower of cars, but she chooses not to indulge him.

With a small smile, she pulls out a pack of skittles and crinkles it open, offering him a hand-full of carelessly assorted yellow skittles in ceasefire. He looks at her in mocking question, ‘You think giving me my favourite colour of skittles is going to convince me into giving you a pass on the next 45 minutes where you tease me about this incessantly?’

Nancy smiles the brightest smile she can manage, teeth barred like a girl scout selling her cookies door to door, ‘Yep.’

He concedes, nonchalantly shaking his head and turning over the skittles from her hand to his, ‘You know me too well.’

(Nancy ignores the way he touches the pulse point on her wrist when he transfers the candy onto his own hand, how his fingers ever-so gently wrap around her entire wrist, electrifying the skin under his touch).

They sit there chewing in comfortable silence - on the candy as well as their thoughts; it had been a long day. They were heading back from another dead-end lead on de-tangling George’s soul from Odette’s, and though it had been a long shot, the sting of failure extinguishing the little hope that had slipped through to everyone in the group at the beginning of the day was subtly unrelenting. Nancy tried to keep the fear at bay, closing her eyes to refocus away from the painful pulses lightly throbbing at her temple. She couldn’t even think about reliving George’s death again, but the image of her bloodied body on the floor of the Claw re-emerges without permission, and along with it comes bile up Nancy’s throat.

In an attempt for comfort, she reminds herself of what George had to said to them when they regrouped at their cars to drive back to Horseshoe Bay, ‘I’m a fighter guys, and I live every day with intention, I’m happy and in love and I have no regrets. We’ll figure this out.’

She recalls George’s soft smile at Nick, her smirk at Bess when Addy asks for the two of them to carpool back alone together, her hugs for Nancy and Ace – she reminds herself how good it feels to relish in the warmth of her best friend. Taking a few deep breaths, Nancy wills for it to make her feel a bit better.

A gentle tap on her shoulder gets her to open her eyes again, and before she can turn to face Ace in question, she finds herself enamoured by the starry night sky looking down on her through the upper windshield. She wonders how she hadn’t yet noticed the glimmering specks of silver tattered against a canvas of cloudless navy blue, both beautifully and terrifyingly spanning the expanse of her entire eyeline, nestled between tall, dark oaks and pine trees on either side of the road they were currently grounded to.

‘You have to stop worrying about her, we’ll solve this too, we always do.’

That snaps her focus right back onto Ace, and she realises that despite the fairly long drive in darkness, the reason her attention had been obscured from the remarkable night sky was because it had been elsewhere, particularly on a concerning distraction that had been sat next to her this whole time.

She studies him, not rushing her response. She registers the way his lips have come into a fine line in resolve, starkly different to the smile lines that had lifted the plane of his cheeks just a few minutes ago, how the flecks of grey within his clear, sky-blue eyes zap like lightning, reflecting the twinkle of the stars above him – confident, persevering, determined. Her chest expands at how his expression still emanates warmth, a still of comfort when her mind is too convoluted to function, to find the gravity below her. Looking at him, she doesn’t necessarily blame herself for not noticing the night sky.

‘I hate that you can read me.’

She finds the grin in his eyes before his lips, ‘You have to stop being so predictable.’

She mock-scoffs at him, ‘Says the guy who knew his car was going to break down but was too stubborn to back down from subjecting it to a long road trip anyways.’

He takes his turn feigning hurt, ‘Touché.’ He chuckles, ‘Nancy – 1, Ace – 0.’

She sobers up at his still subtly insistent stare, he doesn’t want her to drop the subject just yet but he doesn’t ask again; his delicate push gets her primed enough to voice her thoughts, ‘I can’t watch her die again.’

She hates how her voice fails her, vulnerability and fear lulling her to a whisper, as if she’s afraid the universe will hear her. Ace responds with a shaky breath, returning to her gaze with the truths she’s been trying to convince herself with, ‘We’re trying our best. We’ll get there, and we’ll find what she needs.’

His eyes don’t waver from hers, ‘We can’t live in how her death is something we can’t avoid just yet, you heard what she said Nance, she’s living her best life day after day, and we owe it to her to do the same.’

He says his words with such conviction that Nancy lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, (she tries not to melt at how his nickname for her drapes itself so softly on his tongue). ‘None of us will ever give up on her, on any of us.’

She lets out a small smile in understanding, a tear escaping to her cheek before she’s able to get a hold of her glossy eyes. For a spilt-second Nancy sees his fingers reach out for her, possibly to wipe the tear away, but he stops himself, and Nancy tries to ignore the way her stomach hollows out at his reluctance. Instead, he gives a genuine smile in return.

Before the slight awkwardness can stew between the two of them, Ace speaks up softly, clearing his throat, ‘Alright, come on.’

He gestures to the trunk of the car as he gets out of the driver’s seat, and open’s the passenger door for her to follow him; she wordlessly steps out despite her confusion. The cold wind hits her skin immediately, passing through the soft sleeves of her sweater as if they weren’t even there. She hugs herself, tracing her hands up and down her upper arms to create some insulation.

Ace opens up the trunk and unzips a large duffel bag, pulling out three blankets and two cushion pillows. Taking the especially woolly chocolate and cream checkered throw, he swings it over Nancy’s back and gently swaddles her, ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ She responds, warmth immediately encapsulating her. Before she can ask why they’re outside his car in uncomfortably cold weather, he explains, ‘The stars are out tonight,’ he says looking up, ‘I thought we could kill some time while we wait for Earnie, and a distraction wouldn’t hurt the both of us. Two birds, one stone.’

Nancy follows his eye-line and stares at the sky, ‘Definitely.’

Within five minutes, he lays out the largest blanket he has onto the hood of Florence and sets down the two pillows for them. Forgetting the added weight of the throw, she grabs his hand to get onto the surface, and predictably, loses balance almost immediately, tripping to fall face first right onto Ace’s chest.

Before Nancy settles into how mortifying it is, Ace’s arms instinctually wrap around her waist and secure them in place, his chest reverberating the chuckle he adds to the night air.

Her shoulders loosen, and Ace looks down at her with a smirk, a glint of mischief within those blue eyes Nancy adores, ‘Comfortable?’

‘Shut up.’ Nancy groans, and Ace readily manoeuvres her waist to help her rest next to him, the two of them fully laughing now. (She ignores the way his fingers come into contact with some bare skin on her hips when it happens, a result of her sweater hiking and the blanket falling on top of the both of them when she fell; she tries not to focus on the imperceptible movement of his thumbs against her exposed skin).

As they recover from their laughing fit and Nancy settles more comfortably onto her cushion, shoulder to shoulder with Ace, they both find themselves looking up at the incredible vastness above them. Away from the other’s gaze, and suddenly incredibly aware of how small they were in this expanse of time and space, Nancy feels almost blindingly comfortable with Ace, willing to tell him anything if he asked.

Ace seems to get the same idea, ‘Okay, game time. I give you a story and you give me one in return, could be prompted by a question if either of us have something specific to ask, but otherwise it’s free rein.’

Nancy considers the proposition – she supposes it is dangerous territory, and that she would be tiptoeing between everything she wants to disclose and keep hidden, especially because she was already so comfortable leaving her heart at her sleeve with Ace, but ultimately the urge to get to know Ace better wins her over.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, slightly hesitant, ‘But you start, since you clearly have something in mind.’

She sees him nod in her periphery.

‘My mom used to take me star-gazing to help with my anxiety,’ Ace says, his eyes focused on the sky. ‘I couldn’t sleep after what happened with my dad, and there were a good few weeks where he was comatose in the hospital, and I couldn’t get that image of him out of my head every time I closed my eyes.’

‘I stayed up for like four days straight after the accident, hopped up on energy drinks and just gaming or coding night after night, getting by on twenty minute naps that would just happen because my body was so exhausted,’ he sighs, seemingly disappointed in his younger self, ‘It wasn’t long before my mom noticed the bags under my eyes and asked me to explain myself - I just broke down, told her how his limp body was all I could see if I let my mind rest for even a second. That’s when she invested in Florence, a seemingly temporary rental at the time,’ he chuckles fondly, ‘and every night my dad stayed in the hospital after that, she took me up to the bluffs so that we could see the stars as clear as they were in Maine.’

She imagines a young Ace, so scared of his father not coming home that he wills himself to become his own problem, shielding himself the only way he knows how, and finding himself unwilling to depend on anyone, even as a child. Even though the irony of how similar they are is not lost on her, it hollows out Nancy’s chest.

She can’t also help but find small comfort in the karmic coincidence that the bluffs were somehow similarly significant in both their lives – a place rooted in contentment equally as much as trauma. Nancy wonders why fate sometimes writes in intricately entwining strings so cruel when it comes to her.

‘She pointed out all the constellations, and eventually I learnt them too, and her explaining everything would send me to sleep. It was a lot easier to close my eyes to the stars instead of a dark ceiling, and she always said ‘It’s okay to be afraid, but when you are, just look up, and you’ll be reminded of how vast and complicated this universe is. And if you can believe in that, you can believe that things will work out for the best’. And that hope? That hope has weirdly never really left me, no matter what’s happened since then.’ He finishes.

Nancy can tell that his voice is thicker, and she doesn’t push to ask him why he thought she should know something so intrinsic about him. She breathes it in nevertheless, savouring a piece of his past that has been delicately placed in her hands, an olive branch for her to know him better.

She decides to take him up on it and share something that’s been kept in the dustiest shelves of her own heart, ‘That day the Aglaeca came to claim us, I actually fell off the bluffs.’

Nancy feels him turn his face to her in surprise, the only thing she’d told them was that she’d almost tripped over - she’d never considered talking about the truth till now; she pushes on, talking at the stars, ‘I kept screaming for help, but obviously nobody came. I was meant to die there, just like my mother, and for a second, before my survival instinct kicked in, I almost let go… almost wanted to let go,’ she feels her voice wobble, unable to carry the weight of her words, ‘I felt my own weight on my fingers, felt them give, and I was so tired, so I almost let go… instead of choosing to try and climb up.’

She had never admitted that to anybody, least of all herself, but it felt liberating to do so, to be overwhelmed in how enormous all her trauma seemed at the time, ‘I think it’s because I’d felt helpless for a long time, I didn’t know how to be somebody that other people couldn’t depend on, and I couldn’t get the conversation, or fight, we all had out of my head,’ she adds quickly, with a hollow, humourless chuckle, ‘but I did, I did climb up, and when I looked over at the sea, sitting there, all alone, I wasn’t necessarily glad that I had. I still felt empty, even when I knew we survived.’

Verbalising the last admission felt like a tonne of bricks on her shoulders, but it all came out in a few short breaths – like domino after domino falling in a way she couldn’t really stop once it started. She’d felt so small in the face of everything she’d been through, and even though she knew that life is always the right choice, and she’s convicted of that that definitively now more than any other time in her life, it wasn’t something that came intuitively to her that day. Her introspection is cut short when she realises that Ace has fully turned to face her now, and she struggles finding the courage to look at him.

When she does, the pain in his glassy eyes knocks the wind out of her, ‘Nance, I-I-, shit. I’m so fucking sorry Nancy.’

His voice breaks, faltering as he sits upright with his apology. She follows, sitting up cross-legged next to him, ‘Hey, hey,’ she insists, resting her arm on his bicep, willing him to look at her, ‘I wasn’t done… You know what helped me through that? What made me realise that it had obviously been the right choice?’

Ace’s stormy blue eyes look back at her, and he seems to recognise her desperation for levity, ‘Therapy?’

They both chuckle, cutting through a little bit of the tension, ‘Yes, of course therapy,’ she agrees, ‘but unlike therapy, this isn’t something I’ve had since I was eight.’

She takes a deep breath, hoping her persistent eye contact conveys the principle she that she grounds herself to, ‘It was all of you. Seeing you that day when I walked into the Claw that night? With Bess, and Nick and George? With your relieved smiles, and hugs that were insistent on making sure I knew how glad you all were that I was alive? That’s what rushed all that relief into my body. For a spilt second, the Aglaeca highlighted all of my trauma so that I couldn’t see through to the love I was given, and yes, it didn’t help that we were our worst selves that day, fuelled by fear and regret, but when I’d gotten back into my car and drove back to the Claw, I knew. I-’ she drew another breath, trying to gain coherence; there was so much she had to say about that night, so much she’d packed away into a tiny little box in her mind, ‘when I walked in that night, I knew that I’d made the right call, that from then on, whatever near-death experience I was going to get catapulted into, I would always choose to stick around.’

She could feel her throat closing up a little, her voice thickening, ‘The love that I’ve gotten from all of you, and now even Ryan, has changed my life, and it has forever changed the trajectory of who I am, and I whoever I’ll be, and that’s something I’m only grateful for. I know I don’t tell you all that enough, but seriously, I am so, so grateful.’

The tears fall down Ace’s cheeks freely now, and in the vortex of them under a beautiful night sky with their hearts strung out in the open and them alone in between the woods, his reservations seem to lower just enough. His other hand comes over the hand of hers that’s still resting on his bicep, and he intertwines his fingers with hers, a soft whisper following, ‘Still, I’m sorry, what we said was really fucked up, there really isn’t an excuse for it. We all made the decisions that got us to being prophesied to die that night, and it wasn’t you. Nance, you didn’t bring us to our deaths like lambs to slaughter, it was on us, we chose to be there.’

It’s his turn to pierce right through to her heart through his gaze, conviction steady in his words, ‘You are not a cause, and you are not an omen. You are anything but that. And honestly Nancy, I don’t even fucking know what I’d do with myself if we lost you that night.’

Nancy feels relieved in a weird way, the vindication is anything but hollow and ingenuine, it feels good. She laughs lightly, trying to mask a little bit of the subtle discomfort she feels; she knows the sentiment would be undeniably the same the other way around (except Nancy knows that’s partly also because she can’t really comprehend the enormity of what Ace means to her, how he was somehow so much more than a friend), the heaviness in his tone makes the implications of the statement much more intimate that she’s ready to decrypt. ‘Well at least George wouldn’t have died.’

And there it comes, that exasperated ‘Nancy, using humour to cope with your trauma is not funny’ face comfortably settling on Ace’s expression before she’s even done with her sentence. She chooses to laugh it off again (and pretends not to notice how Ace’s fingers tighten around hers perceptibly more).

Neither of them lets go of the other’s hand, and Nancy eventually lays back down on her cushion, with Ace following suite, ‘Okay on a lighter note,’ she refreshes, ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years?’

He hums in thought, ‘Uh, I don’t really know, haven’t thought much about it really.’

There’s an awkward hitch to his voice, and Nancy knows he’s picked up on her picking up on it, and he concedes into a slightly more nuanced response, ‘I’d like to have the standard stuff y’know?’

She looks at him pointedly, ‘The standard stuff?’

He avoids her gaze, ‘Yeah, the standard stuff. I’d like to be in love, and if I’m lucky, possibly even married. And yeah, eventually something like two kids, a white picket fence, y’know, the whole thing.’

The response surprises Nancy for some reason; it’s such an open admission of domesticity, and she unintentionally pictures herself with him in his ideal.

‘You think it’s dumb.’

She’s frayed from her thoughts, and registers that she’d been quietly daydreaming for embarrassingly longer than acceptable, and that Ace perceived it as the opposite of what she was currently thinking.

‘What?’ Nancy tries to steady her heart beating frantically in her chest, the enormity of mapping her entire future with Ace now settling swiftly on her shoulders.

‘Oh my god, you totally think it’s dumb.’

Nancy tries to think through what feels like her brain is melting, ‘I do not think it’s stupid Ace, come on. It’s endearing!’

He looks at her unconvinced. She tries to centre herself, refocusing from the image of two toddlers with his wonderful hair and her fiery eyes, she looks up and away from him again, ‘I’ve always wanted at least two kids too, I never had any siblings, and I’ve always thought that companionship is really important when you’re young. A boy and a girl… would be nice to have someday.’

When she meets his gaze, there’s something indecipherable about them. She tries to not to let how intensely he’s looking at her waver her in staring back at him (but it’s hard, she feels her stomach jump to her throat).

The finally, he speaks, ‘At least two huh? Never pegged Nancy Drew for the big house, big family type.’

There’s a hint of an endearing tease that laces his tone, and she knows it’s meant to annoy her; she chooses instead to be honest, ‘Yeah, actually.’

A small smile of satisfaction finds her lips as Ace’s eyes widen for just a second, ‘You’re not the only one who wants the standard stuff y’know,’ she says, imitating the tone he’d used, ‘I would also really like to be in love, married even, and settle down. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. Either way, I definitely do want a legacy. And what better legacy to leave than to love the people you love, maybe even slip into a life with that one special person I love and work to be with, and hopefully they’re a best friend and someone I completely depend on, and I’ll get to create a family with them someday.’

She places intentionality in her last sentence, letting Ace know that maybe this person she hopes to have all that with isn’t some far away concept, but the wonderful friend and companion she’s been able to completely trust and depend on these last few months. His eyes seem to darken as he processes her words, blue pushed to the edges of his irises; she gets the feeling that he might’ve picked up on the implication.

There was no doubt that they’d been recently tip-toeing around what their friendship was evolving into; between Nancy recovering from the Wraith, Ace getting kicked out and Amanda breaking up with him, they’d both changed into such different people in just a few weeks. They’d both seemed to realise that though their entire worlds had shifted axes, the two of them were the same – they were Nancy and Ace, detective and hacker, a mind racing a hundred miles per hour paired with a rational, calm decision maker, a comet free orbiting in space and the sun’s gravity that grounded it, two best friends. They were comfortable here, safe in the boundaries of their friendship that was a little more than friendship, in confessions through glances and grazes, where the fear of having to figure out how they fit with each other, who they were and what they wanted was too scary for them to consider. For now, the implication was enough.

‘Yeah,’ Ace seemed to agree, his voice a little dreamy, ‘someday.’

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