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hekate1308 · 6 months

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What If We're Wrong

Prompt: What if we’re wrong

Fandom: Lewis

Pairing: Gen

James had never liked Peterson, just like most colleagues who knew Lewis for what he was – clever, hardworking, friendly – as opposed to what people like said Peterson assumed he was – stuck in his ways, old-fashioned and not particularly bright. They all saw the slight derogatory manner with which he treated Lewis (who, for his part, couldn’t have cared less – “One of those career men who form their little clubs and see that they get as high up as possible seen it all before well I won’t stand in his way”) and flet that it was impolite as unfair, and so had their problems with the pet of the higher-ups.

But even so, he would never have predicted this.

Tempering with evidence to help one of his pals cover up a screw up.

Everyone knew what that meant. If this came out, then his career would be ruined – he’d be lucky if he were not put in front of a judge together with his friend.

And come out it must, naturally. They could not allow a few bad apples to spoil the barrel, he knew that even as he and Lewis stared down at the evidence.

Apart from the fact that this was Robbie Lewis, and that naturally, he would do whatever he could to make this right, no matter what.

But even so –

“What if we’re wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask. Yes, the possibility was rather small, but it could always be that someone was trying to frame Peterson; but by the time that could be proven, Peterson would already have been under official suspicion and have had to deal with everything that meant, which in turn would probably have very unpleasant consequences for Lewis and James himself.

Lewis, it seemed, had already come to the same conclusion, for he simply replied “In that case our careers would be ruined, which is why you are going to sit this one out. I’m old and won’t be promoted anymore, but you’ve got it all in front of you.”

James blinked. Did he really expect him –

“So you’ve never seen this” Lewis said firmly, gathering the file and locking it up in his desk. “I’ll go to Innocent and see what happens.”

“That’s not going to happen”. He hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say before he opened his mouth, but even if he had, it would have been something very similar.

It was Lewis’ turn to blink. “What?”

“I said, that’s not going to happen. I am coming with you.”

“Lad –“

“Sir, I am not letting you put everything you have in jeopardy because –“

“I told you, I’m old and as good as done anyway – Lyn’s been after me to retire for a while now –“

That was news to James, who immediately felt as panicked as back when Lewis had first learned he was going to be a grandfather. He had been aware that Lyn and Lewis had been talking on the phone quite a lot in the past few months – had even been glad for it, since Lewis had been somewhat apprehensive that he was losing out on his grandson’s milestones – but he hadn’t thought that…”

“And really, better to go out with a bang than with a whimper” Lewis added, and there was something in his expression that James had come to associate with him remembering the still-famous DCI Morse.

He didn’t ask, knowing from experience that if Lewis wanted to explain, he would. Today he didn’t.

“So? And why am I not allowed to go down in a blaze of glory, then?”

“I said, you’re –“

“Yes, I’ve heard you both times, but I also meant what I said that other time, sir – if you go, I go. There’s no point of me staying if they force you out.”

Lewis looked like he was more than ready for the old argument to repeat itself once more (he occasionally tried to logic James into agreeing to staying, not that it had been successful so far, nor ever would) but he didn’t allow him to do so, this time around, instead adding, “And I just can’t stay behind and watch from the sidelines, not in a case like this. You know I can’t.”

He studied him, then sighed as his shoulders slumped and James knew he had won. “No, I know you can’t, and what’s worse – I also know if I don’t take you with, you’ll find ways to strike out on your own. I’d rather be able to keep an eye on you while we try to wreck our higher-up’s favourite’s career.”

He nodded because it was enough that he had carried his point.

Lewis looked at him once more and raised an eyebrow. “So, when do you want to ruin Innocent’s entire week?”

#fictober23 #my writings #lewis #british detectives #robbie lewis #james hathaway

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mental-mario · 7 months

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Part III: This Ain't for Me

Shockingly enough, the next morning came (at 7am with a knock to take vitals while half asleep at edge of bed), and I still wasn't "cured." Breakfast was French toast and powder eggs with decaf coffee and a side of meds. As I looked around at the other patients on the unit, most were much like myself: quiet, reserved, low energy. I don't like to say they seemed "normal" because that is an old stigma attached to mental health, but I will say there weren't many behaviors displayed except for a couple of instances. One rather tall gentleman kept jumping around, hogging the phone (probably with fake calls), and repeatedly asking everyone their names because he couldn't remember. Another patient seemed to move in slow motion and spoke inaudibly. Another paced the floor and talked to himself much of the time, as one might expect to see in a setting like this.

At 10am, it was group time! Group runs from 10-12 and then again from 1-3. "Group" in this case was not quite what I thought it would be. Patients from both units (some still opted not to go) met in a small room with two recumbent bikes, an elliptical, a treadmill, and a radio. There was also a table with playing cards and Guess Who, in case you didn't get enough of playing with yourself and board games. During this light exercise time, a member of the psych team would pull you for a one-on-one interview. Keep in mind, this has been over 24 hours since I checked into the ER, and finally getting the first opportunity to speak to someone with any authority to do anything. I spoke with the psych doc for probably 15-20 minutes while he took notes, and he was very friendly but didn't offer much insight. I then met briefly (less than 5 minutes) with the psych team, including some students and the attending physician, but this was just to reiterate what I said earlier in the one-on-one. They did say they would consider my discharge request but that legally they could still hold me for up to 72 hours after I signed the request. They also had me transferred to the front unit, which was smaller and quieter, since I don't do well with noise and had traumatic experiences in dorm living. After the interview, I had a few minutes sitting idly and zoning out. A patient at the adjacent table asked what I was staring at and yelled at me to stop. Naturally, I fired back with a, "I wasn't staring, and while we're on the topic, WTF are you staring at me for?!" This accomplished my mission of getting this person to get up and leave.

My wife came to visit me at lunchtime. I was the only one who had a visitor during my stay, and that made me even sadder. My kids were too young to be allowed to visit, and they were at school anyway. It was a surreal experience to have my wife visit and see me in this jumpsuit and in this atmosphere. She was highly supportive, but I felt deep embarrassment and shame. Still, I was happy to see a glimpse of my outside life. My wife already knew that this place was only making me worse. After lunch, which was by far the quickest hour of the day, my wife had to leave because it was time for group again! This time, they put us in teams and had us play a round of Scattergories as well as a rousing round of Jeopardy with a theme of OTC meds and remedies. If you're reading this and wondering how this was supposed to improve my mood and SI, I am still wondering as well. After that was mercifully over, we had idle time again all the way until bedtime, with the exception of dinner. We mostly sat around the dayroom area watching tv, with the highlight being when Mean Girls came on! I felt very aware of a sublime feeling in that moment of realization that I am trapped in a psych ward and watching Mean Girls. All I could do was laugh to myself. 8pm was snack time, and I got to get TWO snacks! So I chose a vanilla ice cream cup and a pouch of cinnamon golden grahams so that I could complete the nostalgic feeling of being completely controlled in my childhood. I did lose a few pounds over these few days, but I managed to gain it all back quickly when I could binge again. Anyway, my nighttime meds came on time this night, at 9pm, and I was able to go to bed from there. No reason to keep staying up. Trazodone did help me get to sleep, but my door kept opening and shutting all night. I'm pretty sure I was on 15 minute checks, even though that didn't happen the night before.

Next post will be Part IV and likely the conclusion of this story. Hopefully you've enjoyed it so far. If you have, please tip your blogger accordingly! I learned growing up that money and gifts were the way to express love, so shower your love and other bodily fluids all over me!! And while you're filling me up with your love, friend me on Switch! My friend code is on my profile page, or use the QR code in my pic. I am lonely and need more of you in my life! I'll be online either playing Shredder's Revenge or Cowabunga Collection and looking to go online! I've been on a real TMNT kick lately, and by "lately," I mean the last 30 years. The feeling of taking out my anger and frustration on a bunch of Foot soldiers just doesn't get old! Of course, that will get put away for a while come midnight Friday! I want to thank my sugar daddy/mama, who wants to remain anonymous, for their generous donation so I could afford to purchase Super Mario Bros. Wonder! I will see you online!

#actually mentally ill #mental health #mental illness #mentally disordered #super mario #video games #actually borderline #mental heath support #tw depressing thoughts #bing3 eating #tmnt #nintendo switch #nintendo #psych ward #psychology #mental hospital #hospital #pizza crust

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mitchbeck · 1 year

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XL CENTER, CRDA IN FULL CRISIS MODE PART 2

By Gerry Cantlon, Howlings HARTFORD, CT - The Capital Region Development Authority (CRDA), which controls the XL Center, has plenty of issues on its plate, and there seem to be extra trips being made back for seconds and thirds. Two weeks ago, Radenka Maric, who was named UCONN President in the fall, openly conjectured to a journalism class in an on-the-record conversation made it clear that UCONN was strongly considering leaving the XL Center and not renewing their contract at the end of the season. UCONN will likely seek to shift home games back to their new on-campus arena, The Toscano Family Ice Forum at Storrs, as a cost-cutting measure to deal with the ballooning $53M athletics deficit and the Governor's "proposal" to cut UCONN funding drastically. Before the state appropriations meeting mid-week two weeks ago, the Governor bristled at the mere suggestion that he was proposing a cut. Instead, it's the sunset of federal COVID funding, known by its acronym of ARPA. It ends after this school year. Lamont also emphatically stated that UCONN hoops games would be played at the XL Center. The Governor and UCONN students were at the Capitol as part of this contentious government hearing on UCONN's future budget, which has not yet been decided upon. However, UCONN will likely have a continued high level of funding, and increases will probably happen. This conflict will pit CRDA's Executive Director, Mike Freimuth, with Maric, a Yugoslavian ex-pat who spent the post-Yugoslav civil war years in the early 1990s in Japan. Also in the mix is outgoing Hartford Mayor Luke Bronin. Maric threw an unappreciated and figurative Molotov cocktail into the room as the CRDA and OVG were in the final phases of negotiations to deal with the long-suffering XL Center with a makeover eight years overdue. Freimuth has shown frustration and irritation at UCONN's annual carping regarding their rental payments for hockey and basketball games and is no longer keeping quiet. Instead, he is calling UCONN out. "It wasn't very helpful. It was a monkey wrench we didn't need, but I think it will be resolved successfully," remarked Freimuth. Maric's remarks did not sound like an idle threat or posturing position by the Huskies. On the contrary, they have been telegraphing their intentions for nearly three years. The on-campus venue selected by Maric gave her a very friendly audience. She knew she wouldn't face hostile, probing, or counter-questions. UCONN will likely have another card up its sleeve. It's a confrontation that has been brewing for years. UCONN recoils at paying $40.5K per game for men's and women's basketball games and $20.5K for UCONN hockey as they have this season. The new Toscano Family Ice Forum, where its recent Hockey East quarterfinal playoff game with Merrimack was played, not at the XL Center, is built, baptized, and open for business. It was expected there would be only marquee hockey games like Boston College and Boston University, and national non-conference games would be at the XL Center in the future. Now it seems even that it might be in jeopardy. The CT Ice Hockey Festival is scheduled for the XL Center next year, for now. The CT Ice Festival might be the only college hockey downtown next year. "We'II have a different model next year. We expect about 15 UCONN events next year. We usually have about 30 or so. Face it, a pre-season game with Appalachian State in November doesn't do much for anybody. St. John's or Georgetown, that's a whole different story," Freimuth commented. On the other side of the room stands the CDRA and OVG being required to pay both mandatory expenses like police and other emergency services, as well as the fixed costs. It's not cheap or optional. "We have fixed costs at the XL Center that they don't have at Gampel or the new hockey rink. All of those are factored into those buildings, but we're left out here (holding the bag). Nobody is crying for me," remarked Freimuth. Then there's OVG. They recently signed a new five-year contract with the two unions that work in the building. Both unions voted on and ratified that contract which features a nine-percent increase. So those costs are not gouging but living up to signed agreements. A long-time state government source with knowledge of government and hockey threw a bucket of cold water on everything. "I wouldn't believe half of what you hear. They'll work something out," the source declared. UCONN has had a choppy background with contracts. Bob Diacco, the former football coach they did well with, but basketball's Kevin Ollie, not so much. So they are now paying for it dearly, which also factors in. HISTORY In 1990, Tate George's miracle, buzzer-beating, turnaround baseline jumper from the corner against Clemson propelled UCONN to the Elite 8. At a time before the internet, UCONN changed its radio rights the following summer. It was the end of their contract with the now-defunct CT Radio Network. UCONN had radio station affiliates from tiny WKZE in Sharon in the northwest corner of the state to powerhouse WICC downstate in Bridgeport and its southernmost town in Greenwich on WGCH-AM. UCONN was covered. UCONN thought they could get a better deal with powerful WTIC-AM and its superb 50,000-watt nighttime clear channel signal heard throughout the Northeast in the US and Canada. The Huskies decided to form their own network instead. UCONN negotiated new individual deals with individually selected stations. The deals were done with the WTIC sales department, which did the legwork. UCONN dropped CRN despite a UCONN alumnus at the company's helm and expanded its coverage and, even more importantly, its revenue intake. Part of the negotiating strategy was that they wanted UCONN radio voice Bob Huessler, the play-by-play person, to be out for UCONN broadcasts and their guy Joe D'Ambrosio in. Huessler, unbeknownst to UCONN, was dealing with a major family crisis with his now late wife, battling breast cancer. There was no way he was getting dropped. In its final days, he was also the full-time PR Director for Milford Jai-Lai. CRN was caught off guard, unaware that UCONN had another deal lined up. UCONN has always played poker with an extra card up its sleeve. But nothing with UCONN seems to last forever. After 26 years with WTIC, UCONN decided in 2018 to partner with New York-based IMG Network to handle their radio rights. Unfortunately, WTIC thought UCONN/IMG was asking for too much, eventually sending D'Ambrosio packing and bringing in Mike Crispino. UCONN signed for ten years with 97.9 ESPN radio, where they remain. If UCONN does leave, the XL Center account ledger will be out of whack. Hence, the lost revenue and large expenses to pay, and shortly afterward, all the main actors will likely leave at the expiration of their contracts. Then, like the late New Haven Coliseum, the building will close with all the losses. UCONN will negotiate directly with the XL Center - no more third parties. A business like The Taven, across the street from the XL Center, was packed on Saturday afternoon and evening. It tailors its staff time and openings around the XL schedule. The same thing happens for Max's across the street on the Eastern side of the XL. They are two staples and long-operating Hartford restaurants that would likely close with no events or customers. Waitresses, bartenders, and chefs will all be unemployed. These are the unintended consequences of the situation with the XL Center. They're not alone. Despite all the happy talk from state Senate House Speaker Matt Ritter, who told the Hartford Courant in the days after this tete-a-tete broke open that things will be fine - even if XL Center folks think they're bluffing. It feels different this time, as several folks inside the building said the same thing. "I did talk to the athletic director yesterday, and I know UCONN reiterated its commitment to play at the XL Center, which we are going to renovate," Ritter commented. "Is UCONN going to play in Hartford? You betcha'. Do we agree with the (school) president, though, that we got to help them in this budget? You betcha'." The relationship with Ritter is an interesting one. His father, Tom, a one-time Speaker of the House himself, is now a lobbyist, working for a prestigious Hartford law firm. In addition, he is a UCONN Board of Trustees member and is very close with school President Maric. Will that relationship be leveraged positively in the negotiations that are about to come? UCONN started this process very early for a reason. They're looking for a soft landing if they decide to leave or if they can wrangle some more considerable concessions and not go. Don't expect these negotiators to underestimate UCONN, however. UCONN always works in its interests. "Its lot of work. You have to look at the December and January kids aren't on campus. 80,000 UCONN alumni live within a half-hour of the XL Center. Some of those are legislators. You think they want to drive to Storrs in the middle of the winter on a Tuesday night?" said Freimuth. UCONN has been vocal about the rental structure at the XL Center for three years and hired an outside entity last year-- Stafford Sports- to negotiate on their behalf and waited to sign their one-year lease extension until the 11th hour to do so. So this year, they will deal directly with OVG. "I think that Hartford has invested a lot in UCONN. They should be giving back and investing in Hartford. It's probably not a good spot for the college to be in right now, threatening to divest from a city that's invested a lot in them," remarked House Minority Leader Rep. Vincent Candelora (R-86th District) to the Courant. Reminder, the XL Center is in the district of both Ritter and Candelora. More than two years ago, the building received $65 million, more than they requested, just a week before the pandemic shutdown. However, it still has not made its way to the bond commission in any manner. Governor Lamont, who controls the bond commission agenda, has been steadfast in the fact that UCONN will play at the XL Center and that funding will be there. The current negotiations between the latest building operator, OVG, and the CRDA are nearing their conclusion. The skunk-in-the-room move will change OVG's short-term and long-term calculus at the XL Center and the if, when, and how of their getting a return on its investment. "I have an idea of what their investment number is, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it right now," said Freimuth. The other negotiation for the CRDA is with Northland Corporation and its CEO, Larry Gottesdeiner. Once hailed as the building's savior, Gottesdeiner has been at a standstill with the CRDA over the atrium for more than three years and is not factored in this proposal. It has been an Excedrin-inducing pace for three years and counting for Freimuth. "Its not part of the discussion at the moment. We're not focused on the atrium at all," Freimuth said with resignation. Job vacancies have repeatedly shown up every year. In the last few years, they've had four different Operations Managers and a revolving door of salespeople for the Wolf Pack, and the building has been noticeable. If UCONN makes a move, MSG can't be far behind. They have a nice cushion, getting the affiliation fee paid for by the state this year to the tune of $1.66M after foolishly kicking MSG out as managing operator at the XL Center as the CDA did, the forerunner to the CRDA, 16 years ago. While that helps raise the bar for the rest of the AHL, it keeps the Wolf Pack team solvent and all hockey operations expenses, salaried employees, admin costs, etc. They are all paid for, but the future, building-wise, is passing them by. "We have brought that number back a bit, but it's all based on the affiliation requirements. We're in discussions now on a new contract as we speak," said Freimuth. Then, the issue of new buildings with modern amenities popping up throughout the AHL teams. The recently concluded AHL All-Star Classic was held at the three-year-old, north of the border, new palatial arena, and just 25 minutes from downtown Montreal at the Place Bell in Laval. Then toss in new arenas that have opened this year; Henderson, NV, San Jose, CA, and the $500M palace in the California Desert in Palm Springs, CA (Coachella Valley). In addition, they illustrate and highlight the deficiencies of both the XL Center and the team's practice facilities at Cromwell (now run by Black Bear Enterprises), both highly inadequate. Sooner or later, MSG will make a move too. The Canadian division is gone. Most of the New England teams in the AHL are gone. It's wishful thinking to believe that Hartford can last that long as the AHL continues to move forward, given the state of the XL Center and all the issues surrounding it. The consensus is that it feels different this time. Inside and outside the XL Center, that phrase has been repeated unprompted. It does feel different this time. XL CENTER HOME Read the full article

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khaldetects · 1 year

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✘ ╱ idris elba + cis male + he/him ╾ better keep an eye on KHALIL “KHAL” CARTER whenever they are around. Shady gossip describes the FORTY EIGHT year old as COCKY + IMPULSIVE, close sources say they’re WITTY + ANALYTICAL. Can be easily found in BROOKLYN working as A DETECTIVE FOR THE NYPD.

tw drugs, tw death

Khalil was born to a single mother, Katya in high school. She was the head cheerleader, dating the quarterback. Everything seemed to be going well, until her boyfriend found out she was pregnant. He broke up with her, because if he had a child, he couldn't go to his dream school and be a football player. This left her alone to take care of her son. Her mother was very helpful in raising Khal, but that didn't stop Katya form going down the wrong path. In the stress of raising a child, she got addicted to drugs, and went to rehab multiple times.

During these times, Khal lived with his grandmother, really quite enjoying his time with her. They played board games, watched jeopardy, and just had fun together. He very quickly started to resent his mother for not being around enough for him. When he entered middle school, his mother actually overdosed, and ended up in almost full time psychiatric care, as everyone believed something else was wrong.

When Khal reached high school, his mother was let out, but he wanted nothing to do with her, because she hadn't been around enough. Living with his grandparents sounded a lot better to him. He did well in school, enjoyed learning, and after graduating, immediately went to the police academy, wanting to do good for the world, and stop people from ruining their lives like he believes his mother did.

To this day, he still hasn't spoken to his mother since she left in middle school.

All Khal knows is the police department. It's become so much of who he is, that he doesn't ever want to change. His cocky attitude stems from the fact that he knows he's smart, and knows he's good at his job. He keeps hearing talk of many shady things happening around the city and has made it his mission to figure it out. While he's determined, he's also highly intelligent, and knows just when to strike, and when to hide his job. Khal is incredibly friendly to people he deems important or safe, and isn't afraid to push you for information without you realizing it.

In his free time, he likes to do crossword puzzles, as a way to distract his brain during a case. He's the kind of detective that has color coded notes and whiteboards, knowing that'll help the case. Working with others is his favorite part of being a police office, because he knows that he can get many different types of insight into a case. You never know who is going to say what.

He's a nice guy, really, but he just wants to know what's going on in the city.

#☆ﾟ*·ﾟ the answer is no comment — about khal #tw drugs

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

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Stairway To Heaven

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: draco and reader are best friends. Or so she thinks.

Warnings: one swear word i think.

Word Count: 1555

This is not inspired by the song in any way, but the title was fitting sooo

You and Draco had been friends for a very long time, since you could remember, and yet it wasn't unusual for you to be found arguing with the blond at least once a day. Sometimes you would argue about his rude attitude or the latest student he had bullied, but most of the times you simply wanted to tease him. Apparently, seeing what new witty remark he could come up with was the highlight of you day. You loved the banter that characterized your friendship and you couldn't really imagine your life without it.

"I'm telling you, you two are made for each other!" squealed Pansy from the big couch in your common room.

"We are just friends, Pansy! Friends!" you replied incredulously as you plopped down beside her.

"Yeah, just friends... Y/n, it's so obvious!"

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked feigning concern as you put your hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

"Oh, shove off!" she scolded, swatting your hand away. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it!"

"Of course not!" you lied.

You had thought about you and Draco being something more quite a few times now, but the prospect of ruining everything was enough for you to put that thought aside. You found yourself daydreaming about his soft blond hair and his sharp jawline more than you cared to admit. Not to talk about his eyes, always looking at you and making you feel as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

But you couldn't ruin your friendship. He probably didn't feel the same way and even if he did you couldn't risk losing what you had. The ease, the trust, the teasing.

In that moment, someone descended the stairs of the boys' dormitory, Draco. You and Pansy looked up at him, eyes wide. He stopped behind the couch, confused by the weird stares that you and Pansy were giving him.

"What?"

"Have you heard us?" you asked, slightly panicked. You didn't know why you were feeling this anxious, maybe some part of you wanted him to feel something for you other than friendly affection.

"Why? Were you talking about me?" his face instantly lit up with a smug smile and he leaned on the couch with his elbows.

"Why yes, in fact. I was just telling Pansy how immensely insufferable you are." you retorted, feeling incredibly relieved knowing that he hadn't heard you.

He got up from his previous place and resumed his path towards the door of the common room, scoffing. Before exiting, he added another comment, smirking playfully, "Oh and Pansy, me and y/l/n? Really? I hoped you thought more highly of me."

You knew it was nothing more than a joke, but why did it hurt? He had obviously heard you, he heard you saying that you couldn't even picture him as your boyfriend and he had said the same thing, yet it hurt more than you imagined. Maybe Pansy was right.

The next few days, you tried to forget about your new-found feelings for your best friend and your last conversation, but it was easier said than done. You felt as if you owed him some kind of explanation even though he expressively said he saw you just as a friend. Nothing more.

"Draco, wait a moment!" you began, preventing him from entering your first class of the day. He simply raised his brows and you continued.

"I wanted to apologize. For the other day. I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what?" you rolled your eyes, he was one of the smartest people you knew and yet he could be really daft sometimes.

"About you. That i could never see you as something else."

"But you are right. We are friends, nothing else." with that he left you alone and entered the classroom. You didn't know whether his answer cheered you up or devastated you. Definitely the second.

You tried behaving as always, but he seemed to be ignoring you. You had almost all of your classes together and yet he managed to avoid you every single time. Even when you could actually talk to him, he was different, he was suddenly very cold. He was with everyone but he had never been with you and this really bothered you. So you decided to confront him, you decided that you would have told him what you felt: your friendship was already in jeopardy, might as well completely ruin it. The idea terrified you, Draco had always been by your side and imagining a life without him seemed impossible. Maybe you did like him. Maybe you did love him.

"Draco! Draco, we have to talk!" but Draco sped up, not even glancing up. He had no right to ignore you like that so you quickened your pace to match his.

"Draco, we need to talk!" but the boy continued on walking, ignoring you completely.

"Fine! If you don't want to talk, you are going to listen." you asserted and Draco simply covered his ears. Mouth agape, you stared at him, still walking, almost running. The audacity of this man.

You swatted his hands away and he glared at you. He had never glared at you, not in that way. Pure hatred seemed to dance in his icy eyes, even colder than usual. You took a deep breath and started your speech which eventually turned in an incoherent mumbling.

"Listen Draco, i don't know what i did to deserve this, but i highly doubt i did something so spiteful to earn this kind of treatment." he still wasn't looking at you and continued his way towards the common room, but in his eyes something changed, he looked almost ashamed.

"You are incredibly important to me, you've never shown me anything but support and that's why i could never forgive myself if i involuntarily hurt you in some way. You are my best friend, for Merlin's sake!" Draco's eyes seemed to harden again and a scowl started to paint on his face.

"And i won't deny you that you're even more than a friend to me." Draco finally side glanced at you as the two of you were now walking up the stairs, surrounded by hundred of paintings looking at you curiously.

"I care about you so much and you don't even look at me. Every day i look forward to see your stupid face and hear your stupid voice, to have one of our usual stupid conversations and hear your stupid laugh so that every night i can go to sleep and think about your beautiful face and your beautiful voice, about our conversations and your laugh that i wouldn't trade for the whole bloody world." Draco was proceeding increasingly slower and you were walking side by side, trying to get him to look you in the eyes as you kept on going upwards.

"At least look at me, you stupid, unbearable, prissy, arrogant, pretty, handsome git!" your face was red with anger but he didn't stop. "Because what i'm trying to tell you is that i l-"

Draco abruptly grasped your waist and pulled you closer to him. You had been so engrossed in your discourse that you hadn't even noticed that the stairs were changing and that you were about to fall, one foot already dangling in the air. But Draco caught you and you were now pressed against his chest while he gazed at the void you were about to fall in. His chest rose up and down wildly and you could hear his heart thumping at a ridiculously quick pace under your cheek.

The stairs stopped again in front of a corridor but neither of you seemed to able to move. Then, Draco grasped your shoulders pulling you away from him but still exceedingly close.

"Are you ok?" his eyes searched yours for any signs of hurt and you just stared back.

"Are you talking to me now?" you asked sternly, making his expression go from one of concern to one of sorrow in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sorry, y/n." he admitted, eyes glinting as he held you firmly in front of him.

"For what? For being an asshole?"

"For not telling you before that i never wished for us to be just friends." his unexpected confession caused you to stare at him for a few seconds before a huge grin spread on your face and you took his pale face in your hands, which turned bright pink at the sudden contact. You kissed him, you finally kissed him.

"I advise keeping such displays of affection for closed doors." boomed a voice in front of you and you and Draco leapt backwards, clinging to the railing behind you with both hands. Snape eyed each of you with scorn before passing between you two and descending the stairs. "10 points from Slytherin."

As he got out of your sight, you couldn't help but burst out laughing and Draco followed swiftly. You then looked down at your feet, a big grin still plastered on your face. He inched closer, lifting your chin up to face him.

"So... you think i'm handsome." he said smugly.

"I also said that you are unbearable."

"Yes, but you think i'm handsome."

"But i-" he cut you off by reconnecting your lips together.

"I have to admit that i kinda like this new way of shutting me up."

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @ch0kemedracomalfoy @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings!]

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #draco fluff #draco soft #sarcastic

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deardiary17 · 3 years

Note

Ninth Doctor prompt: Dimension hoping Rose finally finds the TARDIS but before she can realize she's in the wrong time, she collapses from injury/exhaustion.

Hello, sweetie!

Here it is, on AO3 or below the cut.

Tags: dimension hopping Rose, Ninth Doctor, Hurt/Comfort, very light angst, a whole lot of feelings, pink pills.

The Doctor doesn’t quite know what to say. Or to do.

He doesn’t know what to think about the events that unfurled in front of his eyes in the last minutes.

Mind you, that’s a big one. Him not knowing what to do. Or what to think, for that matter.

The young woman lying prone in his arms, exhausted and unaware of the world around her, is Rose. Yet she isn’t his Rose. This Rose, not-his-Rose, is a far cry from the healthy-looking girl he sent out on a shopping excursion with Jack two hours ago. Not his rosy-cheeked, soft-curved, fresh-looking Rose Tyler. Loud and bright, jeopardy-friendly and curious, compassionate and loyal Rose.

The blonde woman with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes was Rose all right, just not his Rose.

And her left side was bleeding profusely. First things first, the Doctor needed to heal the nasty wound. Then he’d address the matter of checking her blood data and replenishing the liquids and nourishment not-his-Rose lost.

He doesn’t want to think about where and how she lost them.

***

The small surgery was successful only because the Doctor had bags of synthetic blood compatible with Rose’s blood type and anaesthetic mild enough not to knock Rose out for several days.

She’ll still be slightly sluggish and loopy but it is better than making her unconscious for three days in a row. He’s monitoring her blood pressure as he closes the wound with a dermal regenerator. It’s unlikely that Rose will go into shock and there’s no way the Doctor won’t be able to treat it but he’d rather not let Rose go through a stressful event like that. Not in her condition. Not ever.

The blood tests show astonishingly low levels of blood sugar, 25OH Vitamin D and iron. The skin turgor informs him about a prominent case of dehydration. The IV he started twenty minutes ago should help with that, and the Tardis’s medicine-producing device will create the pills that will sort out the microelements in blood problems.

The Doctor doesn’t want to admit that he is scared of what not-his-Rose has been through. Where she’s been. What she had to do and what was done to her. He is scared of the small device embedded into the base of her neck, he is terrified of the giant gun that he had to take off Rose’s limp body hours ago.

The Doctor knows he can scan the gun and learn about its origin and purpose but he also knows that he’ll have to forget about it to preserve the timelines. He is trembling in fear of giving into the temptation (again) of preventing whatever happened/will happen/is happening to not-his-Rose, of changing the timelines, of not forgetting this encounter, of locking this Rose up on the Tardis to keep her safe, to take care of her tired body.

And her exhausted soul. There was no way the Doctor will ever forget the dead look in Rose’s eyes mere seconds before her gaze landed on him.

The machine that prepares medicine emits a deafening “ding!” and the Doctor is pulled from his musings sharply. A double dose of three pills should settle the problem of iron and D3 deficiency nicely and a nutrutuous dinner with lots of sugary and milky tea will deal with the low sugar levels.

It seems that he is not the only one who was pulled out of dreaming state by the machine.

“Ow…” the Doctor’s breath hitches. Even her voice is different now. “Ow!”

He plasters on the best “everything is fine!” smile and turns to face her.

Rose’s eyes are as wide as saucers. She puffs her cheeks and blows air through her lips, licking them afterwards. “Not a dream, then,” she mutters incredulously as she stares at him.

It’s a stare he’s all too willing to be the object of.

The Doctor always knew that Rose carried a little crush on him. He couldn’t fathom why, though. Why him of all the people they met? Surely, she must have had a misplaced sense of gratitude that went the wrong way. Rose was apprehensive the first few trips, expecting him to ask something in return for hiring her as his travelling companion. Her 21st century worldview slap bang in the era of capitalism and “nothing-is-ever-free” stopped her from believing that the Doctor wouldn’t ask for something for showing her the Universe (although he remembered specifically saying “free of charge” when he invited Rose for the first time).

Humans and their lack of faith in all things good.

The Doctor comes closer to the bed where Rose lies and uses the control panel on it to lift Rose into a seating position. The young woman stares through squinted eyes on the catheter in her arm and her other hand itches closer to where the wound was.

He catches her hand and squeezes it gently between both of his.

The Doctor doesn’t expect the words that come tumbling from Rose’s lips.

“I’ve always loved your hands, Doctor...so manly, so big and never harmful. You were always so careful...like I was made of glass...yet I wanted nothing more than to feel those hands on my body, you know? Those callous mechanic’s hands, so rough-looking yet so gentle…” her voice trails dreamily as she comes to stop, continuing caressing his palms with the tip of her fingers.

Her inhibitions are lowered and she’s tongue-loose.

He blames the anaesthetic.

She relishes the opportunity to confess her feelings (only the tiniest part of them, however) and not to take responsibility for revealing too much.

Her Doctor. Her blue-eyed, sad as the Moon, lonely two-hearted hero.

The one she nearly died to protect. The one who died to protect her in return.

Rose had never quite gotten over the events on the Game Station even though she loved her New New Doctor tenderly.

The Doctor clears the throat and offers her several pink-coloured pills and a glass of something sparkling. Rose huffs a laugh, smiling brightly.

“No matter how old Rose Tyler is, her love for all things pink will never disappear. Am I right, Rose?” he quips, so happy at his own idea.

She swallows the tears and the pills and tries her best not to embarrass him by looking into his electric blue eyes constantly.

***

He cooks her a hearty meal, not allowing her to lift a single finger and watches like a hawk when she’s eating. He plies her with awfully sweet tea and rolls his eyes when she refuses to add milk into it.

They don’t talk about other things that changed about her. What changed about them. Why she’s alone. Why she was hurt and most importantly why she was carrying a big fat gun on her shoulder. Rose notices him trying to ask those questions several times but puts a hand onto his elbow and shakes her head, sucking her lips in. “It’s safer for the timelines,” she says.

He hates seeing her in pain. Hates her being on her own.

He knows how vast the Universe is when you’ve got no one to share it with.

She smiles ruefully, gently tracing the lines on his face with her right arm.

Rose surprises them both when she kisses his eyelids and lips and murmurs “I gotta go”. She is unsurprised, however, when the Doctor encompasses her in a crushing hug, refusing to let go.

Oh how the tables have turned.

Rose flicks his ear and he yelps indignantly before helping her heft the gun onto her shoulder, shushing his questions. The Doctor pushes the bright pink pills into her pocket and instructs her to take them with the next meal.

She kisses him, hard, on the lips. Dazed and astonished, he yields to the pressure of her cool lips on his.

Misty-eyed and with a silly grin on his face, the Doctor promises Rose to hide away the memories of their encounter until the right time comes.

He forgets the last several hours and the encounter with not-his-Rose completely the moment she vanishes into thin air, blowing him a goodbye kiss.

***

2005 Rose knows not why but the Doctor is super attentive and craves her company something fierce when she returns from a shopping trip with Jack. She shrugs, blames the “Captain Jealousy” and enjoys the Doctor’s undiluted care and warmth that night.

The end.

#prompted #nine x rose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #doctor x rose #doctor who #ficandchips #timepetals #fic #my fic

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pride-moth · 3 years

Text

You got everything that I want

Ao3 Link

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him.

He had loved Stella at some point, in his own weird way. Yes, it was an arranged marriage, but he had been willing to make it work like so many royal couples had made it work before them. He admired her beauty, her strength, her force of personality. He wanted to love her and so he did. He loved her as his wife, his princess, the mother to their daughter. He really… He had tried, at one point.

But after years and years of trying and compromising and acquiescing to your partner’s every wish without ever feeling them try in turn. Getting up every night to care for the child that both of you put into the world but that only one of you really cares to pay any meaningful attention to… It gets tiring and slowly, surely, all the love you once had for your partner slips through your fingers until there’s nothing left. Nothing but regret and screaming and pain.

He loves Octavia so, so fiercely. He would do anything for her, and yet he can hardly seem to be able to make her smile. And that’s the greatest pain. When you want nothing more than to see your child happy and you would do anything to make it happen, but it’s not in your hands anymore. Octavia is still a teenager but she’s growing up, wanting to do her own thing, starting to live her own life and Stolas feels like the only thing that he could do to make her happy would be to stop fighting with Stella, and that is just not within his powers. Stella will always find something to blame him for and he will always find something new to do wrong.

When Blitzo enters the picture, he and Stella already haven’t been sleeping in the same bed longer than he cares to remember. It’s a night of weakness, that first one, one where all he wants is to not live his own life anymore and Blitzo, that handsome little imp, catches him off guard, pokes right into his vulnerabilities and Stolas can’t help but take him home, sneak him in and let himself be taken apart in a way he has never experienced.

It’s a magical night, not romantic, but raw and rough and brutal in the best way. Blitzo makes him hurt exactly how he likes to hurt, gives him the kind of pleasure he could never quite convince Stella into giving him. They don’t even know each other at that point, but there is the kind blind understanding between them that Stolas always wanted to happen between him and Stella, but it never did.

Stolas is almost grateful when he realizes Blitzo has taken his grimoire with him. It’s an easy reason to stay in contact, an easy excuse to call him, set meetings, work out an exchange and get more of what Blitzo gave him that first night.

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas.

He enjoys Blitzo’s company in general. He’s funny, quick-witted, intelligent and he handles him with an ease that in any other situation would be seen as lèse-majesté for an imp. And maybe that’s what appeals to Stolas about spending time with Blitzo. That he can be himself, doesn’t have to adhere to the vague behavioral standards of royal life. He can be vulgar around him, and a blubbering mess sometimes, Blitzo doesn’t mind him being angry or frustrated or stupid, he can just… Be.

So, sometimes he’ll find an excuse to spend time with Blitzo outside of the bedroom. To just be. Because it doesn’t affect their normal arrangement and it’s better than spending time alone in that grand, beautiful, empty palace with a wife who wants his head chopped off and a daughter who makes him responsible for it. Maybe he is responsible for it, he thinks, but that doesn’t change anything, does it?

When he takes Octavia to Loo Loo Land, he wants Blitzo there as his bodyguard, not because he necessarily needs protection, but just because… He wants him there. Around. As company. Because Blitzo is good like that. And he likes watching him fully in his element because Blitzo handles his rifle with the same deft touch and confidence as he handles Stolas and that’s beautiful in a way.

When Octavia tells them to get a room, it throws him off a little because he didn’t mean to get carried away like that. He truly wanted it to be a father-daughter day, Blitzo and his employees and incidental part of the equation, but he can’t really take his eyes off Blitzo when he’s being all professional and handsome and, God, maybe this was a bad idea to begin with.

That day ends with him finding Octavia crying and she asks if he wants to run off with Blitzo and that’s… Well, he can’t fault her for getting the wrong idea. Obviously she doesn’t know that it’s just sex between them. She’s just met a man who Stolas is very clearly flirting with constantly, so obviously that would look romantic. But he would never run off with him, it’s not like that. There’s no love between them, only a deal, good sex and good company.

There’s a little thought spinning around in his head after the whole Loo Loo Land incident that he doesn’t dare act upon for a good while, but it persists. All he needed to do to convince Blitzo to come with him was offer him money. So, maybe, just maybe, if he found himself desiring his company outside of their arrangement, he could just…

“I’m not a hooker,” Blitzo says sharply when he tries it one day during a phone call.

“But I usually pay you by letting you use the book,” Stolas tries, not entirely sure why he tries breaking through the metaphorical door that has just been quite clearly slammed shut right in front of face.

“That’s different! That’s-” Blitzo lets out a frustrated sigh at the end of the line. “Just don’t try that.”

“But-”

“Shut it, Stolas, I said no. Just because you’re a Prince or whatever doesn’t mean you can get everything you want by waving some money around.”

It stings a little, that comment. He didn’t mean to… He didn’t attempt to… Maybe he did. Blitzo said no, so that’s that. No reason to get hung up about it. So, he won’t see him before the full moon. That’s okay. No pain, not about Blitzo. And if he needs to exert some force to make a smile appear on his face, that’s just because he can hear Stella throwing utensils in the kitchen again.

“No trouble at all, I didn’t mean to offend, my dear Blitzy. See you next full moon,” he says then in his usual blib tone.

Blitzo hangs up on him after mumbling something about offending his asshole.

Sometime after that, Blitzo starts sharing cigarettes with him. It’s a little thing that he doesn’t think much of the first time it happens. Blitzo just kind of offers it to him one time, wordlessly and Stolas takes it and that’s that. It’s a little gesture of familiarity that neither of them comment on, but they keep doing it from then on. He starts buying the good expensive cigarettes and keeping them in the nightstand just for that little ritual.

Stolas would never admit to himself that he has a little cruel streak. “Friendly” is his default mode of presentation even if that sometimes gets him weird looks, it being hell and all. But he still grew up here, he still knows how the game is played and he still knows how to hit people where it hurts.

So, when Stella keeps yelling at him not just about how he cheated on her, though that certainly seems to be some part of her grievance with him, not about how he’s brought the false harmony of their home into jeopardy, not about how their daughter feels about the whole thing, but about how it looks bad that he’s having sex with an imp, how that’s undignified.

“Should I have used one of your fancy dinner party friends instead?!” he yells back at her one day and she just throws another saucer at him.

“At least that would have been a proper magazine scandal instead of the semi-public embarrassment I got!”

And that’s where he can’t handle it anymore. He leaves her alone in the kitchen to scream at the walls because frankly, what left is there to say? She wants a magazine scandal, huh? Sure. She can have a magazine scandal.

Stolas feels nervous when he has to ask Blitzo to come over early, but to his surprise, it’s no problem at all.

“Is that in addition to our regularly scheduled fucking or a substitute?” is the only question he asks and when Stolas answers, “Substitute” he’s happy with it.

It’s one of their best nights yet, Blitzo ties him up so good he can’t move an inch and he fucks him and he teases him with a passion that feels entirely new. Blitzo usually isn’t one to tease, he likes getting to the point, but tonight is different, tonight he takes his time and Stolas is pudding in his fingers.

There’s warmth afterwards, just everywhere. His entire body feels warm and muted and content. And for just a moment, there is pain. And normally he can just wish it away, replace it with excitement for the next time they meet, but this time, he feels the distinct pain of not being able to experience this kind of pleasure whenever he wants. He wants to feel exactly like this, warm and exhausted and content, all the time. But he can’t.

It takes real force this time, but he shoves the thought away. He can focus on getting Stella the big scandal she so craves, and he can kill two birds with one stone here. Not literally.

He invites Blitzo to the Harvest Moon Festival. That’s easy enough, get them out together, have him and Blitzo be in one place together in public. That’s both step one of his barely thought out plan and also another way to spend time with Blitzo which is something he needs desperately. Anything to get him out of this palace, out of the endless screaming matches with his wife.

And then, he makes it his personal goal to be as obnoxious as possible. Blitzo calls him obnoxious all the time, that’s nothing new, but he can do one better, make sure everyone knows what they’re doing, knows exactly that the great Prince of Hell is consorting with an imp. He wants Stella to look at media coverage of the Harvest Moon Festival and be absolutely furious about it. She wanted this.

And it’s genuinely exciting, too, watching Blitzo compete in the Games, dominating the competition except for that weird snake man who he eventually shares a title with. Truth is, Stolas doesn’t really need to try very hard to cheer Blitzo on, part of him wants to just shout from the mountaintops how cool and powerful and handsome he is and how well he’s doing.

To his disappointment, he can’t catch Blitzo after the festival. He’s suddenly gone after the trophy ceremony and is nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day. He leaves him a suggestive voicemail, saying he would love to see Blitzo as soon as possible, but if Blitzo doesn’t feel like it, he’s simply looking forward to the next full moon.

He learns only via Stella’s highly unsubtle phone calls at the dinner table that there was an attempt on life that day. He doesn’t know for sure, Blitzo hasn’t told him, but he suspects that his little imp probably had something to do with it not succeeding and that’s just delicious, isn’t it? That the reason for Stella’s wrath would be the one to thwart her plans? He smiles at himself.

It’s a week later that Blitzo appears on his balcony without a warning one night, sweating and nervous and completely unlike himself. Stolas practically jumps up from his bed and rushes over to him, pulling him into a hug almost automatically. To his surprise, Blitzo allows it.

“What’s going on, Blitzy?” he asks softly.

Blitzo takes a shaky breath and Stolas notices several bruises on his arms. “I just… I needed to… You’re okay.” It comes out shaky and incoherent but Stolas only hugs him tighter. “You’re kind of squeezing me to death,” Blitzo croaks then and lets out a small groan that makes him sound a bit more like himself.

Stolas lets a bit looser. “Come in, tell me what happened, I’ll call for some tea,” he says as he leads Blitzo inside.

Blitzo chuckles joylessly. “It’s insane how different shit is for you, you know that? You can just ask for tea and someone will bring it to you. Anything you lift your own finger for, you do of your own volition. Nobody makes you do anything. Unimaginable.”

Stolas doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s true, kind of self-evidently so. He hasn’t even taken up the house phone yet and a servant is already knocking at the door to offer tea. He takes with a curt “thank you” and hands Blitzo his cup. Slowly they sit down on the bed, arms resting against each other comfortably.

“You know they’re just like me, right? The servants you order around here all day?” Blitzo’s voice sounds hollow, distant. It’s disconcerting to say the least.

“Well, I suppose you’re all imps, but you… you’re special.”

“What if I don’t want to be? What if I want to be just like everyone else and just be… left alone with all the bullshit that comes with being ‘special’? What if I don’t want other assassins to come and try to talk me out of my job and how I do it, what if I don’t want to be the ‘only good one’ for people who’d just trample all over me if they hadn’t randomly decided that I was special, what if…”

“Blitzy, what’s going on? Do you not want to come here anymore? We can… We can stop if you want to. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to, I can just leave you the book and you give it back when I need it and-”

“Goddammit, Stolas, that’s not it, I just… Striker just came to my office and he just doesn’t leave me alone and we fought and he… Stolas, he won’t stop before he has your head and I can’t… I can’t guarantee that I can always be there to stop him.” Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, he just keeps staring directly into his tea cup.

“Oh, Blitzy, it’ll all work itself out, everything will be okay,” Stolas says softly, tenderly caressing Blitzo’s back, but his hand quickly slapped away.

“Are you actually serious right now?!” Blitzo looks at him now, angry, yes, but also very obviously hurt. “This guy is after you. And he’s good. I’ve stopped him once, I’ll do it again, but what if he comes here while I’m in the living world? What if I’m caught in some argument with Moxxie?”

“You don’t have to look after me, Blitzy, I’ll be okay, I promise.” Stolas takes a deep breath then, unsure of his next words. “Plus, if I wasn’t here anymore, you could just take my grimoire and run, isn’t that what you want?”

Blitzo just stares at him, one, two, three seconds. “It sure would be easier,” he says then, pensively, “But I- Well. It’s just that… You know how it is, I don’t want to be responsible for the whole power vacuum that would come with your death and it’s not my style… I don’t know, I just don’t want you dead.”

Stolas can’t help but smile at him. “Oh, Blitzy, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

And finally Bitzo laughs again. Stolas so loves seeing him laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve also told you that you’re my pretty little bitch and you have a nice dick and beautiful tight little asshole and you’re probably the only really good sub I’ve ever had.”

Stolas pulls him into his arms, letting Blitzo lean against him and rests his chin on one of his horns. “I’m not going to die, Blitzy, not as long as you’re here. I would never forgive myself if I left you alone. I promise you, I… I can look after myself.”

Blitzo sighs. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but ultimately stays silent.

They just sit there for minutes, silently embracing and Stolas doesn’t know what to do with that. It hurts. It hurts to hold Blitzo like that, to see him vulnerable and worried for him. It feels good to be with him, to have him be here. It’s warm and familiar and it feels natural, but it’s so, so painful.

“Blitzy?” Stolas breaks the silence finally.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. “I know where this is going,” he says, half-ironically but there’s no bite to it tonight.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Stolas whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Please, you’ve been head over heels in love with me since we first met,” Blitzo retorts but there’s no bite to it. It’s less a brag or a dig than a simple observation.

“I didn’t mean to, I just… I don’t want it to be like this, we have a good thing here and I don’t… I don’t want to make it all complicated and painful.”

Blitzo sighs again, but it’s a soft little sound, punctuated with a little laugh. “Stolas, you’re Goetic royalty doing completely shameless BDSM shit with an imp, it’s already complicated and painful.”

“No, I mean-” he looks at one of the paintings of him and Stella and Octavia, Blitzo follows his gaze, “I don’t want it to hurt like this again. Love always… It always hurts.”

Blitzo shrugs. “I don’t think it does. Fights and drifting apart and break ups hurt. Love itself can be fun. It’s just… hard sometimes.”

Stolas supposes that’s true. But still, is it really worth starting something when you know the end is inevitably going to be painful? And how would that even work, between them? Sure, teasing the press with an affair is one thing, but he can’t make it official. That would go beyond the realms of gossip and annoying his wife. That could potentially jeopardize his entire position and-

“Christ, you’re overthinking like crazy right now, I can practically hear you,” Blitzo breaks his train of thought. “Nothing has to change here. We have sex, we hang out sometimes, we do movie nights, I know your daughter, we’re already in more of a relationship than you and your wife.”

And that strikes Stolas like lightning. “You-? You feel the same?” he asks in utter disbelief.

“You stupid fucking bird, of course I do: You think I would have passed up and opportunity to get the book without fucking you otherwise?”

“I mean, yes, you could have just saved my life as a friend, I suppose.”

Blitzo shakes his head and grins at him. “I usually don’t fuck my friends. Nine times out of ten, I would like to, sure, but I still usually don’t. And, I sure as fuck didn’t want that either, but here we are and I literally gunned it from Imp City to here just to make sure you were still alive after I beat up Striker again and I… I think this,” he gestures between them, “is good. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever tolerated anyone that long, so… Count yourself lucky.”

Stolas smiles, as wide as he can and then he kisses him, tenderly, softly, chastely, like they never do and that seals it in a way. And for the first time in centuries, he doesn’t think about the pain that love can bring, he just thinks that holding Blitzo in his arms and kissing him feels good and he wants to keep feeling that good, so all the pain along the way, all the shit they might get into for it, might be worth it, in the end. So he pulls Blitzo a bit closer and deepens their kiss, losing himself completely in the warmth between them.

#helluva boss #stolitz #stolas x blitzo #stolas x blitz #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #tired: blitzo in denial #wired: stolas in denial #please enjoy

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drarreckyninja · 2 years

Text

drarreckyninja's top 50 ships of Feb 2022 [part 1/5]

50. Cistall

Sister "Cissy" Bear x Too Tall "TT" Grizzly [The Berenstain Bears]

Cissy easily becomes narcissistic when it comes to her hobbies, like dancing and jump rope. She's also a major gossiper; both quirks similar to TT's ex-girlfriend Queenie. TT has a soft center, and I could see them getting together when they get older.

49. Brayla

Brittany Ann x Kayla [Miss BG]

It may be a Dom/Sub relationship, considering how easily Kayla obeys Brittany Ann's dictations. She'll easily taunt others (including friends) if that's Brittany Ann's decision. It's not completely one-sided, as Brittany Ann admits that Kayla's the best friend she's got. And she'd rather spend Valentine's Day with Kayla than the boy who's after her affections.

48. Barge

Beetle Bailey x Sergeant "Sarge" Snorkel [Beetle Bailey comics]

It's actually become a popular headcanon that Beetle and Sarge are gay lovers in a Don't Ask, Don't Tell era military, and their constant scuffles and insults are disguised as sexual tension built up by their inability to freely engage in a relationship.

47. Wonkafrost

Willy Wonka x Jack Frost [Charlie and the Chocolate Factory x The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause]

Both men are outcasts among their peer groups and families. They have big plans for their businesses and are very eccentric in their ways. Furthermore, neither of them cares much for the women in their company.

46. Jacey

Josephine "Joey" Potter x Pacey Witter [Dawson's Creek]

Dawson is much too petty when it comes to his friends, causing fights whether or not intentional. Pacey loved Joey first, and he's there for Joey when she needs him. He doesn't want to give her up and says as much, but he only wants her to stay with him if she'll be happy.

45. Kames

Ken Jennings III x James Holzhauer [Jeopardy; The Chase]

Ken and James have a friendly, hilarious rivalry. They banter online, but they also go shopping together. In 2003, on Ken's first Jeopardy episode, he claimed to be there because of "two drunk teenagers and a truck driver in the Nevada desert." In 2003, James was 18-19. Was he one of the drunk Nevada teenagers? I like to think so.

44. Sparkison

Elliot Spencer x Parker x Alec Hardison [Leverage]

John Rogers basically verified in a tweet that he used the original series finale to make this OT3 canon. They are always there for one another.

43. Dasey

Derek x Casey [Life with Derek]

In the beginning, they seemed to just be average stepsiblings... then it went left field. You gotta remember that they're two teenagers who don't know each other and are forced to live together. They grow certain attachments, and it might not be all platonic.

42. Licmint

Lord Licorice x Mister Mint [Candyland; Candy Land: The Great Lollipop Adventure]

Mint is very optimistic and has no qualms in sneaking through Licorice's cave a la shortcut... until he gets caught. IRL: licorice and peppermint go very well together.

41. Lumiworth

Lumiere x Cogsworth [Beauty and the Beast]

Although Lumiere spent a lot of time in the first movie with his feather duster girlfriend, he was also happy to kiss Cogsworth after they chased off the villagers. They're snarky yet affectionate to one another, and they truly care for each other.

#the berenstain bears #miss bg #beetle bailey #charlie and the chocolate factory #the santa clause 3 the escape claus #dawsons creek #jeopardy #the chase #leverage #life with derek #candyland the great lollipop adventure #beauty and the beast #my ships #countdown

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trashahime · 3 years

Text

Anon, sorry for taking so long and the length. There was a lot to address and I tend to ramble. Due to the length I am going to divide your ask in chunks and respond to each paragraph individually for clarity's sake.

I'm curious as to why you have addressed this to Sesskagu shippers both here and later. TBH, this alone will make many doubt that you are truly neutral because you seem to have fallen for the common but false claim that the anti sentiment has it's roots in bitterness over a lost ship war.

Those supporting the end are made up of a variety of people who are simply united in their dislike/disappointment. Among them are shippers and non-shippers, antis, neutrals and even some SR fans who are bothered by how their ship is portrayed.

Personally, I don't think it takes any kind of mental gymnastics to have a problem with how Sessrin is depicted in Yashahime. There are some antis who probably do purposely make the worst possible interpretations to fuel their disgust/anger. But most are being completely sincere in their belief that Rin was married and pregnant by the time she was 15. You have probably already seen and dismissed all the anti arguments to support this view so it would be pointless to rehash them. You can believe it's just about disliking Sessrin but there were many antis like myself who were willing to accept the relationship even if we found it distasteful had Sunrise gone about things differently.

Each "hater" has their own reason for continuing to watch the show and I can't speak for them. Or as a "hater" either as I enjoyed the show. But I also think it's a trainwreck with many issues and problematic portrayals.

If people are targeting individuals and maliciously interacting with their posts then that is definitely harassment. However, I suspect you also mean the general posts made by antis criticizing those who watch the show.

The belief that watching/supporting Yashahime equals supporting a p*dophilic portrayal of Sessrin and other unsavory stuff is an opinion I disagree with. But I also disagree that expressing that opinion is harassment.

I get why you find it to be extremely harsh and hurtful but I also think you are taking it very personally when you needn't.

Consider my position. I'm an anti that still enjoys Yashahime. Most of those posts are made by my moots, some of which I have very friendly interactions with. I have even more reason to feel personally attacked by them but I don't. Just because I respect someone's right to an opinion that doesn't mean I am obligated to agree with it and make it apply it to myself. Unless you agree that liking Yashahime means condoning p*dophilia, then I'd advise you to take the view that those posts don't pertain to you at all.

As for petitions, bad reviews, being glad Yashahime is almost over... Well that's some of the least offensive actions an anti can take. Two of the three are against corporations, not fellow fandom members and the other is just a celebration amongst themselves.

They don't affect anyone else unless the petitions and bad reviews are substantial enough to put the shows future in jeopardy. IMO, the correct counter action is good reviews and supportive petitions, not telling antis to stop. They have the right to express their opinions.

I have seen many grooming and csa survivors say they also don't view Sessrin as having those aspects. However, there are many survivors on the anti side that strongly disagree. While I think that the opinions of those who have endured similar circumstances have more weight, it also creates kind of a never ending tug of war situation where neither side can really "win" the argument because they are equally balanced. For every survivor saying it is, there is one saying it's not.

Generally, I choose not to use the words p*dophilia or grooming when describing the Sessrin relationship or say that everyone who likes the pairing is a P&G apologist.

Many antis don't agree on this, but I think it's possible to have headcanons and scenarios that result in a version of Sessrin in which those things are not present. Fanonwise anyway. To me, the canon situation can definitely be interpreted to believe that they are present.

Mostly, I tend not to use the terms because they have specific psychological and legal definitions. That makes it very easy for SR fans to completely dismiss the idea that they could apply to Sessrin because it's not a perfect fit. I think if it turns out to be part of actual canon or if it's just part of one's own headcanon that Sesshomaru was "waiting" for Rin to grow up and courting her with gifts like the kimonos then that means he had a romantic interest in her when she was too young for it to be acceptable.

He might not be a technical p*do in that he is attracted to children, but his thoughts and actions are of one with regards to Rin. I agree with those that say Sesshomaru would never intentionally manipulate or pressure Rin to be with him, thus not "technically" grooming.

However, informing her via courting that he wants to be with her when she is older does put a type of manipulative pressure on her. For years, she will have to live with the knowledge that her literal savior, the most important person to her in the world, someone she loves and doesn't want to disappoint, is waiting for her. It will absolutely influence her life choices and who she becomes.

No need to apologise, I don't mind being vented at and am clearly prone to long-ass messages myself.

I think you do have some valid frustrations but I don't think they all are.

It's often forgotten that antis are major fans too. Many wanted to love Yashahime but in their eyes Yashahime "bashes" the OG and it's characters. It's ruined something they held near and dear. And they are highly upset about it.

Think about it, that's probably why you and others are so angry at the criticism. It's bashing something you all enjoy or maybe even love and it's making you highly upset. You all are more alike then you realize.

You can let it all impact your fandom experience or realise there is very little you can do about it because that criticism, even if you find it unfounded, harsh or extreme has the right to exist provided it doesn't break the rules of the website. You won't be able to block it all away.

it's a tired old cliche but it's true that you can't control what others do, only your own reaction to it. And frankly I think some of your reactions are as extreme as to what you ascribe to antis. I mean, you want them to stop celebrating the end of Yashahime. How does that really personally affect you?

A change in perspective as I described earlier goes a long way in not taking anti criticism personally. It even works when you are being personally attacked. I have seen posts about me specifically saying I am a deluded and deranged individual with real life mental health issues just because I think Kagura is the mom. Those people don't know me and I know the truth about myself. So why let someone's unfounded false world view affect me or my fandom experience?

Anyway, you probably just wanted to rant and weren't expecting or wanting this massive response. I hope you find a way to deal with the negativity because it's not completely avoidable but it will die down eventually.

#ask #anti sessrin #antisessrin

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gloryofluv · 3 years

Text

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 5

Well, I guess Alex is going through the motions. I am really starting to love how well-rounded this is getting. Flirty fics are fun, but they always need heart and perseverance!

Chapter

1 - 2- 3 - 4

Fuck. Why did she do that? Alex wanted to toss her phone but knew she couldn’t afford a new one yet. Memories. Social media keeps track even if you don’t. She was bundled on the ground of the bathroom she just cleaned and sobbed.

All she wanted to do was look at this real estate agent that Lucifer texted her. She glanced down at the picture of her and her mother while she was getting dressed for prom. Would she be upset that she was thinking of selling their home? Would she be proud? She felt so fucking alone.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and she stuttered on a breath. Fucking get it together, girl. She wiped her face and nodded. “I’ll be out momentarily,” she said in a cheery tone.

Breathe. Stand up. Bitch, buck the fuck up, you’re at work. Alex listened to her inner dialog, turned on the water to the sink, cleaned her hands and face, and fixed her makeup. After she was satisfied, she picked up her tool tote and walked to the door with a plastered smile.

Solomon was on the other side of the door. “Hey, Alex,” he said with a curl to his lips.

“Hey, Sol, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Not horribly. I’m a bit stuck on this formula, but it’s bound to come to me,” he voiced while walking in step with her.

She rocked her head and shifted at the entrance to the counter. “Let me just go put this away and clock out. We can chat a minute after I’m off the clock.”

He rocked his head and leaned on the wall nearby. “Want to take a walk with me?”

She tilted her head and hummed. “Maybe.”

“Good, I’ll order, and we’ll head to the park.”

“Oh, good, we’re taking a walk to the park?”

Alex glanced over to see Satan wander over with his tea and pastry bag. “Oh, hey, Satan. I didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head and gestured to his messenger bag. “I was grading pages.”

Solomon crossed his arms before touching his chin with his fingers. “You want to join us?”

Satan rocked his head. “A little fresh air would be great.”

“Okay, let me just go finish up,” Alex smiled and walked to the back of the shop. Well, it was quite the variation, but after how interesting her Sunday had been, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. She turned to the computer after putting the tote away and clocked out. Shaking out her body and taking off her apron and hat, she rolled her neck.

There was something to be said about the smears on her uniform. Alex stripped off her overshirt and straightened her purple tank top, and pulled out her ponytail. After checking her face in the mirror and reapplying a few touches on her eyeliner and lip gloss, she was ready.

Better. Alex smiled and collected her bag before marching to the front again. Solomon and Satan seemed to be in a discussion about the book in Satan’s hand. Their hand gestures only confirmed the estimation as Alex walked over to collect her drink.

“Hey, babes,” Jess hummed. “Do you think you could do me a favor and take my Friday shift, and I’ll take your Saturday one. It's closing, and I have a date.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yeah, I can. You never ask me to trade, so they must be pretty hot,” she teased.

Jess smirked and rocked her head. “Yeah, Mr. Macchiato, who comes in the evenings.”

“Nice, well, I hope you have tons of fun. Text Jordan and let him know, alright?”

Jess beamed and blew a kiss. “You’re a lifesaver for my social life, hun.”

Alex waved and met up with the two intellectuals holding their beverages. “I’m just saying that Dickens wasn’t as extraordinary as we make him out to be,” Solomon huffed.

“Oh, no, we’re on about Charles again?”

Satan laughed and shook his head as they walked out the door. “Just Solomon’s primary dagger.”

“Solomon, do you just enjoy debating?” Alex asked.

Solomon smiled and shifted his head from side to side. “Occasionally, but so does Satan, so we have a mutual understanding never to take it to blows.”

“I think the Brontë sisters are probably a staple for every woman,” Alex added to the conversation.

“And men,” Satan nodded.

“Very true, but we need to selectively decide what mannerisms are dated in order to value the interpretation,” Solomon voiced.

Alex smirked and raised her hand to her chest. “'Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!'” She paused after the quote and laughed. “Imagine declaring equality to a man who was higher in rank and stature than you in that time. The dated behavior is only setting.”

Satan let out a stream of hearty laughter. “Oh, Alex, I would have loved to have you in my class today. There was a sexist animal who was definitely in need of a strong female to set him straight.”

“My little Jane isn’t very plain,” Solomon chuckled and waved his hand.

“No, she isn’t,” Alex laughed before sipping her iced tea.

“I was referring to you,” Solomon hummed.

Alex smirked at him and shrugged. “I do pretty well, I suppose.”

Satan cleared his throat, drawing Alex’s attention to her left. “So, you realized that half your customers are my brothers.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yes, I was informed of that by Belphegor in a rather creative way.”

“I heard,” Satan laughed. “We all live together.”

“So I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Interesting dynamic,” Solomon voiced. “All seven of them together.”

“They also throw some ridiculous parties,” Alex said and then waved her free hand in a circle. “From what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you live across the street,” Satan snorted with a smug smile. “I’ve known longer than Lucifer.”

Alex gasped as they walked on the sideway in the park. “What?”

Satan chuckled and rocked his head. “Yes, I knew from Jordan. I was the one to buy his motorcycle.”

She shrieked and gasped. “Oh! That’s why I’ve seen it around the cafe.”

Satan wagged his eyebrows. “So yes, I’ve known for about four months. He pulled it out of your garage and brought it over. When I asked why he moved, he told me about your circumstance and why he was torn, but family comes first.”

“It does,” Alex smiled. “His mother was great to me when my parents died. She practically lived with me for the first six months. Then Jordan moved in, and he got me a job at the cafe. He’s always been like my big brother. So when his dad got injured at work and couldn’t work, I told him to move home to help.”

“How did you both meet?” Solomon questioned.

“Oh, that’s a funny story, actually. So, in middle school, he was a grade above me, and I was super shy. He saw me being harassed by some asshole. He stepped in and smoothed the situation. I was so shocked he was able to do so without violence. Jordan took me to the bathroom, cleaned me up, and told me that the only bitches in our life are the beautiful bitches we can be, so I needed to learn to walk like it. From then on, he just started pulling me into his antics,” she explained and laughed while shaking her head.

“You were shy?” Satan questioned.

Alex stopped drinking her tea and nodded. “I actually am in general. I took his advice to heart. I’m friendly and enjoy people, but I don’t have very many people I consider close with.”

“Is this why you aren’t dating anyone?” Solomon questioned.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him and smirked. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Solomon smiled.

“Wait, I really find this fascinating. You aren’t close to any family?” Satan asked.

Alex shrugged and hummed. “My aunts and uncles all live in different parts of the country. I was an only child, and now that my parents aren’t here, the only people I see are Jordan and his parents. Jordan’s sister left for a university across the country two years ago. I see them probably once a month.”

“You live alone? Like no one ever comes to knock on your door or calls your phone?” Satan questioned with a scowl.

“Well, I won’t be living there much longer,” Alex sighed. “I have to sell the place, so I’ll have to clear it out in the next couple of weeks. The financial officer, my parents, left in charge, said that the funds wouldn’t cover the expenses this next year, so it would be a good idea for me to sell.”

“Hm,” Solomon murmured. “I could help.”

“No,” Alex shook her head. “It’s time. I don’t need handouts, Sol. I appreciate it, but no.”

“Why do you feel like you have to do everything alone?” Satan asked as they rounded the outside of the park.

Alex breathed and shook her head. “It’s such a long story.”

“Your parents?” Solomon voiced.

This analysis was cathartic in a way, and Alex felt this heavyweight being pulled from her shoulders. “Well, yes and no. I was telling my mother before she passed that I was thinking of taking a year off to go with my boyfriend at the time to travel the world. She was so supportive, even though it would put my education in jeopardy. When they died, he bailed with some other girl, so I kind of just stopped relying on others.”

Satan tutted and exhaled. “To be an idiot teenager who couldn’t handle grief. I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age.”

Alex smiled and shrugged as they made their way back to the cafe. “I’m pretty good. I have a degree. I’ll have a decent nest egg to pay for my schooling for an even better education and my best friend. I’m doing pretty well.”

“I have an intrigue before we conclude our adventure into your life,” Solomon hummed.

Alex tilted her head as she grinned at him. “What’s that?”

“You are strong without someone, but it makes it so much richer to share your heart with others,” Solomon declared.

“Says the man who has done his fair share of that,” Satan snorted.

Solomon rolled his eyes. “Satan, don’t cast stones in glass houses.”

“You have been married three times now,” Satan snorted.

News. Alex raised her eyebrows. “Three times? Aren’t you like barely forty?”

“I resent that,” Solomon scowled. “No, I am not. However, marriage and love are difficult measurements in a formula very few understand. I’m difficult.”

“I actually like that about you,” Alex laughed.

Satan scowled as they stopped at the sidewalk near the cafe. “You enjoy that he’s difficult, but you won’t text me?” he questioned with a sly smile.

She puffed and pulled his phone from his bag’s pocket. It was sticking out and available. Alex then went to his keypad, dialed her number, and pressed the call. Her phone soon rang, and she hung up.

“Now, you have my number. Stop trying to make me do all the work, you pushy professor,” she snorted and handed his phone back.

Satan was grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Solomon handed her his phone, and she groaned but did the same exact thing. “If you both call me all the time, I will block your number,” she teased.

“If you need any help with your house, please tell me,” Solomon nodded. “I am quite organized.”

“I will,” Alex smiled.

Solomon tossed his cup in the trash and smiled before walking to his car. Alex watched him wave and climb inside before driving off in the silver vehicle. Satan shifted and tilted his head when she turned back to him.

“Did you want to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll cook,” Satan offered.

“Just because we’re temporarily neighbors does not mean I’m a booty call, understood?” Alex questioned.

Satan snorted and straightened his shirt. “You’re far too interesting to blow on a booty call, Alex.”

“Just had to make it clear. I would take your offer for dinner, but I’m actually exhausted. Diavolo came in for a coffee tasting, and I hosted it. Since then, I’ve just been drained.”

Satan rocked his head. “Well, I’ll ask tomorrow then,” he smiled and shrugged. “You’ll eventually say yes,” he chuckled and walked over to the motorcycle.

Alex smiled and observed as he slid on his helmet, waved, and climbed on the bike. Bad boy, professor. Pretty sexy. That tickled her to no end. He pulled out with a roaring shift of gears and headed in the same direction she needed to go. Home. Even if it was just for now.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

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fablesrose · 3 years

Text

OKAS XXXII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Warnings: fluff, angst

OKAS Masterlist~Masterlist

A/n: Thank you all for your patience for this chapter. It has been difficult to balance school, life, and writing, but I’m so glad I knew I had something to go back to once I figured it out. Merry Christmas!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I knew everything was going to be okay.

Until it wasn't.

"And what the hell are you doing?"

I snapped up from the ground to see none other than Nick Fury standing above our rag-tag group lying in the grass.

I swallowed deeply suddenly aware of the bruise on my neck from where nanobots were injected into my body. Nanobots that could probably do a number of unpleasant things to me.

Nick turned to the team who was still lying on the ground, "I thought I told you to get her settled in her room and then get her ready."

"We were getting there eventually." Loki closed his eyes and stayed there with his hands beneath his head.

"I would appreciate it if you did it now so she can get it over with."

"Wait... what's going on?" I was confused since one, Nick wasn't totally fuming, and two, what were they getting me ready for?

"Some evaluations of your condition are needed."

Well if that wasn't the vaguest answer to ever be crafted from a Shield Director I don't know what is.

I stood and brushed my jumpsuit to remove the nonexistent grass sticking on it, "I guess let's get this over with." I started to walk towards the compound when another thought occurred to me, "All my stuff is gone... Isn't it." I turned back towards the group, not expecting anything but a yes.

"Nope."

"What."

Tony leapt to his feet before steadying himself against me, "Well, you know what saps these guys are so they just wouldn't let any of your things go in the trash."

There were some protests from those on the ground, but Tony didn't give them any mind and started to lead me back towards the compound, an arm around my shoulders. He lead me up a couple of floors to a door that looked familiar.

It looked like every other door in the compound.

"Do you remember this?"

"No?"

"Oh. Well, this was the room you used to stay in when you couldn't go back to your apartment."

"Oh," I swung the door inwards to see a fully put together room, "this... This looks exactly like my apartment room." I couldn't help but smile. It felt like home.

"Yeah, Natasha was very precise." Tony stood in the doorway, not wanting to intrude, "So, there's a suit on your bed, you're gonna be doing sparring first. Get changed into that and be back to the common room and we'll head over to the training room." He checked his watch, "you probably have twenty minutes before Fury gets too impatient."

I nodded, but then a problem occurred to me, "uh, how am I gonna get this thing off?" I picked at the sleeve of the metal suit.

"When you're ready just say you want it off and it should relax into a normal suit you can take off." With that, he shut the door behind him and left me to my privacy.

I roamed around the room for a bit, admiring the little things that I had forgotten. There were pictures and little trinkets. I only hoped I could appreciate them like I used to.

The twenty minutes passed by quickly and before I knew it I was in the sparring area in the training room facing someone I had never met.

"Easy there сахарный, I'm not going to hurt you," he said it with a smile, but it only made my frown grow.

"Trust me, that's not what I'm worried about. There's a lot more salt than sugar here."

"Remember, this is just to see your condition Y/n, no powers are allowed, we will go until there is a clear winner," Nick's voice could be heard over the intercom as he sat from the observational area with the rest of the team.

And we were told to begin.

His steps were light, and a little bit quicker than needed, or expected. They were also more sure than mine were. I studied what he was doing as fast as I could, but it wasn't enough. His foot hooked around my knee and brought me to the ground, but I rolled across the mat to his other side. I snapped up to my feet and created some distance between him and myself to buy some time.

We circled for a little bit longer, watching, waiting. He lunged first, aiming for my waist. I twisted out of the way, tripping his feet in one fluid motion making him hit the mat.

The blood was rushing in my ears and everything else fell away.

There was only a young boy in front of me with the same objective as me.

To win.

He didn't even rise all the way off of the floor before he spun to trip me up. I landed hard, making me dizzy. He pinned my arms to the mat, but before he could pin my feet I pulled them up to my chest and kicked him off of me.

He let out a grunt as he flipped over me. I wanted to detain him as he was down, make this as painless as possible, but he was out of my reach too quickly.

Then it was back to circles.

My body was trembling, from adrenaline, strain, or something else, I couldn't tell.

This was the longest match I had been in for a long time. I felt bad for him. He was fighting so hard.

I better not prolong his pain any longer.

I had him in a headlock. I'm not exactly how. His sweaty blond hair was brushing my chin as I slowly cut off his airway. His hand frantically slapped my hand, and then the mat.

"Shhhh, it's okay. It'll be over soon," I swallowed. It was better this way. It was what he wanted.

It was better for everyone this way.

Hands gripped at me and ripped the boy from my grasp. Panic tore through me. I only knew of one person who wasn't allowed to win, it didn't end well for him.

I struggled and shrieked, "No! You sick bastard! I was doing it! You told me to win, I was doing it!" I clawed at the arms surrounding me, trying to hold me still, "Don't you dare take me back there! I did what you asked!"

Someone was trying to speak to me, but I didn't want to know what they were saying.

"You hear me Hen-" I was mid-scream when my world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Avengers sat in a room surrounded by screens of camera footage. All but one was playing different angles of the nearly deadly sparring match. The other was focused on the motionless form of Y/n on her bed.

They were silent, all too scared of what would come if they broke it. But it had to be broken.

"It seems they trained her, but I'm not sure I've ever seen training like that before." Vision was the only one brave enough to say anything, or it could be he didn't fully understand the gravity in the room.

"That's because it isn't training," that odd statement drew the attention of some of the group to none other than James Buchanan Barnes.

"That's survival." He stood from his seat and walked towards the biggest of the screens. It started from the beginning of the match and he pointed carefully at her feet, "You can tell this is training, but this isn't from Hydra. Her footwork is very similar to Clint's so it must be Shield training." He watched as she adjusted her position on the screen, "That uneasy shifting tells me that she hasn't done any formal training or technical sparring in a very long time, muscle memory is driving most of her motions, but it can only go so far."

No one disagreed with him.

The footage continued, "Right here is where I believe she forgot where she was." Bucky turned to face the group, "You're completely right Vision when you said you haven't seen any training like that before, because that isn't something you do unless you're desperate."

The Avengers could hear themselves in the footage yelling.

"He's tapping out. She's not letting go!"

"Stark! Turn her off!"

"What do you think she is? A damn toy?!"

"I said, turn her off!"

"Loki's down there, she's throwing a fit."

"You told me to win, I was doing it!"

"Hurry up Tony."

"I'm working on it!"

"Do you hear me Hen-"

The footage stopped and they were left in silence.

"That must have been what they told her when they told her to fight. They told her to win."

"Wait, are you telling me that she had to do this while with Hydra?" Bucky spun to Steve in disbelief, "What the hell did you think was going to happen, Fury? That she was just going to go 'ho ho guess we're gonna have friendly sparing match and not kill my opponent!'"

"It was necessary, unfortunately."

"Bullshit!"

"You not only put in jeopardy Y/n's sanity, but also Pietro's life. You're lucky he is only needed for overnight observation, Fury. I believe this meeting is over." Wanda stood from her seat and started towards the door.

"What are we going to do about Y/n?"

"How about I 'turn her back on' and let her figure things out. Locking her in a cage isn't going to do anybody any good." Tony looked pointedly at Nick.

He sighed and nodded, "Okay, do what you have to do."

With that, everyone exited from the room.

Natasha and Loki were next to each other when Bucky approached, "Hey, you two were awfully quiet. Anything I should know about?"

"No, we just figured that if we got involved in the mess, it would become..." Natasha trailed off.

"A whole lot messier," Loki finished.

They both had grim looks on their face, a cover for the frustration and worry boiling inside them both.

"We were planning on being there when Tony wakes her up," Natasha stuffed her hands into her back pockets, looking at her feet.

Bucky nodded and started to turn away with a soft smile.

Loki grabbed his shoulder before he could get too far, "Would you like to join us? I'm sure she would be glad to meet you."

"Not as glad as me for the opportunity."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One moment I was screaming, and the next I was lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling.

"So this is what it's like to have a control button."

"Terribly inconvenient isn't it?"

I didn't even move my gaze from the ceiling, "Like you would know."

"Afraid not, girlie," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

I shifted to lean my back against the headboard, "And I'm afraid that word doesn't apply to me anymore." I looked at Loki and Natasha, "Can you believe that I'm thirty whole years old?" I sighed.

"And life is unfair in that you didn't get to see a more than a few of them."

I reached out and squoze Natasha's hand, "But what do you expect? When has life ever been fair?"

There was a moment of silence before I decided to shake off the self pity.

"Alright, enough of that," I looked at the stranger in the room, "I'm assuming you're friendly since these guys wouldn't have let you in other wise, but I don't believe that I've had the pleasure."

He stood from his seat and stepped closer, offering his hand, "Indeed we have not, though sometimes I think I do know you with how much everyone talks about you. James Buchanan Barnes, miss, but you can call me Bucky."

I took his hand with a small smile, "All good things I hope. I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you after all the shit I've seen, showing up like a ghost."

He laughed, "Yeah, something like that."

"Okay, sorry to be a party pooper, but how's the kid?" I swallowed deeply, scared of what I would hear.

"He's just fine Lady Y/n. He'll be in the infirmary for observation over night, but he'll be just fine." Loki's voice was overly reassuring.

"You know, I can always tell when you feel bad for me, 'cuz you call me that," I smiled at him, though I'm sure it looked forced. "I guess that's one thing we can bond over, a warm hello from the newcomer." I shot Loki a wink, making him groan.

"You are never going to let that go are you?"

"For as long as I live Princey."

Natasha was laughing with Bucky who was a bit confused, but intrigued all the less, "I don't think I've heard this story."

"Oh you will, but maybe not right now," I sat up straight and stretched, "at this moment, I want pizza, a burger, and french fries." I looked pointedly at Loki, "I don't care about my favorite smoothie anymore, I want solid food."

Natasha pulled me from the bed, "Your wish is my command, I was craving something anyway."

So the two of us dashed down the hall, me letting Natasha lead the way to the kitchen.

Best Buds: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

OKAS: @paigelin @ghost-of-the-oldwest @frostedgiant

#OKAS #chapter 32 #Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #fluff #angst #pietro maximoff #wanda maximoff #Vision #natasharomanoff #natasha #tony stark #Nick Fury

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scarlettlillies · 3 years

Text

Hetalia - The Last Night

Back in 2019, I had written a fic under the same name for Nordipalooza but I wasn’t happy with the ending I had made. Finally after almost two years, it’s finished! I wrote around five or six different endings but none of them seemed to mesh well with the story. While I’m not 100% satisfied with the outcome, I like this ending a lot more than the last one! I'm very happy I can finally cross this fic off my to-do list.

This fic is set around September 1939. The original prompt for this was "Finland, Any character - Final meeting". Both characters are brothers in this.

If you prefer to read this at Ao3, you can click the link here.

Summary: Finland and Estonia meet up for drinks at their usual spot in Tallinn. But Finland can't shake off how cold his neighbour is acting and Estonia avoids any attempt at setting the record straight.

-----

In a dimly-lit bar, they share a drink together. As chatty as everyone is, their voices are low and soft while the mood is somber at best. There are few smiles as a singer in the background reminisces of a long lost love. Finland though is in his own world and pulled out a case from his chest pocket and offered Estonia a cigarette but the man declined.

“C’mon Estonia, live a little. I bet you’ve never smoked a day in your life.”

“For your information, I live a fulfilling life and doing just fine without them,” he laughed. “Besides, smoking too many of them will kill you.”

“Details!” Finland said before he lit up a smoke. After taking a few drags, he let it lay against a glass ashtray and placed the lighter next to it. “It isn’t like we can die anyways.”

That got a chuckle out of Estonia when he placed a finger to his lips, “Shh… don’t say that out loud. No one is supposed to know about that.” With a few friendly jabs back and forth, their conversation quickly died and the two men were left to sit in an awkward silence that had Finland feeling out of place. It wasn’t normal for their conversations to just dissipate like that. He watched Estonia’s mannerisms closely as he took a few more drags of his cigarette. The man was staring mindlessly into his liqueur with an expression that would rival a grieving widow. Finland was beginning to lose his patience. In a move that was out of character for him, he smacked the table with such force that Estonia jumped from his seat and startled the folks at the surrounding tables.

“I didn’t sit on a boat for two and half hours to watch you stare at your drink all night.”

Finland’s tone was harsh and Estonia stared at him like a deer in headlights, “Uh, right, I’m sorry.” he replied as he turned his head looking rather embarrassed. Finland quickly returned to his usual self when he realized what he had done. He rubbed the back of his neck feeling rather guilty. He couldn’t believe he lost his temper like that.

“Estonia, I’m so sorry,” he said apologetically. “It’s just—I’m worried about you right now.”

“I know, I know,” Estonia replied. “And you don’t need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I’m the one who invited you and yet here I am being a bad host. Let’s restart this from scratch shall we?”

Estonia lifted up his drink up and with a grin he proposed a toast, “To friendship and brotherhood.”

Finland was impressed just how quick Estonia changed his entire persona. He was dying for a topic change and was delighted to put all of this in the past, for now at least.

“To friendship and brotherhood!”

Estonia seemed to be loosening himself up after having two drinks as they chatted about everything under the sun. Finland went for sports and his adventures of playing catch-up with Sweden. Meanwhile Estonia talked about music and his fascination for the sciences. Even as the patrons slowly emptied the bar and the shows were ending for the night, they continued on as if the world around them didn’t exist, ordering drink after drink. Finally at one in the morning, the owners grew tired of them causing a ruckus. One of the men, who spoke Estonian with a notable accent and dressed in an expensive blue suit, announced they were closing shortly and the two of them needed to leave. They didn’t contest and Estonia paid the bill. They stumbled out of bar, laughing at the top of their lungs, and their arms entwined. The owners had never been so grateful to see someone leave as the man from earlier locked the door behind them.

Estonia walked Finland back to his hotel. He felt guilty that he couldn’t house him but Finland didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t Estonia’s fault that he lacked a spare bed and there was no way he was going to let Finland sleep on the bedroom floor. The rooms in Tallinn were cheap, cozy, and it suited his needs just fine. Finland’s feet were killing him but luckily his hotel wasn’t too far from the bar they spent their evening at.

The air felt like winter was just around the corner and Finland hated it. It was made worse when the mood between them had also reverted back to how things were at the bar earlier in the evening. Estonia insisted it was because he was tired but Finland was not buying it. He doesn’t press him about it however. He doesn’t want to end their stellar night on such a sour note.

When they had arrived to the old-style wooden hotel doors, Finland was taken aback when Estonia showered him with so much open affection. Estonia wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a warm and familiar embrace.

But his hug felt different than usual. He had felt this kind of hug before—on the night he and Sweden said their goodbyes before Russia took him away to Saint Petersburg. The memory of the mighty Sweden failing to keep his composure; his tears stained his shoulders as he whispered “I’m sorry” over and over in his ear, was one that he’ll never forget for eternity. It was only ten years ago that Sweden had opened up to him that he truly felt that he was never going to see Finland ever again.

Now, it was Estonia’s turn. It was one to feel it from Sweden but Estonia was his brother—his best friend. They had spent so many centuries apart even though they lived under the same ruling powers. Sweden would tip-toe around the rules to keep him comfortable. Russia, on the other hand, had given him more freedoms than Estonia ever hoped to have when he began living under his roof—though he later realized this was only because Russia feared he’d rebel in order to return to Sweden. But now that they were free together, Finland couldn’t bare to lose Estonia again. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Finland noticed the sorrow in Estonia’s aqua-coloured eyes when he had pulled away. Though he promised himself that he wouldn't push the issue, Finland can't let it slide any longer.

“Estonia, please talk to me. You haven’t been yourself all night.”

There’s a long and lengthy pause, and Finland never got the answers he wanted. Instead Estonia avoids the question entirely. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from him. Estonia always tip-toed around questions he didn’t want to answer by changing the topic or continuing on as if nothing happened. The man had such strong walls that few could tumble down.

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening. Promise me we’ll do this again?”

“Of course. But—”

“Excellent. I’ll be looking forward to it,” Estonia grinned. “Please send my regards to Sweden the next time you two meet.”

He stuffed his bare hands in his coat pockets and Estonia turned to walk away into the night. Finland however was quicker and grabbed on to Estonia’s right arm with a tight grip.

“Wait!” Finland cried out desperately. “Please stay the night with me. It’s late out and there’s nothing running at this hour. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

Estonia turned his head back with a smile. It’s not the kind that Finland wanted—it was somber at best—but it was still a smile.

“I’m flattered but that’s not necessary. Don’t worry, I’ll be alright. Tallinn is pretty safe at night.”

In a move that surprised Estonia (though it probably shouldn’t have), Finland yanked him backwards by pulling him by the arm. They grew closer as Estonia could feel Finland’s head pressed deep into his upper back. Quiet sobs could be heard and it was cracking Estonia’s hard composure. He hated seeing others cry but hurt more when it came from the ones he loved most. He tried to rationalize himself that all of this was because Finland was tired and a little drunk. But even that couldn’t get Estonia to believe his own lies.

“Please talk to me,” Finland softly repeated, in between sobs. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Stop lying to me.”

Estonia hung his head low and bit his lip for a brief moment. He opened his mouth, took a breath—and then nothing. One half of him wanted to spill his emotions out. But no matter how much he tried, the other half was too stubborn to admit the truth: his freedom was at jeopardy and he was too ashamed to admit it. The war brewing in the west will not spare them.

The only thing he could muster up was a warning—

“A word of advice: if Russia comes to your door, don’t answer it. He’s the devil in disguise.”

Finland’s eyes opened wide when Estonia used all of his strength to pull himself from his friend’s grip. Without looking back, he ran as fast as he could through the streets of the downtown without a word. Hotel patrons arrived to their windows startled when Finland yelled out his name loud enough that his voice had cracked. He couldn’t get the energy to go after him and stopped after making it a few blocks away from the hotel. He watched helplessly as Estonia disappeared further into darkness.

To say his words hadn’t struck fear into him would be a lie. A warning from Estonia was never to be taken lightly. The man seemed to carry a sixth sense and could feel danger approaching long before it would take place.

It really did feel as if this was their final night together.

And in the end, Finland never slept that night.

He stood up in his bed until dawn smoking each cigarette, one by one, until his case of eight was emptied out. The sun was beginning to rise though its light was stuck behind dark grey clouds—a fitting end to his time in Tallinn. He watched attentively at the dead streets of the Old City through the dirty hotel window while the radio cycled through various soft jazz tunes. It was an easy distraction to keep his mind from replaying the events from last night.

It was nearly six the morning. He had to get himself ready or he’d miss the cruise back to Helsinki. He was still dressed in the clothing he went out to the bar with, minus his jacket which had been tossed on to a chair at the room’s entrance, but he made sure to clean himself up. He hardly recognized himself in the bathroom mirror. His light blond hair looked ruffled like a bird’s nest while his eyes looked dark, heavy, and blood-shot. His white-collared shirt was wrinkled from front to back and his suspenders were barely hanging on at the edge of his shoulders. Finland looked as if he aged by at least five years. He wasn’t sure why he bothered splashing water in his face—it didn’t fix the bags underneath his eyes. But at least he felt a little more refreshed as he dried himself off.

His belongings were packed and he pulled the wrinkles out of the bed he ended up never sleeping in. After calling for a taxi, he carried his heavy bags down the long-winded wooden stair case to the small lobby. Finland was ready to pay his bill but the young clerk had mysteriously disappeared. He lightly tapped the silver bell for service. It was there on the counter where Finland saw a copy of today’s paper and he grabbed it to have a closer look. He had suddenly lost the colour in his face when he saw the solo photographs of Estonia and Russia’s bosses side by side. His eyes read the black bolded headline and Estonia’s words rang in his head like a broken record:

If Russia comes to your door, don’t answer it. He’s the devil in disguise.

If Russia comes to your door, don’t answer it. He’s the devil in disguise...

He understood everything now. It won’t be long that he’ll be next in line. He was always Russia’s favourite after all.

#APH Finland #APH Estonia #hetalia #Lilly's Writings #Nordipalooza #In all honesty I'm just tired of looking at this

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Creature

summary: On the night of your prom, Jack agrees to take you for a night you’ll never forget—and that’s a word he sticks by.

dedication: doing a little something new for this one because of course i had to dedicate this one to my angel elisha, ceo of statesmen! thank you for opening up the world of whiskey fic to me and just being such a good friend. love you forever and ever, and i hope this story can bring a smile to that pretty face of yours!xo

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

warnings: soft!whiskey, fluff, driving a bit under the influence (don’t drink and drive, kids!)

rating: PG

word count: 4.024k

masterlist

∙∙∙

“How do I look, Mom?” You turn around from where you’ve been facing the mirror, looking worriedly to be sure that your dress still makes you feel as beautiful as it did the day you picked it out.

“Oh, sweetheart, you look—,” your mother chokes on her words, stepping closer to hold your face in her hands, “—so beautiful.” She pauses to smile and run a soothing thumb over your cheek, easily sensing your nervousness. “I’m sure that—Jack, right?—is gonna think the same thing.”

You bite back a smile as you look up at her. This is just one of the many things you’re fearing. It’s your senior year of high school, and luckily for you, you’ve gotten to spend it in an entirely new state. Your father’s new job had forced your family to move from your previous residence in the heart of New York City to the vast countryside of Kentucky, and that alone made it harder to fit in. You weren’t keen on making any close friends, anyway, since college was so close. But you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered the first time you saw Jack.

Being named after a brand of whiskey was, according to him, his best quality. The first time you’d met him, he’d shown you that smile so bright it practically lit up the entire room. He was always so kind and eager to make you feel comfortable, and he never let you be alone if he could help it. You were casual friends at best, although you wanted to be more. So, it truly took you by surprise the day he’d asked you about the prom.

“I’m sure you’ve already got yourself a date, right?” Jack had asked as he walked with you to the cafeteria.

“Well, uh—no, actually,” you’d confessed, unsure if you should’ve been honest. You actually weren’t even planning on going to prom, since you didn’t have any close friends you wanted to go with.

“No?” Jack had practically gasped when he echoed your answer. “Now, darlin’, that surprises me.” He’d let out a sigh, looking over at you with a hopeful twinkle in his dark eyes. “But I can’t lie—it also makes me real excited.”

You’d furrowed your brow at him. “Why?”

Jack never broke your gaze as he answered you. “‘Cause now I can ask you to go with me.”

You’d frozen for a moment, having to stop walking as you processed his words. After swallowing hard, you’d started smiling just a bit, trying to convince yourself he’d actually said such words. “Really?”

Jack had raised an eyebrow as he nodded. “Of course, sugar! What, you think I’d be jokin’ ‘bout somethin’ like that?”

You’d shrugged. “I just—I didn’t think anyone would want to take me.”

Jack frowned at that. “I don’t think that’s true. But anyone who’d pass up the chance to have you on their arm is a fool.” He’d paused when he saw your smile coming back, starting to show one of his own. “So, that’s a yes?”

You’d smiled widely up at him. “I’d love to, Jack.”

You wish you could’ve taken a mental snapshot of his smile then, the corners of his lips practically reaching his ears as he looked down at you. “That’s great, darlin’! I’m real excited, now. It’ll be the best night of our lives. Promise.”

And you’re sure Jack will follow through with his end of that—though you fear you’ll disappoint him with yours.

“Don’t worry, princess,” your mother breaks you out of your worrisome thoughts. “I bet you’re gonna have him right under your spell.”

“Please, Mom,” you laugh, shaking your head as you start to walk out of your bedroom. Your mother follows, shutting off the lights for you and giving you a hand as you walk down the stairs in your heels. You look up to see your father waiting for you in the foyer, his jaw dropped slightly as he sees you.

“Wow, honey, you look… so grown up,” your father remarks, smiling as he holds you by the shoulders and observes you. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you say, patting his arm to make him release your shoulders. You’re about to say more when you hear the sound of a car door outside, causing you to freeze. A nervous yet excited flutter makes itself known in your stomach, and you take a deep breath to collect yourself.

“That must be him!” your mother exclaims excitedly, and no later does the doorbell ring. Your mother nudges you forward to open the door, and you numbly close the distance as your hand rests on the door handle. You pull it open, seeing Jack standing there in all his Southern glory fashioned with a black tux that fits his lean body just right. His hands hold onto a corsage and boutonniere set that matches the same colors as your dress, but his dark eyes are set on you—and your cheeks warm up when you see that his mouth’s fallen open just a bit upon observing you.

“Well gosh, darlin’, I didn’t know you’d be exceedin’ my expectations,” Jack states, a smile now growing on his lips. “They were already high enough.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I could say the same thing about you, Jack.” He beams, and you step aside to let him inside the foyer. You introduce him to your parents, and he shakes their hands warmly while greeting them with their formal Mr. and Mrs. titles. You can tell your parents are charmed right away, and he answers each question they throw at him with grace.

“What time will you be back?” your father asks.

“Whenever you want us to be, sir,” Jack assures him with a nod.

“Are you gonna sneak away to any parties?” your mother teases��though you still want to facepalm at her embarrassing question.

“No, ma’am,” Jack says with a soft chuckle. “I think the prom’s a party enough for the both of us.”

“I trust that my daughter’s in safe hands,” your father reflects, smiling a bit as he gestures to you.

“Absolutely, sir,” Jack confirms. “I’m gonna take real good care of her for you. Promise.”

“I’m not worried about it,” your father insists, patting a friendly hand against Jack’s shoulder. You bite back a smile, relieved to see your rather protective father feeling so peaceful about Jack.

Before you leave, your mother helps you and Jack take care of the corsage and boutonniere, him slipping yours gently onto your wrist as you pin his to his left lapel. After suffering through a picture session your mother begs for, you’re finally alone with Jack, heading towards the truck he’s pulled up in your driveway. He walks around your side to open the door for you, causing your cheeks to heat up yet again as he helps you step up into the truck. Once he gets in his side, you let out a breath, watching as your parents give you one last wave.

“I’m so sorry about them,” you apologize, looking over to see the ghost of a smile stuck on his lips.

“Why?” Jack asks. “They’re real sweet.”

“And very nosy,” you giggle. “I felt like I was watching an episode of Jeopardy!.”

Jack laughs, the sound making your heart flutter as he gives you a quick look of nothing but sheer admiration. “I can promise you, darlin’, that I don’t mind one bit. It just proves to me that you’re a real treasure.”

You smile at that. “What about your parents?”

You see Jack’s face fall a bit at that, and you almost regret asking the question. However, just like with your parents, he answers it with grace. “I meant to tell your parents that Mama wanted to come—but she ain’t feelin’ so good today.”

You frown. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack waves his hand. “It’s alright, sugar. It’s just a lil’ cold.” He then hesitates, as if he’s unsure if he should say the next part. “I ain’t seen Pa in a long time, so… I don’t know.”

Your heart nearly plummets into your stomach as you curse yourself for bringing up something likely so traumatic for him before the night’s even begun. “Jack, I had no idea. I’m—.”

“No apologizin’, beautiful. You didn’t know.” Jack looks over to give you an encouraging smile. “I appreciate your concern, though. But it’s been a while, so don’t worry ‘bout me. Just think about tonight.”

You find the darkness starting to ebb away at his words, and your smile slowly returns. “Alright.”

The school isn’t too far from your house, and soon you’re pulling into the parking lot. Jack hops out of the truck to open the door for you again, setting one hand in yours and the other on your waist to keep you steady as you get down. He then offers his arm for you to take, and you give him yet another smile as you hook yours around his and walk inside with him. He presents the tickets, and soon you’re both in the darkened gymnasium, listening to the soothing rhythms of country music they’re playing through the speakers.

“You want somethin’ to drink, darlin’?” Jack asks, making his voice just a bit louder to be heard over the music as he looks over at you.

You shake your head at him. “No, I think I’m good for now.”

Jack nods, looking towards the dance floor and then back to you. “Can I make a miracle happen and get you on the dance floor already?”

You laugh, nodding as you let him lead the way. For the first few songs, it seems as if Jack’s main goal is to get you to laugh as he embraces his goofiest self, even pulling some ridiculous moves just to hear you rumble with amusement. He admits this to you, but assures you of your good moves as you do a bit of dancing on your own. You’ve never been the type to love dancing—but with Jack, it feels so much more fun and natural than it ever has before.

The only time you feel that twinge of nervousness come back is when the music slows down. You clear your throat as you look towards the table of refreshments, gesturing to it with your head. “I could use that drink, now,” you tell Jack, trying to avoid the sting of rejection at the idea of slow dancing with him.

“Sure thing, beautiful,” Jack assures you, starting to walk with you towards the table. “But I do get to have you back on that dance floor soon, right? It’s my favorite part.”

You look at him in shock as he pours your drinks, numbly accepting the one he hands to you. “It is?”

Jack nods earnestly, taking a sip of his punch before speaking again. “I’ve been waitin’ to dance with you like that.” He gestures to the couples who have each other pulled close, swaying together to the music. Your cheeks heat up as you try to hide it behind your cup. You see Jack’s gaze flash with concern. “Are you alright with that, darlin’?”

“Yeah!” You rush to reassure him, nearly choking on your drink as you barely manage to swallow it down in time. “Of course. I—I just wasn’t sure if, you know, you’d want to.”

Jack sets his drink down onto the edge of the table and pulls you aside, holding both of your hands in his as he looks down at you. “When I told you I was gonna make this the best night of our lives, I meant it, sweetheart. Don’t you doubt your worth for a second, alright?”

You give him a nod, feeling your heart practically fly through your chest as he gives your hands a squeeze and lets them go. Thankfully, Jack hadn’t filled your cup too much, and soon you’re both finished with the drinks. You toss the empty cups away and let him lead you back to the dance floor, your body tingling with anticipation as he finally stops and starts to pull you close. One of his hands entwines with yours as the other rests on the small of your back.

“Is this okay?” Jack checks with you, and unable to get anything out of your throat, you nod at him to respond. Jack smiles a bit and nods back, starting to sway along to the music with you. You’re completely lost in the wonder of his dark gaze, watching as it lights up like the stars of the Kentucky night sky. You’re unable to believe that he can hold so much in his eyes, and you feel as if you’re seeing into his very soul as he never peels his gaze away from yours. The rest of the world feels drowned out as you take in the unspoken affection you both share, and your mind begins to wonder what life would be like if you had this view all the time.

At one point, you begin yearning to have him even closer to you. Your gaze looks away from Jack for the first time to see what the people around you are doing. You see a few in the same position as you, while others have their arms completely around their partners. Deciding to change it up, you suck in a breath of faith as you release his hand. It takes Jack by surprise at first, especially as your arms wrap around his neck and your cheek falls onto his shoulder. But his smile is nearly audible as his hands delicately wrap around your waist, accepting you into his warm grasp as you continue to move together. You never want the moment to end—and you’re certain it’s one of the best things you’ve ever experienced.

Eventually, though, just like all dreams, the moment fades away. The night starts to end, and before you know it, Jack’s leading you back out to the truck. He runs the usual routine of helping you into the truck and then getting in himself, but he hesitates before turning to you.

“Look, I know I told your mama no partyin’, and I’m gonna stay loyal to that,” Jack starts to ramble, his dark gaze looking at you seriously. “But I managed to get a drink for each of us from my Mama, if you wanted to go somewhere and just talk for a lil’ while.”

You smile at him, feeling your heart soften as an urge arises to pinch yourself—because there’s no way you’re not dreaming a guy this perfect. “That sounds amazing, Jack.”

He smiles widely, nodding as he brings the truck to life and starts to drive away from the school. He takes you both down a side road you’ve never seen before, and after a few minutes spent on the dirt road, he pulls off onto an open field of grass, driving through it until he’s out of reach of the road. Jack stops the truck in its place, looking over to see your eyebrow raised at him. “This is an abandoned farm,” he explains. “It’s got a real good view of the stars.”

You nod, watching as he leaves the truck to help you down once again. He then reaches into the backseat to grab the drinks he’d been talking about before as well as a few blankets, tossing them both into the bed of the truck. He helps you up and follows you soon after, spreading out the blankets to make them comfortable and inviting you to sit on them. You sit with your back against the rear window, accepting the bottle of beer Jack’s cracked open for you. You’re both silent for a few moments as you sip your drinks, looking at the view of the night sky provided by such a clearing of trees.

“You’re right,” you finally agree, seeing Jack look over at you when you speak. “This is a really good view.”

Jack says nothing for a moment, and you finally look over at him once it worries you enough. You see his gaze studying you as if you’re a piece of art, and you feel your cheeks warm up before he even says his next few words. “It ain’t as good as the view I’ve got right now.”

You shake your head, taking a swig of your drink to try to hide your shyness. “That’s sweet, Jack, but I beg to differ.”

Jack frowns a bit, and you feel your heart start beating faster as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to his side. “Hey now, darlin’, I’m serious. You gotta listen to me.” His brow is furrowed, and you can tell he’s being completely honest as he continues. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve just ‘bout ever seen—inside and out. I’m a bad liar, so you’d know if I wasn’t bein’ honest.” You bite back a smile at that, seeing Jack’s gaze flash with relief at the sight. “I don’t wanna hear any more of this self-deprecatin’. Alright, sweetheart?”

You give him a nod, seeing him smile with satisfaction as you dare to rest your head against his shoulder. For many more minutes, you both sit there and share some more about yourselves. You tell Jack about your life in New York and what it was like to come to Kentucky, and he tells you about his experiences growing up and the mystery surrounding his father. He’s just wrapped up his story when you involuntarily shiver, being grazed by the cool breeze of the spring evening. Jack unwraps his arm from around you, setting down his nearly empty bottle as he turns to you.

“Are you cold, sugar?” Jack asks with concern.

“A little,” you confess, not wanting to lie to him.

Jack immediately shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in just his vest and button-up as he lays his jacket over your shoulders. You take the lapels in your hands to secure it around you, breathing in the smell of his cologne that now envelopes you. “Better?” You nod, seeing Jack smile again as he wraps his arm back around you.

The rest of the time, you talk a bit about your anticipated futures post-graduation. You find out that Jack’s looking to do some kind of work in intelligence, and you tell him about your aspirations for college. He never fails to show his excitement for you and encouragement to do whatever makes you happy, no matter what. It makes you feel more valued than you have in a long time—and you find yourself yearning for more of this feeling, for more of him.

But the night starts to end before you have the faith to tell him that. You keep his jacket around your shoulders as he cleans up the blankets and bottles, helping you off the bed of the truck and back inside it before he takes off for your house. Feeling bold enough to make at least one affectionate move, you reach for the free hand he’s had resting on the stick shift and entwine your fingers with his. Jack looks over at you in slight awe for a moment, quickly turning it into a smile as he gives your hand a squeeze. You haven’t felt this happy in so long, and you’re reluctant to let it go.

When you pull up in your driveway, you feel your heart starting to ache at the thought of leaving Jack—but also flutter at the idea of what Jack could do before leaving you. You’ve seen it in his eyes the entire night: you know he’s wanted to kiss you, but he hasn’t, and you wonder what’s making him hesitate. You can guess that he’s probably been scared of overwhelming you or overstepping his boundaries, but you wonder if he’ll throw that out the window once he leaves you. Your cheeks warm up when he helps you out of the truck for the last time and walks you up to your doorstep, stopping on the front stoop to face you with a large smile.

“So?” Jack begins, his dark gaze glittering down at you. “Was my mission accomplished? Was this the best night of your life?”

You give him a reassuring smile, squeezing both of his hands as you hold them in yours. “Easily, Jack.”

His eyes sparkle even more, and you bite back your smile at the sight of it. “That makes me so happy, sweetheart. I’m feelin’ the same way.”

You look at him seriously then, never tearing your gaze from his. “Thank you, Jack. For everything.”

Jack nods with a creased brow, as if he can’t believe you’re thanking him. “I should be sayin’ thanks to you, beautiful, for sayin’ yes to me in the first place. I was honored to be the one with you tonight.”

Your smile starts to take over again, and after the silence persists for a few moments, Jack takes his cue to head back to his truck. He drops your hands and starts to walk away, but—unable to resist the urge that’s pumping throughout your entire body, now—you call out to him. “Wait, Jack!”

Jack turns around quickly, as if he’s been waiting for you to stop him. “Yeah, darlin’?” he asks, walking back over to you.

All you can do is look in his eyes for a few moments before your hands reach for the sides of his face, pulling his lips to yours. You feel the sparks ignite throughout your entire body at the contact, your heart practically melting into a puddle inside your chest as his hands fall gently on your waist. He pulls you closer, kissing you back at your own pace like no one else has before. It’s soft, gentle, and passionate—just like Jack is himself. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks as you pull away, seeing Jack’s eyes shine brighter than they ever have as you both smile stupidly at each other. You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just tell him what you know you should. “Goodnight, Jack,” you say in a hushed voice, letting your hands start to fall from his face.

“Goodnight, baby,” Jack remarks, his newest term of endearment causing your heart to flutter even more as he starts to walk away once again.

Yet, as you watch him go, your eyes absentmindedly hold onto the jacket of his you’re still wearing around your shoulders, and your eyes widen as you call out to him once again. “Jack!” He turns his head, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile as you gesture to the jacket. “Your jacket!”

Jack gives you a mischievous look in return. “Keep it,” he tells you with a smile. “It gives me an excuse to come see you tomorrow.”

You bite back another smile, giving him a nod before he gets back in his truck. You let out an airy sigh of pure joy as you face the door again, wanting to scream out about the happiness built up in your chest as you push the door open—unable to believe this is the life you’re living in now.

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