#this short fic was also brought to you by the death holiday we have here in my country because it always makes me sad

[notjohnlegere]

Hello, I’m back! I hope you all have had lovely holidays and a Happy New Year! Thank you so much for being patient with me during my break for the holidays. It’s hard to juggle being so busy and posting fics. Here’s a New Years fic for you guys! I also plan to post more holiday fics as late gifts for you. Stay tuned! 🥰

———————————————————————

New Year, New Step

———————————————————————

New Year, New Step

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

timmy and his wife bring in the new year with a big surprise

*obligatory mobile formatting apology*

———————————————————————

Irritated. That’s all you were lately, completely irritable. You loved him to death, but for the past few months everything he did got on your nerves.

Why did he put the socks in the wrong drawer of the dresser? He knows they’re supposed to be in the second from the top. And oh god, why can’t he take his shoes off at the door? The clunk on the hardwood floor is so loud!

Things that were normally not a big deal were now the biggest deal, some days even reducing you to tears.

This wasn’t the fault of your new husband, no. You may have only been married for seven months, but you had been dating and living together for five years. He was no different than he had always been, and he had always been wonderful. You felt like you were going crazy, that you were inching toward your final snap before they wheeled you off to whatever facility was best for your declining state.

As you sat at your kitchen island pondering your recent mental health, you ate a bowl of cereal. New Year’s Eve was tomorrow and you had so much to do. Timmy wanted to go out and meet some of his friends for a small party. You still hadn’t planned your outfit or what you’d be doing with your hair and makeup.

In fact, the more you thought about it, the more you realized you really really didn’t want to go to the party. You didn’t want to leave the house at all. The mere thought of going out into a crowd of people, albeit a small one, brought tears to your eyes. And before you knew it, they were spilling down your cheeks. Here I go, being crazy again. You thought.

You were nothing shy of ugly sobbing, your face in your hands as you gasped for air. You didn’t realize how hard you were crying until your confused husband was roused from his slumber and came down the hall.

“Mon amour?” His voice was groggy and laced with concern. Quick, long legged strides brought him to your side. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I-“ You choked. “I don’t-“

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” Timmy said, lanky arms draping around you as he pulled you into his bare chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and down your back, embracing you tightly against his body.

Your sobs subsided after a minute, but you were still met with strong emotions in your chest, threatening to spill tears over once again.

“I don’t- don’t want to go to the New Year’s Eve party.” You finally managed to choke out.

“Is that what you’re crying about?” Your husband was whispering now. “We don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t feel like it.”

“But you wanted to go-“ You started, but were cut off when you met his gaze. He put his hands on your cheeks and wiped your stray tears with his thumbs.

“I wanted to spend time with you.” He corrected. “It’s our first new year as husband and wife. I just thought you’d like to go have some fun. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun here, just us.” He reassured. He was always so sweet.

“Are you sure?” You were hesitant. You didn’t want to be the buzzkill. You were always so worried about being too selfish with him. It would be so easy for you to hide him away and keep him to yourself, but you knew the rest of the world deserved their share.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He said, his lips finding your forehead for a short kiss. “We can have our own party. I’ll cook for you, I got a bottle of your favorite wine a few days ago. We can even still dress up so you can get those pictures you’ve been wanting.”

“I love you.” You said, feeling yourself beginning to sob again. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I love you too.” Timmy said, but soon looked panicked when you started to cry again. “Baby, please don’t cry.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” You muttered, burying your face into his chest. You were unsure if that was a lie or not. You had no idea if you were okay, but you didn’t want to worry him. “I just love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” He said, pressing his lips into your hairline.

*

The next day came and went slowly, and you were more of a mess than before. You didn’t eat breakfast because you were sick, the Chinese food from the night before had hit you like a rock. Then, to make matters worse, your favorite eyeliner cap had been left open and dried out the product, leaving you to cry about your less-than-impressive makeup look. It wasn’t until your favorite (more importantly Timmy’s favorite) dress wouldn’t zip around your waist anymore, did you completely lose it. You sat on the floor of your bedroom in your underwear and sobbed into your hands, ruining what little makeup you had put on. When Timmy found you, though, he tried to fix it. As he always did.

“I’ll go get you some new eyeliner. Even better than that kind!” He had said, waving his hands around dramatically as he sat with you in the floor. “And we can wear our matching PJs, it’ll be like a pajama party. Who doesn’t love matching pajama pictures?” He was always so caring. He always did everything he possibly could to take care of you.

You reluctantly agreed after some persuasion from him and you were feeling better for a little while. Until you got sick again. You vomited twice before you were finally able to make it to the couch and sit down where you were now.

Your husband put a cool rag over your forehead as he made a mental checklist of what to get from the store.

“Alright, so some anti-nausea, crackers, ginger ale, chicken soup, eyeliner, extra film for your Polaroid, anything else?” He asked you, his fingers brushing your cheek delicately. He was as thoughtful as ever. “Is this PMS? Do you need anything for that?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t-“

And that’s when it hit you. Everything started to make sense. Every little piece of the past few months began to fall into place. You felt dizzy.

“Hey, are you alright? You look pale.” Timmy said, lowering himself into the spot next to you.

How could you have not noticed? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had your period. Hell, you couldn’t remember the last time you and Timothée had used a condom. Of course the emotional turmoil you were going through would make sense if you were-

“Can you pick up a pregnancy test?”

“A what now?”

“I’m late.” You muttered.

“What?” Panic was written all over your boy’s features. You would’ve giggled at how cute he was if you didn’t feel so nauseated. “How late?”

“Uhh, I don’t know? A few months?”

“A few months?!” His voice was shrill and cracked when he shrieked.

“Timmy, baby, calm down.” You reassured him, putting your hand on his cheek. “If we aren’t ready-“

“Screw not being ready,” He interjected, saying your name. “You’ve been eating seafood. And drinking!”

“Timmy-“

“We smoked last month!”

“Timothée Hal!” You raised your voice to grab his attention and he got quiet. “Everything is going to be alright, Tim. We don’t even know if I am- you know- yet. It still could just be an illness. Don’t panic yet. Let’s start with a test, okay?” You watched your boy closely. He took deep breaths and pecked a kiss to your lips.

“Okay.” He agreed, although he didn’t seem any less anxious. “I’ll be back soon. Give me like an hour okay?”

“Okay. Please be careful.”

*

An hour passed and your boy came stumbling into the house, bags in hand. On the coffee table he dumped out three bags from three separate drugstores, and just about every pregnancy test known to man fell out.

“Okay, I wasn’t sure which one was the best. God, there were so many. I didn’t realize the pregnancy test market was so competitive.” He rambled as his hands fished through the different tests. “I also got something called an HCG test. I have no idea what that means but it was next to all the other boxes and-“

“Timmy, breathe.” You cut him off, rising from your spot on the couch. “Let’s just try this one, it says the words rather than the lines.” You said, picking up one of the tests from the pile.

“Can I help?”

“What are you gonna do? Pee on it for me?” Your sarcasm drew a giggle from his throat.

“I don’t know.” He muttered, heat rising to his cheeks. “I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

“I don’t either. But we can figure it out together.” You said and kissed him on the cheek. “Give me a few minutes.”

What followed would be the longest few minutes of your husband’s life. At this point, you weren’t as nervous as before. You knew that the two of you would be able to handle any outcome. Timothée, on the other hand, was less easily consoled. He paced the living room and hall. His hands tugged at and ran through his curls. He was thinking of every possible negative that could happen, he was nothing short of terrified.

When you walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, it took mere seconds for Timmy to run to your side like a curious puppy.

“So?” He asked, his green eyes wide and wandering your form.

“We’re pregnant, Timmy.” You replied, barely above a whisper. You were scared of his response.

“Oh my god.” He said. He fell to his knees, and for a moment you were scared that he had passed out. That was, until lanky arms snaked their way around your waist as they always had. He pressed his face against your stomach. “You’re pregnant! We’re pregnant!” He shouted so loudly it startled you.

“Yeah, that’s what the test said.” You spoke shyly, a giggle on your lips. Your hands wound their way into his perfect curls.

“Oh my god.” He repeated. “You know what this means, right?”

“You’re gonna be a daddy? I’m gonna be a mommy?” You smiled down at your husband. He was grinning, his cheeks were red with glee.

“No wine tonight.”

With that statement, fireworks exploded in the distance, startling the both of you and causing you to trip. You ended up on the floor in his arms.

“Hey, be careful.” He fussed at you. His hand instantly flew to your stomach. “You’re falling for two now.”

“I have a terrible feeling you’re going to be an absolute helicopter.” You kissed him on the cheek with a giggle. He laughed to your comment.

“I can’t wait to helicopter the both of you.” He said. “We should start making you a pregnancy menu so you can eat what’s best for the both of you.”

“Oh god, here we go.” You teased. “At least wait until the new year.” He checked his watch.

“I think I can wait five more minutes.”

———————————————————————

ao3 is johnlegere, find my fics there too. requests are open, send one in my ask box! hope you enjoyed :)!

#fanfic #reader insert #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #ao3 #fluff #requests open #drabbles #headcanons #my fic #timothee #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee fluff #pregnant reader #pregnancy #fluff fanfic #x reader #one shots #married Timmy #marriage

[fandomscombine]

The Fugitive

BG: It’s been months since the golden trio disappeared. Muggleborns and Half Bloods are being hunted. For your safety, you are sent into hiding back in the muggle world. Different name, different look. But what happens when a wizard apparates in your neighborhood. A fugitive.

A/N: Notes: it's my first ever Ron fic, hope I captured his essence well. Also tried to emulate the same emotional tension as the kiss in the chamber of secrets during the battle of hogwarts.

(it's been a week at work, im still adjusting to a new schedule that's why i'm not as active. but don't worry, still gonna be here just not able to write as much and posting fics would take longer- thanks for understanding.)

WC:1573

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Being a half-blood child of divorced parents meant that you live 2 very distinct lives. On one hand you have your magical life courtesy of your father while on your mum's side you are just an ordinary suburban teenager.

With the majority of the year in Hogwarts, your social life was more so inclined to the Wizarding world. Spending only short holidays in the muggle world. That the magicless part of your life rarely ever brought up in conversation.

In hindsight, that disconnect between the two worlds is what is keeping you safe now.

See, You Know Who's forces are on the rise ever since Dumbledore died.

Muggleborns are being hunted and the Daily Prophet's headlines about missing people are almost guaranteed at this point.

Your father had you stay with your mother in hiding. "These are dangerous times", he said, "and sooner or later the Death Eaters would be targeting half bloods next."

Despite their turbulent past, your parents both agreed on something after 14 years: Keep Y/N L/N safe, Keep you hidden. No magic to be used, you were to be a muggle.

Since not much information was known about your non magic side, you started using your mother's last name and even dyed your hair for an extra level of protection.

2 months into being Y/N M/L/N has got you on edge. You get scraps of news about the war from what notes you'd get from your father. The Carrows and Snape seizing control of Hogwarts and that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley are on the run. Still you were grateful, knowing that risk he'd taken.

As you rounded the street corner of your house, hands deep inside your heat charmed pockets from the harsh winter weather.

Crack! Muggles would brush off the sound to the crunching of fallen leaves but to witches and wizards, it is the unmistakable sound of an apparition.

It couldn't be your father- he'd apparate in the small exclusion zone hidden in the garden shed.

Your mind runs to the worst case scenario. How the death eaters found you, you don't know and you don't intend to find out much less corner you.

"Petrificus totalus" you aim towards the figure.

Thud.

After a quick scan to make sure your muggle neighbour hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, you head towards the frozen body. It'd be best to take their wand away and erase their memory.

The death eaters would really take in anyone to find Harry huh, you thought to yourself.

The intruder on the ground looked like he went through hell and back, clothes tattered and dirty, even from here you notice his bloody bruised hands. " I'll be taking these..." pocketing the 2 wands easily from this limp hand. "you filthy piece of sh-wait"

There peaking out his hat just a bit, reddish hair. It's duller than you've ever seen, could it be?

But if he's here, what happened to the other two?

"Ron?" Carefully removing the hat away, you lean to bet a closer look. "Bloody hell! Ron!" You swiftly reverse the spell.

Instantly Ron sat up pushing you away, wheezing.

"Hey hey hey…it's alright."

"Stay back!" Ron shouted, fist clenched. He knew he was wandless, defenseless but he isn't going to back down without a fight. Especially since he just escaped the snatchers back in Diagon Alley. "How'd you know my name?"

"I… it's me Ron. Y/N! y/n l/n from potions class. We were partners in 6th year!" You specified, having only been group partners for a term but apparently that was enough time for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Oh would it be a wretch to the heart if he didn’t remember you.

"Y/n?" Ron shook his head disbelieving. "No it can't be. y/n has y/h/c colored hair, not this." He gestured to your face.

Even in such a dark time, this boy could still make you laugh. An emotion you haven't felt in a while.

"Seriously Weasley, there's a thing called hair dye." Offering him a hand. "Now come on, we can't stay out, it isn't safe. And please keep quiet."

"Where are we going?" He asked loudly.

You glared at him, didn't he process what you had just said?

He tried again, this time at barely a whisper.

"Home."

~

"Here eat up, I bet you're hungry."

Placing a plate of hearty roasted chicken and mash potatoes leftover from lunch.

"Thanks y/n." Earlier you had told Ron that he could clean up in the washroom while you prepare something to eat. “Mhmmmmm…” He moans, titling his head back with eyes closed enjoying the meal. “This is delicious, it’s great to eat real food again.”

You blush from the compliment. “Clothes!” Turning your attention to the pile on the stool, not wanting to be caught staring. “I got you a change of clothes.”

Your house didn't have male clothes since it was you and your mother. So your shirt dresses and oversize shorts would have to do.

“Wow ahh… I appreciate the thought but I won't be staying for long.”

“Oh” Why did you think that he would be staying? You internally scold yourself for letting it even cross your mind. “Alright, I just thought that…. You know what it’s not in my place to ask. And I totally understand that you can’t tell me anything.”

“No no no! It’s just I know you’re hiding and are safe here, but by me staying here would put a bigger target on your back.” Ron reasoned, trying to do some damage control, not wanting to end the night on a misunderstanding. “I don’t wanna put you in any more danger. I am a big walking liability.”

“Umm hmm I totally understand,” Deep down you genuinely understand where Ron is coming from and fall more for the young man because of it. “Let me at least have a look at your injuries before you go then…. For old times’ sake.”

Ron chuckled, recalling the past year- it seemed like a lifetime ago. One may say Ron is a clumsy guy- that he doesn’t deny, but in one particular term in 6th year, in a particular subject, his clumsiness was on another level.

Something always had to go wrong every potions class, he would either catch his sleeves on fire or have a magical concoction splash onto him.

This heightened accident prone Ron as much as he would like to blame external factors- can’t- it was all internal.

During potion class, Ron would have half his attention to studying and the other enamored by his intelligent, caring and beautiful seatmate, you.

Ron didn’t mind the multiple mishaps, in a way he actually preferred to have them as this meant you were tending to his injuries.

“Ah!”

“Sorry! Just one more.” You uttered, returning your focus to his broken knuckle. “Episkey.”

“Uhpppmm’ His face buried in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Alright, we’re done!” You announce, gently placing his hand back down onto his lap. “ I can’t do much to regrow your nails though….if only i had some more-”

“Hey hey hey.” He interjected, reaching over. “You did a great job y/n! You helped heal my injuries, I could barely stand my ground earlier.”

“Yeah but..”

“Yea these splinched nails?” He brought his left hand up, wiggling his fingers. “It makes me look like a rugged rebel, you know?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you like bad boys,” He teased. Bumping your shoulders together. “You reckon I have a chance now?”

You choked on your own saliva. “What?” Your voice squeaking a pitch higher.

“Yea its bad timing, you know with the war going on and all. But I just thought ‘Ron you better shoot your shot’ like who knows what bloody crap is gonna happen in the future..What kind of gryffindor would I be if I won’t even try.”

“Oh Ron..”

Ron is on a roll, words he kept hidden for so long were fumbling out and there is no stopping it. “I could have asked you back in 6th year but I chickened out and all this shit happened. Now that I’m here with you. What are the chances that it was you that found me after my near death escape.You know how much i hate divination but this has to be a sign yea?”

“Ron….”

He raised his palm. “Please y/n. I need to get this off my chest, it’s been too long. It’s perfectly fine if you say no, but on the off chance that you do want to give this a go. That would be bloody brilliant.”

“So?” He prompted.

“Oh are you done? “ Faking disinterest.

“Yea!!”

“Well you told me to not interrupt!” You teased. “Yes.”

“I get it you don’t” Ron was deflated, he knew rejection was coming. All his life he was the second choice. The backup. If he ever was noticed to begin with. “--wait Wait YES??”

“Yes.”

“You’re not messing with me right? You better now me messing with me now y/n, I’ve had a rough couple of days and I--”

“Oh shut up you.” You grabbed both sides of his face and leaned forward effectively cutting him off mid sentence. Feeling his chapped lips partly open, frozen, processing what just happened

before recuperating with the same vigor.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

#ron weasley x reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader #ronald weasley #ron weasley #fandomscombine writes #ron weasley fluff #weasley x reader

[bebepac]

Chubby Bunny

I am participating in @wackydrabbles​​ prompt # 88 picked by @kat-tia801​​

“I meant every word.”  which will appear in bold.

This is also Chapter 13 of Mia’s 🌎 World.  To catch up with what you’re missing, please click: Mia's World Masterlist

This is an adorable little Easter fic I thought up I hope you guys like it.  

Mia, Liam, and Emily and Chris, and Leo belong to Pixelberry, all other characters are my own.  

Original Post Date: 4/3/21 at 5:02PM EST

The Book:  TRR x The Freshman

Pairings:  Mia x Jaiden / Emily x Chris

Warnings: a little sexual innuendo

Word Count: 902  (I know this is short for me) 

Summary:  The couples play Chubby Bunny, and go to Mia’s house for Easter Sunday Dinner.

I added a link to the game Chubby Bunny in case you have never heard of it.  

"Do you have Easter plans Jai?"

"No, both my parents are working."

"Come over Saturday and spend the night.  We can go to my parent's house for dinner on Easter Day. I invited Chris and Emily too."

"That sounds great. Your mom is a great cook, so is your dad."

"Ahem?"

"You too Mia, you make the best cheesy eggs ever. I just don't know how I lived without your cheesy eggs until now."

He peppered her face with kisses.

"Jai stahhhhhhpppp!!!!" Mia giggled as he continued to dot her neck with kisses.

"It's true Mia."

His kiss drifted to her lips.

"I meant every word."

"I really can cook more than cheesy eggs Jaiden Brooks."

"I’m sure you can, I believe you baby."

*^*^*^* First Annual Chubby Bunny Couples Competition*^*^*^*

Jaiden brought out his phone and announcer voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen it's a beautiful sunny day in Chapel Hill, North Carolina  as our couples prepare for a battle to the death as who will be this year's chubby bunny champion of the realm. OOOOOHHHH SNAP!!! The competition looks cutthroat this year!

 The first year of its inception. Who will reign victorious?”

Chris laughed as Mia and Emily made slicing motions across their throats at each other. 

"Are we clear on the prize, loser couple buys winning couple dinner?"

Everyone nodded.

"Couples will go head to head first, the winners will battle it out for bragging rights and the loser doing laundry duty for a month.  Couples have you figured out your prizes?"

Mia winked at Jaiden. "That thing you do with the warm hot fudge." She said with a smirk.

"You liked that huh?"

Mia nodded biting her lip as she twirled her hair looking at him.

“We could do that again.”

"And what do you want Jai?"

"Actually, I want to collect on my Christmas present."

He pulled out the certificate.

"Since we are being festive, with a little something I bought for you, and bunny ears."

Chris leaned over to look at the certificate.

"Oh hell yeah! Jaiden, it's like that? Em you're totally doing that when I win."

“When you win Chris Powell?  I like your nerve.”  

“I really want to win this.”  Jaiden smiled at Mia.

“Let’s do this Jai!”  

The first 4 rounds went pretty well for both then when round 5 hit, Mia could hardly speak.

“Shobby Bonnie.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”  Chris asked laughing.

Jaiden laughed so hard, he almost choked on the marshmallows in his mouth.

“Ewwww, you just totally spit marshmallow jizz on me Jaiden ewwww!!!!”  Emily screamed.

“Jaiden if you can say it clearer than Mia, you win.”

Jaiden won the round.

He winked at Mia.   Yes.. He thought....

Between Chris and Emily won.  

“Okay Jai, you know I hate laundry, you better win this for us.  I’ll even add something extra to the certificate if you win?”  

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.”  Mia whispered.  

Win it for us.”

Jaiden and  Emily hit round 7 when Emily delivered an ever so elegant....

"Scrubby Bunky."

“Jaiden is the winner!!!!”

“It will be so worth it to bring my laundry over here.  You know me for being the Chubby Bunny Champion of the Realm.”

“Oh my God Jaiden, can you brag a little more?”  Emily laughed at him.  

On the way to Mia’s parents house Jaiden had mentioned her parent’s cooking again to Emily and Chris.  It was bothering her a little bit.  

Jaiden glanced at her.  

“You alright?”  

“I’m fine.”  Mia gave him a weak smile.  

Jaiden gently brushed her leg.

Mia resumed looking out the window.  

Jaiden knew she wasn’t okay.  

When they got to her parent’s house.  Mia was shocked.

“Didn’t know this was the place where everyone was hanging out.  You guys chill out here with Leo,  I’m going to go see what’s up with my parents.”

Mia walked into the kitchen, seeing so much food and her mom and Liam cooking.  She hugged and kissed her mom, and hugged Liam.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Yes,  we didn’t think we were going to have this many people over, Liam already chopped the potatoes, if you can make the potato salad, and Pops is bringing back a third ham, and cook that I think we’ll be fine.”  

“Okay, I can do that!”  

Pops came back shortly with the ham.

“Look at my girls cooking up a storm.”  Pops said smiling at Mia and Gloria in the kitchen.   Liam brought in more chicken off the grill. 

“Pops you be your social self and go keep everyone happy,”  Gloria commented smiling. 

After an hour or so Jaiden wandered into the kitchen.

“I was wondering where you were,” he said.

“My mom and Liam needed some help.”  

“What are you making?” he asked.  

“I’m cooking the ham, and I’m making the potato salad.”

“Those are two of my favorite holiday things.”  

“Get out of my kitchen Jaiden Brooks you’re a guest!”  

“Yes Ma’am!!”  He said smiling at Mia as he walked out the door.  

As they were eating later,  Mia smiled.

Jaiden’s plate was full of a lot of holiday things, but Mia noticed he had extra helpings of ham and potato salad.    

“That boy is a sweetheart,”  Gloria whispered to Mia.  

“He really is.”  

*^*^*^*^*^*  Later that evening back on campus *^*^*^*^*^*

“Jai are you ready?”

“Hell yes I am!!!”

Jaiden turned on the music.

Mia stalked out of the bathroom.

Jaiden’s eyes widened.  

She smirked at him and struck a pose.

“Happy Easter to me.”  

Tagging The Comments!

#bebepac writes #mia's world #pops place part 2 #cross overs #trr x the freshman series #trr fanfic #trr fandom #the freshman series #chris powell #chris x mc #jaiden and mia #what the fluff? #wacky drabbles #choices fic writes creations

[sunriseverse]

rec listtttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

fair warning there’s a lot of different fandoms here—i have, uh. twenty-two pages of bookmarks. lots of newmann though, i promise. in no particular order, i give you a fic rec list

the future’s owned by you and me by kaiyen (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Years after they stopped writing each other, Newt and Hermann run into each other on the steps of Cambridge University Library. Quite literally.

 Newt stares at him, expecting more. He doesn’t get any. “Come on, man, who are you? Maybe I’ve read something.”

 I doubt it, Hermann barely catches himself from saying. “Gottlieb. Hermann Gottlieb.”

 And Newt looks like he’s struck oil. “Oh my god,” he says, and something flickers behind his eyes, like there’s more than just recognition there, and before he can wonder any more about what it is, Newt blurts, “Oh my god!” and Hermann flinches and makes a face like a disgruntled frog.

What you can expect: emotions, opprotunities missed, and opprotunities taken. I absolutely adore this fic, though I might be biased by the fact that it has Newt as bipolar, and that’s something I always crave (more bipolar Newt fic when???).

Survival is for Nerds by Annabeelee (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 46k, Teen and Up)

It's three hundred and two years after humanity lost to the Kaiju and two hundred and twenty one since the Kaiju left. Not that it matters to Hermann. In relation to following a neurotic genetic experiment across whats left of the Northern American continent while dodging alien predators and hostile subgroups of humans, its possibly the least helpful thing to keep in mind.

What you can expect: scifi, tension, and a very intersting world. Post-apocalyptic, technically, but the way it’s written makes it almost hopeful. I love how the setting and writing makes it feel like a blend between victorian steampunk and futuristic in tone.

people can surprise you (or not) by pdameron (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 10k, Teen and Up)

“I’m not you, Bond. I don’t exactly have a technique for getting rich strangers to like me.”

“Just do your naive cute puppy thing, and they’ll be doting on you in no time,” Bond replies as he pulls up to the grand estate.

“My what?” Q asks incredulously. Bond doesn’t answer, simply giving him an indulgent smile. The fucker.

(or: 00q meets Gosford Park. Except not really.)

What you can expect: humour, murder, and some light espionage. Also, fake dating.

Infinite Distance by lachatblanche (X-Men, Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier, 7k, Teen and Up)

When they encounter an unfamiliar and seemingly-abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere in space, Captain Charles Xavier of the spaceship Graymalkin heads out to investigate.

What you can expect: drama! Intruige! It’s set in space! I read this a while ago but I have memories of it being rather riveting despite the relatively short length.

Gertrude’s Goulash by lollzie (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 7k, General Audiences)

Ed needs a new roommate. Oswald needs a room. Oswald may just be the most amazing person Ed has ever met. Shame he's not single. Cue wooing via the medium of cooking.

What you can expect: pining, misunderstandings, obliviousness, and a lot of goulash as a method of romancing.

Death Of The Author by happygolovely (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 9k, Mature)

Edward Nygma was never intended to be anything more than a secondary character.

The Riddler demands otherwise.

What you can expect: a story within a story within a story. You think you have it figured out, and the next moment the carpet is yanked out from beneath you. Fairly dark, possibly disturbing, but my goodness if it’s not engaging.

we make our friends, we make our enemies by ORiley42 (Mission: Impossible, Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, 52k, Teen and Up)

Benji finds out he has a new neighbor. This new neighbor happens to be off-the-charts hot. Hijinks, friendship, more-than-friendship, and secret agent drama ensue.

What you can expect: pining. There’s spy stuff going on too, and it eventually gets brought up, but my gods, the pining. Also, it’s fucking hilarious, and, at just over fifty thousand words, the perfect read when you’ve got an hour or two and you want something that’ll make you both laugh and cry.

Self-Sabotage by EmilyweepsforPilfrey (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 2k, Teen and Up)

For some reason, whenever he's alone with Bond, the most ridiculous things come out of Q's mouth.

Or 'the one where Q accidentally invents a girlfriend'.

What you can expect: Q being an utter idiot. It’s hilarious. Nice quick bite of humour if you fancy it.

The Long Con by harleygirl2648 (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 19k, Teen and Up)

There are two kinds of cons: long and short. Short cons mean short-term gain, with smaller rewards, mostly just everything you have in your pocket at that moment. Long cons mean lots of time, effort, costumes, masks, props, sets, and other characters all looking to set up the downfall of the mark and take them for all that they've got.

Con Artist/Thieves AU: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are both interested in acquiring a Botticelli, but both of them are quite fond of each other's short games. For both of them, it's the deception and thrill of the game that's worth more than the payout.

And well, after all, aren't the easiest people to scam are those who think they are smart enough to not get scammed?

What you can expect: no cannibalism, a lot of banter, and, of course, con artistry. Quite delightful if I do say so myself.

deus ex machina by coloredink (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 26k, Teen and Up)

"What the hell?" said Katz.  "Is that--"

"Yeah, I know, it's kinda flashy."  Will shut the car door behind him and patted his pockets for the little fob to lock the car.

"Isn't that Hannibal Lecter's car?"

The car beeped to indicate it was locked.  "Yeah, I guess so."  Will walked away, toward the field, Katz on his heels.  "I needed a new car."

"So you bought the cannibal car?"

-----

You asked for it: the one where Hannibal is a murderous self-driving car.

What you can expect: what it says on the tin. Quite funny, especially with the element of magical realism meaning Hanni-car is sentient. The Hannigram is more vaguely implied than an actual thing, owing, probably, to the fact that Hannibal is, well, a car.

adapt, evolve, become. by peupeugunn (Alex Rider, Gen, 3k, Not Rated)

“This is how you get out. You're slowly moving towards a desk job.” A pause, then, “you know, most people do it the other way around.” Alex chuckles softly and and shuffles towards him to lean against his shoulder, burrowing into the crook of his neck. Ben’s arm winds around him, shields him from the world, a solid weight on his back. “You're going to miss the adrenaline rushes, kid.” There's something almost sad in his voice. Alex doesn't want to understand why. Down that road lies madness. 

What you can expect: a character study, in a bit of a roundabout way.

A Sharp Dressed Man by Avelera (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Hermann's latest book needs an author photo. However, when he's given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.

Hermann decides to play along.

What you can expect: gods this fic is so good. It’s the first Newmann fic I ever read, and I’ve reread it a good six times since 2018. I would say more, but I think the fic speaks for itself.

Gestures by Actually_Crowley (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Teen and Up)

Newton finds out what Hermann does with his rare free time, but the discovery leads him to believe that Hermann honestly and unequivocally hates him. 

What you can expect: the rituals are fucking intricate. I love this fic so so so much. And the eventual reveal/confession...scream.

Fate’s Horrifying Ways (also known as: CHRISTMAS GODZILLA) by linearoundmythoughts (Pacific Rim, Newton Geislzer/Hermann Gottlieb, 4k, Teen and Up)

Your name is Newton Geiszler and you’re going to have to break things off with your sort-of online boyfriend because you’re cheating on him. Sort of. [AKA the most dramatic summary of a humorous crackfic ever ok]

Originally written for the Pacrim Secret Santa back in 2014.

What you can expect: first off, it’s not second person, I promise. It is, though, really fucking funny, owing to the misunderstandings that ensue. There’s much pining, some angsting, and, of course, humour.

Letters From Berlin by spenshi (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Newton keeps in touch with his family when he's shipped off to the Shatterdome. Jacob and Illia send care packages to the K-Science Lab. 

What you can expect: Geiszler-family feels. A lot of them. Also, Newt and Hermann slowly growing closer to until they can finally admit they’re into each other.

Wishbone by cypress_tree (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 8k, Teen and Up)

Hermann doesn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting.  Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays. 

What you can expect: fluff, softness, general feel-good fic. It’s really good, and it has Geiszler-family feels. Reading this fic is a bit like drinking hot cocoa on a cold day.

next days by catbeans (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, Teen and Up)

Hermann had never felt an ache quite like this one, and he had felt plenty. He had been running on adrenaline first, and then on the necessity to keep running, pain and bone-deep exhaustion falling to such a low priority that he couldn't even consider it one anymore, and then it had stopped.

(the 18 hour nap date these guys deserve)

What you can expect: Newt and Hermann cuddling. A lot. That’s really it, that’s the fic. It’s 100% indulgent and I love it for that.

Tebori by SkysongMA (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Newt squints. "It's really not a sex thing? 'Cause I'm not opposed to it being a sex thing, mind you. I just don't want to come in the lab tomorrow and not get to throw things at your stupid face."

Hermann lets out an endless, long-suffering sigh. "It's really not a sex thing, Newton, honestly. We hate each other. That's worked out very well for us so far, and it will continue to work out for us in the future." He doesn't mention that they haven't always hated each other and that, at one point in their long relationship, showing up unannounced at Newton's door for the purpose of sexual favors would not have been so far out of the realm of possibility. Had been, in fact, one of those things Hermann had considered late at night long ago, when he couldn't go a week without a fat envelope in the mail full of Newt's ramblings.

But that was quite some time ago, and he means it. They each get more work done than they would ever have separately, even if only because they like to rub their progress in the other's face.

Anyway, admitting anything different would just give Newt ammunition

What you can expect: Newt gives Hermann a tattoo. There’s a lot of feels.

Newt Inherits a Bar by orphan (Pacific Rim and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Not Rated)

The scary part is the bar looks exactly like Newt remembers.

What you can expect: you’ll probably tear up a bit. This one hits pretty hard, honestly, but it’s so, so, so good.

First a Darling, Then a Marvel by isozyme (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 20k, Mature)

Newt runs a simulation given three constraints:

1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju 2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju 3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

What you can expect: a lot of sciencing, a lot of feels, and two repressed idiots. There’s like, a paragraph or two of smut but it’s pretty clear when it’s going to happen so it’s easy to skip, which is great. The tl;dr of this fic is Newt clones some kaiju, Hermann reminds him how fucking horrible of an idea that is, and everything more or less works out in the end.

Tea and Sympathy by osprey_archer (Torchwood, Owen Harper/Ianto Jones, 13k, Teen and Up)

Soon after Jack's disappearance, Owen takes sick. Ianto goes to check on him.

What you can expect: crabby doctors, put-upon Welshmen, and a fuckton of emotions that everyone is trying to ignore. Not particularly happy, but then, when is Torchwood ever? It’s good while it lasts, though.

Pareidolia by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim and The Black Tapes Podcast, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 102k, Mature)

It starts as a profile of paranormal investigator and professional skeptic Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. But it seems the further journalist Newt Geiszler delves into his cases, the more mysterious Dr. Gottlieb becomes. What is he hiding? What is he looking for? What is the truth? What is the difference between a journalist's idea of truth, and a scientist's?

Seeing is not believing. Believing is believing.

What you can expect: suspense, mystery, horror, pining, and apocalypse cults, with a dash of an ambiguous ending. I love this fic so much. I literally would stop what I was doing to read it when I got an alert that there was an update when it was still a work in progress.

Meet Me There Across The Water, And We’ll Start An Endless Storm by Skepticamoeba (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann, an honorably discharged veteran has retired to continue working as a Keeper at a Lighthouse. It is perfectly solitary, and with little in the way for incidents. Newton is the sailor that washes up on the seashore after a summer storm.

[Late 19th century Lighthouse Keeper AU--or the one where Hermann was an aspiring artist whose dreams got a bit derailed, and Newt is the sailor that needs to learn to take his time with things.]

What you can expect: the pining........the intricate rituals............the denial.........*chef’s kiss*

and I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted by Lvslie (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 24k, Teen and Up)

He still smells like Newt; bears traces of his recent nearness. Clothes sleep-wrinkled from the proximity, from the way Newt’s ankle has during the night hooked around the calf of Hermann’s good leg and dragged his whole body seamlessly closer. Cheek half-flushed from the face unconsciously nuzzled his into the side of Hermann’s neck—evidence of his presence, fast asleep, as Hermann lay still and fretful for hours an end, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with wanting.

[An early 20th century AU inspired loosely by Maurice and Age of Innocence.]

What you can expect: wistfulness, pining, repression, denial, lots of feelings. You’ll probably tear up. There’s an achingly happy ending for both of them. This is one of the fics I want a hard copy of so I can mark it up because, fuck, I love it so much.

leave the car running by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 1k, Teen and Up)

It is clear that, after everything, Newt doesn't like to be touched. 

What you can expect: touch starvation, mutual pining, Newt finally getting the human contact he deserves. I wrote my own version of this since it was initially a prompt, but quite frankly, I like Newton’s version better because it hits.

The Man Who Invented Sherlock Holmes by Calais_Reno (Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, 15k, Teen and Up)

John Watson, struggling young doctor, doomed to live an ordinary life, dreams of writing detective fiction. If he can just figure out his hero's name, the story will practically write itself.

What you can expect: Watson sort of, kind of, maybe invents a man into being. Oops. I haven’t read this one in a while but I remember it being quite a lot of fun. There’s elements of what I would say is probably magical realism, but it’s never quite clear.

Newton Isn’t Dead by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb and Vanessa Gottlieb/Karla Gottlieb, 32k, Mature)

Newton Geiszler is currently being possessed by a genocidal alien race known as the Precursors. They’ve taken over his body, leaving him a prisoner in his own mind. However, Newt has a totally awesome plan. He’s going to make a deal with them: let him prove that Earth is worth saving, and if he can’t do that, they can have his body. But convincing a hivemind full of mega-colonizers that one blue planet can be wonderful isn’t going to be easy. He’s going to need the help of his kind-of-ex Hermann, his best friend Vanessa, and one awesome Footloose remake to pull this off.

So, naturally, they go on a road trip.

What you can expect: pining, world-saving, eventual confessions and happy endings. I had the great honour of reading the chapters before they were published, and this fic is one of my top five favourite fics. There were multiple points where I yelled, both literally (quietly) and through text (slightly less quietly).

it takes time, but time moves slow by prettydizzeed (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 2k, Teen and Up)

Hermann conducts a cost-benefit analysis every class period of sitting in the back of the lecture hall versus walking down the stairs to the front. He wishes he had hard data for this, to get some actual statistics, and perhaps after a while, if he records his pain level and his ability to read the board and pay attention after each class, he will be able to predict the outcomes given either choice on a particular day.

Two curves, traveling in opposite directions, inversely proportional: pain goes up, concentration goes down. It’s comforting, somewhat, to make it a numbers game. Impersonal. Absolute. Not a tragedy, and not his doing, only his to interpret, a smudged scrawl across his left knee in an unfamiliar handwriting, his to analyze, to decrypt.

What you can expect: the fic may only be 2k, but it will leave you feeling like you were punched. It’s fantastic.

I Could Be Jew-ish For You by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 10k, Teen and Up)

When Hermann agrees to spend Chanukah with his family in an attempt to wheedle some desperately-needed funding out of his father, Newt insists that he shouldn’t face Lars alone and tags along as his “emotional support family rage distraction”. What they fail to realize are two things: 1. When Hermann brings Newt with him to the festivities, assumptions will be made, and 2. Newt may be half-Jewish, but he sure wasn’t raised as one. 

What to expect: fake dating fake dating fake dating— (can you tell I have a favourite trope?) In which Newt is Jew-ish, Hermann is both exasperated and pining, Lars is disliked, and we all get the Jewish romcom we deserve.

It Was Love At Second Sight by rednights (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann receives the first letter when he is eighteen years old.

or: Kaiju don't attack the Earth, but Hermann and Newt still write letters, botch their first meeting, and fall in love, not necessarily in that order.

What you can expect: feels. So many fucking feels. There’s no kaiju but that doesn’t mean you won’t be on the edge of your seat.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite (The Magnus Archives, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, 15k, Teen and Up)

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

What you can expect: tenderness, domesticity, and love. The perfect trifecta.

the truth about me (and the truth about me) by danimagus (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Teen and Up)

Newton suffers from a bout of memory loss and is told Hermann is his fiancé.

Hermann plays along, to his endless shame.

What you can expect: two words: fake dating. Gods, I love this fic, as Mary can attest from how I unceremoniously started screaming at her about it in her tumblr messages the day of/after it was published. This fic is great because it subverts the trope a bit, and thus avoids issues of consent that may otherwise have occured.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by thekaidonovskys (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 13k, General Audiences)

“Your eyes. Your expression. Your smile. I’ve worked with you for ten years, Hermann, and words have never been our primary method of communication.” 

What you can expect: to be knocked the fuck out emotionally. This one hits pretty hard, and that’s what makes it so good.

Transducer by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 85k, Teen and Up)

“I need you to hide something for me.”

“Oh, excellent. Of course, Newton, please allow me to jeopardize my career. And yours as well. My pleasure. Do go on.”

“Yeesh, relax,” said Newton. “It’s a personal thing, not a work thing.”

“As if there is any division between the two,” Hermann snapped.

If only you knew, Newt thought.

What you can expect: intruigue, alien tech, light espionage. This fic will have your little nerd heart beating double-time. It’s very very good.

A Really Private Person by astolat (Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, 18k, Mature)

The end of the world started on a Wednesday in March. 

What you can expect: badassery on Finch’s part. One of the few fics I have bookmarked for this fandom, and it’s bookmarked for good reason.

Party For Two by ProblemWithTrouble (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 18k, General Audiences)

 “My mother’s parents have a home in the Black Forest that has a guest house. They’ve often allowed me to stay there when I could spare the time.” Hermann looked distant as if he were remembering something; the warmth of a fire and a nice book and the smell of freshly made tea. “It will be quiet, and possibly too boring for you-”

 “It won’t be. I could use some quiet after the decade we’ve had. I could actually compile my research. And sleep. It sounds amazing.”

After the world doesn't end Newt and Hermann take a vacation together to live in a cabin and finally relax, as friends. Cue the pining, the longing, and the living together as best friends.

What you can expect: a fic that will wrap you up like a warm blanket. Mutual pining, vacationing together in a cabin, lots of feels—what more can you want?

Dream Drifting by MooseLane (Pacific Rim and Inception, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, General Audiences)

"You're running an extraction on that spastic PPDC biologist, is what I hear." Chau fixes him with a side-eye. "I know I wouldn't want to go poking around in that little bastard's head."

(There are not enough Inception x Pacific Rim crossover fics, so I decided to change that.)

What you can expect: Inception meets Pacific Rim. There’s no other way to say it, really.

I’ve Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy In New York) by gyzym (Inception, Arthur/Eames, 19k, Teen and Up)

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte. 

What to expect: Arthur is stressed, Eames runs a coffee shop, and, through the power of friendship and a lot of stress-baking, everything works out happily for our intrepid protagonist.

Kalimat/كلمات  by rainbowagnes (The Old Guard, Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicolò di Genova, 3k, Teen and Up)

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic. 

What you can expect: if you, like me, are, especially natively, multilingual, this might hit the sweet spot of Language Feels. It did for me. Also, Joe calling Nicky hayati? Yeah.

i never liked that ending either by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 15k, Mature)

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?    - Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

Once upon a time Dr. Flick Tucker, K-Sci head of Biology, fought a bunch of highly scientific dragons to save the world. Then, they took over her life. It didn’t end well.

Once upon our time Dr. Newt Geiszler, marine biologist, sci-fi aficionado, and accidental discoverer of dimensional travel, got a chance to take her place. He has a couple of ideas.

In which Uprising is still a bad movie, musings on the nature of choice and personal autonomy are made, and somewhere, probably, a coin is showing heads every time.

What you can expect: everything’s fine this is a perfectly normal fic come here i want to cause you as much emotional damage as I can

Not Allowed by acedott (BBC Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 1k, General Audiences)

Gwen has been dealing with self-imposed touch starvation since she was a child. Morgana sets out to challenge this. 

What you can expect: gays. Pining. Touch starvation. Need I say more?

Rocky Horror Pancake Show by ChuckleVoodoos (Daredevil, Matt Murdock/Franklin “Foggy” Nelson, 19k, Teen and Up)

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

What you can expect: Ground-hog Day style time-loop, lots of fluff, and a happy ending.

Ain’t No Nancy Kerrigan by cleverqueen (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, 13k, Teen and Up)

It's 1994, and young Lisa Snart's jumps aren't strong enough for an Olympic singles skater. Thankfully, her older brother has an athletic friend who can match her in pairs.

Mick Rory is hopelessly in love with Leonard Snart, though he'd never say anything about it, so he jumps at a chance to do Len's little sister a favor. If he's patient and works hard, maybe he'll even get to skate with her older brother.

What you can expect: pining, ice-skating, and general goodness. It’s fun, it’s funny, and it has a happy ending.

#rec list #ask #a good 40% of these are mutual pining but really who's surprised. i love a good mutual pining fic #hopefully all these links work because i spent. an inordinate amount of time compiling this. #let me know if any of the links need to be changed #c.txt

[that0negayslytherin]

2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works

i was tagged by the lovely @aziraphalescrowley, thank you so much ;-; <33

[rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!]

I’ll be focusing mostly on my Venji fics, but also talking a little bit about my original work at the end! For those of you who don’t know I’m currently in my first year of an MFA program for creative writing, so this has been a HUGE year in writing for me!! :D (Also I did more than 5 sorry hehe <3)

Good Things Fall Apart

If you have followed me for any amount of time you’ve probably seen me yell about this fic at some point!! This is my biggest LV WIP and one of the largest writing projects I’ve undergone in my life. It started as my take on S2 as many multi-chap fics did immediately following S1, but I feel like it’s really grown into something more distinct from that. It’s heavy on themes of reconciling sexuality with faith as well as self-forgiveness and learning to let the people in your life help you. There’s Lorde, there’s summer vibes, there’s Mothman, there are perhaps too many subplots. Only 2 chapters remain to be written and posted, so check it out if you’re looking for a big ol WIP to keep you occupied!

Fresh Hell

This was written as part of a Halloween-themed fic fest and is one of my favorite things I’ve written this year, fic and otherwise. It’s a Love Victor slasher AU that’s loosely based on the vibes and dark humor of the show Scream Queens, and while it was supposed to be multiple parts but fairly short, it ended up reaching pretty solid novella length. If you like college-aged Venji, thrills and gore, and a relationship tested by a psychotic serial killer, this one’s for you.

if we make it through december

Another fic fest entry, this time for Christmas/the Winter holidays. In this one, Benji and Victor are both in their mid-twenties; Benji own a struggling bakery and Victor is trying to climb the ranks at the accounting firm where he works, and a chance encounter leads to a couple of not-so-chance encounters and so much holiday fluff. It’s your pretty typical Hallmark-esque bakery AU so if that’s your jam I highly recommend this one!!

A Brief History of Benji Campbell and Birthdays

While this is technically a spin-off from GTFA, it can be read completely on its own as well! This is a oneshot I wrote for Benji’s birthday that chronicles a few of his notable birthdays through the years. Something we’ve felt as a fandom is that Benji was lacking in backstory in canon, so this was my attempt at writing some for him! A bit sad throughout but a fairly quick read with a happy and Venji-heavy ending <3

Starved, Sanguine, Smitten

Another fic I wrote for Halloween, this is a vampire!Benji AU. Honestly, I feel like I could leave it at that because what more could you want?? OK but actually this one is Vic/Benji dual-POV and has a dark but comedic tone (think Teen Wolf vibes); I’m also planning on eventually writing a follow-up!

Burned/TPQ

Burned is the name of my first ever completed novel, which has technically been in the works for about 10 years now! It’s the first in a planned series called The Psych Quartet and it’s basically about a gay amnesiac superhuman who’s trying to solve the mystery of his mother’s death. It features a school that’s hiding secrets, a gay love triangle, and the other main characters include a disaster bisexual plant dad, a lesbian TA who loves gossip and astrology, a hardass loner chick who carries around a sword, and a misguided orphan sadboi. You can read more about it here, and also follow me on my writeblr (@wordsbynathan​​) if you’re interested in more of my original writing!!

Short Fiction!

Speaking of original writing, I also got much more into short fiction this year, which is very new for me! I wrote a couple of really fun stories, my two favorites being Honeysuckle and Smoke and Black Squirrel, which again you can read about on my writeblr. I’ve sort of fallen in love with the form and will definitely be writing more short stories in the future as well <3

----------

OK that was a lot but I love talking about writing so much ;-; I am going to tag @comradesalazar​ @benjislatteart​ @lovelyvictor​ @ducklingcabal​ and @callmevenji​ with absolutely no pressure <3

#my writing #what else do i tag this uhhh #oh well #long post #love victor #(since its mostly lv fic hehe)

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Mammon's Prayer

Summary: A short story about the comical and blasphemous interaction between God and his son Mammon's girlfriend.

A/N: It's a roman catholic thing to be a little bit critical about God and maybe commit little day to day blasphemy against God and the Roman Catholic Church.

Tags: Casual Blasphemy, Prayers, Begrudgingly in Love, You is a thot for Mammon, we is a slut for Mammon, Mammon and Mammorons share two braincells and we get it all the time, Roman Catholics Pray to Ask for Blessings, We pray to God to complain about our love life with Mammon, 5+1 Fic, Hurt and Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, God is the Deus Ex Machina

-

1.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit...

Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name...

Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us for our sins and trespasses. And those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from Evil...

I don't know if you can hear me all the way here from Hell and I know I haven't prayed to you for a long time since my Confirmation or the fact that I only go to Church during important Holidays or the fact that I never fasted or stop eating meat on good friday... But I've done my best to be a good and morally upright human being even so...

That's why I hope you don't mind if I complain to you about your son a little bit, I don't mean Jesus...I'm cool with him. It's Mammon I'm here for..." You sigh deeply before taking a long sip from the glass of water you brought with you.

It was almost empty.

"What kind of shitty parenting did you do? Huh? Are you proud of your parental skills? Your idiot son keeps on sending me mixed signals! I can't fucking tell what he wants! Do you know how hard it is for me to communicate? You fucking nerfed me with social anxiety that it made me look like a functional human being! He's lucky he's cute or I'd have punch him in the face for being annoying...

Amen."

From Their throne in Heaven, God sat alone and mulled in silence. The two Cherubim who were on shift to accompany God blinked at what they had just heard.

'What kind of prayer is that!?!' They both thought.

Finally, after a long time had passed, God spoke "Do humans pray like this nowadays?"

No one answered Them.

2.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit...

Lucifer's Daddy who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name...thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven...

Give me this day my daily bread and forgive Lucifer for his trespasses and Mammon who trespassed.

Lead me not into Asmodeus, and Mammon on the Volume 6969 Cover of Majolish but deliver me from Evil...

Amen...

Okay I know that's not how the prayer goes but I've had a long week and your son Mammon has no consideration for me, his magicless Master that bought 3 copies of Majolish that had him for a cover.

I mean I'm not asking for much you know? I just want him to stop sending me mixed signals! The Piles of Little D of Greeds keep telling me he has a crush on me but he goes and act like he doesn't! And then he went and told me to answer his call before he even called!!

Did you purposely make an idiot? A dense fucker? A fucking adorable tsundere??

Why doesn't he just admit that he wanted me to call him from time to time??? I wouldn't have laughed at him y'know!!! Why is voice so nice over the phone!?!!

If he keeps this up either I'll date him or someone else!!!"

You did a sign of the cross and drank two cups of water before going to bed.

"...Chamahel was perfectly fine as a child! The war changed him!

Hmph! impudent human! All my children are perfectly fine as they are!" God fumed and thought of a way to punish the human that dared to say Their children weren't perfect.

Michael talked Them out of it but God still grumbled about it from time to time.

3.

"You already know what this is about...I know I look stupid saying my prayers aloud here in Hell but I like to pretend you can hear me...I...I know that you didn't like how some of your angels wanted to bang humans but... Would the same thing apply to Demons?

They're both cut from the same cloth afterall...and it's not like I want to do it with Demons but...if...this is just an if! A very big IF, a hypothetical scenario!!

I... I want to know if a demon-human relationship would get into trouble from both Heaven and Devildom...I don't know if I have the right but I'm asking it anyways...even if no one might be listening from up there...

Can you give me a sign, God? That if being in love with a demon isn't sin?

Thank you for putting up with me...goodnight God."

"...maybe this could be the exception..."

The next day Michael had to teach God how to use Akuzon Delivery to send a bouquet of White Poppies to the House of Lamentation.

4.

"There isn't a lot of things I'm thankful for...to be honest I hated you a little bit for letting some of us to do evil things in your name...you could turn an entire town into salt for being rude and inhospitable before but now you can't even slap divine retribution to the bastards that pollute your Church...even so thank you for Mammon...

And the other brothers too but mostly thank you for creating Mammon...He isn't an out and out evil you know? He...he's disgustingly human like with his ways... He cries over fictional characters and looks after me above and beyond what he has to do...

He's an idiot that doesn't know how to ask for help properly but...I think that's because of his circumstances...I really love him...I don't know if you're actually the one who sent those white poppies but...I'm taking it as a sign that everything's going to be alright...

I want to be with Mammon...even if this could only last for a year or even if one day he stops loving me...

I don't really understand love and things like emotion but...for Mammon...I want to. I want to make him happy! I don't want him to feel sad or pretend to be fine...I know it's impossible but even if it's a little bit...I want to do it!

For Mammon, That's why if possible...can I ask your help from time to time? You don't have to do anything God...just please hear my prayers out for him?

Thank you...and Goodnight."

"Oh they're dating now! My, my...that son of mine didn't really changed at his core huh? Still so shy with affection and a coward..." God idly mused, "but...he's willing to change...all for this human..."

God then briefly wondered if unlike his love for humans...his children's love never faded.

5.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit..." You paused for a long while thinking about the events that transpired...the you that died and the Mammon you've left behind.

"O' God...I am heartily sorry for having offended you," You thought of all the prayers you've sent...blasphemous in nature and irreverent...you smile bitterly " and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell"

'Even if I'm already here'

"But most of all I offended you my God, who are all good and deserving of my love..." You closed your eyes and for the first time in a long while prayed with all of your heart and soul, "I firmly resolve with the help of your Grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen."

'Please let them be happy...the ones I left behind...let them move on from the hurt and heal together...I'm sorry that I ended up hurting them again.'

For the first time in a long while...God made a miracle.

+ 1

"I take you,Mammon, to be my lovely wedded husband—to have and to hold—from this day forward" You looked at your openly crying husband, "for better and for worse,for richer and for poorer..."

You gently wiped his tears away," in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—till death do not us part. According to your Father's Holy Law," The whole place erupts in gentle laughter "This I solemnly vow."

You slid the ring into his finger, gently and slowly as if he was fragile glass. You turned to look up to him and smile. Heart breakingly happy at being by his side again.

God spoke at the reception, a familiar glint in Their eye that made Michael sigh and Lucifer wary.

"In all years of my life I've never met a human so bold and courageous to complain straight at my face and commit blasphemy at almost every conversation we had. But I've also never met someone willing to pray for Demons and even come to love one so much with their entirety...in every version of you I saw this remained and I know it isn't because of your lineage but simply because of you who are."

You sat up straight wondering where this was going.

"Human life is fleeting...a mere blink in the eye for us who lived long but in there is beauty in that brief moment. Keep on living as you are, love the beauty that is timeless and ephemeral! And when the time comes the Kingdom of Heaven welcomes you!"

They raised a glass to you and said, "Yours is a love built to last, willing to sacrifice and endure, you have my blessing."

They turned to Mammon and smiled. A smile that reminded you of Mammon's and you turned to your husband and held his hand tighter. Everything would turn out fine.

#mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #mobile upload #casual blasphemy #obey me

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 5 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: Shes back in Nashville and Ben finally drags Lee out to a Third Man show. To Lee’s surprise, she runs into an old friend...

WC: 3k

Warnings: Cigarettes, maybe cursing (?), and death by Jack White. 

Notes: Damn y’all its my best chapter to date. Honestly im pretty damn proud of this. Also why is jack white so damn hard to write. Is he a hard ass with a heart of gold, or a dad who happens to play guitar. When i figure it out ill let you know. PS. If you find my fic reference (or fic rec for anyone who hasn’t read it) shoutout to you. If youre anything like me you read the whole series in two days and couldn’t think about anything else. You probably also looked up Rosaries for sale.

This was 14 years in the making. We were bound to run into each other again. I was expecting it in a weird way. It always works out that way; you get over old turmoil, and the moment it’s gone, they show up. Your breath is sucked from your lungs, and you’re practically drowning on the spot even though you’re not even near water. Every single emotion in your being is trying to cram through your mouth, and you end up choking on it. Who knew it’d be today I die a death by Jack White. Guess I ran that risk when I entered his stomping grounds. 

“Lee, I swear I didn’t know he’d be here. I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known. I’m gonna buy you any record in the store, whatever you want. Oh god, how am I going to fix this? Guess I could do emergency distraction plan #6. Though id need a knife-” I subtly flicked the back of his arm to shut him up. His panicked ramblings were only making me more nervous. He was here, actually here. I guess I just thought I'd have a couple more years of peace. 

He was staring so intensely at me, but not in anger or guilt. He was nervous. He was frozen and rigid. He was always so loose and eased into a room. Even when he was anxious, it never showed. As soon as I gained something from the absolute shock of it, all my body went against my brain. I felt my legs start to make their way over to him shakily, and there was no stopping them. Fuck I didn’t will this happen. Panic was bubbling up in my chest again. It didn’t help that he wasn’t reacting other than his eyes growing larger with each step I took. Finally, I reached him, and my arms tightly wrapped around him. This was better than the alternative that I thought would happen, which would end with a shiner and some bruised knuckles. He hadn’t grown length, but as I finally felt it all, I realized he'd grown into a man, out of his boyish figure from all those years ago. I sank into it, warm feelings bubbling up in my chest. I could finally breathe for a moment. He didn’t reciprocate my hug, but I met his eyes when I looked up at him, and all I could see was pure shock. I don’t think he would’ve moved if someone yelled fire. 

He mumbled, “Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private to talk, Rosie.”  I quickly nodded my head, and all that anxiety came back as soon as it was gone. I did not appreciate this little roller coaster I was on. He put his hand on my back to softly guide me to wherever we were going. It was a painfully silent walk as we weaved through Third Man. My brain kept flashing back to all the moments of our short end, mixing with all the good memories it made for a weird emotional cocktail. The more I thought about how little time we’d actually known each other, I got even more panicked. A year. That’s it, and I still acted like we were childhood friends who wronged each other. I shouldn’t be feeling all of this over a man who had such little time in my life. Still, that doesn’t change that he was at the forefront of my mind for all those years after. God, his hand was burning me where it lay. 

I hadn’t realized we’d made it to the spot until his words broke my thoughts. “Welcome to the Third Man roof, my secret spot, if you will.” I looked up to see a couple of lawn chairs and a crate between them, acting as a makeshift table. Cigarette butts strewed around the chair farthest from the edge. Jack was already walking towards what I assumed to be his chair. In tow, I followed, pulling my pack out of my pocket and lighting a cig. If this was going to happen, I was going to need a goddamn cigarette. He grimaced at the sight of Marlboros, pulling out his pack. Red Camels, still the same all these years later. Somethings just don’t change. Guess that’s comforting. 

“I thought you were a camels girl. What happened there?”  He was already reaching for another to hand to me. 

“Oh, just had to settle when on tour for whatever others had. It just stuck, I guess…” A lie. I put mine out on the ground when I sat down and grabbed the nostalgic camel out of his hand, our fingers barely touching. 

We sat in silence, smoking a piece of our past. I sure as hell didn’t know where to start, and I don’t think he did either. My body took over just as it had before and did what I couldn’t manage. I was blurting out words before I knew what was happening. 

I stumbled out, “I bought all your records over the years.” Smooth.

A small smile fell onto his face, and he took another drag. “I did the same thing.” He looked over at me, quickly looked me over, then took a quick drag and put it on on the ground. “Have a favorite?”

I pretended to think like I hadn’t thought of having a favorite. “I guess I’d have to say Consolers of the Lonely, but if we’re talking The Stripes, I’d have to say De Stijl. Though I always feel like I should say your first, since you know, I’m on it.” I sent a small smile his way and started to ease into my seat more. Not sitting up so straight, ready to bolt at any moment. “What about you, Jack? Hm? Have a Rosalie Wright favorite?” 

He answered without hesitation, “Surrender. I really liked that sound you had in 2004, where you got dirty and loud. It was a big change from your old blues tone. Someone told me it was because you moved to New Jersey, which honestly makes sense.” He stopped for a second and looked off. “That band, Leathermouth. When that album dropped, I played it when I was working in the upholstery shop, and Karen walked in. She turned right around after hearing, I think... My love has gone flat? I don’t know, but she asked me if I was doing okay at dinner that night.” He quietly laughed to himself, thinking over the memory.

“Anyone who wasn’t in the band asks me the same thing! They all said, “Hey, your new albums great! How are you doing? You need someone to talk to?” My smile fell. “Too bad all the guys found god. Nothing against that, of course! Just sucks they had to quit the band. Not Frankie, though. He wouldn’t find god even if he came to him on a piece of toast. I’d probably take some freak case of Stigmata for him even to consider it… Why am I still talking?” I blushed, realizing I'd been rambling too long about nothing that probably interested him

 Jack waved his hand in the air to dismiss my worries. “We’ve got years to catch up on, Rosie. Besides, I’ve missed your ramblings.” He lit two more cigs, handing one over to me. His stare lingered on me, and his eyes softened from his stoic face. “I really have missed you, Rosie… All these years and I’m still not quite sure what you’ve been up to. I’ve only heard things here and there from Ben.” He took a long drag. “Where have you been all this time?” 

I took a deep breath in, knowing the answer wouldn’t be the best. I spent a fair amount of drinking myself into oblivion over something he caused, so I kept my answer brief, “Oh, you know, toured, drank, slept in fans and friends basements. You know, a typical musician’s life. Oh! Got put on the FBI watchlist over a Leathermouth song. That was a fun night for Frankie and me.” 

He chuckled, put out his cig, and turned his body towards me. The same warm smile was adorning him. As I said, some things just don’t change. “I mean, I don’t know what you expected when you play a song with that title. It’s one of the only things you legally can’t say.” 

“Punk is punk, Jack. Too bad I was only playing guitar. I would’ve loved to scream that.” I put my cig out and put all my attention towards him. I hadn’t thoroughly looked at him the whole time we were up there. “It was hard not to stay caught up with you, Jack. You were everywhere. I tried not to pry, though. I never trusted the press. Though I heard about the divorce last year… I’m sorry you had to go through that again.” 

His smile faltered, and he stared down at his hands for a second. “It was inevitable. We were too different for it to last. I guess this shit always happens for a reason, huh? We just fell out of love, and that was that. I had a party to commemorate new friendships and everything. At least she can’t hide my Billie Holiday records now…” He trailed off on that last sentence. I could barely hear it, but I caught the small comment. He still thought about me. I didn’t mention it though. I could barely think back to the old memories. Me making him dance with me to Billie Holiday's self titled album. I guess I just wanted to feel like we were really together back then, creating that fantasy. I felt like I had to wave my imaginary hands around in my head to clear out the memories that had risen to the surface. He was making it so hard to have a clear head.

We stayed quiet for a moment. He seemed lost in his thoughts. We were always good at comfortable silences. I think we just liked being in each other’s presence, having that person next to you. It was weird to think that I only had these old images of him to think back to. He looked so different. He was built, his face filled out, his height would make him look skinnier than he was back then. He’s muscular, probably from years of touring with heavy equipment. He looked his age. His eyes hadn’t changed though. His face was almost menacing for how serious it naturally rested. His eyes stayed bright, excited for everything ahead of him. He always hid that, and he probably still does. 

“I’m sorry, Rosie. For everything that happened. It was selfish of me to -” I cut him off. This was for another day. I don’t think I could handle drudging up the past tonight.

“Make it up to me some other time. I just want to enjoy you tonight.” I sent a smile his way and went to stand up. “Better make it good though.” I went to lean against the wall to take in the Nashville skyline I missed so much. 

I heard the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as he made his way next to me. His lighter clicked, and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air. Moments later, he appeared next to me, cigarette in hand, ready for me to take. He clicked his lighter on and offered it out for me to light. I leaned in close and took a heavy drag. My eyes caught his left hand, cupping around the flame. No ring. It really was done, no lingering feelings. I moved back to lean against the small wall, leaning my head against my hand. I tried not to focus on the emotions that stirred in me when I noticed the absent metal on his finger.

“I really did miss this. Detroit was beautiful, but it never could beat the Nashville skyline. Maybe I was just missing home.” I finally got to take in the scenery around us. September in Nashville has never really been cold. I feel like I should be worried about that, but if I can avoid a sweater, I will. It was a comfortable kind of warm. You could sit out on your porch and not think about a thing. The small breeze was nice, taking away from the constant humidity. Then there was that constant. It never felt like Nashville’s downtown ever changed from far away. It was just stuck in time. The deeper you go, the more you realize the magic of music city is being taken over by honky tonks and drunk bachelorettes. Though the farther you drift away, the more you can feel like you're in the good ole days of classic Nashville. Back when the Ernest Tubb Record Shop didn't have a constant flow of Lynyrd Skynyrd cover bands but had undiscovereds like Loretta. Now you just have to settle for the sights and the small music scene curated by The End. 

“Is it bad I feel the same way? Even if it’s not home home, it still feels like it. I think the skyline reminded me of coming home after long tours. It’s always the first thing you see. It’s a comfort.” 

We weren’t touching technically, but our shoulders were so close I could feel it. I think he was deliberately keeping his space. I should be mad or angry. Something. But the feeling of him next to me was just as calming as the views. That same feeling of home lulling you in. He always felt like that to me. That dumb warm feeling in your chest that makes heavier days just a little lighter. It’s a bit shameful that I feel it all now, just as strong as back then. 

“You know the only reason I came tonight is because Ben told me you wouldn’t be here. Something about your kids,” I took a drag. “Not that I regret coming! I just- Kids. How fucking weird is that? Never pictured you with kids. I always saw you as the same lanky kid from before.” 

He snorted and bumped my shoulder with his own. “You know I found it odd you never had any. I mean, you were always weirdly maternal with Ben back when he was a teenager. You about took my head off when I told you I gave him a couple of beers. Oh, and those times I practically had to rip Jasper out of your arms after we got home from one of our first tours.” 

“He was 16! His brain wasn’t fully formed yet, plus your mom would’ve murdered you.” I gave his arm a small playful hit and took another drag. “And I just haven’t had the time. Or the means to. I mean, I dated like two guys? Both were shit bag roadies who lasted all of two weeks. I kissed Frankie once, but the moment it ended, we about threw up. He’s a different kind of family. His kids call me Auntie Lee if that says anything.” 

The conversation ended at that, and we fell back into our silence. I looked over and saw a small, content smile on his face that I was so used to seeing. Some things just don’t change.

 It feels weird sitting here with him. We both were so happy to see each other. We just wanted to enjoy this time. At least, I think he’s the same way. He seems guarded, it’s subtle, but that wall is there. He used to be like this, but for different reasons. Secret wife reasons. I can only assume that now it’s the fame he’s been showered with. You can't show all your feelings with recognition like that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him checking his watch. He muttered out shit when seeing the time. 

Exasperatingly he said, “Speaking of kids, I’ve got to get home. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I promised Scarlett I'd be home to say goodnight.” 

My smile faltered a little, but my heart grew at the comment about scarlet. He’s always loved so hard. It was only natural that he would be a good father. 

We both put out our cigs and silently made our way out to where his car parked. I just mindlessly followed along, definitely not thinking about him and how wonderful he probably was with his kids. 

When we got there, we just kind of stood there. Neither of us knew how to say goodbye. It was never something we did.

“I’m really glad I got to see you tonight, Rosie. Seriously.”

My body betrayed me, just like it had in the recording room. I quickly moved forward and hugged him tightly, except this time, I could enjoy it a little more. His frame was so warm compared to the chilly September night. He finally wrapped his arms around me and practically threw himself into the embrace. He had no hesitation whatsoever. I nuzzled my face into his chest, a bit too shamelessly, but this was 14 years in the making. 

When we finally (and hesitantly) pulled away, he asked, “ Listen, I don’t think I can just walk around town knowing you’re here and not see you. Can we get coffee or something? I don’t care what we do as long as it’s with you.” 

I felt a giant smile fall onto my face. I was afraid this whole time we would just kind of say goodbye and not talk again. It was dumb to feel so happy over a small gesture, but it was just what I was looking for. He was infectious back then, and he is. Once you fall back into his circle, you never wanted to leave. “I’ll agree to coffee only if,” I gave him a playful poke in the side, “you help me fix my amp. I can usually do it, but I really did a number on her this time.” I held out my hand for him to shake. It’s not a deal if you don’t shake on it.

“It’s a date then.” A small smile appeared on his face, and he grabbed my hand to shake it.

“It’s a date.” We stood their just shaking hands and smiling at each other. We probably looked insane from far away, but who cares. Me and Jack were on the road to reasonable terms.

Tag list: @shamoane @elinyaes

#jack white #the white stripes #nosferatyou writes #if i can be so bold fic #if i can be so bold #the raconteurs #leathermouth #frank iero #UHV reference #can you tell that ive hyper fixated on frank as well #its obvious i know #gotta slide him into my works somehow #also they really got to cut down on the cigs #the bastards #also ben whats the distraction plan number 6 #im curious #and as i always say #bet Jack is a bottom #bet you like 5 bucks and the little clay mushroom house i made

[brideofedoras]

Happy Birthday, John Kennex

In honor of Karl Urban’s birthday, I wrote a little birthday fic to go along with Soulbound.  John Kennex’s birthday is June 7, 2007.

Disclaimer: I only own my OCs

Word count: 1900+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, asthma and self harm

-1-

Emily smiled and waved to the nurses on duty as she walked by the nurses’ station.  Sara was on duty, she noted, rolling her eyes when the woman winked at her.  She clutched the little malachite dragon she carried a little tighter in her right hand before letting herself into John’s room.

Her heart stuttered in her chest when she saw the detective, still unconscious.  Someone had shaved off his stubble earlier and had given his dark brown hair a trim. 

She had to swallow a few times before she managed to find her voice.  “I… I, uh… have it on good authority that today is your birthday,” she blushed when she realized her voice sounded a little on the breathy side.  Oh, lord…  At least I’m not wheezing.  “The big Four-O,” she placed the dragon on the bedside table next to the photograph of John and his partner, Marty Pelham, and Marty’s wife Maria and son Marty Junior.  “But don’t worry,” her breathy voice took on a teasing tone.  “I won’t tell anyone your real age.  Sandy and I will keep it a secret.”

She busied herself with her normal routine upon arriving for her daily visits.  She straightened his blanket over his chest, smoothed her hands over his chest and arms to make sure the wrinkles were out, grounding herself to keep her anxiety at bay.  She blushed when she felt his heartbeat kick a little harder when her palm brushed over his chest.  “I’m beginning to think you really enjoy my visits even though I’m the most boring and awkward visitor you’ve got,” she teased.  “Yeah, I know.  I shouldn’t talk down on myself like I do but I am awkward and I’m sure what I talk about is boring.”

Finally, she squeezed his fingers and ran her fingers through his shorter hair.  “I miss the scruff,” she admitted softly as she traced her fingertips along his smooth jaw.  Her blush darkened when she realized she’d spoken out loud this time.  “Oh, god, don’t mind me,” she giggled nervously.  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.  I…”  She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.  “You look very nice when you’re clean-shaven, but you also look pretty hot when you’re scruffy,” she confessed with a half-sigh, half-whisper.  “I…  I don’t know why I find it so easy to talk to you, to admit things that I know I’d never be able to say out loud if you were actually awake… much less be able to open up to anyone else...  I…  I probably would never be able to talk to you if you were conscious…  I mean, I’m…  I’m nobody.  And you’re…  You’re you.  You probably wouldn’t even give me a second thought,” she turned away from the bed to walk over to the window.  “I’m such a painfully shy and awkward person with anxiety and asthma, no one looks twice at me as it is,” she wrapped her arms around her stomach before she growled at herself.  “I’m sorry, ignore me.  I’m just…  I know I’m hard on myself,” she admitted quietly.  “It’s your birthday.  I’m supposed to be happy and in a celebratory mood, but you already know how I feel about birthdays.  But I am happy, in a way.  I’m hanging out with the best-looking guy in the world, even if he doesn’t know I exist.”  She returned to the bed and leaned down.  “Happy birthday, John,” she whispered before kissing his cheek.  “I brought you a present.  I know I didn’t have to, but after I accidentally caught a glimpse of the tattoo on your arm I knew what I would get you for your birthday or Christmas.  I like dragons, but I prefer the European ones to the Chinese ones.  I found a Chinese dragon carved in malachite at a shop near campus and had to get it for you.  It’s really pretty.”  She moved away from the bed to sit down in the chair.  “So…  I’m thinking about applying for an internship through the Synthetic Dispatch Division.  Dr. Lom is open to taking on an intern.  I’m scared to death I won’t get the internship if I do apply, but I won’t know unless I try, right?  I haven’t talked to Sandy about it, not yet.  We’re meeting for drinks later at McQuade’s.”

She grew quiet as she watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took.  “Maybe someday we could go out for a drink after you wake up.”  When she realized what she’d said, she quickly backpedalled, stammering and blushing hard before she could string a coherent sentence together.  “I…  I really need to shut up, huh?  Not go out like as in a date or something like that, I could only ever dream of going on a date with you.”  She blushed harder and smacked her hands over her face.  “Shit.  God, Emily, you’re such a damned idiot!”  She cussed at herself.  “Drinks between friends.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face.  “You’ve come to mean a lot to me in such a short period of time already,” she reached for his hand.  “You let me ramble and babble when I get nervous or anxious and somehow I feel much calmer when I hold your hand.  And I’ve rambled and babbled a lot already today.”  She took a deep breath and grimaced when she wheezed.  “It’s a beautiful day out today.  Couldn’t ask for prettier skies.  The sunrise this morning was gorgeous…”

-2-

Thunder rattled the windows of the hospital room.  Must be storming.  Dammit.  Emily better not be out driving in this.  I want her here but I don’t want her to get into a wreck either.  Sam, I hope you and Lizzie are watching over your daughter, please don’t let anything happen to her.  She has no idea how much she means to me.

Another rumble of thunder rattled the windows, drowning out the whoosh of the door sliding open.  The scent of vanilla cupcakes reached him and he breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Emily was safe.  She was there.

The door swooshed open again, followed by the scent of raspberries.  Sara, his favorite nurse.  She was nice, always talking to him when she was checking on him.  Always making sure he had the softer blankets or more supportive pillow.  “Here’s the towels you requested, Em.”

“Thanks, Sara, I don’t want Karen or Tim hollering at me for dripping all over the room,” Emily’s voice was filled with light-hearted amusement.

Sara laughed.  “They won’t holler, Em.  Karen will give you the look and chastise you before she hugs you, and Tim is such a good-natured soul.  They’ll chalk it up to job security.  Anything else you need?”

“Nah, thank you, I’ll holler if I do.”

The door swooshed open and shut again, leaving him alone with Emily.  He listened to the gentle rustle of fabric, towel maybe, before the sound of a raincoat being shrugged off reached his ears.  

“Hi, John,” her voice sounded a little regretful.  “I wasn’t ignoring you, I promise.  I’m dripping all over the place and don’t want the housekeeping staff to worry about my coat and boots dripping all over.”  Her voice strained before he heard the slide of two zippers.  “It’s nasty out today.  The storm didn’t hit until I was halfway here.”

Should’ve stopped somewhere to wait it out, Sweetheart, I don’t want you risking your life just to spend time with me.

“I know, I could’ve pulled off to wait it out but it hasn’t let up at all and I didn’t want to sit in my car in a sketchy parking lot,” her hands brushed his chest as she straightened the blankets.

His heart thumped harder when he felt her palm settle over it.  Good call.  But I still don’t want you driving in a storm, Emily.  I’m not worth you getting hurt.

“I couldn’t miss my favorite guy’s birthday today,” her breath puffed over his cheek before her plush lips pressed against the stubble.

Favorite guy, huh?  Sweetheart…  He wished he could turn his head, to feel her soft lips on his.  He settled for feeling her smile curve on his cheek instead.

“Happy birthday, John.  Whenever you wake up you’re going to have a lot of cards and a few gifts,” the chair scraped closer to the bed.  Her hand curled around his.  “Just because you’re in a coma doesn’t mean anyone who loves you can get away with ignoring birthdays and holidays.  Sandy’s got a box she’s putting them in for you.  I didn’t bring a gift with me today, it’s at Sandy’s.  I wasn’t about to bring it with me.”  Her breath hitched on a wheeze.  “I finally worked up the courage to go through Daddy’s stuff and found a few guitars I never knew he had.  Sandy told me you collect guitars, that you play a little, and I asked her if maybe I should give them to you.  They’re vintage, from the 1970s and 80s.  Or would they be considered antiques?  I don’t know.  They’re beautiful, though.  One’s an acoustic and the others are electric.  Daddy even had sheet music for some of the old classic rock songs.  I sent those over with the guitars.”

Sweetheart, they’re your dad’s, you should keep them.

“I don’t have the room in my apartment for them, I don’t want for them to remain in their cases tucked away in a closet.  They’re meant to be picked up and played and proudly displayed.  I don’t know how to play, other than random strumming that sounds god awful.  I never was musically-inclined growing up, I would’ve taken the amp apart to see how it works and if I could improve it,” she laughed softly.  “Maybe that’s why Daddy had them in storage, to keep me from doing just that.  I…  I would like to learn how to at least play a few chords, though.”

I could teach you.  Not that hard.  I’ll get a guitar in your hands and sit behind you, wrap my arms around you to guide your hands.  He groaned.  Slow down, Kennex, he warned himself when he felt arousal stirring in his belly just from the image in his head.  Dammit.

Her fingers laced through his.  “I hope you will like them.”

I already do, Sweetheart…

-3-

The gentle press of soft, plush lips on his woke him up.  John groaned, wrapping his arms around Emily.  “Mornin’, Baby,” he murmured before deepening the kiss.  

She braced her hands against his shoulder and shoved.  “You’re ruining the moment!”  She giggled when he pinned her beneath him and attacked her neck with voracious kisses.  “John!”

He lifted his head.  “You started it by kissing me awake, Baby.”  He frowned when tears glistened in her baby blue eyes.  “Emily?”

“I get to look into your eyes this time when I say it,” her voice cracked as a tear slipped down her temple into her dark hair.  “Happy birthday, John.”

John cupped her cheek and brushed the tear away with his thumb.  “Baby, don’t start cryin’ on me,” he chastised gently, shifting onto his back and tucking her to his side.  “What are your plans today?”

“We’re not going to spend your birthday with you in bed and me in a chair holding your hand,” she retorted.

“How ‘bout we both spend the day in bed?”

She giggled.  “John!”

“It’s my birthday, can’t I pick how we spend the day?”  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“What about your birthday cupcakes or breakfast or your present--”

He hauled her on top of him and silenced her protest with a kiss.  “Later.  Much… much later,” he growled between kisses.

#almost human #john kennex #john kennex x ofc #soulbound #soulmates #happy birthday #karl urban

[filthyjanuary]

7-12 and 16-20 for the asks!

7. What do you dislike about your favourite season?

i think season 2 is the best, but as i’ve said before, my favourite is 4 solely because the first few eps i watched were from s4. i think season 4 is very solid and even though it’s a season that HURTS BAD because of everything happening between sam and dean, i think the show earns the conflict for the most part. the literal only thing that still haunts me is that the STUPID VOICEMAIL THAT GETS ALTERED IS NEVER ADDRESSED. like i hate more than anything that sam still thinks dean said those things. like i know jared’s said that sam knows dean loves him but i don’t care!!! sam /and/ dean deserve to know the voicemail was changed.

OH also literally everything with anna milton. she deserved better <3 sorry the fridged you and gave part of your arc to a man, queen.

also sam and dean should’ve found out cas let sam out of the panic room.

8. Thoughts on Sam’s demon blood arc

i love sam’s demon blood arc. his hot girl summer! in all seriousness, it makes perfect sense. mystery spot sets it up that sam goes dark when he doesn’t have dean, and s4 is the natural progression of that. i love sam being hellbent on revenge, and the blood drinking was hot sorry not sorry. like obviously the end result wasn’t stellar and the handling of the demon blood as an addiction was handled rather shittily in the show, but overall this arc is near and dear to me and if i couldn’t have the boy king, i’m glad i got this instead. and it brings up some really interesting concepts that get explored really well in fic.

9. Thoughts on the Moc arc

i hate this arc mostly because like dean was terrible...which makes sense, but even after the mark was gone it’s like... he never /really/ pulls himself out of that place. it also just dragged on for FAR too long. like it didn’t need to be like 30 episodes or however long. i do like that it gave us demon!dean being like sexythreatening, and that scene of sam cradling dean’s face and begging him to tell him that he had to kill all those people and just the general sam is dean’s colette of it all. also the end of s10 with sam on his knees and dean telling him to close his eyes is deeply fucked up and i love it for that reason and obviously that happened bc of the MOC storyline.

10. Fave underrated ep

i am highkey obsessed with 1x04 phantom traveller, 2x07 the usual suspects and 4x19 jump the shark and i feel like most people don’t really care about those episodes or bring them up much. phantom traveller is just interesting bc i think the character moments are fun and i am obsessed with plane crashes for some reason. the usual suspects i just adore because it’s really a great exploration of HOW WELL sam and dean know each other and just how alike they are. and unfortunately i really like the cop lady in this one. jump the shark was the second episode of supernatural i ever saw and for some reason something in my brain latched onto adam and never let go. i love him so much (i know it’s not really him in the ep but ukno) and i love how much you learn about sam and dean through it too.

11. Thoughts on BMOL

boring. like...the actors were not good at their accents. they wanted what bela talbot had in s3. i just didn’t find ‘the british are evil’ a compelling storyline in a supernatural show.... like girl i live in real life you don’t need to preach to me about the british. also like they set up ketch to be evil like worse than toni who i already hate because she tortures/sexually assaults sam by having him kill magda i guess? but then they end up redeeming him and he survives longer than both mick (affectionate) and toni (derogatory), like seriously one of the worst Big Bads they’ve ever had.

12. Thoughts on Mary

to be honest, i think bringing her back was kind of a stupid idea in the sense that the ENTIRE SHOW starts because of her death. but i felt like HAVING DONE THAT, trying to deconstruct her image as like this nuclear housewife was compelling and the whole clash of sam and dean who just want their mom versus mary who left her kids as a an infant and a small child and now has these grown men who are older than her needing things she doesn’t know how to give was very interesting. and i wish they’d done more with that. 

16. Any criticisms of their world building/lore

well i think everyone’s said it better than me that they can’t seem to get their stance on monsters straight at all and the show suffers for it. i also hate how like the later seasons especially just blatantly retcon so much. the prime example is the garden of eden in s5 vs s15.... the s5 version was so much more interesting and i hate that they brought it back just to destroy their own lore. the whole concept of the abrahamic god being like the ‘real’ god vs other gods just being minor annoyances didn’t like...make sense or feel good either. i also would’ve loved more exploration of like what the fuck it means to be a vessel and also exploration of other monsters/urban legends. like ok we get it ghosts/demons/vampires/werewolves sure w/e but there’s so much to pull from. it got repetitive and there’s so many other things they could’ve tried. hell the SECOND EPISODE of the show mentions black dogs and we never actually encounter one. or like chimeras... like there’s just plenty to dig into and they just get lazy.

17. What did you like about s15?

15x20 <3 also just...jack....that’s my son! MICHAEL/ADAM IN 15X08!!!! i think there were a couple moments i liked in like...the gambler and last holiday, and i thought belphagor was funny. oh! also sam’s nightmare visions were kinda fun even tho they led back to lucifer :/

18. Thoughts on Lucifer

he was a really excellent and intimidating villain in s5.... and frankly i enjoyed hallucifer as well because sure he was presented comedically but he was a deeply dark presence hanging over sam as a reminder of what he suffered. everything after that...sucked!!! it sucked!!!!! overstayed his welcome, letting him out of the cage again totally nullifies sam’s sacrifice and frankly he lost every smidge of intimidation factor he ever had. he was just annoying and whiny and pointless and sam should’ve killed him <3 fuck that guy.

19. Most uncomfortable moments throughout the show for you?

answered here

20. Define the different eras in a few lines or words (s1-5, s6-7, s8-11, s12-15)

this was meant to be short... and then it wasnt... sorry.

kripke: PEAK SUPERNATURAL. racist AND sexist but like i frankly do not care because the actually storytelling is so GOOD. COHERENT. i long for what could’ve been had the strike not kneecapped s3 and we’d gotten boyking, but hell the arc we DID get... so good. so fulfilling. aesthetics go off the charts. character dynamics so good!!! conflicts are earned!!!! there was a fucking vision here and it was unique and interesting and the show was COMMITTED TO IT. literally iconic television i love her so much. eric kripke needs a therapist but i’m glad he wrote this show instead of going to see one. 

gamble: sera THEE gamble.... overarching storylines kinda weak, but SO FUN! i had fucking fun! soulless sam is a comedian, godstiel was the last time cas was remotely interesting, like!!!! she gave us everything!!!!! gets slandered way too much by this hell fandom like yes the leviathans were stupid but the were FUN and the character moments in s6-s7!!! so good!!!! lots of excellent MOTW eps as well, which... as we know...i love. when the show lost gamble, it lost something great, i’ll die on this hill. i love u #girlboss.

carver: there’s a lot of good here and a lot i despise. dean steadily grows darker throughout the show but there’s like a real VEER into being awful in s9 that the show never recovers from. it makes dean very unlikeable for the rest of its run, mostly by virtue of the show not realizing how unlikeable it’s made dean because it needs him to always be right so the fact that he’s basically turned into john is never like....addressed in any meaningful way. some storylines (MOC!!) dragged on for too long, while others were way too short (TRIALS!!!) but ultimately i think there were some good ideas here and moments i’m fond of. season 11 is Beautiful. i love her so much. there’s some really excellent eps in s11 and the character moments are good.

dabb: i literally hate it here (jack sweetie you are not included in this assessment you’re doing great). it was just stupid. the characterizations of EVERYBODY sucked and fell flat. way too obsessed with pandering to the loudest faction on twitter. took the wreckage of dean that carver left and full destroyed him. like straight up could’ve done something meaningful if they’d bothered to address it at all but they literally didn’t ever make dean be accountable for his actions??? can’t tell u what cas was doing it was so forgettable he obviously had no purpose literally the only scenes i remember were a couple where he’s being cute with jack and that one ep where he and sam go to that old-timey town and sam gets brainwashed. sam like... exists, and his character is intact but it’s only intact because the writers that were left didn’t want to bother giving him anything meaty to do to so the were like *spins wheel* leadership arc that goes nowhere, and he just exists being kind and compassionate and putting up with too much shit. BUT HE HAD REALLY FUCKING EXCELLENT MOMENTS WITH JACK and that alone is why i think it’s worth the slog. sam/jack is my favourite dynamic on the show following sam/dean so...unfortunately based on that.... i can’t just burn the whole dabb era but seriously... way to make every character a hollow, one-dimensional shell.

send me supernatural asks

#ALLISON THANK U I LOVE U #asks #spn #long post #so-excuse-my-tantrum

[brokenjardaantech]

character sketch (1)

a sketch in the form of two fake reddit posts. was an idea i had had for one of my fics but decided to write it down as a separate story instead as it couldn’t fit into the continuity.

trigger warnings: amnesia, dissociation, heavy focus on death, slight mention of homophobia

also on ao3

My SO discovered a laptop full of pics of me and my ex. I don't remember getting married before. 

As the title suggests, yesterday is the day off for me and my SO. We planned to chill for the whole day which was what we did in the morning, but then my SO got bored so I let them dig around in the attic where I usually put stuff that I don't need often away but don't have the heart to get rid of. They found an old laptop of mine and we plugged it in since it is in good condition and we were both curious. We discovered that young me a) didn't set a password and b) saved all the login information within the laptop. It was then that we discovered the pictures from back when my sister was studying in Cambridge of me, her, and a man I don't remember. I logged into this account to check its history and found out that I was apparently married to this man, and when I told my SO that I don't remember him they believed in me. Apparently we married to give me an advantage over my dad during our battle over my sister's custody (she was a minor back then), but it seems that I was already good friends with this man before that, and the marriage ended when he died of corona back in 2020. We went through all the pictures together and somehow my mind is still blank. Nothing, not even a snippet of memory returned. 

My SO is at work now. I stayed at home because I need time to process everything. I think I'm numb. I don't even know what to think about it.

EDIT: Thank you all for the kind words, but I think there are a few things that I need to clear up. 

First of all, about my sister. Some of you accused her for hiding things from me without even knowing the full picture and admittedly I was disappointed, but all you need to know is that she was in the military and went MIA ten years ago. So asking her for confirmation is impossible. 

Secondly, about my father. Some of you suggested asking him about my mysterious ex-husband, but the fact is I've gone no-contact with him after he threw a fit for losing against me in the custody battle. So I don't know where he is right now and neither do I want to ask him about it. 

Thirdly, about any friends. True, I remember making a few friends back when I was in the UK, but since most of them are/were migrant workers from eastern Europe, I don't think I told them about a husband or anything that would imply that I'm archillean. I have lost contact with the ones I did tell. 

Anyhow, my SO is being very kind and has agreed to help me look for something that will either prove or reject my ex-husband's existence. I still don't know what to feel or to think about forgetting who seems like an important figure in my life but I hope that we will find the truth as it is and leave it behind.

----------

Update: My SO found pics of an ex-husband I don't remember marrying

A year has passed since my previous post and a lot of you asked for an update, so here it is. I'll try to keep it short but a lot of things have happened (in more ways than one) so please bear with me here.

Firstly, my ex-husband is very, very real. My SO and I learnt from my posts (from many, many years ago) that he had been a professor at Cambridge until his death, and although we couldn't find much about him on the official websites, a few of my acquaintances recognised me and reached out to me and helped me reconnect with some of his friends whom I should know. I also learnt that my ex-husband was cremated and his ashes casted into the sea, so there was no gravestone or anything to visit, but what I *did* do was arranging a trip to Cambridge to try to reconnect with them. Stupid and a waste of money, I know, but I wanted answers and both me and my SO have leave days and money to spare. Most of my ex's friends were not good with technology anyway so we thought an in-person meeting would be a better idea. 

(To clear things up a little, I do remember working in Cambridge while my sister was studying there. I remember taking care of her. I remember fighting for her custody. I just don't remember anything related to my ex, and that includes his friends.)

We arranged a meeting together and it was emotional for all of us. They thought that I died during the accident 10 years ago which, looking back, might be one of the reasons why I don't remember a large chunk of my life. They filled me in on what we used to do together and what me and my ex were back then. Apparently I was already a huge linguistics nerd and that was what brought me and my ex together, and the younger me in their eyes sounded truly in love with his husband. I thought my memories would come back the more I was exposed to the environment, but nothing came back to me, and by the end of our little gathering I sort of hoped that it never happened. The discussions about languages going deep into the night, the picnics to the coast, cosy holidays together both in the city and in a secluded cabin somewhere- all of them that should have been part of me but are now no more than stories I have no recollections of. Before, it was a simple mystery, one that I could choose whether to uncover or not; now that I know how much I have forgotten, I'm acutely aware of what I've missed and been rid of, and it is one of the worst feelings I've ever had. I felt guilty for forgetting a man who've been so good to me and supported me completely during my lowest, even marrying me so that I could save my sister; lost because I don't know what I want to do about all these; terrified because I don't know if there's something else that is important to me but I have forgotten: from what my friend said after I told him about this, it isn't the first occurance of me forgetting important stuff. I don't think I've ever cried as hard and felt as exhausted in my life as when my SO and I returned to the hotel, but I'm glad that they were with me all the time. 

Secondly, I got my sister back. Yes, you read it right, my sister returned after 10 years of disappearance. I don't understand half the things she told me about; I'm just glad that she's back. And yes, she told me that my ex-husband was real and he was her father figure. I can feel that my sister and I aren't as close as before but at least we have something to bond over. Finally, we found more stuff from my time in Cambridge. Most of them are insignificant stuff such as a special edition tea leaf tin and some linguistic books I must have brought to the US when I moved back, but there were also even more pictures of us - physical copies this time, our marriage certificate, and, most importantly, our wedding rings. I'm still uncertain what I want to do with them. Right now, I am just glad that I have something to remember him by even though I don't have the memories. I did write down what I was told in a notebook just in case those disappear from my brain as well. I'm also seeing a therapist about the memory loss and processing trauma. Maybe I'll remember. Maybe I will never recall one single thing on my own about my former husband. But now that I have more or less the full image of the events, I have a SO who loves me very much, I have my sister back. I think I am content.

#character sketch #oc

[monst]

T’is the season Day 31

Last TDS fic how ya feel?? Happy New years guys ^.^ let’s have some more fun next year yeah?

All Might, Midnight, Nezu, Stain, AFO, Best Jeanist! (In order so ya can skippies the ones u no likeies)

Warnings: Dark Chocolate, Death mentioning? Or mentions of impending death? Also I don’t know about ya but I found Stain to be so hot o////o Oh and Best Jeanist spoiler. (Also AFO & Stain make more sense if you’ve read Day 25 pt1 AFO)

All Might! (Toshinori Yagi)

               No one could get in touch with him. It was as if he was avoiding everyone. Well avoiding you. He had been ever since he had used up the last of his power in the fight with All for One. You knew because he’d do everything in his power to try to get out of the area you were in quickly, his responses to you were short and curt. And, in all honesty it as beginning to hurt you. You didn’t confront him wanting him to speak to you out of his own free will but, it was almost a new year. You didn’t want to start it off without him. So, you confronted him….

               “Toshi! Wait.” You had blocked him off and even though he could easily move out of the way he choose to listen. “I think I know why you’ve been avoiding me…. And, I want you to stop. Please stop avoiding me, it’s hurting me a lot more than what you think.”

               “I-It’s better this way (Name)” He sighed. “At least this way when it does happen you won’t feel the sting so much.”

               “You idiot!” You shouted. Reaching up to yank his shirt to pull him down to your height. Tears welled in you eyes as you glared at him. “I want to be with you. Why don’t you get that? Even if you don’t have much time here... I want to spend your last moments together. I don’t want our last words to be a ‘See you tomorrow at work (Name)’! I want to make more memories with you before that. S-so please Toshi Please j-just-“An ugly sob racked through your body and the tall man wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you. With your face buried in his chest you wailed freely. When you pulled away your eyes were puffy, and you sounded a bit nasally. “I-I just want to spend the n-new years with you and p-pray that you’ll get to see m-most of it. W-with me if y-you’d like.”

               He gave you a melancholic smile and with a nod he spoke: “I’m sorry for thinking ignoring you would hurt less. Let’s spend the rest of the time I have left together. And, whatever this new year is going to bring, I’ll be happy to share it with you. The laughs the tears all of it. And, when I do go It’s with good memories. No more ignoring let’s walk until the road ends...”

 Midnight (Nemuri Kayama)

               “Got any plans?” It was those words that had brought you to where you were now. Nemuri had asked you that the day before the end of the year and, you had replied in earnest. You had no plans and she was eager to invite you to a party. And, not one of those faculty ‘End of the year bash’ parties that Nezu threw. So, there you were your closet’s best framing your form and a cute smile on your lips.

               “That guy is totally checking you out.” You heard the erotic hero say. Your smile fell. The last thing you wanted was to end up in the arms of a stranger drunk off your ass. You didn’t not want to wake up on the first with a roaring hangover in a dingy motel bed. ‘No thank you’ you thought looking back at Nemuri.

“Well that’s to bad he’s gonna have to look elsewhere because I’m staying right here with you!” You chirped. “Besides we said we’d do the countdown together.”

Much to your disappointment he came over. You groaned and looked to Midnight as he stood beside you. His ratchet breath tickled your nose and you cringed at what he said. It was the grossest most slurred pick up line you had ever had the misfortune of hearing.

“Soo pretty thang whaddya say~” You scrunched up your face in disgust. And before his hand could touch you Nemuri slapped it away.

“I think you should go your making my girlfriend very uncomfortable.” Her tone serious as she spoke.

“Girlfriend ha!-“ before he could finish Nemuri stood up her eyes slits.

“Are you sure you want to finish what you were going to say? Because I can’t guarantee that you’ll have teeth afterwards.” She threatened. You looked away, You thought she looked hot when she was mad. However, you brought your attention back to them when he went to hit your girl. But, as a pro hero Nemuri was able to knock him out effortlessly with her quirk. You both looked to each other then to the man on the ground.

“He got drunk and passed out.” You interjected.

“He got drunk and passed out.” She agreed, laughing as she sat back up on the bar stool. She slid her hand into yours and smiled. “Why is everyone trying to steal you away from me?” She teased.

“It’s because I’m amazing.” You sassed.

“That’s got to be it.” She grinned. “We missed the countdown you know.”

“Did we?” You hummed leaning in closer to her.

“Yup.” She smiled her nose brushing against yours.

“Well then how about we have one of our own?” You whispered.

“3”

“2”

It wasn’t exactly twelve but, it was the best first kiss of the year you’ve ever had.

Nezu

               You let out a groan as you stretched all your joints popping pleasantly. With a deep relived sigh, you turned off the computer. You had finally finished the lesson plans for next year and you were beat. You didn’t have anyone to celebrate New Years with and you really didn’t mind it as much. Once upon a time you had but after years of hero work and teaching it all just became a blur and another day. So, you never really had any issues working through holidays.

Your co-workers had all left to celebrate the coming of the new year. In fact, they left hours ago it was Eleven. They had plans. You had been invited but you refused. You didn’t feel the need to party when you had so much work to do. You were also regarded as a bit of a buzz kill and, you didn’t want to be the wet blanket at the get-together.

You stacked the papers that you needed to give to the principal and made your way to his office. Your brows furrowed when you noticed that the light of the room was one. You thought that maybe someone left them on. But you knocked to make sure. And, when you heard a muffled come in you knew the doctor was in.  

“Hey” You greeted “What are you still doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing (Name).” He replied taking a sip of his coffee.

“Right. Well I finished the lesson plans for the next semester I have them here if you want to go over them.” You offered since the both of you obviously had nothing better to do.

He nodded and you pulled up a chair to join the cute small bear, rat thing. You both went over the material with him making comments and you adding to the curriculum. When the clock struck twelve you jumped. Not only at the noise but because Nezu shot up from his seat and scurried to a cabinet off to the side in his office.

You would admit to being surprised when he pulled out a bottle of brandy. Hell, you didn’t even know he drank anything other than liquid caffeine. When he hopped back up his chair, he handed you a glass that was in his desk. You were slightly embarrassed when he poured you a drink as he was your superior.

“Happy New years (Name).” He smiled raising his glass. “It isn’t exactly champagne but I wasn’t expecting company on New years.”

“It’s fine.” You mumbled clinking your glass against his letting the liquid burn your throat. “You always drink alone in your office.”

“I’m always here on holidays.” He hummed pouring himself another.

You swirled your drink a bit before deciding to ask him something. “You mind If I join you on those days?”

“Not at all” He chirped “Some company is fine on days like this, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” You grinned.

 Stain (Akaguro Chizome)

               (Part of the same story line as AFO Christmas)

You were working New Year’s as well. But, could anyone blame you? For starters you had no one waiting for you at home, you didn’t really have people who invited you to things and lastly the pay was tripled. After what happened on Christmas with AFO you had wanted to quit. But you figured that it would be hard to find such a good high paying job. Besides you were good at being a guard and you weren’t about to let some eyeless bastard dictate your life.

Speaking of villains, the area you had jurisdiction over seemed to be filled with the worst of them. And, you wouldn’t lie you had fun asking the villains of Tartarus questions. But your personal favorite was the hero killer. Due to your high rank no one bothered you when you went to chat with the blood quirked man.

In the back of your mind you heard AFO speaking to you, but your quirk easily dissipated the use of his quirk and you severed his mind link. Afterall you wanted to speak with Akaguro.

You used your card to unlock the door and, entered the white room. When you entered the room, you ignored the chair in the center and went to the glass separating you from the villain. His bloodshot eyes followed your movement in boredom and, when you leaned your back against the glass he spoke.

“Why are you always here.” He rasped.

“What? Can’t I visit my favorite prisoner to wish him a happy new year?” You teased.

He scoffed at your words. What was there to look forward to? Taco Tuesdays? Pizza Friday? Your random visits to his cell? Actually, he looked forward to those. Everyone else thought his views were bogus but, you actually listened to him. He liked hearing you comment on his views of society. What he loved more was that you tastefully agreed with some of his points. You truly were the only capable person in this hell hole. At least that’s what he thought.

“Chizome I’m curious.” You began. “Why the hell didn’t you become a hero instead? Like if you had the clout and attention of the masses people might have put two and two together and, you could have made a reformation movement.”

“Why? I didn’t want to soil myself by becoming the same type of scum as those fake heroes.” He sneered. “And, why are you asking me the same thing again. You’ve been coming here often.” He mused suspiciously. “You look like a rat scurrying away from a large prey.”

“Wow thanks.” You rolled your eyes turning to look at the extremist man. Your eyes looked to the sides suspiciously as you leaned in closer. He too moved in closer. And, in a voice barely above a whisper you spoke. “That man, he’s been trying to talk to me.”

“AFO?” he questioned. You nodded grimly. “Then tell one of those shitty doctors to up his sedation meds.”

“And, have them be suspicious as to why he’s speaking to me?!” You whisper yelled Stain just shrugged.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He dropped to the ground to perform pushups and you groaned.

“Come on Chizome I thought we were pals?” You whined.

He glared at you. “Are you serious? You’re a prison guard (Name).”

“So?” You pouted.

“Get out.” He sighed continuing his set. “I can’t deal with the stupidity coming out of your mouth right now.”

“Did you get flustered?” You snickered.                “Shut up.” He grumbled.

“Oh, you did!” You grinned. “Well I’ll leave you to your pointless sweating, Happy new year’s Chizome!” You called exiting his cell.

“Whatever.” He huffed he’s face feeling warm. But it was because he was working out! It wasn’t because you thought of him s a friend! Definitely not!

  AFO

               After you left the hero killer’s cell you could feel it. His presence that is. You had cut him off from your mind, but you could still feel him trying to push in. You were just grateful that even though he had a multitude of quirks he wasn’t proficient in all of them. Telepathy being one of his weaker ones as he had admitted during your conversation that one Christmas night.

               Tired of his insistence that felt like a constant poke at the back of your head you walked to his cell. You wouldn’t risk going inside. Even you would be heavily questioned if you entered his room without a medic or another guard. Therefore, you resorted to glaring at him from the small square window on the door. And you dropped your mental fire wall.

               ‘What the fuck do you want potato head.’ You hissed in your mind link with the criminal.

               ‘My, my such awful treatment to your elders (Name).’ His voice echoed in your mind. ‘I believe the Hero Killer was treated with much more respect than that.’

               ‘So? I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ You sassed. ‘And, I told you the 25th stop trying to communicate with me. Whatever it is you have to say, say it to someone else. As a matter of fact you can go ahead and tell All Might. I think he’d be down for another visit.’

               ‘This brash way of speaking will no doubt get you in trouble.’ You could hear the frown in his voice. His distaste at your brazen disrespect hung was palpable. ‘I don’t appreciate this tone in which you speak to me in’

               ‘Boo fucking hoo.’ You continued ‘Are you gonna do something about it?’

               ‘Not when your hand is above the emergency button.’ He answered .

               You felt a chill run down your spine. ‘Just how powerful is he.’ You thought ‘Is he fucking omnipresent now??’

               ‘Not quite’ He chuckled ‘I can teach you how to do it as well.’

               ‘Offering me power isn’t gonna get you anywhere.’ You hissed.

               ‘No, I suppose it isn’t not with your abilities. I just offer you help in understanding how to use them.’ He proposed.

               ‘No thanks.’ You spat ‘Now if that’s all you had to say I’m leaving.’

               ‘(Name)’ He called.

               “What!?” You snarled.

               “Happy New Year, He’s to seeing more of you this year.”

               “Doubtful.”

 Best Jeanist (Hakamata Tsunagu) :’)

               You weren’t one to partake in Hatsumode. You usually let the year roll in and didn’t think of temples or shrines. And, you felt a bit silly for being there in your warm kimono. You were one of those who didn’t believe in superstitions especially ringing a bell for a wish. It was part of your culture, but you had never liked it. Well that was before, now it seemed as though it was your only hope.

               You stood in the long line waiting to get to the front. It didn’t matter that the cold nipped at your skin. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t feel your toes. No one else had given you any answers or results. When you finally reached the front, you tugged on the thick rope and clapped your hands to pray. Pray for what? For Hakamata Tsunagu known to the public as Best Jeanist. After his aid in the fight with AFO he disappeared.

               You just wanted him back. You could feel how your tears escaped your tightly closed eyes. And you knew that those behind you were getting impatient but what else could you do. You begged and pleaded to who ever heard to bring him back to you safely. Or at least to protect him. You begged that he would be able to come back. ‘Please, please, please I beg of you. Have mercy. Please let him be alive. Please bring him back. Please let him come home. Please allow him to see our son being born. Let him be okay. Please, please……please.’

               *Ring*

#Amari's TDS #bnha ficmas #bnha christmas #mha christmas #All Might #All Might x reader #Toshinori yagi x reader #Toshinori yagi #All Might Angst #Midnight x reader #Midnight #nemuri kayama #nemuri kayama x reader #nezu #nezu x reader #Stain x reader #staino #akaguro chizome #Chizome akaguro x reader #AFO #afo x reader #best jeanist #best jeanist angst #best jeanist x reader #tsunagu hakamata #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Dead Man Walking (3/?)

Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.

Based loosely on this dream I had.

Rated: T, eventually E.

Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…

[One] [Two] [AO3]

—

Dead Man Walking

Three

Something was wrong. Carrie had known that something was wrong from the moment that the Head of the Civil Service had told her to go home. He had told her in forceful and no uncertain terms to go home, and not to come back until he called her. 

Now that Robert was… gone, Sir Albert Spencer, Head of the Civil Service, was her de facto boss, so she couldn’t really contradict him.

She hadn’t really focussed on the fact that something was wrong at the time, because at the time, she had just found the Prime Minister dead in his private office in Chequers and had been through all the necessary trauma of calling the police and the ambulance and making statements and officially identifying the body and watching her boss being taken away covered in a sheet.

She had settled in for a long night of enforcing a complete press blackout until cause of death could be determined, and of enacting several antiquated procedures related to ‘what happens when a Prime Minister dies in office’ that no one had needed to enact since 1812. 

Ironically, the last Prime Minister to die in office was also the first and only to be assassinated. 

Carrie seriously suspected that he was not in fact the only one. 

She seriously suspected that Sir Albert knew something, and that was the reason why she, ostensibly the closest person to the Prime Minister, had been pretty much forcibly removed from Chequers and told to go home, that there was nothing she could do, that she’d had a traumatic evening and everyone else would take care of things. 

Carrie sighed, continuing to stare at the chintzy floral wallpaper of her mother’s living room and wondering if the decision to start drinking as soon as she’d got home was a good one. Having been told to go home, Carrie had pointed out that, whilst the Prime Minister was away from London and she was with him, Chequers was her home, Sir Albert had politely reminded her that her mother lived not ten miles away from Chequers, and gave her a pointed look that told her, without the need for words, where he expected her to go.

Her mother, owner of a house in a small village in the middle of nowhere, had found her outside the house, crying her eyes out with angry tears of loss and frustration as she kicked the garden wall to within an inch of the stonework’s life.

She’d steered her inside, given her some elderflower wine to calm her down, and, Official Secrets Act be damned, had listened to Carrie pour out all her woes. To her credit, Mrs de Ville had not batted an eyelid at the fact that the Prime Minister had died of a suspected heart attack, and she had just kept topping up her daughter’s glass. Carrie raised an eyebrow as the drink kept flowing. At least she knew where she got it from.  

They’d moved on from elderflower wine onto gin now, and it was now getting on for one in the morning. Mrs de Ville was snoring gently in her chair, and Carrie’s thoughts were coming full circle. Something was wrong. There was no way Robert had had a heart attack.

Yes, he was a smoker, and yes, he was under a lot of stress, but he’d been in good health lately, and there had been nothing wrong with him all day. Surely he’d show some kind of symptoms of impending doom.

This wasn’t supposed to have happened. This was supposed to her holiday, for fuck’s sake. Parliament wasn’t in session; everything was winding down for the summer. There had just been a couple of meetings about more sensitive policy matters for the next session that Robert had said couldn’t wait - so they’d arranged for a few private meetings at Chequers to go over it. Carrie had come down to be on hand if he needed her. Which, all things considered when it came to Robert losing his temper and threatening to do something stupid, was rather likely.

“Someone killed him,” she muttered darkly to the wallpaper.

The chilling thought was that the pool of suspects was incredibly small, given how few people were around. It was someone in the Cabinet, or the Civil Service, or the Chequers staff. 

Carrie shook her head. She was getting paranoid. It was the wine. And the gin probably hadn’t helped either. He’d had a heart attack, it was terribly tragic, and half the public would mourn, and the other half would rejoice when they found out, and that was the way of it. 

Except for the Head of the Civil Service locking her out of the proceedings. She couldn’t get those suspicions out of her head. 

“Who killed who, darling?” Mrs de Ville jerked awake. “I do love a good murder. I always fancied myself as a Miss Marple, but our village is nowhere near as prone to death as St Mary Mead.”

“Someone killed the Prime Minister.”

“Oh yes, that.” Mrs de Ville held up the wine bottle - nowhere near the first they’d got through - and found it empty. “Well, why don’t you do a little investigation? With your connections, you should be in a perfect position to find things out.”

She wasn’t, though. She was sitting in her mother’s living room whilst the Head of the Civil Service tried very hard to keep her from finding anything out. 

For the first time in her life, Carrie was actually beginning to wish that she hadn’t drunk so much. 

Her phone began to ring, pulling her out of her morbid contemplation. She grabbed it excitedly, convinced that it would be Sir Albert calling her to bring her back into the fold (although how much use she’d be after a bottle and a half of wine was debatable), and she was brought up short when the number showed as unknown; a comparatively local landline number.

Maybe the press had already got wind of what had happened and were calling her for a statement. Admittedly, one in the morning was an odd time for it, but Carrie had long since learned after a lifetime in politics that journalism never slept.

The phone continued to ring, and finally, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Carrie, it’s me.”

“What?” Carrie was very glad that she was already sitting down because she would most certainly have fallen over had she not been.

“It’s me, Carrie! For fuck’s sake!” Robert certainly sounded like himself, and certainly sounded alive, and Carrie was really beginning to wish that she hadn’t drunk so much because her brain was operating at a speed slower than a snail wading through treacle.

“But you’re dead!” she hissed. “I saw you. You were dead. Very dead.”

“Well, evidently not quite as dead as everyone thought.”

“What, how… Where are you?”

“I’m still in the morgue.”

“You’re calling me from the morgue?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“With a phone! Carrie… Have you been drinking?”

“Of course I’ve been drinking, you walnut! My boss just died, I just got put on indefinite garden leave, and I’ve been drowning my sorrows in elderflower wine for the last four hours!”

“Bloody hell, you must be desperate. Elderflower wine? Never mind. Look, I need your help; you’re the only person I trust.”

“I…” Carrie remembered her own conviction that Robert had been murdered and took his point. “Yes. All right. What do you need?”

“To find out who tried to kill me, that would be a good start. And getting out of this place would be good. And some aspirin. So far my only partner in crime is a trainee forensic scientist who isn’t even supposed to be here and who seems worryingly interested in my arse.”

Carrie could just about make out a young, female voice in the background of the call. “Your arse is very interesting.”

“You know, I have to agree with the trainee forensic scientist who isn’t even supposed to be there.”

“You’re drunk, Carrie. Look…” There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I really, really need you right now.”

Carrie nodded despite the fact he couldn’t see her. “Yes. Ok. I’ll be there. Where are you? I mean, apart from the morgue.”

“Stoke Mandeville hospital,” said the almost-forensic scientist.

“Ok. Just…” Carrie had no idea what kind of advice to offer a man who’d just risen from the dead and was hiding in a morgue. “Just… hang in there.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can. Oh, and Robert?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad that you’re alive.”

The call ended. Carrie was suddenly painfully and horribly sober, and she jumped up out of the squashy armchair she’d been ensconced in ever since her mother had levered her away from the garden wall before she could kick it down. The suddenness of the action alarmed Mrs de Ville.

“Where are you going, darling?”

“Stoke Mandeville. Robert’s alive and stuck in a morgue and I have to go and get him out and work out who tried to kill him and…”

She fumbled for her car keys, and Mrs de Ville came over, closing her wrinkled hands over Carrie’s shaking ones.

“Darling, I’m not going to be responsible for you ending up in the hospital you’re trying to get to. We’ll get a taxi.”

“We?”

“Well, naturally I’m coming with you. You can’t exactly trust anyone else in this game, and you’re going to need all the help you can get on this one. I just finished the latest Kathy Reichs; we’ll make the perfect team.”

Carrie was not altogether convinced, but her mother was right. She was going to need some help, and none of her usual channels would be available to her, especially if Sir Albert was running interference. It wasn’t like anyone would suspect a seemingly harmless septuagenarian; maybe she could help out with bluffing Carrie’s way into the hospital.

Ten minutes later found Carrie and her mother sitting in the back of a taxi on their way to Stoke Mandeville. The driver, an incredibly cynical woman named Ursula, had raised an eyebrow at their destination and suggested calling an ambulance instead, until Carrie had reassured her that neither she nor her mother were in need of medical attention.

Ursula had not seemed entirely convinced by this, especially since Mrs de Ville was swaying slightly, but had nonetheless begun the drive to the hospital. At this time of the night the roads were empty, and they made good time. It was only once they were nearing the carpark that Carrie realised they’d hit a major snag. Namely, she had no idea where the morgue was in relation to anywhere else in the hospital.

Also, if she was going to be sneaking the supposedly dead Prime Minister out of the hospital, taking him out through the main entrance probably wouldn’t be a good idea. If the press didn’t know that something odd had happened in the upper echelons of government before, then they certainly would after that.

“Can you just go round the block a bit and park up in a side street?” she asked.

Ursula raised her eyebrows in the rear-view mirror.

“Are you mad? There’s nowhere to park within about a mile of the place.”

“You can leave the meter running,” Carrie said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Listen, madam, I don’t know what you’re doing, calling taxis in the middle of the night to take you to hospitals that you evidently want to get into furtively, but I am not partaking in any criminal activity. Once I drop you off, I’m out of here.”

“No! Please, we’ll need to go back again. And I promise that there is nothing illegal going on.”

Carrie knew that she probably didn’t sound all that convincing, but at the same time, she was desperate to get Robert out of the morgue and into somewhere safe, and right now this taxi was the only safe harbour she had.

Ursula heaved a sigh. “All right. There’s a little alley parallel to the ambulance station; there’s usually space in there and you can try and sneak in via Resus. But you pay for this journey now; I’m not going to hang around indefinitely.”

“You are a lifesaver. Quite possibly literally.” Carrie blew her a kiss from the back seat and Ursula rolled her eyes, but Carrie caught the slightest hint of a smile in the mirror.

The taxi pulled up and Carrie counted out change plus a generous tip, praying that Ursula would still be there when they got back. She considered leaving her mother in the car as insurance, but Mrs de Ville was already out of the taxi and scuttling towards the Resus entrance.

Carrie had never seen her mother scuttle before. Maddie de Ville had always been poised and dignified, and for a few moments all Carrie could do was stare in bewilderment, finally putting it down to the drink and following her as furtively as she could manage with that much elderflower wine inside her.

Quite how they managed to get inside without anyone noticing that anything was amiss would be a source of amazement to Carrie for the rest of her days, but they managed to make it out of A&E by refuge of sheer audacity and acting like they were definitely supposed to be there.

Now all they had to do was make it to the morgue.

“I think it’s this way.” Mrs de Ville was studying the hospital map on the wall intently. The morgue was not marked, but she tapped one long, red fingernail at the stairwell. “They’re usually in the basement.”

It was as good a place to start looking as any, and Carrie followed her mother towards the stairs, striding along the basement corridors with a confidence that neither of them felt but that would hopefully stop anyone from questioning them.

They had stopped to look at another map when they heard it.

“Pst!”

Carrie glanced over her shoulder. A young woman was leaning out of an unmarked doorway.

“Carrie de Ville?” she asked.

Carrie nodded once, uncertainly.

“Great. I’m Lacey French, almost-forensic scientist. I’ve got something of yours here.”

Carrie crossed the corridor and peered into the room – it turned out to be a linen closet – past Lacey.

Robert was there. He was looking rather worse for wear, but then, he had just been murdered so that was probably forgivable. Carrie knew that she wouldn’t be looking much better herself and she didn’t even have the excuse of waking up in a morgue.

“Robert!”

She pushed past Lacey and threw her arms around him. “Oh, darling, I’m so glad that you’re all right!”

Robert gave a weak laugh. “It’s good to see you too, Carrie.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s a taxi waiting.”

“Thank God for that,” said Lacey. “I really didn’t want to have to take him on the back of my moped. Let’s roll. Keep an eye out for Suits, the place is crawling with them.”

She led the way out of the linen closet and along the corridor, and Carrie, Robert and Mrs de Ville rushed to keep up with her.

Carrie had to smile, despite everything that was going on. She’d never met anyone less likely to be a forensic scientist, and anyone less likely to have helped the Prime Minister in his hour of need.

She felt that she was going to like Lacey French.

#rumbelle fic #sutheracey #Lacey French #Robert Sutherland #Cruella De Vil #anyem #Fic: Dead Man Walking

[joaquinwhorres]

Good Deeds (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Summary: After a minor altercation with Billy at a holiday party, you ask Steve to drive you home. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1934

Author’s Note: So, this is Part 1 of a 3 part mini-series I have in my head. Also, I'm thinking about releasing an angsty version of this same fic as a part of a separate mini-series. I know it's cheating, but  I had two different ideas on how each could go, so we'll see what happens. I’m ALSO going to have a tag list, if you’d like to be tagged in this series, the angst series, or any future Steve fics, just let me know.

Warnings: Language. Short incident of sexual harassment at the beginning.

Chris Winters had the winter break party.

Maybe it was in the name. Maybe it was in the fact that his parents were in a bidding war against each other over who got to be the cool parent. Maybe it was simply because he was really the only person to bother to hold a "holiday party." Whatever the case, you knew that if you were at Winters' party then you were officially in.

At the moment, however, all you wanted to do was get out.

Tiffany had ditched you long ago for Jeff which truly was only a matter of time, and Darlene was too busy babysitting a wasted Becky to be a proper party companion. So, while you had arrived with three friends, somehow you managed to find yourself alone, and you were only half way through the night. And while you had enjoyed some spiked hot chocolate and many more cups of "Holiday Cheer" (whatever that red concoction was), even in your lifted spirits, you felt as if it was time to bounce.

"Hey," a low voice came up behind you, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned to face whoever it could possibly be.

Billy Hargrove. Great.

It wasn't so much that you were nervous, angry, upset, annoyed, or any other type of emotion that he was there. Billy was a bit of an asshole, sure. And maybe a bit of a play boy, yeah. And he was obviously a reckless driver, but other than that, he was just like any other boy in Hawkins. Except for maybe being  slightly more openly aggressive and attractive than the rest.

Still, despite your four or so cups of Cheer, you weren't in the mood at the moment to make out with Billy.

But he was smiling and licking his lips. "Come here alone?" he raised an eyebrow. Your eyes fell down to his bare chest. His deep red shirt was unbuttoned almost half way. It was December. In Indiana.

You snorted, scoffing. "No."

"Where's your boyfriend then?" he asked, taking a step closer to you. You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. 

"I’m here with friends," you clarified, looking up at him, unamused. "Have you seen Tiffany?" Billy's eyes glanced over to his left, and you followed his gaze towards the corner of the room. You could make out Tiffany's tight, bright green sweater and a flurry of dark hair which had large hands running through it. Her face was attached to someone else's, and if you kept looking, you were going to throw up.

"Great," you said, flatly.

"Looks like they've found the mistletoe. Maybe we should find our own," Billy suggested, raising an eyebrow with a slight smirk.

"I'm good," you shook your head, turning away and attempting to make your way through the crowd. A pair of hands snaked their way around your waist, pulling you back. Your stomach dropped.

"Are you sure?" Billy's voice rumbled from behind you.

"Hands off, Billy," you groaned, attempting to push his hands off  your waist.

"Come on," Billy protested, pulling you into him so your back was flush against his front. He leaned over your shoulder, whispering in your ear, "I can show you a good time."

"Yeah, not interested." This time, you couldn't stop the eye roll. You finally pulled away and started off towards the crowd. Billy's hand wrapped around your forearm as he tugged you back.

"Don't play games," he warned.

You stepped forward, teeth gritted. "Get your hands off of me," you ground out. 

Billy leaned forward, and fearing that his face was too close to get a good punch in, you brought up your knee, connecting it with his groin. He  jerked away, allowing you to rip your arm out of his grip. You took off into the crowd, searching for the front door.

"Hey!" another hand shot out, grabbing your arm, and learning from your mistakes, this time you turned with your fist raised, sinking a good punch into your Steve Harrington's face.

"What the fuck?" Steve swore, clutching his face.

"Oh–fuck–I'm sorry," you sputtered. "I thought you were–" you noticed the crowd parting over his shoulder as Billy Hargrove started coming closer, his eyes on you. "Sorry, Steve, I have to run," you turned again, pushing through the crowd. You couldn't believe you let Tiffany drive you. You had to go.

You reached the front door, deciding to figure out your ride home once you were outside. Maybe somebody would also be going home and could at least give you a ride in the right direction. You burst out the door, surveying the parked cars along the street.

"Fuck!" You could feel your chest growing tight as panic began to set in. No one was there. Your brain worked on overdrive, attempting to figure out what you could possibly do next. You couldn't walk home. Your coat was in Tiffany's car, and it was at least a forty-five minute walk to your house. You'd freeze to death before you even made it halfway to your house. You had to get back into the party. There'd be people there. You could hide in the crowd until you caught up with Darlene.

You turned around and ran straight into someone. Both of you stumbled back a bit, and Steve reached out, steadying you.

"Steve!" you exclaimed, a shot of hope racing through you. "Can you give me a ride home?"

A look of confusion mixed with concern crossed his face. "Why? What's wrong?"

You didn't have time for this.

"Take me home," you repeated yourself. Steve nodded, taking off across the yard to his car. You had almost reached it when you heard his voice.

"HARRINGTON."

"Let's go, please," you frantically hissed, opening up the door and getting into the car. "Ignore him. Let's go."

Steve paused, looking up to the sky with a clenched jaw. He shook his head and started to turn. You lunged out of the car, grabbing him by his arm, your fingernails digging into his skin.

"Come on!" you hissed.  

Steve looked down at your face as you released him, his eyes glancing back to Billy Hargrove who was making his way quickly to you.

"Ok," he nodded, and the two of you climbed into the car.

Neither of you were buckled when Steve whipped out of there. You were thrown against the door, hitting it hard.

"Sorry," Steve quickly apologized, making several turns around the neighborhood as if attempting to lose a tail. You waved him off, reaching up and buckling. It was a few more minutes before Steve's driving slowed and he started towards your house.

"So, uh, you want to talk about it?" Steve asked, finally remembering to turn on his headlights.

"Not really," you slumped against the door, looking out the window. The adrenaline had seemingly drained from you, leaving you exhausted, tired, and just wanting to be home.

"Ok," Steve nodded and looked back at the road. You two listened to the sounds of the wheels against the pavement, winter winds rustling around the car. You shivered slightly, wishing you had your coat.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, noticing your hands wrapped around yourself and turning on the heat.

You nodded, letting silence once again settle between you and him. You didn't know what you were thinking asking Steve Harrington to drive you home. The two of you were friendly enough, running in similar circles, but you hadn't even really spent any time with him. Except for when he was "seeing" Becky and Amy. But he had dated Nancy Wheeler, and although you weren't friends with her, she was the quintessential nice girl. And if Steve was good enough for her to date for a year, he was safe enough to drive home with.

Steve turned on the radio, Kenny Rogers' "A Christmas to Remember" pouring out through the speakers. You reached the chorus before Steve spoke again.

"Can I know why you punched me?"

You looked over at him and decided that if he was nice enough to drive you home after you decked him, it was only fair that you told him why.

"I thought you were Billy Hargrove," you mumbled.

Steve went quiet. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see he was staring down the road, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "What did he do to you?" Steve asked, tightly. The open animosity between Steve and Billy was well known throughout the school. You had a feeling that if you gave him any excuse to fight Billy, he'd take it.

"Nothing. I left," you slumped back down across the car door.

He didn't respond. Instead, you two sat through "Holly Jolly Christmas" and "Merry Christmas, Darling. It wasn't until "Happy Xmas" that Steve asked another question.

"Are you still on Maple?"

"Yeah," you said, looking over at him. "I'm surprised you remembered."

He shrugged. "I've seen you walk home on my way home from school."

"Oh." You didn't know what else to say, and it seemed like Steve was in the same boat. It was weird. If there was one thing you knew about Steve it was that he always seemed to have something to say. This realization made your stomach turn with discomfort as you sat in the awkwardness. You were thankful that the Christmas carols filled up the air between you so at least there was some noise in the car.

"I'm sorry," the words escaped you before you even thought about what you were saying.

Steve briefly glanced at you in surprise before returning his eyes to the road. "For what?"

"For making you leave the party early. I wasn't really thinking–I just sort of panicked, and you were there," the stuttering explanation fell from your lips as if it were falling down a flight of stairs. This was not making the situation any better.

Steve stopped the car, and you looked out the window, realizing you were at your house. Now Steve was able to fully look at you.

"Don't be sorry," he said, firmly. "I don't really like parties that much anymore, anyway."

Your eyes widened as you remembered Tina’s Halloween party just a couple of months ago. You'd seen Steve slam out of the house and Nancy leave with Jonathan.  

Steve seemed to register your look of recognition and quickly spoke, "Not because of that, it's just–" he ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine. I was happy to help. Do my Christmas good deed."

"I really appreciate it," you remarked.

"And if you," he stopped before restarted. "If Billy gives you anymore trouble, just uh, let me know."

You smiled, gently. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Probably. You throw a mean punch."

You bit your lip. "I'm really sorry about that."

He shrugged. "I've been hit harder." The boy wasn't lying. It seemed like he had his ass kicked once a year. His face had been an ugly green-ish, yellow-ish brown for a good part of November. You laughed a little at him, nodding your head.

"Well, let me know if I can ever make it up to you. For hitting you and then forcing you to drive me home," you offered.

Steve looked over your shoulder at your house. "Do you have any hot chocolate?"

You looked over your shoulder and then back at him. "Yeah, I do."

Read Part 2 > 

#steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #good deeds fic

[msbunnee]

Just A Kiss

Hello! This is my submission for the Fairy Tail Valentines Gift Exchange. I wrote this for @stardresss and I hope you like it! I apologize if it seems like it runs through the story quickly...I had a lot of detail in mind and tried to compress a lot of it. This is also the first fic I’ve written in about 6 years, so again I apologize if its not up to par. Enjoy!

Title: Just a Kiss

Author: MsBunnee

Pairing: NaLu

It was a bright, cold morning in early February. A blanket of snow had fallen the previous night and the forest was sparkling with the reflection of the sun's rays. It looked as if it was going to be a peaceful day in the quiet wood, until a loud boom reverberated through the still air.

The disruption came from a small cottage nestled near the outskirts of the forest, which currently had black smoke billowing from the blown-out windows. Inside, amid the chaos and general unholiness of destruction, was Lucy- hacking her lungs out. She had stumbled to one of the windows and was trying to make sense of what happened, although she had a pretty good idea of whom was responsible.

As soon as the room had cleared some she whirled on her mischievous familiar, a now slightly-blackened blue cat whose lack of air could've been from either the explosion or from laughter, but Lucy was now intent that the reason be her hands around his neck.

"What the hell did you do, cat?!?!" Her face was absolutely lived, although slightly less intimidating now that the smoke left streaks of ash all over her face. Nevertheless, she yanked him by the scruff of his neck and held him up at eye level.

The blue cat (known as Happy), had stifled his laughter and tried to look as pitiful and contrite as possible. "Aww Loooshi!! I just wanted to make you smile! You've been so busy lately that you don't have any time for fun!"

"Yeah I bet," Lucy growled, dropping the feline and looking around. Her cottage was covered in soot and whatever substances had been in her cauldron- at least nothing was melting. The blonde witch ground her teeth. She couldn't believe how reckless and hindering her familiar was. He was supposed to be a helpful companion, not a dangerous crackpot full of pranks!

She sighed and walked over to her cupboard, beneath which was hanging a keyring with an elaborate set of keys. The magical tools warmed in her palm, sensing her presence. Lucy selected one and disentangled it from the others. Holding the key in front of her, Lucy began to chant. A warm glow began to emanate from her and her cottage seemed to wait with bated breath. Even Happy was silent as he watched his master work her magic.

Lucy finished her chant, and there was a moment of silence. Then, with a blinding flash, a summoned figure stepped into this plane and bowed to the blonde witch.  She wore a simple black dress with a white apron and kept her pink hair held back with a simple yet elegant hairband.

"Good morning Mistress! How can I assist you today?"

"Virgo, thank you for coming so quickly. Would you please help me clean up this mess?"

The summoned maid glanced at the ruined cottage and snorted. "Please Mistress, let me handle this inconvenience. I'm sure your time is better spent delivering punishment to those who deserve it." She eyeballed Happy, who stuck his tongue out at her. Virgo snapped her fingers, and in the blink of an eye Lucy's cottage looked as if it had never been touched. Surfaces were sparking clean, utensils were organized, and even Lucy and Happy were cleaned up. The only thing that wasn't back to normal were the windows- they were still blown out, but at least there wasn't any splinters or broken glass lying around. Lucy sighed in relief.

"Thank you so much Virgo!" The maid gave a deep bow. "It was my pleasure Mistress!" And with a spin of her dress and another flash of light, the spirit was gone.

Lucy clapped her hands together. Really, she should be doing something more to chastise her unhelpful familiar, but it was true that the witch was extremely busy. Valentine's Day was coming up, and with the holiday of love came lots of paying customers. While Lucy had an affinity to summoning and contracting spirits, her real specialty was crafting high quality potions.

Ever since she was little, Lucy loved to research potions and their magical effects. It was a complex and precise art, with little room for error lest you accidentally melt your client's insides or blow yourself up. However the rewards were often greater than the risks, and Lucy was a pretty smart practitioner. Nearly all of her potions crafted worked exactly as they were supposed to- sometimes better. Her high-quality concoctions gave her a decent living wage and allowed her to get some of the rarer ingredients for her specialty brews. The little shop she ran in the town of Magnolia had a lot of commercial potions for the public; popular little elixirs that gave the drinker short bouts of luck, or medleys that improved cognitive thinking, and philters that could let you perform parlor tricks.

Lucy enjoyed crafting all of these, for she reveled in the delight of others. Non-magic clientele were the best, for their appreciation of her magic cemented Lucy's happiness in her work. As far as holidays are concerned, Valentine's Day is the best. Not only did business increase for Lucy (hey, you had to pay taxes somehow!) but she was a firm believer in finding your true love and the general spirit of the holiday. Love potions in and of themselves weren't very effective for it defeated the purpose of true love, and Lucy refused to do business with those who wished to control others. However, potions for confidence, luck, and beauty were popular and relatively harmless. In fact, that was what she was working on before she was so rudely interrupted.

A couple days prior the blonde witch was visited by her friend Juvia, a gorgeous naiad whom had fallen in stalker-ish love with Gray, a winter warlock. Lucy had quickly talked Juvia out of a love potion (not only was it immoral, but would she be happy with a forced love?) and had sold her on a confidence booster instead. The potion she was brewing for Juvia would give her the confidence to approach Gray, the mental fortitude to articulate what she wanted to say and calmly relay it, and a slight negative emotion inhibitor, in case things went south. Lucy knew Juvia well enough to know that if she was rejected she wouldn't handle it well and would probably cause torrential downpours for the rest of the month, and she was NOT dealing with the floods again. Even with magic, it took ages to get the mildew smell out of her store.

Lucy made her way over to her cupboard again and opened the wide doors. There were tons of vials and beakers full of colorful liquid, boxes and pouches of bones and amputated creature parts, powders and pastes and more. After several minutes of searching through her ingredients, an agitated Lucy gave an angry huff and slapped the cupboard doors closed. The force of it shook the structure slightly, and a mollified Lucy steadied it with a careful touch.

"What's wrong?" Happy tentatively ventured. Lucy narrowed her eyes at the blue fur ball.

"It just so happens that my last batch of salamander scales was in that brew that you decided to detonate."

Happy seemed undeterred. "So why don't you go buy some more?"

Lucy leaned against her counter and rubbed her temples. "It's not like they're in the market down the street. It's an exotic item, and it takes weeks for the supplier to collect and ship them here."

After a few moments of thought, Lucy pushed herself off the counter and went to her bookcase. Happy could hear her muttering under her breath while she skimmed the spines and pulled random tomes from the shelves.

"Really should've thought of this...Valentine's Day...stupid cat...no choice...cocky narcissists...pickles..."

A thoroughly confused Happy magically sprouted wings and went to hover over Lucy, watching as she brought the tomes to the kitchen table and started rifling through them. Finding the appropriate pages and sections, the witch then started to gather utensils and ingredients; chopping this, grinding that, squeezing whatever that was, and combining it all in her cauldron. She snapped her fingers and instantly there was a fire underneath, slowly bringing the medley to a boil. When it looked like she was finished, Lucy pulled a particular spellbook towards her and propped it up to see it better. She looked over her shoulder at Happy and gave him a warning glare.

"Now, stay out of the way and keep quiet. And whatever you do, try not to give away any information. I mean it. Do. Not. Speak. Are we clear?"

Happy pulled his paw across his lips with a zipper motion and gave her a thumbs up. Lucy rolled her eyes, knowing that somehow he was going to be the death of her. Very gently, Lucy tipped a beaker of red liquid over her bubbling concotion and let three drops fall.

The potion started to sizzle, quietly at first but then it steadily grew louder, until it resembled a dull roar. The fire underneath the cauldron flared, and suddenly the temperature in the cottage skyrocketed. Happy flew a little ways back and landed on the open...well, broken windowsill, thankful for the winter air at his back as the heat from the cauldron pushed against his fur.

Lucy stood her ground before it, her eyes focused even though sweat started beading on her forehead. She held her arms out in an open stance, willing her magical energies forth to help direct the flow and find what she needed. She moved her lips in a low chant, gently calling, sifting, searching; the air turned dry and hotter still, and Lucy grit her teeth, pushing through the barriers of the planes. She needed to find one, just one willing soul...

All at once, like the line of a fishing pole suddenly snapping, there was a great flare of heat- Lucy had thrown her arms up to shield her face, sure that there were flames in her home. And then, the heat was gone. The temperature in the cottage had relatively returned to normal as the heat leaked out through the windows. Slowly, Lucy lowered her arms and looked towards her cauldron.

There was no one there. Lucy stood still, shocked and puzzled why it didn't work. She turned to reach for the spellbook to see if she missed anyth-

"Hey."

Lucy's heart nearly shot through her chest. She whirled around to see her visitor leaning casually against her kitchen counter. He looked like an average male human, but had unusually pink spiky hair. He was also built well, with very defined muscles cut in his torso that she could see. He looked relatively casual for a demon...not that she expected horns and a tail or anything. He was wearing a form-fitting black tank top, dark jeans, and a toothy grin; disarmingly normal.

Lucy suddenly remembered her purpose for this entire ordeal and closed her mouth- when had it opened? She schooled her features to look calm and confident; she was the one in control, she had summoned him. His dark eyes were glittering at her and his grin widened; apparently he had caught her staring.

Nevertheless, Lucy kept her façade of authority.

"Hi, I'm Lucy. Thank you for coming." The thank-you, of course, was just a formality. Technically the act of summoning was an act of force- an irritant, if you will. Those to be summoned feel the pull of the call from the summoner until it gets too unbearable to ignore. It was generally better to go and make a deal and get it over with.

The pink-haired demon straightened and took a few steps toward Lucy. "Name's Natsu! Nice place you got here." He glanced towards her windows and saw Happy, and his grin grew even wider, if that were possible. "Hey buddy! I've never seen such a cool blue cat!"

Happy puffed his chest out in pride and was about to respond before Lucy interrupted him by clearing her throat.

"Please, don't inflate his ego. If it gets any bigger I'll need another cottage to keep it in."

Happy glared at Lucy as Natsu laughed in a warm, boisterous tone that filled the cottage with a comfortable ambiance. Lucy felt heat rush through her veins and blush her cheeks...did his voice do that? Or was it still hot in here from the summoning ritual? Not that it really mattered.

"Anyway," Lucy continued as Natsu's chuckles died down and he turned his attention to her once again. "The reason I called for you is because I need your help retrieving some ingredients for my potions. I don't have a lot of time left before my deadline and it would be impossible for me to get them myself."

Lucy watched as Natsu's eyes flickered around the cottage again before settling on her with a smirk. Something in the way he looked at her put the witch back on guard again. She had almost forgotten that demons tended to be mischevous devils with hidden agendas. She wondered what sort of agenda Natsu had, if he had one. He seemed like a genuinely warm character; it was hard to imagine him conspiring ulterior motives.

"A scavenger hunt? Sounds like fun!" He folded his arms against his chest and looked down at her. When had he gotten so close?! He was so close that Lucy could feel heat coming off of his body in waves similar to the pulse of a heartbeat. It was a gentle heat, one that she wanted to be enveloped in...like being wrapped up in a comforting blanket on a cold night. But the proximity of the demon male also kept her thoughts racing, making it hard for her to keep a cool head and focus on the task at hand. Lucy masked her rising nervousness with a small chuckle and stood her ground, staring resolutely back into his dark eyes. She returned his smirk with a smile of her own.

"Fantastic! The first thing I need is a batch of salamander scales from the monster in Hell's Valley. That potion is supposed to be ready tomorrow evening so that ingredient takes top priority. I also am in need of Stellaria leaves from Mount Hakobe, and the fangs of the blue basilisk on Galuna Island."

Natsu tilted his head nonchalantly, as if she had asked him to get her bread, milk and eggs. "Piece of cake."

There was a moment of silence as Lucy waited for Natsu to continue. This was the part that she had anticipated from the start; the make or break moment in which Lucy had to choose between her customers or her dignity. Her reputation would suffer if she couldn't deliver on time, but what if he wanted something she couldn't procure? What would a demon want, exactly? It wasn't like a couple of rare materials was worthy of her soul or something.

"So," Natsu started, breaking Lucy's train of thought. "I accept your task of retrieving the ingredients for you, and in return..." He leaned down closer to Lucy, close enough to where Lucy could ascertain the scent of woodsmoke and pine.

"...you give me a kiss."

All the gears in Lucy's mind ground to halt and stuttered. Wait...did he just say...what...did she hear him correctly?

"A...kiss?" She echoed, trying to connect the dots in her brain. She knew what it meant, she wasn't an idiot, but why on earth would that be of any value to a demon like him? Was there some sort of trick he was playing that she couldn't foresee?

His dark eyes now glowed like intense embers, pinning Lucy with a stare that made her legs weak and her heart lump painfully in her throat. He moved his hand and gently held her chin up so they were only a few mere inches apart. His voice was low as he murmured, a timber of husky velvet that promised granted wishes and fulfilled fantasies, and she couldn't help but be pulled into the reverie of what a kiss with him would be like.

"I return with the requested materials within the timeframe, and in exchange you'll grant me the precious gift of your lips against mine...or, if you prefer, I can kiss you. I'll be sure to make it worth your while..."

Lucy was still stumbling through the fog of her mind which was quickly being consumed by a rush of desire. She blinked, trying to wrap her head around the offer.

"That's...all you want? Your services in exchange for a kiss?"

Natsu grinned, and a fang poked out from between his lips. Lucy's eyes locked on it, and suddenly all she could think about was that canine tugging on her bottom lip, his tongue begging entrance as his hands tangled in her long blonde locks.

"That's all."

Lucy swallowed, and the action helped bring her back to her senses a little bit. Her analytical mind examined the situation; the kiss was defined as a kiss, nothing more and nothing less. As far as she knew, her desire was her own, and she was of sound mind. She couldn't think of anything else that the demon could gain from the bargain, and it was easy enough. After all, it was a harmless little kiss.

Her chin still in his palm, Lucy looked up at Natsu through her lashes and gave a coy smile of her own.

"I accept your terms on the bargain Natsu. We have a deal."

"Awesome."

The demon finally stepped back out of her personal space, his charasmatic smile radiating warmth as his facial features lost their previous intensity in exchange for a more carefree aura. He rolled his shoulder back until it cracked, and Lucy could see excitement in his dark eyes at the prospect of adventure. Lucy understood the feeling; nothing felt better than traveling the land and exploring places, learning something new with each and every journey. She almost envied him in the aspect that she couldn't go herself.

Natsu turned and took a few steps away from Lucy. "Well, if I suppose I should get going if we're going to keep our bargain. Bit of a time constraint, ya know." He looked over his shoulder at Happy and gave the feline a little wave. "See ya later little buddy!"

And with a quick wink at Lucy, Natsu departed in a flash of fire. The flare of heat that accompanied it made Lucy flinch involuntarily, and she stood still for several moments, mulling over exactly what had just transpired between them. A quiet sniggering sound pulled Lucy's attention to her blue familiar, who was mushing his paws against his mouth to stifle his giggles. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"You liiiiiiike each other!"

Lucy flushed a deep crimson and was about to deny the claim out of habit, but stopped herself. It was fairly obvious that she was charmed by the pinkette, and their deal had been kind of...intimate, for the lack of a better word.

The blonde witch shrugged and avoided looking in Happy's direction; his mocking would only instigate her anger and she was wholly unproductive when she was angry.

"Well he certainly is...charismatic," she admitted. "It was an easy enough deal to take- a couple of kisses in exchange for my materials is practically free labor. And I highly doubt that he likes me in that way, Happy. We just met barely ten minutes ago. It's more likely that he's using me for some ulterior motive or another."

"A kiss."

"What?" Lucy finally glanced towards Happy, confused.

"In the contract he said 'a kiss'. Singular. You just said 'a couple of kisses'. You're assuming he's going to kiss you more than once."

Lucy's mouth hung open for a moment while she processed what he pointed out. Afterwards she became flustered all over again.

"Ok, he was exceptionally charismatic! Maybe I do have a little crush on him; whatever! Just because he's cute though doesn't mean that he doesn't have some scheme going on behind my back!"

Happy flew back into the comfort of the living room and made himself comfy on the back of the small couch. He was still grinning ear to ear.

" Whatever you say Looshi. In any case, the deal seemed pretty cut and dry to me. Unless you make another one, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Lucy mulled the advice around in her head and had to agree. At any rate, there was nothing she could do about it until he showed up again. And she still had a lot of work to do in the meantime.

Lucy busied herself with other ingredients and orders so as not to fret over the situation; she wouldn't get much done if she kept daydreaming about fiery strangers and kisses yet to come.

The next time Lucy saw Natsu was not, in her opinion, under the most optimal circumstances.

In fact, she was fast asleep in her bed when an intense heat washed over her and the accompanying light caused her to bolt upright. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to focus on the disturbance, finally landing on Natsu as her heartbeat returned to normal rhythm.

He was crouched at the end of her bed, grinning at her startled appearance. Moonlight that shone through the window she fixed earlier that evening was giving his form an ethereal glow that she couldn't tear her eyes away from. A couple beats of silence passed before he lifted his hand in greeting.

"Yo."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Lucy hissed in a high-pitched whisper.

"Four o'clock in the morning," he replied easily. A light snore caused the demon to turn his head and find Happy, whom was curled up in his hammock in the corner. Natsu gave a soft smile and consequently lowered his voice as he turned to Lucy again.

"I wanted to get these to you as soon as possible."

He withdrew a small pouch from his pocket and held it out to her. Lucy scooched towards him and gently took the proffered satchel from his outstretched hand. Her fingertips lightly grazed his and she could've sworn she felt a kind of resonance from them.

Ignoring the odd feeling, Lucy tugged on the drawstring of the pouch and smoothly tipped some of the contents out onto her open palm. Shiny ruby-colored scales glittered in the moonlight like sparkling embers. She stared at them for a few moments, admiring their luster before she gave a satisfied hum and returned them to the pouch. She turned to the pink-haired demon, who was watching her intently, and smiled.

"They're perfect. How did you get so many in such a superb condition?"

Natsu gave her a toothy grin. "Fire salamanders are something of a specialty of mine. "

Lucy could believe it. She felt Natsu's natural body heat from where she was sitting as it enveloped her in a comfortable warmth. She closed her eyes in contentment, a smile tugging on her lips as she imagined Natsu wrestling with the giant fire lizard. She wished she could've seen it.

A few moments later Lucy remembered that she was not alone and should probably try not to fall asleep in the presence of company, and opened her eyes to see Natsu watching her closely. The intense look in his dark eyes was back, and Lucy was suddenly aware of exactly what she was wearing- a sheer silk nightgown that molded to her form and ended above the knee. A strap was currently sliding down one shoulder and Lucy shivered slightly as Natsu's eyes roamed her figure. She felt a blush dust her cheeks, but she refused to be awkward about this.

"Like what you see?"

Lucy smirked as Natsu seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment. She enjoyed this, this game of sorts that she had going with Natsu. She didn't know if any feelings he had were genuine, but quite frankly she didn't care at the moment. She had had plenty of failures when it came to the love department, and although the recurring Valentine's Days were sometimes lonely, she had felt she was better off. To be honest, this was the most fun the witch has had in years, and she had no intention of shrugging off romantic motive now.

Lucy's heart thumped in anticipation as Natsu crawled closer to her and his scent invaded her senses again.

"So Lucy..." She shivered at the way her name rolled off his tongue. His voice was soft and low, a slight rumble soothing to her ears. "I do believe you owe me a kiss."

Well, she made a contract and she had to deliver. Not that she particularly minded upholding her end of the bargain. With no reservations Lucy slowly moved closer and tilted her head up, finally connecting them with a gentle press of her lips.

Lucy didn't expect sparks or fireworks- she learned a long time ago that that stuff was usually reserved for fairy tales. But she was a witch after all, and she did believe in magic. Natsu's magic was a strong, sensual heat. She felt it pulse in his aura; a steady ebb and flow of emotion and passion. Lucy felt it concentrate and flow from their point of contact. It spread from her lips to throughout her body and tingled in her fingertips. It felt like wildfire, racing through her veins in a fervor to awaken locked inhibitions. She felt that if she let it, his magic would whirl her away in a fantasy that she would never wish to return from.

Lucy tentatively broke the kiss and opened her eyes- she didn't remember closing them- and shyly looked up at him through her lashes. Natsu was still; his eyes were also closed as he appeared to savor the moment. A few heartbeats later they slid open and gazed at Lucy as if she was the most beautiful creature in all of the planes of existence. His tongue slowly skimmed over his bottom lip in an attempt to taste her. Deciding it wasn't enough, he lowered his face to hers but stopped before he made contact.

"That was-" he paused, unsure of how to proceed. Lucy's heart felt like it was doing backflips. She had made him speechless! She felt a rush of adrenaline that made her feel powerful and sexy. She felt as if she had control- that if she decided to, she could wrap him around her finger and bend him in such delicious ways...

Natsu had finally decided on a word. "Incredible."

His eyes were dark and hungry as they bore into Lucy's chocolate irises. "And definitely not enough."

He leaned down to initiate the kiss this time, but Lucy chuckled and softly pressed her forefinger to his lips. "Now now, I believe the deal was I would give you a kiss when you delivered my ingredients to me. Nothing more and nothing less." She gave him a sly wink.

Natsu stared at her with a look of slight bewilderment before his features morphed into a feral grin, somehow both intense and playful.

"Is that so?" He murmured softly, his eyes glinting in the darkness as they roved over Lucy. He shifted his weight so that he sat back on his heels, kneeling in front of her on the bed. He spread his hands in front of him with the palms up, reminding Lucy of a suave entrepreneur trying to make a sale. "Well, we can adjust the parameters of the deal a bit if we so desire...?"

He ended the sentence with a questioning note, probing for an answer with a little hope dancing in his eyes. Lucy, instead of viewing his antics as lecherous and off-putting, found them rather endearing and brought her finger to her chin, tapping it as if in thought.

"Hmm...well I guess we could do that. I mean, we never did discuss what kind of kiss we could have. And I'm assuming you'll be wanting more than one, seeing as you only brought me one out of the three ingredients that I asked for."

Natsu waggled his eyebrows and Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles. "Well, multiple deliveries mean multiple payments and more chances to see you...you tend to notice things, don't you?"

Lucy wasn't prepared for the change of direction in their flirty conversation. She eyed him and tried to figure out what he was thinking. His excitement was still present underneath his questioning stare, but he was patiently waiting for a genuine answer. It was as if he was actually trying to get to know her while simultaneously attempting to get in her pants...although to be fair, he was already in her bed.

Lucy gave a small snort. Alright, might as well be straightforward then. She dropped her guise of being coy and looked the demon in the eye. Natsu didn't seem bothered by her change in demeanor; he just continued to stare at her curiously.

"What exactly is your angle here? If sex is all you wanted you could've just put that on the table and have the offer accepted or rejected. If you wanted to be sly about it I could see you playing this game and working your way up to it; a kiss here, a touch there, and maybe I would be more receptive to the idea if you wound me tight enough. But it seems like you genuinely want to spend time with me and get to know me...what is the point? Is there something else you want that you can't outright ask for?"

Natsu sat quietly, processing Lucy's inquiries. He had actually blushed when Lucy had spoken about sex so boldly, which had surprised the witch. She thought she had him pegged as a player but then he talked about spending time with her...and she sensed the sincerity in his words.

Natsu placed his hand on the back of his neck and gave a nervous laugh.

"Actually...the thing is, I really don't have anything I really want. Money doesn't interest me, but I love adventure. I like testing my limits and taking on the world, and your job offer is actually what I really like doing. And...you're really nice Lucy. I know this is only the second time we've met, but honestly I could tell from our very first encounter that you were kind, sweet, smart, and really caring. I could see it in your familiar, how he was happy and comfortable. I could see it in your work, how everything is meticulously placed and your potions were for the betterment of others. I could see it in your contracted spirits, in how carefully cared for your keys are, and the love I can feel radiating from them. And most of all, I can see it in you. You are a friend to everyone who needs one; a girl who does her best for the good of others, who hates to disappoint them, who likes to try new things and experience everything for herself."

Natsu lowered his gaze, took a breath and continued. "And...because of all that, I knew that I wanted to be close to you. I want to be your friend, your companion...and perhaps, a lover, if you'd take me..." He said that last part so quietly Lucy almost didn't hear him. Almost, but it was said and it was heard. He looked up at her again.

"I figured if I could draw out our encounters, you would grow to like me back and want me around more often. And the kissing...maybe I was a little too forward, but I really do like you, and I'd love to kiss you like that all the time."

Silence reigned as Lucy, in a state of shock, attempted to process all that he had said. The silence grew increasingly uncomfortable for Natsu as he waited for Lucy to respond- he clenched and unclenched his fists and was in the process of biting through his lip.

Lucy just couldn't wrap her head around how incredibly observant the demon was. He managed to deduce all of that about her in a matter of what...ten minutes? And he liked her? Like...was attracted to her? Wanted to spend time with her? She might've been out of the game for too long because for some reason this concept seemed extremely foreign. Was it possible he really could be a potential partner?

Just as Lucy realized how awkward the situation had become and opened her mouth to respond, a voice broke the silence between them.

"See Lucy? I told you he liiiiiiked you!"

"HAPPY!" Lucy screeched and whipped her head around so fast she cracked her neck. Natsu burst out laughing, the sound instantly filling Lucy's bedroom with an aura of warmth and happiness, just like before. Lucy was blushing fiercely, but Natsu's laughter was contagious and soon she found herself giggling beside him at the absurdity of the situation.

Once things had settled down, Lucy rubbed her eyes and grinned at her contracted demon.

"You know what Natsu? I'd like that. A lot."

Natsu's heart fluttered. "Really? The...kissing, too?"

Lucy's blush returned full force but she nodded. "Yes, that too."

Natsu grinned and leaned forward to give Lucy a quick kiss on the lips. Before Lucy had a chance to respond Natsu had jumped up from the bed and took a few steps back.

"I'm gonna grab the rest of the things you need for your potions Luce! That way you can be free on Valentine's Day." He gave her a wink and Lucy felt a warm glow that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She watched him with a big stupid grin on her face.

Natsu gave Happy a salute. "See ya later, Happy! Sleep tight, Luce!" And with a flash of fire and a flare of heat, he was gone.

Lucy sat in her bed, stunned. She wasn't sure if this was real, or a really good dream. Oh dear lord if this was a dream she hoped she would never wake up. She fell back against her pillows and giggled.

Happy called out from his hammock, "I like him!".

Lucy grinned at the ceiling and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal.

"Me too, Happy. I like him too."

#fairytailvalentinesficexchange2018 #fairy tail #nalu #witches #demons #potions #deals #kiss #hope its not too terrible #stardresss this one is for you #thanks for reading

[littlepeachwhispers]

Civilian - Chapter 1: Darkness

Previous Chapter: Prologue Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader Summary: When you accidentally stumble onto Sanctuary territory, Negan takes you prisoner to ensure your arrival is purely coincidental. When no one from your group shows up, you end up becoming a citizen of the sanctuary and realizing just how dark your new leader truly is. 

Chapter Warnings: isolation

Story Warnings: violence, gore, smut, slow burn, isolation, dark themes

Available on AO3 if you prefer to read there. A/N: I apologize truly for such a long time gap between updates. I’ve been dealing with holiday stuff lately, and I work 12-hour shifts at night. I have quite a bit planned for this fic, but this chapter just really seemed like the reader was rambling a lot to depict her time in the cell. I apologize in advance that it’s a bit boring and there’s not as much of our favorite villain as we all would like. Also, I forgot to mention the fic is inspired by Wye Oak’s song “Civilian.” I listened to it on repeat, it just has an intense apocalypse feel to me.

Chapter 1: Darkness

The darkness wasn’t terrible at first. Spending most of every day in the scalding Virginian sun actually made you feel calmer in the dark, and this cell was no exception - after the impending panic attack had subsided, of course. You could still feel your heart beating steadily, your respirations coming at a quickened pace still yet. But after a few hours, the initial panic was fading. You were safe from walkers here. There was only one exit. You didn’t have to face the dangers of scavenging or being outside unprotected. Your fear was no longer sourced from your solitude; now it came from the thoughts of what would happen after your time here. Would that man, Negan, kill you on the spot? Would he let you leave? You thought again about how lean he was and how easy it would have been for any of his followers to take power from him. Why did they follow the older man so loyally? Were there any more followers you’d yet to see?

Questions built up in your mind that might not ever be answered, and in an attempt to distract yourself, you began to count the seconds - and then minutes - ticking by. Sixty seconds. One minute, two minutes, five, ten, fifteen. You stopped when you got to twenty-three, deciding that counting time was making you anxious all over again. You lost track of how much time you had spent in the cell. It felt like days, but no one had brought you anything so you knew that couldn’t be the case. You slid yourself down into the floor, your cheek resting on the frigid concrete, so that you could peak outside from the small slit of light under the door. You were disappointed as your eyes met with another concrete wall across the corridor. You knew what the place looked like before you had been confined to the cell, so you weren’t sure what you were expecting to see. Feet maybe, but with the amount of locks you were willing to bet were on the door, there was likely no need to guard you so closely. You were definitely alone.

You turned onto your back and attempted to fall asleep several times, but anxiety and worry tormented you, making it impossible to relax. You finally settled your back into the corner, facing the door and waiting. You wondered if anyone from your community would come looking for you. What would Negan and his followers do to them if they did? You vividly remembered the barbed wire glistening in the sunlight, wrapped tightly around his bat. It was ominous, certainly, but maybe just an intimidation tactic. Surely he would question your people before acting.

What worried you most was how you’d landed yourself in a cell over something as insignificant as the location of their community. Negan had said something about information, and that had sparked your curiosity. Maybe this group had a doctor or scientist that had vital knowledge about what had caused the dead to walk. You knew it was only wishful thinking, but a part of you had always held onto the possibility of a cure or antidote. Not having to see anyone else die or rot away to this damned disease? That would be all you could ever hope for. Before the end of the world, you had been a nurse. Wanting to help people had become second nature to you; it was what you were good at. When hell broke loose and you managed to escape the hospital you’d worked in, you holed up in your hometown for quite some time, collecting medical supplies and patching up people who’d been hurt. When your supplies dwindled down and most of your friends had departed to find their own families, you had been forced to leave for somewhere safer, with more supplies and food sources. Stumbling into a couple of kind people had been sheer luck, and you’d been with them ever since. Your role in your community was similar to your job before; you’d put dressings on everyone’s injuries, make sure they were eating okay, give what medicines you could, and monitor people feeling unwell mentally or physically. It’s what your mind kept lingering on: you could be killed or kept here, and that meant the people back home were going without medical care.

You barely noticed the sound of heavy, slow footsteps, before a voice cried out, ��WHEN I GET OUT, I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU.” Huffing breaths and then a shrill yell kicked you out of your thoughts; a man’s voice a couple cells down, it sounded like.

With that, your calm demeanor disappeared. You felt yourself shiver at the echo of his deep voice against the steel and concrete corridor. He started to punch the door with his fists; flat, hard beats of flesh against the hard surface permeated the air, making you feel queasy. Your sanity was already stretched thin, a tightrope you’d been desperately clinging to balance on since you’d lost your group. Another man began shouting and you realized you were surrounded by prisoners, mad ones judging by the sound of their clamoring. Whoever’s footsteps triggered the men’s outburst began to grow louder. You expected to hear Negan’s dark timbre, but it was Simon’s loud voice that rang out.

“You all had better pipe the fuck down. I’d hate to have to tell Negan there’s an uprising in the holding cells.” At the mention of Negan, the yells quietened into mumbles, and then silence. Simon’s boots grew louder still, and you scooted yourself up, as close to the walls in the corner as you could physically get. Three audible locks clicked before light flooded the cell, burning your vision. You raised your hands up to shade your face, shielding your eyes from the brightness. Simon knelt down in the doorway and addressed you, his voice quickly transformed from crass to serene.

“Okay, Doll. It’s been decided that your group isn’t coming for you, since it’s nightfall already and they would have to be suicidal or just plain stupid to go out in the dark.” Your mouth was dry and your voice scratchy, but you’d managed to speak up, “I told you. I’m not trying to pull anything. I’ve never heard of this community.”

Simon nodded, “I know. But Negan’s got a lot of responsibility to keep the people here safe. And he doesn’t trust easily. None of us do. But he does have a soft spot for women. So I’ve been instructed to take you to the regular living quarters and make you a bit more comfortable. Let you get a few solid hours of sleep. Then he’ll talk with you and decide what happens next in the morning.”

Out of all the scenarios you’d imagined in your head - being beaten to death, thrown out into the darkness to become walker food, kept here until you rotted away - this had not been one of them.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Simon laughed, “No. We might not be conventionally nice people, who is these days? But we aren’t evil either. Come on.”

He held a hand out to you and you hesitated. Should you really trust this man? You once again decided you didn’t have any other option at this point, and being anywhere other than this cell sounded great. If this was a trick or he was leading you to your death, at least you’d know soon. He helped you to stand; your legs shaky from lack of use all day. Once you had your balance, he pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt. “Sorry, kid.” He motioned for you to turn around.

You didn’t put up a fight, and let him handcuff your hands behind your back.

After your hands were secure, you walked alongside him, back out the way you’d come, and up a flight of industrial metal stairs. He led you down another hallway and through a pair of double doors, into what seemed to be an indoor flea market. There were various vendors, selling everything and anything imaginable. As you walked beside him, Simon continued explaining.

“This is our marketplace. Most of our people live on a system of points. Scavenging, going on missions, working, doing favors for Negan, all of that earns points. You can barter belongings, or use your points to buy things. Various foodstuffs, handmade clothes or blankets, weapons, room items, jewelry. It’s endless.”

Simon picked up a black crocheted blanket, a tank top, knitted shorts, a pair of dark jeans, a black tee shirt, and a few small soap bars as he walked you around the huge room. When he reached an end table near the door, a woman in a teal headscarf sat with a few notebooks and pens, holding one of the writing utensils out for him.

“Our form of “paying” for our goods,” he explained. When the woman looked up to see that it was Simon, she scribbled in the book herself and gave him a small smile before the two of you left the pay table.

Your curious expression did not go unnoticed by Simon, and he explained as he came to a stop. “A select few of us are exempt from the point system. We still have other rules to follow of course, but a few perks aren’t bad.”

You nodded, mentally questioning what an individual had to do to be an exception to the point system. You weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

As you and Simon approached the same set of doors you’d entered moments ago, you noticed a woman leaning against the panelling, her arms crossed. Simon motioned her over and she pulled herself away from the wall, making her way over to you. She had her hair twisted into a blonde bun, a obsidian-toned tattoo contrasting the ivory skin on her neck, and a golden hoop nose ring on the left side of her nose.

“This is Laura.” Simon introduced her. You told her your name as well, out of respect, and she nodded.

“Laura’s going to give you the rest of the tour and make sure you get a hot shower and some food.” Food was great, but the thought of hot water was better. You were sure running hot water was a luxury of the past, something that would be a mere story to tell future generations. Remembering what it was like to come home after a long night at work, standing bare under a hot stream of water cascading over you; it made your muscles tremble at the thought.

“That sounds amazing. Hot water.”

Laura chuckled a bit at your reaction. “Oh, trust me it is.”

Simon handed the items he’d bought to Laura, and clapped his hand on your shoulder. “I have to get going, but Laura will take good care of you. See you tomorrow.”

His touch made you flinch. Hours earlier, you’d watched their leader swing his bat around, threatening you. Fellow community members pointed guns and knives of all imaginable varieties at you, they’d shoved you into a cell like you’d murdered a handful of small children, and now he was fucking Mr. Rogers-level friendly. You felt the aforementioned tightrope of sanity you were still balancing on shrinking thinner.

Laura showed you a few more essential areas of the community; the latrines, the showers, the cafeteria, and a few of the living quarters. She’d said that was all she was permitted to show you for now, and when she offered for you to finally go grab a shower, she followed you. Not into the stall, thank God, but she removed your handcuffs and stood right outside, preventing you from escaping or wandering off on your own. As you stood under the near-scalding spray of water, you contemplated everything that had happened so far. These people seemed nice enough; after the threats, the barbed-wire bat, and the cell. They weren’t torturing or raping or slicing you to pieces. You hadn’t seen any vendors selling human body parts for soup. But it was blatantly obvious that they still didn’t trust you. And maybe it was wrong, but that just made you want to investigate this place further. There was bound to be something shady going on, or something of utmost importance that needed protecting. Simon had said it himself; Negan had a huge responsibility to protect the Sanctuary. And you couldn’t help but linger on why.

After you finally left the shower, Laura escorted you to the cafeteria and sat with you as you ate your meal; a leafy green salad and a marinara-smothered pasta that you couldn’t remember the name of. Cellentani? Cavatappi maybe? It didn’t matter now. Pasta was easy to make in large quantities and it had been one of your favorite meals before the end had come; you weren’t going to complain about it. You didn’t know if you were hungry or if the food was just incredible, but it made your mouth water and you didn’t think you could eat another bite once you had finished. Laura tried to make small talk, and you hadn’t been rude, but stuffing your face with pasta made it surprisingly difficult to carry on a conversation.

The place wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been at the marketplace, and you surmised that it was getting late. Candles and low-energy lamps lit the corridors now, as the sun was absent in all of the large windows. The main area with the stairwells had previously been brightly shining with abundant amounts of sun whenever the men had brought you to your cell. Laura had recuffed you and led you through the dimly-lit halls to one of the living quarter rooms. It held two bunk beds, a full-size bed, and two floor cots. Three of the bunks were taken, and there were two people asleep in the full sized bed. Laura took your cuffs off again, handed you the items from earlier, and pointed to one of the floor cots and the small cubby area near the doorway you were currently standing in.

“Your stuff will be safe here. Try to get some sleep. Who knows what Negan will decide for you tomorrow.” You could tell she wasn’t trying to intimidate you on purpose, she seemed like a blunt, matter-of-fact kind of person. It still bothered you nonetheless.

When you changed into the tank top and shorts Simon had given you, stored your few belongings away, and started to try to get comfortable in the floor, you noticed Laura kept standing.

“You aren’t sleeping?” You asked, hushed so as not to wake anyone.

Grinning, she whispered, “I’m on guard duty for another four hours.”

She stepped outside the door, leaning against the wall outside of your room. They truly didn’t trust you not to escape. You didn’t really fault them for that though, because if given the opportunity, you couldn’t truthfully say you wouldn’t at least attempt to leave. Covering yourself up with the blanket Simon had given you, you adjusted onto your stomach and attempted to fall to sleep. Tomorrow morning was a mystery looming over your head like a storm cloud. You could be thrown out, defenseless. You could be kept captive. Hell, Negan could have you shot or stabbed to death by his bandwagon of followers. The worries were endless and daunting. What if someone back home was sick or injured and needed you? Would the group be out looking for you in the dark? They had more sense than that. You’d hoped so, at least. Would they think you left on purpose? Maybe they would be angry with you. Maybe no one would ever come looking for you. The nurse who left them all without any medical support, left them to die. You groaned, pulling your arms up over your head and ears, attempting to drown out the sounds of your own suffocating thoughts. After about fifteen minutes, the exhaustion in your bones finally caught up to you, and although your relentless thoughts never ceased to bombard your mind, you finally dozed off.

“Get up.” Unsure of exactly how much sleep you’d managed to get, you were suddenly being shaken awake. It wasn’t Laura standing above you this time; it was a man you recognized from your encounter early the day before. You couldn’t remember where he’d been standing, but he’d been pointing a weapon at you, that part was vibrant in your mind. You sat up, wiping sleep from your eyes and pushing your still-damp hair out of your face.

“Is something wrong?” It had to be early. Looking beyond him and into the hallway, the lamps were still lit. The sun hadn’t risen yet. “...Negan wants to see you.” The thought of the older man made your stomach drop. This was it. Your entire future - how much longer you lived, if truth be told - dependant on a conversation you were seconds away from having. You stood and dressed in the jeans Simon had gifted you. Pulling your boots on, you left everything else in the cubby area. You stretched the sleep from your muscles before nodding to the man who’d interrupted your dreamless slumber. He cuffed you yet again, and turned to walk down the hallway, you following reluctantly on his heels. He didn’t speak at all, and you couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. The two of you walked up a second flight of stairs and down another corridor. Their distrust of you was good in one respect; with people escorting you everywhere, you couldn’t get lost. A likely possibility when every floor looked the same to you: all concrete and metal. The place reminded you of a prison, and it wasn’t just the cells on the bottom floor. The layout was all very similar. You assumed the building had been a mill or factory of some sort, but you had no clue as to what they would have made here.

Traversing one winding hallway after another, you finally arrived at your destination. The man you followed stood back as he opened a plain-looking door, the light eggshell paint on it chipping off at the edges. There was a long table in the middle of the room, and two lights hanging overhead, dimly lighting the place. Negan sat at the head of the table, in his same leather jacket from yesterday. His inky black hair was slicked back in perfect contrast to the surprisingly bright material of his white shirt. The bat was lying ominously on the table in front of him, and when you looked up to briefly meet his eyes, he was grinning at you.

“Long time, no see.” His voice echoed in the room and you could feel your heartbeats speeding up in your chest. The man who had led you here pushed you further into the room, before stepping in and closing the door behind himself. He approached Negan, holding out a key for what you guessed could only be your handcuffs. Negan palmed the tiny silver key, and the guard turned to leave. The door had quickly closed again, punctuating the fact that you were now utterly alone with the leader of the people who’d turned at least a dozen guns on you yesterday. Alone and at a disadvantage, the cuffs biting into the skin of your wrists as a reminder.

“So your people didn’t show up last night. What are we gonna do with you now?”

Read Chapter 2 here.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys. I’ll definitely update sooner than last time. And maybe even get myself on a weekly schedule? Happy Holidays, and remember comments/suggestions always welcome! 

Taglist:  @ohokaybyethen , @miiraal

#negan #negan x oc #negan x you #negan x reader #reader insert #reader fic #slow burn #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #twd imagine #negan imagine #negan thirst squad #simon #negan smut #smut #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead reader insert #littlepeachwhispers #sopranosunshine #civilian

[like-a-whisper]

Hiya! You know all the cute romione things we get only a glimpse of in Deathly Hallows, like the fact Harry thinks they fell asleep holding hands? Could you do a short fic of what you think might've been going on when Harry wasn't around?

I finally got around to finishing this! Yay for holidays! Thanks for bearing with me! x

I think SO much happened that Harry missed. In fact, therewas a post going round a while back that had really convincing arguments forthe theory that they’d actually gotten together much earlier on than we’dthought and it inspired me enough to want to write that. But time is a luxury Idon’t really have these days :( However, going off of your suggestion about theholding hands, I like to think that this is something that maybe had the chanceof happening? (And maybe if this is uploaded onto fanfic . net someday, I might continue this with more of the moments you -and I- were wondering about.)

[Also, I must confess this headcanon of mine of Ron and Hermione sleeping together in Grimmauld Place comes from Ann Margaret’s Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows. Go read it (and all her work!) if you haven’t yet!]

They’d moved into real bedrooms today. The adrenaline, fuelled byfear after escaping the Death Eaters in the cafe, had left them, and they didn’tneed to stay in the same room, lying on the cold, hard floor. They were readyto settle into Grimmauld Place, their new home for the foreseeable future. 

Ron found himself staring at the bedroom he’d stayed in thesummer before fifth year. Fred and George’s much larger room was obviously freenow, but it felt a bit wrong to take it. Harry’d gone with Sirius’ room, andRon reckoned he’d better leave him the privacy he needed. Hermione was a floorup, probably poring over one of the billions of books she’d brought with her.She’d gone to hers and Ginny’s room, though after last night, Ron really wishedshe’d stay in the same room as him. There was something very comforting abouthaving her next to him, being able to see for himself that she was safe, havingthat warm hand of hers resting in his.

Hereckoned he was coming way too close to telling her everything. Dancing withher at Bill’s wedding yesterday, holding her close… he finally felt that hecould actually do it. Tell her. Show her. It was probably that brilliant book -its advice was fantastic,and he’s actually felt a difference between him and her, like something couldreally happen, like she could actually feel the same way, that he couldactually start–

“Ron?”

He whirled around to face the doorway, to find Hermione staringat him nervously.

Yeah,no. He wasn’t going to tell her anything.

“Hermione,” he croaked out, rubbing the back of his neck nervouslyas he realised his voice was a pitch higher than it should be. “What’sgoing on?”

“Nothing,” Hermione exclaimed quickly, and he noticed that hewasn’t the only one who sounded like they’d inhaled too muchhelium. “Just, uh, wanted to check in.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “With what?”

“Just, uh, see how you’re going, here, in this new room,” sheclutched her book closer to her chest, almost protectively. “So, how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he said slowly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” she repeated, and Ron felt like they were goinground in circles. But he supposed they’d always been like that, really. “Justthought I could use a break and have a chat.”

“Go ahead,” he acquiesced, extending his hand out welcomingly,inviting her to have a seat on his bed. It was only then that he’d realised howbold the gesture actually was. His ears flushed red, but this only worsenedwhen Hermione took up the offer and sat down at the foot of his bed.

As soon as her rather nice bottom sank into the mattress, Ronrealised, goosebumps appearing on his skin and breath catching in his throat,that she was wearing her nightgown. Sure, he’d seen her in pyjamas before. She had stayed at the Burrow over the summerfor the last few years. And just last night, when they’d stayed in the sittingroom together, with Harry. They’d slept together,really.

But that was the point – withHarry.  

Any interaction they’d had in their bed clothes was either in asitting room or with other people or both. Here…

She was on his bed. With him. Alone.

Ron’s mind began to race as Hermione delicately adjusted hergown. He wondered if she too had realised the implications of the position theywere in.

If she had, she wasn’t focusing on it. “So, what were you doing?Before I came in?”

“Uh…” Ron didn’t have an answer. What was he doing? “Taking it all in, I guess. Just thinking.”

It was a vague answer, but Hermione nodded knowingly. “It’s allreally starting, isn’t it? Properly?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders and staring at a loosethread on the quilt. “Looks like it.”

“I hope your family’s alright, after the wedding…”

Ron felt himself stiffen, as he gripped the thread tightly inhis hand. He hoped so too, but he didn’t want to think about the alternative…

It killed him that he was stuck here and couldn’t find out forhimself.

“I’m sure they are, your father said so,” Hermione addedreassuringly, realising that the conversation probably wasn’t the best choice.Ron remained silent, unable to look at her. But from the corner of his eye, hecould see Hermione’s face crumble. “I’m really scared, Ron.”

It was the quiver in her voice that made him look up at hersharply. She bit her lip, closing her eyes briefly to try to stop the tears.Ron felt his stomach twist with nerves at the thought of her crying. Not onlydid it make him want to tear his insides outs that something upset her, but hestill wasn’t quite sure what to do when she cried.

Whenshe’s upset, and allows herself to be in front of you, comfort her. It’s whatyou both want. Put an arm around her. Tell her it’s okay. Make her feel safeand loved. If she’s being vulnerable in front of you, you need to show her she’sdoing the right thing and that it’s okay.

It was alarming how easily he’d been able to memorise thatbloody book. He wondered if this is how Hermione had functioned her whole life.

Nevertheless, eyes wide, brain spinning with the words fromthose pages, he sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione raised adelicate hand to wipe her eye, ignoring him.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. Then he wondered if thatwas too rough, too much like the way he’d clap Harry on the back if he washaving a hard day, and so he relaxed his grip, just slightly, and, withoutreally thinking, pulled her towards him.

It was amazing, really, just how easily she fell into him. Herhead nestled into the crook of his neck and she sniffed, breathing out and intohis chest. Ron, meanwhile, breathed her in, feeling all-consumed by her verypresence, so close to him… this was a bad idea…

“I just don’t know…” Hermione began, but when her voice trailedoff, she didn’t continue. “I just don’t know,” she repeated.

“We’ll sort it out together,” Ron said quietly to her, holdingher closer. “I’m—I’m scared too, you know?”

She bobbed against him as she swallowed thickly, holding backher tears. As nervous as he’d been about confessing that to her, he had afeeling it was the right thing, because she looked quite comforted by that.

But of course, he couldn’t be sure, so he had to check:

“Does that… does that help?”

She let out a soft laugh, and her warm breath against his chestsent a shiver through his body. “I can’t imagine you scared, though,” she saidcalmly. “You’re always the one that runs straight into these messes, without asecond thought.”

“Scared shitless every time,” Ron confessed, chuckling.

Hermione glanced up at him, and there was a wonder in her eyesthat almost felt like she was… gazing athim? In almost-awe?

It was a foreign feeling, but very welcome.

“You’re very brave, Ron,” she whispered, as though afraid to letthe words come out. Indeed, Ron felt that they’d never come even close toa conversation like this ever in their friendship.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but she closed hereyes and leaned further into him, and he felt like that movement was enough tojustify him leaning back against the bedhead and pillows. She seemed all toohappy to follow.

He smoothed his hand over her hair, slowly, hesitantly. Thewords of the book echoing in his mind, he repeated, “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

Whether this was working or not, he wasn’t sure, until she whisperedso softly that he could have pretended that he hadn’t heard it, if it weren’tfor the fact that he’d desperately wanted her to have said those words: “Can Istay here tonight?”

And there was no way she could have meant it any other way,apart from here, in his bed, with him. There was no other mattress, no chair,and no reason for him to go on the floor here when she had her own room withher own bed.

But this was Hermione,and he couldn’t mess this up, so of course, he had to check. “W-with me?”

“Yes,” she answered, almost breathlessly, rushing through thatone word that meant so much.

“Yes,” he answered straight away, licking his lips nervously.While he had the courage, he let her go and got off the bed hurriedly, flippingthe covers back on his half. She stared at him from the bed, her eyes wide anduncertain, but after a moment, she lifted her feet up and wriggled them overand into the covers. Settling in, she glanced up at Ron, waiting for him tomove.

He allowed himself a moment to stare at this sight. HermioneGranger was in his bed. This was such abad idea.

But it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Again, allowing a burst of courage to take over him, he quicklycrept under the covers too, but couldn’t bring himself to touch her. Hiscourage couldn’t go that far.

He lay flat on his back, arms either side, staring up at theceiling. He wanted to shut his eyes, go to sleep, but he felt uncomfortablyaware of every single inch of his skin, and his brain felt far too alert topossibly relax into sleep.

His state of alertness meant that he nearly jumped when he feltHermione’s hand gently graze over his. He twisted his head to look at her, andshe looked back at him, nervously.

“It feels safer with you,” she whispered into the darkness.

He grasped her hand tightly in his, and felt she’d done morethan enough tonight to indicate it was alright for him to turn on his side toface her, and to reach out and touch her other shoulder with his free hand.

“Good,” he said, his voice low. “You know I’m not going to letanything happen to you.”

She smiled and shifted closer to him. His hand guided her backonto his chest, but she didn’t really need much help. He smiled as she settledinto him, wondering if she could feel how fast his heart was racing.

“Thank you, Ron,” she said quietly, closing her eyes.

“Anytime,” he replied, breathing out deeply to try to calmhimself. He probably wouldn’t get to sleep for quite some time tonight, but hereckoned that didn’t really matter.

And she seemed to take his reply quite literally, because thenext night she was back again. And the night after that.

And he reckoned, he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of hislife.

And maybe, perhaps, if he let himself hope enough, she wouldn’tmind it either.

#romione #my writing #romione fanfic