#I have some unanswered that I feel bad about :( I’m sorry. ask game stuff I never finished. maybe later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

san-shui · 3 years

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HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED! @djts-arts

i'm sorry this took a while but here's ur gift! it's based off on the MLB AU but doesn't follow ur plot. basically - let parrmour be happy lol! anyway i love you and hope you enjoy it!

i also posted it on ao3

On Monday

On Monday, I met you

It was the first day of school and the first akuma attack when Jane Seymour, a.k.a. Chat Noire, met Ladyblue.

How they met was by accident when Ladyblue flew into Chat Noire, who was walking along her baton like a tightrope, learning her new abilities. Their time to get acquainted was cut due to having to fight an akumatized classmate, Stoneheart.

But the moment Chat Noire met her partner in crime, she was entranced.

I liked you, I liked you

The girl had bronze skin and short, dark curly hair that parted on her left side with blue highlights hanging over her deep brown eyes.

Her skintight was black with light blue on the front in the style of an opened short sleeve jacket that stopped at the waist and on the legs from the knees down her to her feet, and within the light blue were black spots while white pearls lined along her wrists and waist into a “V” on the front. Her mask was opposite of the suit (light blue with black spots), and on her head was a black headband with silver spikes.

Even though she was in her superhero outfit, Ladyblue was gorgeous. Appearance was one thing, but her personality was another, and it's just as beautiful as her. Her bravery, her cleverness, her strength, her positivity, and her confidence.

It’s Monday – bad day

After defeating Stoneheart for the second and official time, the superheroes checked to make sure that the citizens were alive and well. To their surprise and glee, the akumatized classmate ended up dating their crush.

But good day for us

“They’re made for each other,” Ladyblue awed.

“Like us two,” Chat Noire flirted, offering her new partner a hand.

Good for us

Right then, Chat Noire’s ring beeped as the fourth paw flashes green – signaling one minute left before transforming back into civilian form. At that, Ladyblue grabbed her wrist and pulled it forward, showing the ring.

“Uh-oh, you see that?” Ladyblue asked lightly.

Chat Noire glanced at it then at her, and noticed how close their faces were to each other.

Even though they just met today, Chat Noire briefly wondered how those lips felt against her. It must’ve been subconscious because the next thing Chat Noire knew was her eyes drifted close then getting shoved back.

You wouldn’t let me kiss you

“Time to split,” Ladyblue said, releasing her hand.

Too stunned to move or speak, Chat Noire merely stood and watched as Ladyblue walked away.

“See you soon, Chat Noire,” Ladyblue said with a wave, then swung her yoyo out and launched herself into the air and behind some buildings.

Chat Noire smiled and dazely waved.

And that is why

She’s been in a relationship before and truly thought she was in love with him, but he turned out to be douche. She thought she learned to not fall in love so fast, but fighting alongside Ladyblue, Chat Noire was willing to do anything to get closer to her.

“Can’t wait, milady,” she whispered, then turned and vaulted away.

You were my kind of guy

~~~

Then Tuesday, I called you

Chat Noire was playing with her baton while lying lazily on a roof. After defeating another akumatized civilian, the superheroes agreed on doing patrol around London to further prevent harm and more akumas. Chat Noire wanted to talk to Ladyblue, but she left before Chat Noire could get a word in.

Chat Noire wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Wasn’t Ladyblue curious about her partner too? Or was she just too busy today? Chat Noire knew what it was like to be busy. Her civilian form, Jane Seymour, was a famous singer in England, she was bound to be crowded with meetings and rehearsals and classes.

Still, why did Ladyblue leave in a hurry?

Chat Noire supposed she could learn more about her baton’s gadgets. She had the rest of the day anyway. She was boredly pressing buttons when Contacts popped up on the screen. Seeing the only contact on her baton was Ladyblue’s, Chat Noire perked up.

She immediately pressed “call” under Ladyblue’s profile and waited eagerly. To her disappointment, the call went to voicemail. Chat Noire frowned, but it quickly vanished when an idea hit, and she pressed “call” again.

Several hours later, Chat Noire had left about 15 voicemails for Ladyblue of her rambling about her day. Unlike the others, the last voicemail was sincere as she asked if they could meet and talk. Assuming Ladyblue wouldn’t answer, Chat Noire set down her baton, sighed, and gazed at the starry night.

Ignored me, straight voicemail

A minute later, her baton vibrated with a beep, and Chat Noire glanced to see a notification from Ladyblue. She excitedly opened it to a message.

You texted back saying:

Ladyblue: play hard to get. ready. set . . .

You wouldn’t let me see you

Baffled, Chat Noire reread the text over and over. What was that supposed to mean? Was Ladyblue interested? Did she think she (Chat Noire) was messing around? She knew she was a jokester between the two, but she’s real when it comes to feelings.

Whatever it meant, it was clear that Ladyblue was not going to video call with her - at least for today.

Got so depressed by your test

Chat Noire sighed. That’s fine, she didn’t want to pressure her partner to the point of scaring her. Although she probably annoyed her with all of the voicemails. Chat Noire would gladly wait to see her lady, but that didn’t dismiss the depression that she felt at unanswered calls and the game Ladyblue set up.

Still I thought

Yet, a smile crept on her lips at the excitement of the game with Ladyblue, and she typed her response.

You’re the best

Chat Noire: u’re on >:P

‘Cause I’ve been so juvenile

That to take my time is just not my style

~~~

Come Wednesday, black coffee

After purifying the akuma, the victim offered them free coffee. Chat Noire happily agreed, while Ladyblue hesitated but agreed.

“You like black coffee?” Chat Noire asked her partner.

“Yeah, and you don’t?” she countered, raising a brow.

“Just because I look good in black doesn’t mean I like black coffee. I prefer flavor like myself,” Chat Noire teased proudly.

Ladyblue rolled her eyes, and Chat Noire laughed. Once they got their coffee and gave their thanks, the heroes left to drink in peace. They decided to sit on Big Ben, having a perfect view of their city.

Pure talking, clean touching

For hours, they talked and laughed. At some point, they discussed their double lives as being superheroes. While Jane was thrilled to have more freedom as Chat Noire, Ladyblue appeared anxious and concerned.

“I’m glad doing this to save London, but I can’t help but think I’m not the right one for this job,” Ladyblue confessed, staring down at the busy streets.

Chat Noire frowned and leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the sky.

“I get that. I doubt myself too sometimes. This may be bias but–”

Feeling bold, she placed a hand on Ladyblue’s. Startled, Ladyblue stared at their hands then at her with wide eyes.

“–I think you’re perfect for the job. Sure, we have flaws, but that’s what makes us human. I’ve never seen someone as smart, brave, and strong as you. I know we’ve only met and done this for three days, but it feels like a lifetime, and I can’t picture a better Ladyblue than you,” said Chat Noire sincerely.

Chat Noire wasn’t sure if it was the sun’s lighting, but she could’ve sworn she saw color on Ladyblue’s cheeks.

Oh, Wednesday, hump day

Ladyblue averted her eyes and stammered.

“I– um, thank you, Chat. I couldn’t have a better partner than you,” she said, facing Chat Noire again.

From the soft tone and her genuine eyes, Chat Noire knew she meant it and smiled. Then, to her astonishment, Ladyblue turned her hand over, grasped Chat Noire’s, and squeezed it gently. Chat Noire’s heart skipped a beat, and a silent gasp left her lips.

But we just held hands

“And I can’t picture a better Chat Noire,” Ladyblue whispered, giving her a small smile.

Chat Noire beamed and laughed.

“That’s a relief to know,” she teased.

Ladyblue giggled then gazed forward again.

You wouldn’t let me take you away for the day

As much as Chat Noire wanted to do more than hold hands, she was content with this for the day. Facing out, she too stared out at the city. About an hour later, Chat Noire decided to push her luck for the day.

“Are you up for hanging out more? Maybe go see a movie?” she asked.

Ladyblue chuckled and shook her head.

“Sorry, kitty, but I gotta stay. I have some things I need to finish,” she excused apologetically.

Chat Noire tried her best to hide her disappointment.

And I felt so juvenile

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good luck on your stuff,” she said.

Chat Noire then took Ladyblue’s hand, who was close to resisting until Chat Noire simply kissed her knuckles.

“Goodnight, milady,” she said, shooting her a wink.

Suppressing a smile, Ladyblue shook her head.

“Night, Chat Noire,” Ladyblue said.

Chat Noire smirked then jumped away. As she leaped from building to building, a part of her was feeling impatient with her and Ladyblue’s relationship (friends or more). She was clearly pushing it, but she didn’t know what else to do with these feelings – especially towards a girl.

The logical side of her informed Chat Noire that she’s taking this too fast, but the emotional, useless, romantic side of her wanted her to pursue this. Hell, she only knew her partner for three days, and Chat Noire was willing to do anything for her.

You gave an inch of time, and I took a mile

If Ladyblue wanted to just be friends, she would’ve said, right? Maybe she was interested in Chat Noire, but was too afraid to admit it or didn’t know it yet.

Arriving at her mansion, Chat Noire jumped through her bedroom window and landed quietly on her floor. She de-transformed into her normal clothes then walked over and face planted on her bed with a groan.

“You’re such a useless lesbian,” Plagg said bluntly, floating above her head.

“Shut up, Plagg,” Jane mumbled into her pillow, but Plagg ignored her.

“Psh, why love a complicated human when you have camembert!” Plagg said, throwing a piece of cheese up and into his mouth.

Jane flipped over onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“She may be complicated, but she’s still amazing. I’m still not sure how we ended up getting these miraculous, but we’re meant to be. I can feel it,” she said thoughtfully.

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Yuck. You being all gushie is making me sick. If you need me, I’ll be in the cabinet with my love,” he said, stroking a piece of cheese then disappearing into a desk under the TV.

Jane grinned and shook her head then stared out her window at the moon as thoughts of Ladyblue swarmed her head.

I was so juvenile

‘Cause to take it slow is just not my style

~~~

Then Thursday, like Tuesday

Fed up with her family, Jane used Chat Noire as an excuse to flee her house. She roamed around London for a bit, helping citizens here and there, then ended up relaxing on top of a building.

Similar to Tuesday, Chat Noire called Ladyblue and left voicemails about her day. She probably shouldn't bother her, but Chat Noire found comfort doing this. She’s not sure why, but being able to talk to someone other than Plagg was relieving.

But unlike Tuesday, Ladybug never responded. This baffled Chat Noire. Was it something she did yesterday? Everything seemed fine . . .

Your “day off” from me

A loud crash came from behind, and Chat Noire turned to see a large robot stomping through the streets. It was about to hit another building until a yoyo stopped it, restraining its arm back. Chat Noire followed the line to see Ladyblue tugging on it.

Maybe that’s why Ladyblue hasn't responded. Whatever the reason was, Chat Noire had to put the issue aside as she sprinted to help her partner.

~~~

But Friday busy

Twice, Chat Noire tried to bring up Wednesday’s night event, but Ladyblue kept dodging it, using an akumatization or needing to hide before transforming as reasons to avoid the topic.

And Saturday too

Another victim saved, and Ladyblue and Chat Noire’s partnership appeared alright, but Jane could see through the mask (figuratively and literally) that Ladyblue was evading more moments with her. Jane’s heart broke the less Ladyblue interacted with her when they’re not fighting alongside each other.

Not wanting to deal with this game anymore, Jane made certain Ladyblue would talk to her the next day.

What’s up with you?

~~~

On Sunday, after a well fought battle with an akuma, Chat Noire caught Ladyblue before she left.

You don’t wanna kiss me

“Ladyblue, wait!”

You don’t wanna see me

Ladyblue froze and stared at her with apprehension.

You don’t wanna take me

“You’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why. I get you don’t wanna kiss me, but why don’t you want to see me? Or even be with me?” Chat Noire asked desperately. “Look, if it’s something I said or did on Wednesday, then I’m sorry. I know it seemed like a game and it’s only been a week now, but I really really like you. But if you don’t feel the same, you can tell me. It’s okay.”

So let me go

Chat Noire lowered her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the heartbreaking words. Instead, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, prompting her to look up into kind eyes.

But you said:

“There’s things I know . . . you are cute, but juvenile,” Ladyblue said, booping her on the nose.

Then she placed her hand on Chat Noire’s cheek, who happily leaned into the touch.

“Don’t you know the greatest love takes the greatest while? So if you’re willing, take my hand and take the trial for just a mile and then another mile. Be patient for that one day.”

Before Chat Noire could blink, Ladyblue kissed her on the other cheek. When she pulled back, both faces were blushing. Ladyblue chuckled and looked at the sunset.

“Look, kitty, it’s Sunday,” she said, then glanced back at her. “Come with me, and I’ll make it worth your while. Maybe it’s not far away or coming down the aisle, but . . . I do wanna kiss you and try this out if you’re okay with going steady,” Ladyblue asked shyly.

But I wanna kiss you now

Chat Noire beamed. “Can I kiss you now?” she asked eagerly.

Oh . . .

Ladyblue giggled and nodded.

And kiss you

Chat Noire grinned and cupped her cheeks then connected their lips.

And kiss you

Ladyblue tasted like sweetener, and Chat Noire couldn’t get enough.

And kiss you

They broke away for air, but they could barely get some as they laughed at one another.

And kiss you

They then rested their foreheads against each other as they calmed down – goofily smiling.

And kiss you

“Is it too soon that I just want to kiss you?” Ladyblue asked in a hushed tone.

And kiss you

Chat Noire giggled. “We can do it as much as you want, milady,” she whispered.

And kiss you

Ladyblue chuckled then closed her eyes and kissed her again, which Chat Noire gleefully returned.

Till Monday

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #parrmour #six mlb au #chat noir! jane #ladybug! cathy #songfic #my writing #not my au #Jane do be impatient #somewhat OOC

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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❀ hypothermia | “you never did love me, did you?” feat. sakusa kiyoomi

⇢ day 6 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: sakusa knows how difficult he is to love but for you, he’ll reluctantly let down his walls

⇢ a/n: the roles for this fic were supposed to be switched at first but i got really >:( about the sakusa hate night thing and realized that we don’t deserve this beautiful man

⇢ pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

⇢ word count: 2.2k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

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going on a date wasn’t sakusa’s idea, rather, it was a whole conspiracy created by atsumu, hinata, and bokuto, who all had the ‘good intentions’ to get sakusa to get out and mingle with more people. in other words, go on an actual date. his hair was uncomfortably slicked back, his shoes pinched too tightly, and despite how un-crowded the cafe he waited in was, sakusa could feel the discomfort of having to breathe in other people’s air.

‘if this person isn’t going to show up in ten minutes, i’m leaving,’ he ultimately decided. except, that’s exactly when you decided to show up. sakusa’s eyes automatically glanced up when you walked in, searching the cafe, before spotting him at one of the tables.

“i’m so sorry about that, traffic was terrible,” you sat down with a huff. “you must be sakusa-san, right?”

“...right,” he nodded slowly, studying you intently as you quickly checked your reflection in your compact mirror.

“atsumu-san told me about you,” you smiled, lacing your fingers together on top of the table. sakusa observed that your nails were cut short and filed down neatly, something that he approved of. he honestly didn’t understand why people purposely glued long, plastic nails on their real nails.

“yeah? what did he say?” he asked.

“some stuff but...” you shrugged. “does it matter what he thinks? i’m the one you’re dating, after all.”

sakusa raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed at your quick judgement. with that, he tugged his mask down, folded it, and placed it neatly on the table. “you’re right about that. shall we order then?”

first impressions meant a lot to sakusa. he knew people wouldn’t normally use first dates as ‘testing grounds’ but that’s exactly how he saw it. and why shouldn’t he? people dated for a reason and if it didn’t work out, sakusa wouldn’t feel too bothered by it.

part of him did want the date to be unsuccessful because that meant he’d be back in the safe territory he knew so well. second dates, third dates, and everything after were uncharted territory for him. sakusa knew he’d only get more uncomfortable, except for the fact that your first date did go well.

despite the fact that you were late, you made up for it by offering to buy him a coffee. you didn’t shirk away at sakusa’s bluntness, in fact, you seemed to take it in stride as just a part of him. you didn’t comment on or make fun of how he’d wipe his utensils with a clean napkin before eating with them, instead listening intently to what sakusa said about bacteria and utensil storage.

he went into the date with the expectation that he wouldn’t enjoy it as much, a prediction that he thought was fair enough for him to make. but when you asked if you could hold hands as he walked you home and sakusa looked uncomfortably at your hands, you smiled and held your hands out to him. sakusa stared at them for a moment before pulling out his pocket sanitizer and spraying your hands. he searched for any signs of slight annoyance on your face but there were none as you waved your hands to dry them.

“if you’re not too comfortable about holding my hand we can do this,” you offered, raising your pinky at him.

“isn’t this what children do?” sakusa quirked a brow.

“it can be something that we can do,” you smiled, your eyes an invitation to the uncharted waters that had started drawing sakusa in.

it was a risk. but sakusa knew if he was careful, it could be a calculated one. so, he looped his pinky around yours and resumed walking.

as far as first dates go, this wasn’t so bad.

...

“another text omi-omi?” atsumu teased. sakusa scowled, ignoring his annoying teammate as he continued to type on his phone. the annoying part was that his annoying teammate was right and sakusa wondered if he looked too eager to check his phone right after practice

[from: y/n]

5:30 pm: hey sakusa! you’re probably still at practice but just wanted to wish you a good day. let me know if you still want to get dinner :)

it was just a short message but sakusa could still feel that uncomfortable stir in his stomach. the first time he felt that, back when you held pinkies on your first date, sakusa grew paranoid and looked up ‘strange stomach feelings’ on webMD the first chance he got. but it wasn’t anything physical, rather, it came from something else.

“shut up, atsumu,” sakusa drawled, trying to look disinterested as he typed up a quick response to your message, saying that he would be htere.

“what did i tell you guys?” atsumu chided their fellow teammates. “i just knew y/n would be the one to capture our omi-omi’s heart.”

“awww, they must be real special! when can we meet them!” bokuto begged, popping up beside sakusa.

“they didn’t capture anything and even if they did, i think they have better things to do,” sakusa gritted his teeth.

although, he knew that eventually he would probably ask if you’d like to meet his teammates, probably after he’d invite you to watch one of his games. sakusa knew he wasn’t going too fast for his own liking and as he watched you enter the restaurant, once again late and slightly out of breath, he felt that slowly letting you into his life wasn’t such a bad thing.

“sorry i’m late, again,” you sighed, smoothing down your windblown hair with a sheepish smile.

“it’s alright,” sakusa said, removing his mask. “i took the liberty of ordering for you, if that’s alright.”

“is that so?” your bright eyes locked onto his. “well, let’s see if you’ve read my mind.”

“i could just ask the waiter to change your order,” sakusa offered.

“no, no! it could be like a game!” you shook your head. “don’t you want to play?” sakusa didn’t quite understand you, nor your game, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as he waited for your order to come. you took one look at the food on your plate before flashing him a smile.

“well, what do you know? it’s exactly what i wanted.”

sakusa didn’t why hearing that made him particularly happy. “this wasn’t much of a game, to be honest,” he murmured.

“is it because there aren’t really stakes?” you asked.

“precisely.”

there was something playful in the way you looked at him. “if you really like someone, there are always stakes.”

...

sakusa knew just what you meant, he was in uncharted waters after all. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn how to sail in such places. he also came to realize that it wasn’t just him letting you into his life, but you letting him into yours. sakusa expected that you were a bit of an extrovert with how openly you talked to him, only to find that you did have a secretive side. the most you’d talk about were your co-workers who got on your nerves or how you wished there were more hours in a day. sakusa noticed that you often dodged around questions, focusing on him instead. knowing how much he valued his own privacy, sakusa let you have your own.

which was why he knew that the two of you had gone through a certain ‘dating milestone’ after you introduced him to your friends. sakusa didn’t really like how everyone focused on him being a germophobe and how the conversation seemed to revolve around just that, which was why he appreciated you being there to steer the discussion topic away. but sakusa made an effort not to be his usual self because he knew how important it was for you to bring him into your world.

“i bet you’re glad that’s over,” you chuckled after the two of you left the cafe. once again, sakusa offered to walk you home.

“it wasn’t that bad,” he murmured.

“that’s a compliment from you,” you giggled, linking your pinky with his as you walked. sakusa would rather die than let anyone on the MSBY Jackals team see him like this, but for you he’d take that risk.

“hey,” sakusa suddenly stopped, tugging you to look at him. curiously, you obliged. “i... know i’m not really the gentle boyfriend type but... you can ask and expect for things, you know? people tend to side-step around me knowing the kind of person i am, well except for my teammates but, you don’t have to all the time.”

you blinked in mild surprise before asking. “so, can i be selfish then?” your eyes gave away your intentions and sakusa loved how he was able to read you and already pulled down his mask from his face.

sakusa had always been creeped out by the thought of kissing people but as he kissed you, it didn’t feel like he was missing out. rather, it was as if it was happening at the right moment.

“can i be selfish again?” you whispered after you and sakusa parted.

“i already have half a guess as to what you’re going to ask,” sakusa smirked.

“can i stay over at your place?”

...

sakusa knew that things would be a little different after you spent your first night together, but he didn’t think they’d be like this. for one, your messages to him dwindled into one-line sentences or phrases, before disappearing completely. sakusa wondered if he had done something wrong. no, he was absolutely sure that he had done something wrong and had no idea how to fix things.

he wasn’t much of a social media user and sakusa didn’t want to be the type of person who’d get angry at someone for tweeting while waiting on a message from them. he thought it would be low of him to call you out in a semi-public space so he’d end up liking your tweets in the hope of getting your attention to no avail.

what had happened?

“hey, sakusa...”

“atsumu, i don’t need this right now,” sakusa grumbled, scrolling through his unanswered messages again before realizing that atsumu didn’t use his usual nickname. he looked up from his phone to find a look of regret on his teammate’s face.

“listen, i... i’ve only heard about y/n from a friend of a friend so i really didn’t know about this...”

“know about what?” sakusa asked, despite the feeling in his gut that he wouldn’t like what he was going to hear.

“i... don’t know if it’s better for me to show it to you--”

“do it,” sakusa clenched his jaw and nodded resolutely. “i want to see.”

atsumu took his phone out of his bag and opened what appeared to be instagram. sakusa didn’t have one and he quickly realized that it was to your advantage.

if he had known about the things you’d post on your stories, sakusa would have broken up with you a long time ago.

...

the club where you were in was miles different from the cozy, little cafe where sakusa first met you. it felt like some sick parallel twist and this only fueled sakusa’s anger and motivation to squeeze past the moving bodies until he finally made his way to where you were.

now all his questions and suspicions had been answered and sakusa was practically beating himself up for not realizing things sooner. when he reached the bar counter where you were seated, engaged in more than just a deep conversation with another man, sakusa didn’t even hold back.

“you’re a bitch, you know that?”

“ah, sakusa,” you regarded him calmly. “what are you doing here? this doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

“yeah, and you knew that, didn’t you? you took advantage of it,” sakusa practically spat, hoping that his words would deal a blow but your face remained expressionless.

“i’m sorry but it was just all too easy,” you chuckled, crossing your legs over each other.

as angry as he was, sakusa couldn’t help but feel the cold reality of despair. he didn’t want to be right about his suspicions. he wanted to be optimistic after your first few dates went so well. he desperately searched your face for the person he had linked pinkies with and exchanged messages with and had his first time with.

they weren’t even real in the first place.

“you never did love me, did you?” sakusa asked aloud. your laugh was the only response he needed.

“if it’s any comfort, you were one of my favorites,” you cocked your head at him. “oh, and maybe try not to be so guarded around the next person you’ll date. it’s a bit of a turn-off, really.”

sakusa narrowed his eyes as he looked down at you. “the next one won’t be like you.”

“how can you be so sure?”

sakusa scoffed and turned around. the pain was overwhelming, but the spite even more so. you were the kind of person who thrived off toying with other people and giving in to rage would only satisfy you further. sakusa wasn’t inclined to grant you that.

“because...” he stuffed his hands back in his pockets and turned around. “lowlifes like you surely are one of a kind.”

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event taglist: @himikadafangirl @swoona-rintarou @l-dokisaki-l @laure-chan @aonenthusiast @ah-kaashi @just-a-gay-bean @linyu-sees-you @alto-march-of-death @newfriendjen @shrimpypenis @tenyafacesquish @mkkhaikyuu

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sinsbymanka · 3 years

Note

I have another dwarf you can break down: Branka

😊

I’m back on my “Break a Character Down” bullshit! Sorry for the wait friend <3 and thank you for the ask! I had to rewatch some Branka stuff for this one because I am REALLY bad at DA Origins as a video game player.

How I feel about this character

I think it’s hard for me to separate Branka from Orzammar and Orzammar’s strengths and weaknesses. I don’t know if she was meant to be a personification of them, but in the end she really is.

Branka is a brilliant woman who developed something amazing enough to get her named a Paragon (smokeless coal) that saved countless lives (deaths from black lung which if it’s anything like coal miner black lung is a nasty disease).

I think there’s a lesson here about fame and power. Branka becoming a Paragon ruined her marriage (Oghren began drinking because he couldn’t handle her success - which is an Oghren problem but still something Branka had to unfortunately deal with) and because she had already achieved the pinnacle of achievement young - she had to set herself an impossible goal and push for it.

Her doing so killed an entire house. Orzammar doesn’t have people to lose.

Ultimately, I see Branka as a tragic figure, but one who is also instrumental in her own downfall and whose actions wasted many lives. I think the most telling part of Branka’s story is that she, eventually, sacrificed her own lover to her ambition. A cold ending for a desperate love story.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Oh god. Nobody? Is nobody an option? None of Branka’s relationships ended well she needs to be single for awhile.

That said. I wouldn’t mind fic of happier times Branka/Hespith and Branka/Oghren. Or a fix it fic for the three of them because everyone is poly and happy is much preferable to infidelity.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I wouldn’t mind seeing Dagna as Branka’s bright eyed apprentice before Branka heads into the Deep Roads. Also I think her and Oghren would have been better platonically.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I like her as a villain. DAO really did villains well - Branka had CLEARLY lost it, but there’s a part of you that can understand what she’s doing and why the whole time. But god the horror of it.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish we knew more about her BEFORE she went into the Deep Roads. What was she like? How did being a Paragon change her? What did she want from her life? All unanswered questions.

Anyway I’m doing these breakdowns again, if you want to send them. I’ve done so far:

Velanna

Bianca Davri

Maria Cadash

Varric Tethras

Solas

Branka

And I’m caught up!! <3

#manka answers asks #break a character down #branka #dragon age #dragon age origins

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puckinghell · 4 years

Text

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 3

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 3. Click here for part 1 | part 2

You’ve never seen Will nervous.

And, okay, you know he gets nervous. You asked Zach once, if his teammates still got nervous before big games the way Zach himself does, and Zach said yes, especially the younger guys; Mitchy, Willy, Matts.

“There’s more pressure on their shoulders than you or I could ever understand,” he’d said with a pointed look.

You think Zach carries a fair amount of pressure himself, but to be fair, he rarely seems to be bothered by it.

So, you know Will gets nervous before big games, but you don’t really ever see him, then, so you’ve never seen him nervous. That’s why it’s so weird now.

“Are you afraid of flying?”

Willy’s head snaps up as he looks at you with a puzzled expression.

“Of course not. I fly for work all the time.”

You’re sitting in the plane to Calgary, which Will, at the very least, paid for. It’s your second event together; Will’s cousin’s baby shower slash gender reveal party.

“Well, you’ve been fidgeting.”

At your words, Willy’s hand stills from where it’s been plucking at the thread of his hoodie for the past 20 minutes. He’s also been pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and digging his teeth into it, the way he does with his mouthguard sometimes during games.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Will admits. He’s refusing to look at you, now, staring out of the little plane window as if there’s anything to see there except white puffy clouds that reach as far as you can see into the distance.

“Why? You love your family.”

It’s a fair question, because if there’s one thing you know about Willy, and kinda like about Willy, it’s how vehemently and outwardly he loves and cares for his family. He’s always talking about his siblings accomplishments, and he never lets a call from his mom or dad go unanswered. Whenever Alex is around, he’s beaming with happiness, all bright smiles and laughter, and one year he was over at Zach’s Christmas party because he couldn’t make it home to Sweden that year for Christmas, and he was so miserable you couldn’t feel anything but really sorry for him.

However, the question gets Will’s hackles up. You see it immediately in the way his face hardens, emotion carefully tucked away beneath the mask.

You hate it, when he gets like this. You didn’t used to ever see it, but then the contract stuff happened and people started asking dumb questions and you saw it more and more.

To be honest, you always thought it was born out of arrogance, a how dare you question me – attitude, but it hits you now that it’s just a shield, designed to protect himself.

You don’t know what to think of the fact that apparently you know Willy enough to see that, now.

“Of course I love my family,” Will says, and his voice is sharp. “I just know I’m going to have to answer questions I don’t wanna answer.”

“About me?” you hazard a guess. The way Willy looks at you tells you you’re right.

He sighs. “About me bringing someone, yeah. They worry about me a lot, and after what happened with my last girlfriend, they don’t really trust me to make good decisions when it comes to relationships, anymore.”

Your frown must be questioning enough, because he continues.

“She broke up with me during the contract negotiations. Apparently, if I wasn’t Toronto’s favorite anymore, I couldn’t be hers, either.”

Despite everything, your heart breaks a little, for him.

“So I’m gonna have to convince them I’m not after fame and good fortune, huh?” you try to lighten the mood, keeping your voice cheery. You even go as far as to bump your shoulder into Will’s, because that guy thrives on physical contact – you didn’t make that up, Zach actively makes fun of Willy for it all the time – and he looks like he could use some support.

It works a little, because Will smiles, but the smile is tinged with sadness so it doesn’t work as well as you’d hoped.

“Don’t worry, they won’t believe you are. Dating me will get you the opposite of that in Toronto, nowadays.”

For the first time since you’ve known Will, you really want to tell him that’s not true.

The conversation in the plane kinda throws you, a little bit, to the point where the cab ride from the airport to Willy’s cousin’s house is so quiet that Will grabs your hand and squeezes when you get out of the car.

“They’re gonna like you,” he mumbles. “I promise you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll worry about the questions, you just go eat some cakes and look at baby clothes with my sisters, or something.”

It’s nice, that he’s trying to put you at ease like that, but to be honest that’s not what you’d been thinking about.

You’d been thinking about him.

Will can be loud and boisterous and there’s almost always a cheeky twinkle in his eyes that makes you feel like he’s not taking anything serious. He’s hot, and everyone thinks so, and he knows everyone thinks so, and you always kinda assumed he thought he was the best thing since sliced bread.

This side of him, the vulnerable side, is something you hadn’t expected to ever see from him, because you didn’t think he had it. Zach has told you, of course, over the years.

“Willy’s not like you think” and “he’s different when it’s just him and his close friends.”

“So he’s acting?” you’d challenged. “As if that’s better.”

“Not acting, really,” Zach had answered, unbothered by your bad mood at the time. “He really can be like that, fun and impulsive and he loves people and being around people. But he has a vulnerable, insecure side. He just keeps that side closer to his chest than most.”

You hadn’t really believed Zach. You thought you were a good judge of character, and William Nylander, to you, was nothing but another rich privileged handsome male who assumed life would simply work out in his favor because he’d never known anything else.

Now you’re doubting that. And it’s messing with your head.

Because if Will really cares about what people think of him so much… Well, let’s just say you’re suddenly feeling a little guilty about all those thoughts you’ve had behind his back.

You don’t say any of this, though, because it’s time to turn on the charm the way Will had for you, at the wedding.

“I’ll try not to flirt with your cousin’s husband,” you mumble, and Will’s laughs sounds a little more like himself, before knocking on the door.

“William!” The door gets opened by a beautiful blonde woman with a massive belly. Willy’s cousin, you assume. Her eyes immediately catch on you, and her smile is laced with surprise. “You brought someone.”

“Hey, Alice.” Will leans in, kisses both her cheeks the way Europeans do, sometimes. “This is Y/N, she’s my plus one for today.”

You notice he doesn’t call you his girlfriend, per se, but for some reason you expect that’s the conclusion his family is going to reach anyway.

“You didn’t even tell me you were bringing a plus one,” Alice scolds, but there’s nothing but fondness in her voice. “Luckily we have enough cakes.”

She ushers you into the house and suddenly you’re surrounded by beautiful blond people all yelling Will’s name.

“Calm down,” Willy giggles, as he starts kissing people’s cheeks and ruffling little kids’ hair.

You get introduced, but it all goes so quick and there’s so many people, you forget their names as soon as Will says them. The only ones you make sure to remember are the names of his siblings; Alex, of course, you’ve met before after games, and then there’s Jacquline, Michelle, Stephanie and Daniella. The girls especially are all over you right away, but not in a bad way; they’re asking you about your shoes and compliment your hair, and what do you do for a living and have you ever been to a Swedish baby shower before?

“They’re not any different from Canadian baby showers,” Will rolls his eyes at that, but there’s nothing but fondness in his eyes when he looks at his siblings.

His hand lands on your lower back in protective fashion, as he starts guiding you out of the house. When some of his sisters follow, he shoots them a pointed look, then barks something in Swedish.

You kinda like how melodic his voice sounds in Swedish.

His sisters talk back, but then they all disappear.

“What did you say?”

“I told them that they couldn’t steal you away from me before I even get you a drink,” Will answers, something cheeky laced in his voice. “So, blue or pink lemonade? Depending on whether you think boy or girl.”

The garden is bigger than you expected based on the size of the house, and it’s beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere. There’s standing tables with people everywhere, and a buffet table where the drinks are.

“Have you looked around?” you giggle. Almost all of the kids are little girls. “Pink.”

“Nah, no way.” Will hands you a pink one, and takes a blue one himself. “With this many girls in the family, we have to get a boy now.”

“That’s what we said when we got Daniella.” The voice is tinted with accent, light and welcoming. Will’s face lights up when he hears it.

“Mom!” They hug, and you can see how Camilla squeezes her son tightly. It pulls a smile out of you; loving family dynamics have always been foreign to you, but it’s nice to see. “This is Y/N,” Will says, when they break apart, and Camilla shakes your hand with a smile.

“So nice of you to come,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was bringing someone.”

“Uh, that’s on me,” you lie through your teeth. “I wasn’t sure I could make it.”

“We’re all glad you did.” Camilla looks at Will, and you can see the question in her look, but she doesn’t ask it. “I’ll go tell your dad you’re here.”

As soon as she’s off, you turn to Will.

“You didn’t tell her I was coming? They’re all gonna think this is so weird!”

Will’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Yes, and that’s why the plan works.” You must look confused, cause he laughs. “If they’re all busy speculating about who you are and why I brought you, they’re not gonna ask me about my ex, my lack of a love life, or the fact that I haven’t given them any grandkids yet.”

He looks smugly proud of his idea, and you can’t stop the eye roll.

“Right, no, perfect plan,” you snide. “I’ll just take all the hits and have everyone looking at me as if I’ve got two heads all day.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Will waves in the general direction of the garden. “Soon they’re gonna announce the baby’s gender, and then nobody is gonna care about you anymore.”

“Gee, thanks.” But you’re teasing now, and it’s clear Will gets that because he leans a bit closer and winks.

“Except for me, of course.”

You shouldn’t have worried. The Nylanders turn out to be a friendly bunch and they immediately include you in every conversation you happen to stumble upon. To their credit, they don’t ask you even once what you’re doing there or what Will is to you.

You suppose he’s having less luck, because you look over and find Camilla talking to him intently in Swedish, and him staring at the floor like a scolded toddler.

You’ve been barely standing alone for two seconds when Alice appears next to you.

“You’ll have to excuse everyone’s curiosity,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was dating anyone.”

“Uhm.” What the hell are you supposed to say to that. Luckily, it doesn’t matter, because she keeps talking.

“We’re all glad that he is, though. We were all a bit worried about him. Anyway, can I ask you a massive favor?” she asks. “We’re about to let out the balloon to reveal the gender, but it’s in the garage and I kinda don’t wanna squeeze in there.” She laughs and motions to her massive belly. “Could you go get it for me?”

You immediately say yes, not only because she’s nice but because you’re glad for the opportunity to do something useful. You haven’t seen Will in a while, and you suppose that’s fair enough because you kinda left him to his own devices at the wedding last week, too, but Will is good at socializing and you aren’t, so you’ve been feeling a bit out of place.

Besides, if Alice starts asking more questions, you don’t think you’ll have the answers. Damn, this is harder than you thought it would be.

The garage is filled with boxes, bikes, and even a washing machine, so you have to squeeze through a pretty tight fit to get through the boxes that say balloons on them.

You hadn’t really expected there to be so many of them.

Everything happens way too fast and simultaneously in slow motions, then. You realize there’s no way of knowing in which box the massive balloon is, so you open one of the boxes. There’s nothing in it.

“Y/N, are you in here?” Willy’s voice calls.

You open the second box at that exact moment, and before you realize what’s happening, there’s a blue balloon floating out of the garage, up into the sky.

“No,” you breathe, and Will’s eyes widen almost comically as he realizes what just happened.

It’s a boy! the balloon reads, and then it floats too high to even read anything at all.

“It’s a helium balloon,” Will deadpans, as if you hadn’t noticed that by now.

“Oh God.” You just ruined their entire party. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

You’re starting to panic, and it’s not funny at all, but then Will starts laughing, uncontrollable giggles as he clutches his stomach, and you can’t not laugh with him.

Even if you’re on the brink of crying.

“I told you it would be a boy,” Willy giggles. “I can’t believe you messed up so much worse than me!”

“Will, stop.” You manage to quiet down your hysterical giggles only to clutch at Willy’s arm. “We have to fix this! Imagine what Alice is gonna say.”

That stops Will’s laughter, too, although he’s still smiling.

“I’ll stop laughing if you stop looking like you just murdered the baby. It’s just a balloon, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…”

Will shushes you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and carefully leading you out of the garage. He must feel that you’re on the edge of a mental breakdown, because he keeps his arm there, heavy and steadying, as he starts leading you back into the house and up the stairs.

It’s kinda nice.

“I’ll fix it,” he promises, and he sounds an awful lot like Zach, suddenly. “I’ve got an idea.”

You would hope his ideas are better than Zach’s, but unfortunately they seem pretty on par, because Will grabs a regular, non-text blue balloon from the study where they’re all stored, and a waterproof sharpie.

“This is so not gonna work!” you protest. “I should just come clean.”

Willy pulls a complicated face. “After I’ve just had to listen to twenty minutes of my mom telling me that you’re amazing, and she has such a good feeling about you, and if I let you go I’ll not only disappoint her but set myself up for disappointment for the rest of my life? No thanks.”

He turns the balloon so you can see it, and you decide to focus on it because you can’t unpack all of that right now.

“I think the balloon company might get a pretty angry email, but that should be it.”

On the balloon, there’s written It’s a boy! Except in Willy’s scrawly handwriting it looks a lot less good than the balloon that’s currently floating somewhere in space. In fact, it looks a little like it says It’s a 6oy!

However, you also don’t fancy Camilla’s disappointed face, so you allow Willy to shove it in a box and bring it outside.

The entire family gathers around, and Alice and her husband Otto are standing with their arms around each other in front of the box, when Willy’s hand reaches out and grabs your, lacing your fingers together.

And you’re totally gonna ignore the dumb little skip your heart does at the contact, because that’s not how you and Willy work; surely he’s just trying to sell the story of you dating to his family.

Even though nobody is looking at you.

Either way, you are grateful to him for saving your ass, there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, soft enough for only him to hear. “About the balloon.”

“Don’t be.” Willy’s smile is genuine. “I’ve never laughed so hard at a baby shower before. And my entire family has come up to say that they love you, and nobody has asked me when I’m gonna get serious about my life. So I should be thanking you, if anything.”

You’ve barely talked to half the Nylander family, and you wonder how awful his previous girlfriend was that they’re all fawning over you, now, but you can’t think about it too much because then someone is counting down.

3, 2, 1…

The box opens. The balloon floats up. There’s silence for one beat, two beats, and you swear they’re gonna call you out, but then someone cheers and suddenly Alice is crying and Otto is being manhandled by some other guys and everyone is clapping, and Willy grins.

“It’s a boy,” Alice calls out.

“I’m so glad she could read that.” Willy’s voice is deadpan but the twinkle in his eyes is still there, and suddenly you’re laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much at a baby shower, either,” you tell him truthfully, and it probably shouldn’t make you feel something that Will looks quietly pleased, at that.

#william nylander #william nylander fic #nhl fic #toronto maple leafs fic #i forgot how to tag

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

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SpaceBear - bit 3

The SS Rare Pair now has a ship name. A little bit longer this time - Alan and Brandon got a little friendly so minor smut warning ahead.

Thanks to @willow-salix for many notes and prods. @ak47stylegirl big brother makes an appearance but you will need to wait for bit 4 for the fallout, I absolutely loved your sketch though.

Bit 1 is here, Bit 2

Bit 3

“So did you kids have fun today?”

Alan facepalmed, “I’m not twelve years old any more, or have you forgotten I can fly a Thunderbird.”

Scott smirked from his place at the controls, well aware of the embarrassment emanating from the crew seats behind him, or at least the one containing Alan. There was just something about being able to wind up younger brothers that made it one of life’s simple pleasures. “No, but at the moment you’re getting a lift in my ‘bird. So, little brother, how was your day?”

“It was great, Scott. Real great.” Once Scott got into dad mode Alan knew he wouldn’t be appeased without an answer, the problem was he still had a lot of unanswered questions of his own about the day.

“Show some enthusiasm, why don’t you? You’ve been bugging me about this Expo for weeks.”

However, it was Brandon that launched in with the rundown of the day, or at least an edited version of it. There was something about travelling at supersonic speeds that always got him hyped up and energetic. “It was, like, totally awesome. We got to try all the new tech and Alan here totally rocked on the flight simulator.”

Scott gave a chuckle. “I should hope so. Can’t have you doing anything that might show International Rescue in a bad light and failing on a flight simulator would just about cover it.”

Alan tried to sink lower in his seat; a futile task given there was a safety harness holding him firmly in place. He wondered what sort of light was cast by him and Brandon kissing for the cameras. He just hoped any coverage stayed within reports about the Expo where Scott was unlikely to see it otherwise he sensed a lecture on PR obligations as a minimum.

The merciful thing about flying in Thunderbird One was that even when Scott wasn’t punching it a flight never took a long time. Within minutes they were on final approach, the pool retracting to give them entry to the underground hangers.

“Dinner’s at seven” Scott announced as he started post flight checks, “so don’t be late, I know what you can be like if you get too involved in a game.”

It was a clear enough dismissal and Alan and Brandon took it as their cue to leave. They made their way through to the upper levels of the villa and along to Alan’s room as normal, Brandon babbling away about the various games they had tried and how he needed to stitch together some footage for his vlog. It was as though he needed to keep the air filled with noise, there was just no let up.

Once in Alan’s room Brandon made his way over to the desk and Alan followed after, hovering behind the chair while Brandon made himself comfy. Now that they were finally alone, something he had been trying to achieve ever since Brandon had pulled his stunt after the snowboarding, he was lost for words, unable to broach the topic that had been bugging him for hours or months if he examined his deeper feelings.

“Mind if I get get these vlog posts sorted?” Brandon asked, not stopping to wait for an answer before booting up Alan’s computer. “Got to keep on top of my media presence and give the viewers what they want. We can’t all of us rely on other people doing something stupid to stay in business.”

Alan’s thoughts were in turmoil. Brandon was acting as if absolutely nothing had happened between them. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew there was video evidence out there to back him up he might have started to doubt that the whole thing had ever happened. Did Brandon just want to forget it? Did it mean absolutely nothing and this was a sign that Brandon just didn’t care for him in that way?

With Brandon’s back turned towards him, settled in front of the now glowing screens, Alan found it a little earlier to find his voice. There was something about looking into Brandon’s eyes that sent him tongue tied, but faced with the back of his head Alan was able to draw on some of that courage that marked him out as a Thunderbird. As they say, if you don’t ask you won’t know, and he’d had enough of not knowing. “Is that what today was? Giving the viewers what they want?” The words were spat out with rather more venom than Alan intended as he tried to keep a check on his feelings, hurt that his friend would use him as a way to boost his ratings and grab the limelight.

Brandon’s shoulders slumped slightly but he didn’t turn around, not daring to face those startling blue eyes that could knock him sideways. Not wanting to see their usual kindness turned to hate. He might have all the bravado and swagger in front of the camera but without an audience to play to he felt all his courage ebbing away. It was only because the damn cameras had been rolling that he’d felt able to make a move in the first place. It was a decision he was now regretting and he wished the floor would swallow him up; anything to stop him being alone in Alan Tracy’s bedroom.

He wished that whole sorry moment had never happened but self-control had never been his strong point when he knew the world was watching. With his arm slung around his friend that adorable smile that made him glow every time he saw it had been too much to resist and buoyed by the Dutch courage given to by a rolling film he’d acted on the thoughts he’d been harbouring for too long.

“You...you’d...kiss me as some stupid stunt for the media?”

Almost alone.

The venom had been replaced by hurt and Brandon winced internally at the thought of having ruined a perfectly good friendship by overstepping the mark. Hurting Alan had been the last thing he wanted but it looked like the damage was done and lying wasn’t going to make it any better; honesty was a big thing in the Tracy household and he’d rather tell Alan the truth than leave him thinking he’d just played him to gain subscribers.

“Is that what you want it to be? Just a stunt? Cos we can call it that if you want but I like you Alan...really like you.”

There was silence between them as Alan tried to process that answer, the response certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. There was no ‘It’ll be great for the ratings’ or ‘Lighten up and live a little’, not even a ‘Gotta give the fans something to buzz about’.

As the seconds stretched into eternity Brandon spun the chair and finally met Alan’s eye, trying to convey that for once in his life he was serious.

“You do? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Not very good with words, I’m more an actions kinda guy.”

“And you thought slamming your face into mine in front of the cameras was the right way to let me know?”

“No, I get it, I screwed up. I wanted to talk to you at the Expo, talk properly, but I just had such a buzz and there you were and….urgh…put me in front of a camera and I can’t help doing dumb stuff. See, you’re the smart one, I just ruin everything. I’m sorry it happened.”

He expected the anger to return, expected to be told to get ready to leave the island and get out of Alan’s life.

“I’m not. I just imagined our first kiss to be a little more private, that’s all.”

Alan looked at the upturned face that he’d spent far too long lusting over. Brandon has been first an idol and latterly a friend after fates and rescues thrust them together but Alan had never dared to act on his hopes that one say they could be more than friends. The Bear, with his brash confidence and a partner in every ski resort, was everything he wasn’t with his sheltered island existence. Now though, those delicious chocolate brown eyes were marred by worry suggesting that the confidence part might not be true.

“Can we start over? Maybe do things your way?”

Alan swallowed nervously, eyes fixed on the mouth that seemed to be drawing him in like a magnet. He leant forward hesitantly, worried about screwing things up, all the times he’d played through this moment in his head suddenly seemed poor preparation for the reality. Brandon leant forward to meet him and their lips brushed gently. It was the polar opposite of the crushing assault of the Expo but it still left Alan tingling as he pulled away a moment later.

“So, are we good?”

Alan felt Brandon’s hands reach out and take hold of his hips, gently pulling him forwards until he was sat straddled across his lap. “I think we’re more than good, rocket boy.”

Alan smiled as a warm glow filled him. He leant in again, a little more confidently this time, continuing the kiss that he now knew they both welcomed. A warm tongue swiped across his lips and he readily granted entry, happy to let Brandon take the lead as he gave in to the desires that until now had only been played out in his head.

He ran his hands through Brandon’s hair and was rewarded with a stirring beneath him that suggested Brandon enjoyed the feeling very much indeed. His own body tensed in response, the sensation sent his head into overdrive but this was unknown territory and he was both nervous and excited about where things might lead.

Sensing the tension Brandon broke off from the kiss. “You okay?” He worried that the young Tracy was already having regrets, his actions were so chaste and not at all like the fans Brandon was used to relieving his frustrations with. But then this was pretty different for him too, it wasn’t often that he had feelings invested in these encounters.

“I’m fine,” Alan’s hands dropped to his shoulders, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, “this is all just a little new.” He flushed slightly at the admission of his inexperience.

Realisation hit that it wasn’t just the concept of ‘them’ that was new to Alan. “Oh...you mean?” The sight of Alan biting nervously on his lower lip, unable to meet his eye, gave him silent acknowledgement.

“Not a lot of opportunity when you're related to everyone on the island.” There, he’d said it. Brandon was probably going to think he was a right idiot.

Brandon’s fingers skittered upwards along the line of Alan’s ribs, breaking the tension and causing him to squirm. “Damn you’re cute when you blush. How the hell did I get so lucky?”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, why would I?” Brandon snorted, “But we can take things slow if you want.”

In answer he found Alan’s hands tangled in his hair again, the fingers carding through, nails gently scratching against his scalp in a way that had him moaning. He might be a novice but he was a quick learner. Teeth clashed together as both decided at the same moment that they’d had enough of talking.

Brandon’s own hands roved upwards, sliding under the hem of Alan’s t-shirt, rucking up the material as they travelled up his back, strong fingers tracing up the line of his spine causing Alan to shiver in delight. The shirt suddenly felt far too warm and constricting, his skin yearning for more touch and the material was just a hindrance to that. He broke the kiss for a moment and leant back slightly.

"Mind if I…?" he let the question hang unfinished but the intention was clear as he grasped the hem, pausing for an answer.

"Whatever you want is good with me, rocket boy. We can stop this at any time though, just say the word."

A moment later and Alan was ripping the hem upwards, getting slightly tangled in his haste to shuck the garment off.

The sight of the exposed torso normally covered by a shirt or encased in body armour, stretched out in front of him and showing off every sculpted muscle, brought out the devil Brandon and he planted a kiss on the bare chest then flicked a tongue over a nipple in a way that had the sensitive bud stiffening in an instant. He worried that he’d gone too far and messed things up again but the burning eyes that met his own when Alan had finally freed himself and thrown the shirt to the floor showed that Alan’s mind had clearly gone to the same place his had.

For Alan the feeling of Brandon touching him, kissing him, was awakening all his senses and setting his nerve endings on fire. His body was crying out for more and all thoughts of taking it slow were long gone. Even the undercurrent of fear of doing or saying the wrong thing had been fairly successfully shoved to the back of his mind.

Brandon remembered his own early experiences, the flood of hormones finally getting a chance at release and that overwhelming desire to touch and be touched. It could be so easy to take advantage but he didn't want Alan to end up with any regrets. He wanted this to be a relationship that meant something, not one that turned sour with broken trust. He'd crashed into Alan's life, literally, and then Alan had crashed into his heart in a way he had never expected; he really didn't want to mess this up. One thing he knew for sure though, the chair really wasn't designed for two.

"Al," he mumbled into Alan's collar bone as he trailed kisses from neck to shoulder, "can we move somewhere more comfortable?" Alan's slender form might be light but he was still starting to lose circulation to his legs.

"Oh God, am I hurting you?" Alan pulled away, the devastation etched across his face.

His concern was touching and Brandon was quick to give a reassuring grin. "I'm fine, honest. I just thought we could have more fun over there," he nodded towards the bed, "but only if you want to."

Sliding backwards off his lap, Alan pulled Brandon upright and allowed Brandon to lead him the few steps towards the bed. He sat down and watched wide eyed as Brandon pulled off his own shirt before joining him.

Alan shyly reached out and stroked the exposed skin, tracing his fingers down Brandon's sternum, ghosting fingers around the outlines of pecs honed by years climbing mountains and riding the slopes. He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening, that Brandon could be interested in him in this way.

Brandon sat there, enjoying the sensations as Alan explored, that was until Alan raked his nails against his scalp again and primal instincts kicked in. They tumbled back onto the mattress, Alan ending up bottom of the pile, pinned down the Bear. Hungry mouths sought each other out again and hands roved, driven by pure lust. Brandon ground his hips downwards and Alan could clearly feel the solid bulge which matched his own. Even through several layers of material the feeling was enough to white out Alan’s thoughts for a moment and he gasped as his whole body felt electrified.

Neither heard the door.

The voice that cut across the room was stern, causing their heads to whip round in shock. Twin blushes formed at being caught, almost literally, with their pants down.

“Alan, Brandon, get dressed. You’re late for dinner.”

The commander of International Rescue did not look impressed.

-TBC-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Brandon Berrenger #SpaceBear #SpaceBear ship #rare pair #indulgent fluff

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exchonoir · 4 years

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Wouldn’t call it a mistake

Five years ago you had a very spicy night with Gibbs, and the next morning he made sure you knew it was a one time thing kind of mistake. That became a problem when two months later you found out you were pregnant, you knew you couldn’t tell Gibbs. In your mind it would be better if you took time off when you started showing and just kept it underwraps. You talked to Vance about it, of course leaving out the fact that the father worked in the building, and you both agreed you would be put on desk work. Then you hit five months, and you couldn’t wear loose blouses to hide it, and you asked Vance for a temporary transfer to the NOLA office. Pride could keep a secret, and he helped you for the rest of your pregnancy, even helped you for the first year of raising your son. Then you packed up and went back to DC, your family was there and was willing to watch Mason when you needed.

That brought you to today, so far everything was going smoothly, Mason was in school and you were both thriving. You felt guilty of course, every time you looked at Gibbs or your son you knew you were keeping them from each other. You hadn’t even given Gibbs a chance or a decision to be a father, you took it away from him for five years. The thought about telling him had passed through your mind you were just unsure about what would happen. Unfortunately the universe was tired of your little games.

“Mom!” A small voice shouted from the elevator. You choked on your coffee before turning to the elevator to see Mason, and your mother walking very fast. “Mom? Oh. Hello Mrs. (y/l/n).” Tony said with a very confused look. Everything you had built was starting to crumble because everyone was looking at the little boy, with bright blue eyes and dark hair, round the corner. You stood up quickly, and quickly walked towards them picking Mason up quickly before ushering your mother to an interrogation room. “Mom we talked about this, Mason can’t be here.” You spoke in a hushed tone, running your fingers through his hair. “I know and I told him that but he had a bad day and really wanted to see you. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, I also have an appointment so he needs to stay for an hour tops.” With a sigh you nodded, and let your mom out. “Well chickpea, I guess it’s time to meet my team, and then you can tell me what’s wrong.” You watched his face light up and you set him down and grabbed his hand. It was now or never, carefully you lead him back to the bullpen, and sat him on your desk.

“Ah (y/n)! You’re back, uh, mind introducing us to your little friend.” You glared at Tony, the man just knew how to press buttons without noticing. “This is Mason, my son. He had a bad day so he will be here for an hour.” Was all you said before sitting in your chair and signing into the computer. It was quiet for a moment before Mason spoke up, “ your eyes look like mine, so you’re cool.” Gibbs smirked before titling his head and saying, “Why don’t I show you around for a little, if your mother agrees of course.” You nodded, and helped Mason off the desk before watching him walk off holding his dads hand. Once they were out of sight you turned to the other three, “ask away. I know you have questions.”

They glanced at each other before they rushed you with questions. “How old is he?” “How come we didn’t know about him until now?” “Is that why you left that one time?” “Who’s his dad, and do we know him?” Once you thought they had let it all out you took a glance around. “He’s five, so yes he is the reason I went to work for Pride. I didn’t tell you guys because it came as a surprise and I knew once you guys knew I would have to tell his dad, and yes McGee, you all know his dad.” You smiled at them before turning back to your computer. For Bishop and McGee, it was an easy guess as to who it was but Tony took way longer. Gibbs, and Mason had returned by the time Tony had shouted, “Holy shit, no fucking way.” That promptly earned him a smack to the from Gibbs, and a “Tony there’s a kid in the room.” From you.

An hour had passed and your mother had returned to pick up Mason. Gibbs helped him repack his bag and you waved them off before letting out a sigh. “Think we need to talk, in my office.” Gibbs said before walking to the elevator and pressing the button. You knew this day was coming, and yet you were certainly about to shit yourself once you stepped into the elevator. You turned to face him before looking down at the ground, “look, I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, give me a sign or a hint. Why didn’t I get a chance?”

“You said it was a mistake so I thought you wouldn’t want to be apart of his life. I wanted to tell you, Pride wanted to but I begged him to wait until I was ready.” You glanced up at him to try and get a reading of how he was feeling. He was quiet for a while, as if he was thinking of what could fix the situation. “I thought you wouldn’t want to keep seeing each other. We weren’t exactly sober, and I thought it would make it easier but if that’s my son I deserved to know.” His voice was cracking which made you reach out to grab his arm. “He’s yours, and I want you there Jethro. It wasn’t a mistake for me, I got the best thing in the world out of it.” Was all you could say to him, hoping that it would start the healing process for both of you.

He nodded before reaching over and pressing the button and starting the elevator back up. Nothing else was said, and you went back to your desk confused but no longer feeling guilty. Work went as work does and soon everyone was going home, and surprisingly Gibbs left before everyone else, leaving your questions unanswered. The drive felt like it went on for years, but you were ready to cuddle with your son and but the day behind you.

It was a little after eight when the door bell had rung, and after making sure your son was safe you went to check the door. After taking a quick glance out of the peephole you pulled the door open and leaned against it. “I didn’t know what kind of toys kids liked or what kind of clothes he wore, but I got some stuff for my son.” You let out a small laugh and let Gibbs in, taking the bags from him. “Where did you even go to get this stuff?” You asked him as you pulled out small packages of toy boats, and a pair of small pajama pants. “I had some help, that’s why I left early. I know that I’m five years late but i want to be here (y/n), I want to know my son.” He spoke with the same firmness he did during cases. Right as you were about to speak a small voice cut you off, “mommy, you okay?” You turned around and looked at your son before picking him and turning back to Gibbs. “I want you to meet someone sweetie, someone you should have met.” You let out a sigh before pressing a small kiss to Masons head. “I meet him mommy, he has cool eyes.” He was so innocent, so pure. “Mason, this is your daddy.”

—————————-———

Let me know if you see room for improvement

#jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #ncis gibbs #ncis fanfiction #ncis #secret

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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (15)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 49.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"So," Phil starts, and then pauses. He has no real idea how to say this.

His parents wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts and his mum mutes the telly. Having their undivided attention doesn't really help, it just makes Phil sweat a bit. He can't even bring himself to sit down, too wired with anxious energy as he is.

The video has only been live for a day, but it's already one of Phil's most popular. People are clamoring in the comments for more; demands for proof and simple curiosity about what could explain his experiences. He's already had a call from Martyn about the benefits of going back and doing an update, but PJ and Sophie have put their two cents in as 'absolutely not'. Chris offered a don't care and then asked for Phil's mum's lasagna recipe.

Phil wants to stay. It's not so much about the mystery, for him, but he's pretty sure his friends and maybe even his brother already know that. He's got his own reasons for not buying a train ticket the moment the video went live and asking his divisive audience what they wanted him to do. Yeah, he'd been sort of hoping for this outcome.

He's not sure if he wants to stay for himself, for the stagnation that being here allows him, or if he wants to stay for deep dimples and a nice laugh. Probably a bit of column A and a bit of column B, if he's honest with himself.

"I uploaded the video on this case," Phil tells his parents. "And there were a lot of, um, unanswered questions. Because of that whole thing with the footage."

"Phil," his dad says, exasperation in his voice already.

"And that means more money from one case," Phil presses on, "because I don't have many expenses here and the ad revenue was really good in comparison to my last five videos. Martyn really thinks I should look into this some more. I promise I won't be here for months or anything, I just - just give me another week. Please, I just need a week."

Money talk usually gets his parents to back down a bit, but they exchange a long look between them that convinces Phil it isn't going to work this time. His mind is already whirring quickly, trying to settle on arguments that it thinks might win him this battle. He considers telling them that this is more than just a video to him, that his whole future feels like it's resting on this one mystery, but he has a suspicion that they wouldn't be very impressed with that lack of foresight. He's ready to bring out specific numbers when their silent communication breaks and his mum gives him a small smile.

"Phil," she says, echoing his dad with a bit more warmth and a lot more pity. "You know we need to talk about this, dear, why don't you sit down?"

He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets so they don't see the trembling. He's not scared, he's just anxious, and his brain and body are conspiring to make him feel like he's going to die if something unexpected happens.

Phil doesn't like change. He doesn't like seeing his childhood house like this, he doesn't like having his career up in the air, and he doesn't like the way his parents no longer trust him to do what's best for himself. The worst part is that he's not even sure they're wrong - Phil knows he isn't thinking logically right now, that Martyn is the one who even mentioned ad revenue while Phil was busy wondering how best to prove himself.

"I'm good," says Phil. He hopes that the nerves aren't as palpable as they feel to him.

"Okay, well," his mum says, briskly rearranging things on the coffee table like she has to be doing something with her hands while they talk about this. He's reminded a bit of Dan in the coffee shop, of Chris in the attic, and he wonders what it is about him that makes people need to split their focus like that. "Your dad and I have been talking."

"About how I need to grow up?" Phil offers, heart in his throat. It feels like he might laugh or cry at any moment. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"We're retiring, Phil," his dad says. That's not exactly news to Phil - he knows why they're selling the house, after all - but he bites his tongue and lets his dad speak. "We've understood the... unstable nature of your work for several years now, but we can't keep bailing you out whenever you have a bad month. You're a smart man and you've got a good degree, you should have something steadier under your belt."

"We love how creative you are," Phil's mum chimes in. It almost sounds like they've practiced this. Phil bites down harder. "And if you can channel that creativity in a way that isn't so dangerous, you'll have our full support."

Phil kind of wishes that he already had their full support, but he's already had this conversation with himself. The work isn't fun for him anymore, and the risk of getting arrested for trespassing isn't a low one. It's almost not worth it when he doesn't have that full-blown excitement about a case.

He doesn't need every haunt to have a nice ending wrapped up with a bow, but he does need to like the content he's producing. Otherwise there isn't any point to it.

Still. It sucks to hear.

Phil deflates a little bit. His automatic defensiveness that springs up whenever his parents start questioning his many bad decisions in life is fading to something that feels like bone-deep exhaustion. The anxiety is still there, thrumming under his skin, but there's nothing he can really do about that. The truth is that he's been feeling listless and defeated and trapped for a lot longer than he's been back in his parents' house. There's no real point in pretending otherwise.

"Give me a week," he repeats, quiet. "I want to finish this project either way, y'know? Just let me stay for the rest of this week and - and if it doesn't pan out, if I don't find anything new, then... then I'm done. I'll stop. I'll find something else."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" his mum asks. The relief that pulls at her shoulders and her pursed lips is enough for Phil to be sure.

"Yeah," says Phil. He gives them a little shrug. "I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I like making videos and exploring places with cool stories, and even talking to people has been getting better. But you're... you've got a point. I can't keep doing this forever. Not at the pace and quality I like to maintain. If this video goes well, it might help me break into a more diverse and less dangerous niche, which would make everyone happy, I think."

His dad nods at him. "Okay. You can stay until Sunday, because that's when we're going to the Isle. You can do whatever editing and post-production stuff you need to when you get back to Brighton. We'll expect a call when you know for sure what you're going to do, Phil."

Phil swallows, clenches his fists tighter in his pockets. "You'll be the first to know."

Nobody asks Phil to leave, but he can't stay in the aggressively neutral version of his parents' house and field their 'casual' questions about what sort of things he might want to do if YouTube doesn't work. He escapes to the city again, sending a message to Dan on the bus. Instead of asking if they want to hang out with him, he simply asks where he can meet them today. As if it's a given that they're going to be spending time together.

Maybe that's presumptuous of him, but Dan uses an exclamation mark when they reply, im at home!, so Phil thinks it's probably fine.

Dan meets him at the door this time, mid-ramble about the broken dishwasher in their flat as if social niceties are no longer expected of them. That suits Phil. He grins back at Dan and joins them in the small but tidy galley kitchen, letting Dan talk his ear off while they scrub at some discoloured Tupperware.

"Sorry," Dan interrupts themself, turning big and apologetic eyes on Phil like they've just registered that he's standing there. "I'm having a weird brain day. Bit all over the place, you know."

"That's fine," Phil says honestly. He smiles, because Dan doesn't look all that convinced by it. "No, really, I don't mind. I like listening to you talk."

The blush spreads across Dan's face too quickly for them to hide by turning away. They try, anyway, and Phil is left looking at their face in profile, turned down and rosy as it is. "Normally I at least break for breath. What's new with you?"

"Since two days ago?" Phil teases. Dan's dimple makes an appearance right before the smile splits their face, and Phil has to twist his own fingers together so he doesn't reach out and poke at it. He's still working through some stuff, still doesn't want to make any decisions about this without thinking it over carefully, but he's never been good at resisting temptation either. "Uh, not much. My parents are still on my case. I'm getting good feedback on the video, but you probably know that already."

"It was a good video," says Dan. They pause as they dry their big hands on an old tea towel. "I... appreciate you saying that stuff about me."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Dan meets his eyes again, almost stubbornly ignoring the colour in their own cheeks. "I can appreciate things that you think are true, dingus. Take the gratitude already."

Phil grins. "Never."

There are snacks after that and some video games that Phil loses spectacularly and some good ferret snuggles. As the afternoon turns to evening, Phil watches Dan rearrange some titles on the bookshelf as they chatter about one of their science-y classes, no longer self conscious about how much they're talking. He's sitting on Dan's soft, unmade bed with Pixel, who keeps rolling around in the sheets like she's trying to get comfortable.

Phil is already comfortable. It's hard for him to ignore that Dan's bedroom feels so much like a safe haven in the way that his old house no longer does.

At some point Dan gives up on whatever system they were trying to implement. They pick Tofu up off the floor and flop onto the bed with Phil, wiggling around in almost the exact same way Pixel had. Phil presses his lips together tightly so he doesn't laugh.

"I think that things can be improved," Dan is saying, and Phil tries to figure out if they're still talking about the environment or if Dan has picked up the loose thread from their earlier rant about Bethesda. Pixel and Tofu are both running around like Dan and Phil are just bony jungle gyms, and Dan barely even stutters when one of them steps on their nose. "Of course they can be improved, it's not something you just give up on when things get tough, but the problem is that the people in charge have to implement the changes that are necessary for improvement, and - ow, that's my ear, don't bite that - and, uh... where was I?"

"You were telling me about climate change," says Phil. "Or potentially Todd Howard's ambivalence towards a quote-unquote 'perfect game'. I honestly lost track."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Phil's anxiety rears its head for the first time since he got here, but luckily he hasn't stuck his foot in his mouth this time - Dan starts laughing, more or less cackling, and they roll closer to Phil to bury their face in a pillow.

Phil grins and reaches out to tug at one of Dan's curls, fascinated by the way it just springs back into place. He's done this to PJ once or twice or six times, but he's usually had a couple drinks before he resorts to it. Dan comes out of hiding with tears of laughter welling up in their pretty brown eyes and their dimples in full force, grinning up at Phil like he's the funniest person in the world.

"Those are both really important issues," Dan says, trying their best to sound deadpan when they're so obviously gleeful.

They wiggle around again and Phil says, "You look exactly like Pixel when you do that."

He's pretty sure that Dan honks at that, but he's immediately distracted by a ferret trying to bite his eyebrow.

This is good. Phil likes this. He's trying to dig himself out of the mindset that he'd backed himself into when he first started noticing Dan, because PJ might have had a point. Okay, so PJ definitely had a point, and Phil has been a bit of an idiot.

He won't know for sure how Dan feels about him being gay and uncompromising about that fact unless he asks, and he doesn't think he's ready to do that just yet. But there's a rainbow flag on Dan's wall and they don't consider themselves not not a guy, so... Phil thinks that maybe he's been assigning a strictness to Dan's own relationship to gender and sexuality that isn't actually there.

Dan is talking again, to their ferrets this time, and Phil is almost overwhelmed by the force of affection that washes over him now that he isn't trying so hard to hold it back. Dan's leg is pressed against his own and they're holding Pixel up like they're playing airplane with her and Phil likes them so goddamn much.

"Did you want to," Phil starts, interrupting Dan's musing about what goes on in a ferret's tiny brain. Dan looks up at him with such genuine happiness on their face that Phil's words stick in his throat. He should be asking if Dan wants to go out for dinner again or if they've seen whatever blockbuster action film is playing in cinemas this week, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. When Dan raises their eyebrows quizzically, what Phil ends up asking is, "Uh, come spend the night in the haunted house with me?"

Great. Real romantic.

Dan doesn't make a secret about how much they hate this plan. They say it over and over, but they don't take any of the outs that Phil offers them.

"I hate this plan," Dan says as they make a bunch of sandwiches. It seems like way too much for just the two of them, but Phil isn't about to say no to having a near endless supply of peanut butter and bread when they're stuck in a dusty attic again. "This is stupid. You should have just left it at the first video, Phil, that was fine."

"You don't have to come with me," Phil reminds them for the umpteenth time.

Dan glares. "No, I'm coming."

"You're a very complicated person," says Phil.

With a heavy sort of sigh, like they've been dealing with Phil for years instead of a week, Dan finally sets the peanut butter down. "Look," they say, pointing the dull knife at Phil for emphasis. "I can hate this plan and still want to make sure you don't get fucking arrested or possessed or trip down the stairs or something. PJ knows where I live."

"I think he'd be in the camp of me deserving it if I died in the Wilkins place," Phil says, his lips tugging into a grin. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan mutters. "Will you at least tell me why we're going back? I know you're fucking stubborn and all, but I didn't figure you for someone who beats dead horses."

"Oh, that's a terrible idiom," Phil says, mostly to himself. He reaches out to squeeze Dan's shoulder when he sees them get all huffy at the apparent avoidance. The tension leaving Dan's body under his palm is frustrating to feel, because there's nothing Phil wants more than to lean into it. The problem, of course, is that he really does need to talk to Dan before he starts trying to hug them in their own kitchen. Phil lets his hand drop awkwardly between them and shrugs. "Well, uh. This is the first time in a long time I've actually been excited about a project. And that makes me think that maybe I've worn out my welcome here. Not... not here like Manchester here, but here like... my job, here."

Dan leans their hip against the counter and looks at Phil with their brow all furrowed. "This is an ultimatum," they say. "Like, to yourself."

"Yeah," says Phil. "I need to solve this - or at least find something else that I can show to people. Because if I don't, then I need to actually look at myself and admit I'm not doing something I like anymore."

"It sounds like you're already looking at yourself," Dan says quietly.

"I guess."

"No, you are," Dan insists, their voice stronger now that they can assert an opinion. "Trust me, I'm a pro at unproductive self-reflection and existentialism. Who am I, what does it all matter, I know the song and dance. And I don't think that getting more footage is going to erase what you're already thinking, Phil. Tell me if I'm out of line, whatever, but if you want to do something else with your life then just do something else with your life."

The automatic defensiveness threatens to make Phil snap back at Dan that this isn't any of their business, but he's had a lot of practice in keeping his negative thoughts to himself. He gives Dan a little humourless smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're twenty-one," Phil says. "And a student. I don't really expect you to get it."

Dan puts their hands on their hips like they're settling in for a proper row, but instead they just say, "I know. I don't know what you're going through, sure, I doubt anyone knows what anyone else is going through at any time. And, yeah, I've got another year before I have to worry about my career. But I've made some fucking tough decisions in my life, mate. I dropped out of my law course after two lectures. I don't talk to my family anymore. I've tried on so many different names and labels that it would make your head spin. You don't like your job anymore, and one video isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, probably not." Phil looks down at their little collection of sandwiches, feeling lost and stubborn and a bit scared about how much Dan sees him. "But I have to try, y'know? I can't just give up. I have to try."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, Dan sighs.

"Okay. Put these in a container, we don't use unnecessary plastic in this flat. Just whatever they fit in. I'll make some coffee for the road and find our Scrabble board."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

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‘Tout oublier’

Title: ‘Tout oublier’ Square Filled: Crackship Ship: Jens Stoffels/Robbe Ijzermans Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied. Mostly longing and softness, no kissing or smut - only hinted at. Created for @skamevents

Notes: As a huge VDS and Sobbe supporter, I challenged myself to write something outside my own comfort zone. A crackship that I don’t entirely support, but hey, I tried my best! :) (Btw, who can spot the cameo?)

The title comes from an ‘Angèle’ song, a Belgian singer Luca referenced (and sang along with) in S2. I thought it fit this work like a glove.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. It’s about time that you showed up!”

A seemingly casual statement, answered by a mischievous smile. Long brown locks radiating a ‘I just got laid’ look, covered by a two sizes too big sweatshirt. Clearly not his own. Dark eyes anxiously darted towards his.

Oh yes, my dear, you are in so much trouble now.

“Robbe, what were you thinking?! You just went with the guy, like that, without saying anything to us. We couldn’t find you anywhere! You didn’t answer any texts or calls, we had no clue where you were! He could’ve been a rapist for all we know! How could you be so irresponsible?!”

Wow, back up there, turbo. You need to relax.

He slowly lifted up his hand to pinch his nose, in a desperate attempt to relax. Breath in, breath out. Damn, it wasn’t his intention going off like that, especially since he looked like a parent now. Robbe didn’t deserve this. Not only because they were best friends, but also roommates. Broerrrs, but there was still a line.

Don’t go there, Jens. You’re not responsible for everything he does.

He just wished the boy would listen. It’s a harsh world out there, especially for LGBT youngsters. And they didn’t know the neighborhood that well. They’ve only just moved in, like, a month ago. The boysquad knew a thing or two about Antwerp, but Ghent? A whole other ballpark. Even though, you know, the fishing pond was bigger here than it ever was in Antwerp, he had to admit.

Soooo not the point, Stoffels.

Robbe pulled out a smile, watery smile. He knew exactly what he was doing, with the innocent Bambi look. A hand on his shoulder, a reassuring nod, yet with a hint of irritation.

“Yeah, okay, Jens, I’m sorry I didn’t leave a message. But if I wanted to have sex with some random dude, then that’s my choice. Something I decided. What I wanted to to! Alright? I don’t want people parenting me. I already have a father, well, only my father, but-”

The smaller boy paused for a while. A glimpse of hurt clouded his face, for just a second. Just enough to weaken Jens’ anger. He knew how hard it all had been, coming out in the midst of his father’s mental health. Oliver had worked too hard for his family. To keep it all together. Completely burned out, the specialist had said. He kept trying to provide a good home for his son, despite every financial struggle they faced in the past.

Jens knew Robbe blamed himself for this. Even though it was never his fault, the scars were there nevertheless. He sighed and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.”

Ever since high school, he had felt responsible for the boy. Trying to compensate for everything people did that made it all harder. So when Robbe asked him to be his roommate, he said ‘yes’ on the spot. Now he only needed to learn about their boundaries, where they lie and what they were.

Since Robbe walked into the room, he had felt something stir in his stomach. Relief? What else could it have been? That the other was safe, at home. Or what you could call their home. A four-by-four dorm room, entirely filled with boys’ sweatshirts, leftover pizza boxes and mismatched furniture.

Yet, something still gnawed in the inside. To be honest, he never knew Robbe was the type of guy for random hook-up with a random stranger. Jens always thought that was more his forté. Robbe was the romantic, doe-eyed boy with the heart on his sleeve. So maybe Jens didn’t want to be left behind? Especially now that they’re both out and proud, with way more game than their small town high school.

Was it that what’s bothering him?

“Hmmm, whatever, bro. Next time, chill out. I’d rather not tell you every time I go with a guy. It’s bad enough that we share a space with barely any breathing room. I’ll be hearing too much of you anyways. And vice versa”, Robbe huffed. He pushed his roommate out of the way and started to undress for bed, before flopping down. Almost passing out immediately.

Jens’ features started to soften a little. Gosh, it was sometimes unnerving how easily Robbe could get away with things, by pulling his infamous puppy eyes and awkward jokes. It turned everyone’s insides into mush.

Nobody could stay mad at him, ever. His roommate was wired like that. So it also didn’t come as a shock when Robbe mumbled the following:

“I still have his number, by the way, if you would like to ‘have a go’ at it”

What did came as a shock, however, was how fast a pillow could hit a face that didn’t expect retaliation.

The topic of hook ups came up again a few weeks after that.

“So, Jens, if you had to choose: would you rather kiss a boy or a girl? I mean, you do have a preference, right?”, Moyo coughed out with great effort. This question was instantly answered by a bitch slap to the head, followed by a collective fit of laughter.

The boys were lying on the common room floor, in the midst of their building, passing around the joint. They had been binging on chocolate bars before. Empty wrappers still scattered around their heads, close enough to ball one up and hit Moyo. He deserved it. The boy wasn’t exactly known for his friendly behavior. On the contrary.

“What kind of question is that? I don’t care. So why would you?”, Jens answered hazily. He’d already grown tired of these questions in the first months of his coming out, when everyone walked up to him to ask really personal stuff. ‘Did you have sex with boys before?’ ‘Are you sure that you are bisexual and not just homosexual?’ ‘You’re now attracted to everyone, right?’

“I don’t, bro. I’m just asking, because I have some options for you. As in, hot girls’ numbers in my phone and friends who know hot single gays. So, if you’re want, just say so. I can hook you up with anyone. Male or female. I mean, it’s been ages, right? When was the last time you got laid?!”

Another laugh accompanied Moyo’s loud howl. “It’s true, you know, I’ve gotten more D than you in these last few months.” Gosh, Robbe was such a traitor. Jens sighed and pulled himself up by the elbows, looking around the group of misfits. Aaron was already dosing off next to him. No surprise there, he never could handle his weed.

Especially Dutch marihuana.

Out of nowhere, Moyo started humming a popular rap song, instantly forgetting what he asked minutes before. Robbe joined in by tapping his fingers on his bleached jeans. A burgundy beanie covered his eyes as well as the messy mop of hair. Jens found himself more and more fascinated by his best friend’s locks lately, ever since he started growing it past his shoulders again. He never noticed how nicely they framed his face.

“I can fix my own hook ups, broerrrs. I don’t need any help.”, Jens huffed out eventually after being distracted by the sudden change.

“Don’t bullshit me, Jens, you don’t even hang out with anyone but us lately!”, the brunette retaliated. He immediately snatched the joint out of Jens’ hands, blowing some smoke clouds into the air. Jens caught himself looking at it.

The smoke...

The eyes...

The lips...

Euhm, what? What the hell was this? Since when I stare at my roommate’s lips? Okay, maybe, maybe I do need some relief after all. That could be the only reason I want to stare at Robbe.

Right?

His mind was still frazzled, but he was eventually able to huff out an agreement towards Moyo. The latter one pulled out his phone immediately to check out the options. A tall leggy blonde? A beautiful chocolate colored man? A petite pixie-cut brunette? Wow, Moyo didn’t overreact when he said that he knew people.

They finally settled on a guy Jens had spotted in the local skatepark before. A somewhat rugged, beach blonde with beautiful eyes. Leather jacket, artsy vibe? He seemed cool. Moyo’s friend Noor had been to school with this dude. It wasn’t necessarily his type, but hey, it was just for one night. Nothing more.

So it was a date.

Kinda.

Then why was his brain still picturing smoke on a certain someone's lips?

The thought still occupied his mind a couple of days later. Jens never knew how this situation came to be. How he suddenly felt something towards Robbe. Attraction. Because that’s exactly what it was. There was no way of denying it. He had felt it for weeks, maybe even months, without acknowledging it. He couldn’t be feeling this. It was wrong, so completely wrong!

Robbe was Robbe, he was like a brother, he was his best friend and roommate.

Okay, there was only one way to get over someone, Moyo always said:

“Get under someone!”

So why didn’t he?

The cute guy in front of him was the perfect distraction. He was a smooth talker, a sight for sore eyes and surely knew his way around guys as well as girls. He was pansexual, he explained, gender didn’t matter to him. When he liked someone, he liked someone. Didn’t think twice about it. And he seemed to like Jens. Enough to kiss him. Enough to go back to his dorm room.

Except...

Something in Jens closed down the moment they arrived at the door. His date seemed to have felt his hesitation, immediately stopping the trail of kisses from his ear to his shoulder. The air between them seemed to cool down in mere seconds, filled with insecurity and unanswered questions. A leather jacket was the only sound heard in the heavy silence.

“You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Jens’ eyes said it all. He knew that he didn’t need to tell the stranger what he felt. People always claimed the dark haired boy was an open book, which was a blessing as well as a burden. God, why couldn’t he just do this? Just be with a guy, any guy, especially one as attractive as this one and get it all over with? Stop being such a frikking dumbo and take him inside!

But he didn’t move. He wasn’t truthful to himself, to the other boy, to Robbe. He needed to end this before it even started. It wasn’t right. So he slowly backed away from the beach blonde and said his fast goodbyes along with a string of sorrys. The other seemed to accept this sudden change of behavior, with a knowing glint in his eyes. As if he knew how much of a mess his head felt. As if he’d experienced something like this before.

Once inside, he’d only wished he had stayed with his date. Robbe was lying on the floor, seemingly upset, clinging to an old stuffed animal. Red rimmed eyes. His hair a total mess. Sobbing like a baby. His own heart shattered on the spot.

A chernobyl explosion.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”, he whispered silently.

He tried to look inside those brown eyes he liked so much. The ones who moved his world, made him feel all things at once. He needed to see what caused this distress. Because Robbe didn’t cry. Ever. He didn’t cry when his mom left at age 10, he didn’t cry when he father got diagnosed at age 15 and he didn’t even cry when his grandparents called him hurtful names when he came out to them at age 17.

Jens slowly crawled towards the smaller boy, hauling his body off the floor and cradling his head into his arms. The soft touch confused his heart. He knew Robbe was able to hear the thrumming beat, but he could care less at the moment. His boy was crying. His boy needed reassurance. So he held him tight and listened. Listened to the hiccups and the slurring speech, the wails and the cries. Half an hour later, Robbe was finally able to answer the question.

“Dad... he couldn’t deal with me leaving. Broke down completely. He’s inside the hospital, psychiatric ward, Jens. They don’t know if he’ll ever heal from this. He’s empty. He’s clinically depressed. He doesn’t even know how to feel love anymore. I’ve got nobody to love me anymore. And it’s all my fault, I left him...”

The sobbing continued at a louder volume. The beautiful brown eyes filled with such pain, it made Jens sick to his stomach. He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled the boy out of his arms, his hands firmly gripping Robbe’s upper arms. It’ll bruise, but he didn’t want to let go. Robbe needed to know.

“Robbe, listen to me! Clinically depressed doesn’t mean your dad doesn’t love you anymore, okay?! Your dad is going through a hard time in his life. He probably struggling with this for a while and it only now faced the world. It’s not your fault! He held on as long as he did, because of you, Robbe. Because you were the light in his life. You still are! You always are, for everyone I know. For your family, for your friends, for me. Especially for me... Gosh, I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

Oh my god.

What did he say?!

Fock, fock, fock.

Oh no. Robbe suddenly looked at him with a puzzled expression. He saw the mechanics whirring inside his head, linking every accidental touch with his upped heartbeat, every soft sentence with his longing stares. Jens knew he went too far. It’ll only take a couple of seconds to realize how much the raven haired boy had concealed. From the world, from Robbe and from himself. He loved him? Really? Since when?

Robbe had pulled away quickly, like a deer caught in headlights. Making his heart ache for a do-over, another chance to explain everything. To come clean and tell him it was a mistake saying this. But before he could say a word, he felt a slight pressure on his chin. Lifting it up. It was the smaller boy again, sitting up this time.

Brown eyes stared into his, like he wanted to communicate something without forming a sound. They didn’t need any words. They would never. The sorrow was forgotten, the love was touched. The heart was healed again. Their sweet touches, their soft sighs, their teasing glances. Between them and their feelings.

Everything was said that night.

It was always them.

Against the rest of the world.

Only the two of them.

And the next morning?

Well, the next morning,

they never spoke of it again.

Everything was forgotten.

Tout oublier.

Pour y croire, il faudrait tout oublier.

#wtfock #wtfam #skambingo #don't judge me okay? I'm trying something new #something fun

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keebee-art · 5 years

Text

Finding someone new

Chapter 1

“ Calm down yellow!” Blue’s voice rang through the trial as she took yellow’s hand to prevent her from poofing everyone present . “This trial is meaningless and was a waste of time!” Yellow said irritated looking at the other diamond with a annoyed look on her face, this trial shouldn’t have even happened, rose quartz is right in front of them , she should just shatter her right now. Steven sweats in fear while the diamonds argued paying him no attention, ‘I have to get out of here!’ Steven thinks looking around for an escape, he can’t just sit there and wait for them to stop fighting. His eyes land on blue’s palanquin. ‘There!’ He looks back at the diamonds to see that they’re are still distracted,to which thankfully still are, he then runs from his spot and towards the palanquin. Once he reaches inside he can hear yellow and blue notice his disappearance. “Where do you think your going?!” He can here yellow’s voice getting closer and the stomps of her boots get louder and louder.

‘I need to leave now!’ He looks everywhere frantically and finds the hand button and quickly presses his hand onto it. The huge throne like structure clumsily wobbled about when Steven activated it. Yellow diamond used her hand, shooting a yellow bolt of what appeared to be lightning at the palanquin to stop it from moving but Steven used his clumsiness to narrowly avoid yellow’s attack. The palanquin then stepped back quickly going backwards and straight into a wall, destroying it, . ‘Hang in there!’ Steven says to himself as he and the palanquin fall through and drop down from the building he was just in for his ‘trial’ .

“There’s no escape or running here traitor, you’re on OUR world now”

He faintly heard yellow say as it trailed off during the end. Steven then looked around and saw the situation he’s in, ‘I need to get off now or something reallllyy bad is gonna happen!!’ He then looks at the opening of the palanquin and breathes in and out slowly. Hesitating on whether or not he should go along to what he’s currently thinking he should do,he thinks for a couple more seconds then makes his decision ‘it’s now or never!’ He takes a few steps back then runs straight towards the opening , with a determined look on his face he jumps off the palanquin, using his floating powers and his hands to grab a hold of a nearby bar tube that’s connected to other tubes. He then looks down to see the palanquin crash to the ground a minute later. He takes a breath of relief before getting up on the tube and on solid ground. He closes his eyes and sighs, ‘I escaped...’ he then reopens his eyes and looks around taking in the view of homeworld, wayyy different from the world he knew and lived on. ‘Now what?’ Right when he asked himself that question he can hear a low grumbling from behind him, he turns and notices two flying cone like objects flying towards him. He gasps he turns perfectly still ‘Maybe if I’m really still they won’t notice me, like that movie with the dinosaurs!’ But that thought was short lived as the cone like tech scanned his body finding his gem as it glowed pink, “Okay maybe not like dinosaurs!” He yelps as he dodged a beam from the gem destroying technologies,

“Runnn!” Steven says to himself running in a random path , the flying cones chase after him.

Steven starts to sweat, trying to go around corners to lose them but they were slowly creeping up behind him. Steven starts to panic, ‘what do I do? What do I do? I’m so scared, I don’t want to be alone..! Idontwanttodie’ his panic turns into hope as he sees a warp pad in the distance, bigger than the usual ones he’s seen on earth. ‘Yes! Thank you luck!’ He uses his powers and leaps towards to warp pad as a quicker way to create distance between him and the cones of death. He jumps on and spreads his arms out,

“Please , please warp me very far from here!” And just as the gem shattering robonoids were about to blast him the warp activated and he was floating in a warp tunnel by himself .

Steven sighs again in relief “this day has been stressful..” he just wanted to go home , eat a lot of food, go take a shower and get ready for bed. But...where is he going anyway??? That question gets finally answered as he successfully warped far from homeworld and into....

A unhealthy looking garden?

“P-pink? Is t-that really y-you..??”

‘Pink?’ Steven’s eyes wonder around to the voice and found a little pink gem standing in the middle of this worn,dead garden with feet covered in vines looking a bit unclean as her hands were clasped together in front of her.

He looked in her eyes that once was filled with hope and desperation only to quickly be replaced with disappointment and sadness. “O-oh hi, I'm Steven. I didn’t mean to barge in and bother you and your..garden. Are...are you okay?” Steven slowly gets off the warp pad and takes a few steps towards the pink gem, he didn’t know who she was but something pulled him into going a bit closer to her. Maybe it was the fact that she was all alone in this dead overgrown garden looking sad and possibly abandoned or the fact that the look in the gem’s eyes told him not to go. The pink gem let out a forced laugh, “I’m fine, I’m just playing a game with my best friend! A game, just a game, a fun game, and...and I’m winning!. I think.. I’m doing it right I know I am. once she comes back we can play even more games!, once..she comes back..” the pink gem’s face flashes with doubt but quickly masks it, but Steven saw it, he opens his mouth to say something but stops last second. What can he say? He was already invading her privacy by suddenly being here.

“I’m spinel, pink’s best friend!” The pink gem, whose name is spinel, introduces standing still not moving a muscle. Steven looked over her again, it looked like she has been standing there for a long time. “Pink?” Steven asks out loud

“Why pink diamond of course!”

Oh no... how long has she been standing there? Pink diamond has been gone for a while from what’s he heard. Steven started to feel sympathetic towards spinel. ‘Should I help her? Can I even help her?’ Steven started to gather his thoughts to find the right words to say to her, “I’m sorry for being here uninvited, I was running away from some..robots. Can you tell me where I am?” He asks her looking around at what he guessed was once a beautiful garden. Spinel quickly replied to his question “why pink and i’s garden! A place where pink can be happy and play with her best friend, me. I have a feeling she’s gonna come back soon!” She answers in an over enthusiastic tone, but her eyes didn’t match it, she looked tired, even when gems don’t need sleep. Steven started to think, he is currently on a small rock with a garden on it, not on homeworld. But he knew he’d have to go back to homeworld, the last time he checked the galaxy warp on earth is broken from when garnet smashed it so he can’t just warp there. And this place doesn’t have a ship, not like he could pilot it anyway. Homeworld guaranteed has ships, different kinds of ships. maybe some gem can help him out? Topaz is evidence that there could be good gems on homeworld, he could find her but that would probably be impossible.. Steven then realized he was still invading spinel’s garden without permission, “oh sorry, can I stay here for a little while? I don’t have anywhere to go..” Steven asks her while rubbing the back of his head, a little nervous she might say no. Spinel looked at him with slight surprise, “you want to stay...here?” Steven nodded, “if you don’t mind?” spinel could hardly contain her excitement, she’s been alone here for about 6,000 years with out any contact from a gem, but now, Steven is here and his presence alone made her feel better than before.

“I don’t mind! And I’m sure pink won’t mind if- when she comes back.” Steven let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding in, “thanks” he walked up beside her and sat down, it became silent once again. Maybe spinel can pilot a ship? He was already planning on trying to help her, he just didn’t know how to tell her that her best friend has been..well...shattered..which he is beginning to doubt since the trial, but it made no sense at the same time. If it wasn’t rose who shattered her maybe it was the diamonds just trying to cover it up? But then why did they act like that during the trial? Could they have been acting? But that would have been unnecessary.. Steven gripped his head as it started to hurt from all the unanswered questions, he didn’t want to tell spinel what he was doubting, he wanted to know for sure, the rest of the crystal gems always hides stuff from him, stuff they think he wouldn’t understand, it’s just so frustrating. But for now he won’t think about it, for now he’ll try and come up with a plan to get spinel to leave with him and then from there how to make it home.

#finding someone new #part 1 #au #su #spinel #steven #universe #steven universe

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thekingdomofclover · 4 years

Note

Yo Again! How are you over there? Thanks for answering my previous ranking ask... and here’s another one: Would you mind if you talk about your personal thoughts and ranking of each and every Black Clover arc? Thanks and have a beautiful day/nigh! :)

I’m so sorry. I can’t believe how long I’ve left this unanswered. I tried answering it a little while ago but I accidentally left the page and lost everything I wrote OTL. But I’m doing it now! I’m going based mostly on the anime even though it’s almost caught up to the manga because I don’t want to have too many spoilers in here. Anyway….

Black Clover Arcs Ranked!

#1 Is easily the Royal Knights arc! I love a good tournament/exam arc in pretty much any series. I love getting introduced to cool new characters (*cough*Zora*cough*) and being able to see everyone get to show off their magic, especially up against people they wouldn’t ordinarily fight. This arc gave us that awesome fight between Rill and Yuno, that amazing moment where Noelle beat Solid, the Langris vs. Finral drama and that epic moment where the Black Bulls rush in to protect Finral ;_;. Also, seeing Charmy sit in Julius’s lap still warms my heart.

#2 Is probably the very first arc of the series where Asta and Yuno first join the magic knights. I think I mostly just loved getting introduced to the Black Bulls. I feel like they were all at their wildest in the very beginning (not that they’ve toned it down that much, but maybe because it was new, it was a lot to take in). Plus this arc establishes Asta and Yuno’s relationship and their motivations and when Asta saves Yuno from Revchi, I feel like it really sets up the tone of their rivalry and friendship for the rest of the series.

#3 The name of this arc was just arc 10 on the wiki, but that small period of time right after the Reincarnation arc, where Asta goes on trial. I thought it was really interesting how the “justice” system in the Clover Kingdom works even though it’s awful. I also like seeing the aftermath of all the fighting and stuff that had happened before it. I just wish it was a bit longer because there are a lot of characters that I had questions about and they still haven’t shown back up in the manga.

#4 Is the Hot Springs Training Camp arc! We get to see my wife Mereoleona for the first time (and what an introduction that was) and we get some nice back story and character development for Noelle! It was also neat to see the Star Festival at the beginning of this arc. I want to see more of the Clover Kingdom’s holidays and customs and things like that, I hope we get more!

#5 Is the Witches Forest arc! We get to learn about my other wife Vanessa who also gets a neat power up and a little character development. Also it was lovely to see how much the Black Bulls love Asta and how much they were willing to do to help him. But I have mixed feelings about this arc because I found the Witch Queen herself confusing? Like I get that supposed to be cold and mysterious, but I don’t exactly understand what she wants? I probably have to watch this arc again, but I can’t really recall why she imprisoned Vanessa or why she was so obsessed with perfection. I also want to know what the difference between witches and other female mages are, if there even is one.

#6 Is the Reincarnation Arc. This arc had a lot going on which is exciting, but if you’re watching it week to week it can be a bit hard to remember and follow what’s going on. But we get a rematch with Finral and (sort of) Langris and I loved the way that ended. Here we get the big reveal about William and Patri was well executed I think. And losing Julius hurt so bad, I was not okay for a while. I was actually praying they would do something crazy to bring him back in the series and I got my wish thankfully, though definitely not the way I was expecting. I would like to marathon this arc so I can absorb the events a little bit better.

#7 For me is the Seabed Temple arc! It was really exciting to see other parts of the kingdom and other kingdoms that exist in this world. Plus Kahono was so cute and I love that she and Noelle became friends. I felt like the fight with Vetto was a bit long though. I tend to zone out during long fight scenes and there were multiple episodes that were just this fight and this arc was pretty early on. Also Gifso’s game was a little odd; I didn’t dislike it, but it just seemed like a strange way for him to decide if someone could have the magic stone or not. This arc also had the best ending theme that still gets me teary-eyed.

#8 is the Royal Capital Arc! I was happy that Asta’s accomplishments had been recognized by the Wizard King, but I feel like Julius had to know that everyone else at the banquet or whatever it was going to be weird about it. Luckily Asta can brush that off easily. We get to learn more about Noelle here too, but it’s through Nozel, Solid, and Nebra being awful to her which I’m still mad about. We meet (part of) the Eye of the Midnight Sun in this arc too which was exciting, but we don’t get to learn a whole lot about them yet.

#9 is the Dungeon Exploration arc! So, a little story. I didn’t actually start Black Clover from the beginning and I didn’t really have much interest in it when I heard about it, but I was waiting for something else to come on Toonami one night and I happened to catch a bit of Luck’s backstory which was shown in this arc and I was hooked. I was so mad at Luck’s mother and I wanted to jump in and hug him even though I barely knew any of these characters at the time. But it was done so well that I went from not caring at all about this show to wanting to protect everyone in it in just a few short episodes. By the end of this arc, I loved Mimosa, Yuno, Asta, Noelle, Luck, Klaus like my own family.

#10 and the last one for now is the Eye of the Midnight Sun arc where Gauche goes to visit Marie at the orphanage and Neige and his brother lure the children away to steal their magic. While this arc is last on my list, I don’t really dislike it. I’m just still very uncomfortable with the way that Gauche is with Marie in this arc. It’s just too much. Also Noelle following Asta around and being really jealous of Rebecca was a lot too. I do love Sister Theresa though, I’m glad someone is there to yell at Gauche. That being said, I think Gauche’s mirror magic is really cool and was really interesting to see it in action. I also felt really bad for Neige and I’m glad he’s getting a chance to redeem himself. I hope we get to see more of him soon too!

#Thank you for sending this! and I'm sorry once again for taking so long;;;#blackbullshideout

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bnhascribbles · 5 years

Text

Stars

Todoroki x Reader

Fluff, Kinda Hurt/Comfort (?), INSPIRED by Dialogue Prompt (60.); This started as just a blurb and grew from there? I live for pining sort of stuff, though I don’t know if this really applies in this scenario.

Words: 1.7K

Warnings: VERY brief mention of childhood abuse/neglect

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always hated the stars. People liked to talk about how beautiful they seemed, shimmering up there, hanging like far-off dreams in a boundless sky. Where most saw dreams, though, you saw broken glass–glass shimmered too, after all. Smashed beer bottles splayed out over dark kitchen tile, waiting to be scooped up by tiny hands. A window, shattered in anger. Shards of mirror reflecting back the image of a child, trembling, whimpering, pleading with the figure that looms over them, even though they know their tears will earn them no mercy.

Not all people think the stars are all that special. Just like not all childhoods are full of love and not all parents are the patient pillar of strengths they should be.

Todoroki understood the latter of those truths. Implicitly. Even if he didn’t share your distaste for those swirling balls of gas littering the night sky, he at least knew what it meant to be afraid, and not just in a childish sort of way. He understood the fear that lingered, even in the absence of immediate danger–the nightmares that endured long after the monsters, once terrifying, shrank back into mere humans.

Maybe that’s why he was so quick to answer your calls–to meet you anytime, anyplace, no matter how late it was or how absolutely irrational your concerns sounded. He was your tether, the only person that could keep you grounded during your bouts of rage, paranoia, and worry. Even in the moments when he doesn’t have words to calm you–when all he can offer is his presence–just being near him is enough. For the longest time, you aren’t sure why that is. Then, as your frantic I need your help’s shift into calmer, more deliberate I want to see you’s, you begin to understand. The way he makes your neck heat up, your chest tighten, your mind go fuzzy–it proves the one thing you already know.

You are hopelessly and helplessly in love with Shoto Todoroki.

Needless to say, when he calls you one night asking to meet at a park about a block away from your apartment building, you don’t hesitate. You arrive and find him perched precariously on the back of a bench (although he makes balancing seem so easy), chin tilted upward, hyper-focused eyes fixed on the expanse of sky above. Taking your place at his side is a matter of habit.

“You came.” He mutters as he finally glances down at you, his trance broken by the harsh thud of your bag hitting the ground.

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

Todoroki shrugs. “It’s late.”

“It is.” You affirm, swinging your legs out far in front of you, idly watching as specks of dirt crumble off their soles. “So?”

“You have work tomorrow.”

“I do.”

“And you still came.”

“That I did.”

A gust of wind blows through the park, disturbing the treetops sending a wave of cold down your spine. You’re not positive that Todoroki notices your shivering, but the way he lowers himself down from his perch, scooching in close and radiating a familiar sort of warmth, makes you assume.

“Thanks.” You sigh, your insides buzzing with a pleasant warmness. You suspect his quirk is only partly to blame for that. “I came because you called, and I know you’d show if I needed you to. Now, wanna tell me what’s up?”

Todoroki stares at you, jaw cocked to the side, mismatched eyes reflecting back light from one of the lamps lining the dusty walkway. He looks as though he’s on the cusp of saying something–answering your question–but then he’s turning his face upward again.

“Shoto? What, were you just in a stargazing sort of mood or something?”

“If I said yes?” He asks, tilting his head against the seatback. “If I said I wanted to sit out here and stare at the sky for a while?”

You exhale. “I’d ask why you called me.”

“I don’t know. I just–” He shuts his eyes tight like he’s trying to read imaginary words tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. “I saw the stars and thought about you...got this sudden urge to see you.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like some sort of emergency. Sorry.”

Thought of you. He’d been thinking about you.

There’s quiet for a while. Usually, silences with Todoroki were easy–thoughtful moments were just a natural byproduct of conversation. This one, however, is different. Tense. Apologetic. Awkward. You hate it, but you’re not exactly sure how to make it disappear.

So you speak–say the first thing that pops into your head, even though it might be opening a door you might not be able to close.

“See, I think of you when I see the sun. You know I’m not a huge fan of the stars.”

Todoroki’s eyes snap open and he turns to face you with a narrowed gaze and an upturned brow.

“The sun is a star.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second before you promptly yank it shut, resisting the urge to burst out into laughter as you do. For someone so smart, Todoroki was dense.

“Well, yeah, I mean technically. But it’s different too. The sun isn't just some stupid thing that sits in the sky and looks pretty. It does something–keeps us alive and warm and healthy. The stars were only ever good for navigation or some crap like that, and now we have computers to do that for us.” When he scoffs, you roll your eyes, but continue anyway. “Hell, you can’t even see them up there half the time; The lights in the city drown them out. But it doesn’t matter where you are or what else is happening around you-you always know the sun is there. Even if it’s hidden behind a cloud or something, you can just feel it shining down on you.

“The sun is dependable and consistent,” you breathe shakily, “Just like you. Maybe that’s why I like y–” You catch yourself midword. “It...so much.”

To his credit, Todoroki doesn’t so much as flinch at your admission. Then again, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even recognized it for what it was, hadn’t realized that you were pouring your heart out for him in the form of a hastily-composed metaphor. You watch him inhale, then exhale–study the way he runs slim fingers through his hair–searching for a tremble, a twitch, any gesture that might betray his composed demeanor.

Before you manage to find anything, he’s speaking again, mumbling words you can barely hear over the sound of your own breathing.

“The sun is a star. It doesn’t matter what it does or when it comes out, that’s just what it is.”

You groan. “Shoto, if I’d known I was in for a lecture on celestial bodies I would’ve–.”

“You think about me too, then?” Todoroki cuts you off with a question that saps the air from your lungs. When you just sit there, eyes the size of a dinner plate and voice unanswering, he presses on. “If you do, is it just when you see the sun?” He looks away suddenly, one hand drifting down to the edge of the bench, fingers curling so tightly around it that they go white. “Or...more often?”

You deliberate for a moment–debate the weight of your sentences, how they might change everything. You consider playing it all off as nothing more than “picking the wrong phrase.” Everyone thinks about someone sometimes, after all. Why make it into a big thing? Something that could completely change the good thing you had going on now?

Then again, it certainly sounded like Todoroki liked you. And not just in a “call-you-up-every-so-often” kind of way. No, this was more of an “I-saw-the-stars-and-realized-I-needed-to-be-with-you-forever” sort of situation (if you were the one making the judgment), and this opportunity seems too good to let pass you by. Besides, not all change has to be a bad thing.

“More often.” You confess, feeling a wave of heat surge outward from your chest as you do.

“And not just when you need to talk?”

“Right.”

Silence returns, but it’s brief. Todoroki breaks it.

“What do you think about.”

You shake your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek and trying to choke down any stuttering. “Is this a game of twenty questions or something?”

“I want to know. What do you imagine when you think about me?”

Your heart pounds angrily against the inside of your chest, so loud you have to wonder if he can hear it too.

“My god, Shoto, don’t make me say it out loud.”

The rise and fall of Todoroki’s shoulders is anything but steady. Still, his voice sounds firm enough when he speaks again.

“Then I’ll go first.” You think you see a twinge of pink creep up his neck. “But I don’t think I want to say it out loud either.”

He moves slowly, but everything seems like it happens so fast. His hand rises–releases it’s vice grip on the bench and drifts upward. Before you know what’s happening, icy fingertips are tracing the line of your jaw, making every part of you tingle. There’s no concealing the shudder that courses through you when his nails brush over the edge of your ear.

Everything feels so right.

“Is this okay?”

You nod slowly, leaning into his touch. Todoroki shuffles along the bench, bringing himself closer. Then he leans in and you can feel his breath across your nose, your cheeks, your lips.

“And this?” It’s barely a whisper. Hesitant.

“Yes.” You breathe, aching. Your tongue darts out to wet your impatient lips.

The bench creaks. Your eyes flutter shut and a nose bumps against yours, clumsy, but you barely have time to notice. Less than a second later, Todoroki’s warm mouth is pressed against yours and you feel as though you’ve ascended; There’s humming in your ears, pinpricks stretching across your arms and back, a fuzzy sort of high buzzing in your skull.

You don’t mean to giggle when he pulls back and just looks at you. It’s just the first sound that crawls up from your throat, nervous and excited and giddy all at once. You throw a hand over your lips and shove your face into his shoulder, desperate to hide the less-than-subtle flush splayed across every inch of your skin. He doesn’t say anything, but you’re almost certain you can hear the heavy beating of his heart through his coat, rapid and every bit as erratic as your own.

For the first time in your life, you’re thankful for the stars. Because as useless as they usually were, at least they’d led you to him.

#bnha x reader #bnha #shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki imagines #mha #bnha reader insert #bnha shouto todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #Requests

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tactyl-ymon · 4 years

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DnD session recap - Hearts and horizons

IT’S TIME TO D-D-D-D DND. Two sessions worth because the world is falling apart and I’d forgotten how to word for the last 3 months. Slight housekeeping thing, We’re down a wizard for the foreseeable future and one of the rogues is teleconferencing in for a bit because of personal stuff. I feel the need to tell everyone that between the 3 IT/networking admins in the group, it took us several hours to remember wired internet was more stable than wifi. Shame us. Shame us so it won’t happen again.

With that all out of the way, let’s get to it.

We left off in the aftermath of an emotional bombshell between Emmi and our sorcerer npc patron, Core with Emmi asking how long Core knew her mother was Sharona, one of current ruling council members. Silence hung in the air between them and with the emotional depth of a spoon Core silently take a step backwards, closes the door between him and Emmi and leaves the keep. With no additional information gathered, Emmi returns to whatever drink remains in her room for the night.

Early the next morning, Tornur and Veiraen return around the same time, Veiraen with his self inflicted chest wound and Tornur with healers kits for the group to counter Eridol’s complete failure to react and heal Veiraen after Septima went ape. With the group reunited we receive an urgent message from Core to meet him at the slyph tower, something bad happened. So everyone gears up in relative silence and makes their way to the giant tower outside principium that supposedly links the prison bubble we’re in to the rest of the outside world to find Core and the massive door to the tower having been cut to shreds from the outside. The sylph either unable or unwilling to tell them if anyone had come through recently asks if they would like to travel. Septima steps forward and answers that yes they would and that the thrum of magic pulling him would be closest to a place called the Jaunted Pillars, the sylph explains in their round about way that payment is required to travel, those touched by magic will find it easier but if a sufficiently powerful spell is cast anyone could technically make the trip. Between Septimas eagerness to find whatever missing piece is calling to him, Eridols need to beat something up and Tornur’s general badassary spells are cast on everyone unable to do it themselves and one by one they throw themselves down the slyph’s well with their destination in mind and after a completely innocent description about bodies joining as one and rapturous bliss and the vague feeling of drowning everyone drags their way out of the weird person shaped stargate and into what would have at one time been an exact copy of the tower they were just in … if it weren’t for the pungent and weird spongey material making up the walls that disappeared into the darkness above them.

While Emmi takes one look at the door and decides nobody has time for that, she splits off and starts climbing to try and find a window or hatch in the roof, she climbed hundreds of feet before finding a small ledge and anchoring a rope to it before letting everyone know. Meanwhile down in the peanut gallery we had decided to move on from ripping and tearing at the weird mushroom flesh and moved straight to trying to burn a hole through. As Whisky moves forward into the paltry hole we’d made so far and breaks into a coughing fit due to the noxious smoke being given off by the burning flesh, she falls to the floor screaming and convulsing. Tornur and Septima begin using their various magics to remove the smoke and Eridol rushes in without a thought to get Whisky out of the smoke. Using his last bit of strength before also succumbing to the smoke to throw Whisky out of the hole to an awaiting Veiraen. While Whisky froze and saw terrors, Eridol giddily laughed and began scooting around like an excitable child or a dog with worms. With all this going on the ground, nobody paid attention to the thick noxious cloud wisping its way up towards the roof and towards an unsuspecting Emmi clinging to a wall several hundred feet up. With a brief coughing fit and an unfortunate locking of the joints she falls. Unable to call for help or try to move, the seconds stretch and warp from the mushroom fog in her brain and gravity does its job. 100 feet, 200 feet, she falls 350 feet before Veiraen notices a glint of metal he recognizes moving far too fast for comfort and instinctively casts featherfall. Emmi slows immediately to a crawl, coming to a distinctly non violent meeting with the ground.

With two members of the group dealing with full body lockjaw and one scooting around on his shield like a tiny angry roomba, the still thinking members of the group decide to maybe stop burning through the fungus and give Emmi’s whole roof hatch plan a go after everyones able to move. About an hour later, the relative silence of the room is broken by 3 distinct groans and strings of words best not repeated as Whisky, Emmi and Eridol come out of their respective trances, all varying degrees of sore and weirdly less anxious than before huffing fantasy paint thinner. We all make our way up the inside of what was once a nice looking tower and up through a narrow bramble path towards the now blackened sky and clamber out into a clear, open space made up of dead trees and after a brief sigh of relief from leaving mushroom city, people start noticing things. Pieces of fragile silver looking material, larger than any of the party litter the dead branches and as everyone slowly takes in their surroundings and things click together, one by one they all silently turn towards the centre of the nest and see the gigantic unhatched egg and before anyone can yell to scatter an impossibly large bird the colour or a starlit night crashes into the nest, knocking Eridol unconscious with the blow. With the cleric down and a very large and territorial night roc to deal with, the group splits. Septima, Whisky and Tornur run interference while the rogues and the bird play a nice game of keep away with the sometimes near corpse of the tiny healer, now with authentic battle damage.

What little dips into consciousness Eridol did experience were spent trying to keep the Roc’s attention on himself with large damaging spells and heals as required for the others. With it’s attention divided, Whisky takes the initiative to stun the bird while Septima lashes out with vines from the tree to ground the bird in place. While the rest of the group takes to the sides of the nest to flee, Eridol bears down on the bird with quite a lot of misplaced fury. Both beaten and bloody and extremely near death, the bird begins scrambling back. Taking what would have been it’s precious last seconds of life to try and hide the unbroken egg in the centre of the nest. Seeing the mother try to protect its young snaps Eridol out of his rage and with shame thinking about what he almost did, he heals the bird slightly before leaving. In the time left on Septimas sealing spell. The group silently makes their way to a cramped little hole in the trunk of one of the large perimeter trees, as far as their weary legs will take them from the nest.

Not wanting to waste the moment and wanting to get this over with before the post fight shakes sets in, Eridol calls over to Veiraen to discuss where they stand. With the group tending to their wounds in the background and the oppressive silence of the forest around them, Eridol begins by thanking the drow for keeping him alive in the last fight before explaining about how Veiraen’s done things he can’t forgive. Since they’ve known each other, Veiraen has only ever acted in his own interests, often at the expense of others. The final straws being setting Eridol on fire while he was trying to cope with the latest death he hadn’t been able to stop and Veiraen running off to the forests to try and deal with his psychosis and endanger Septima and a new ally rather than ask the group for help. Emotionally, Eridol mentions that he will still try to keep Veiraen alive like everyone expects him to, but he doesn’t have to like the rogue or forgive him to do that. As far as Eridol is concerned, Veiraen is just part of a job now. The rogue quietly nods before heading back to the group, leaving the cleric to his attempts to contact the groups sorcerer patron as well as sending an apology to the roc for entering its home and endangering its as yet unborn child. If the roc ever needs assistance, it can find them.

With everyone asleep and Septima taking his usual spot of standing awkwardly over someone for the night like an overprotective gargoyle, Eridol takes a mostly uneventful first watch until Tornur gets up and mentions needing to go take care of something and Eridol still being a bit mortally wounded and vaguely concussed just groggily waves at him and slurs something about not taking too long. It’s maybe 30 minutes and two unanswered calls later when Eridol starts getting suspicious that it shouldn’t take this long to go to the bathroom and goes to boot up Septima to help find the wizzing wizard. Knowing how vast the forest is, Septima animorphs into a direwolf to track by scent and with his weary gnome jockey aboard they take off into the night hot on the trail of unwashed dwarf. After about 10 minutes the trail begins to go cold and they come across a piece of parchment stuck to a tree with “This one has been called. I’m sorry” written in a familiar script with the recently purchased bracers of defence and one of the necklaces the group uses to communicate. The only gift not returned was the crossbow Eridol gave Tornur which is brought up sulkily before the duo return to the group. Septima mentions Eridol should get some sleep as he returns to his weird t-posing gargoyles perch over whichever party member will get the biggest reaction upon waking up. While the party slept the remainder of the night away, the last traces of magic surrounding Whisky, the tiny feline monk disappear and she begins to grow to her proper tabaxi form in her sleep. Thrashing around silently like a horror movie creature, flesh contorting and stretching until her previously 2 foot tall frame maxing out the height slider just under 7 feet and she returns to peaceful sleep, at some point wrapping Eridol in her new lengthy tai as Septima passively watched the whole thing instead of intervening or waking the group because it was funnier to not get involved and he is seemingly powered by low level chaos.

Night turns to day and as is tradition and the silence is broken by a mixture of confused screaming and levels of dead eyed resignation normally only felt by retail workers at the nba all star who replaced the tiny monk overnight. The shouting only got worse once it was revealed that Tornur was gone, seemingly summoned by an unknown entity which will definitely never come up in the future. With no further surprises, the group packs up their camp and a whimsical “Follow your heart” sequence begins except its through the bad type of fairytale forest and we’re following the urges of a chaotic warforged with severe memory corruption. Several hours of trekking pass as the forest thins out and becomes less “evil” before we find a worn path through the forest which we begin to follow, still being guided by septima towards his missing piece until we see two figures off in the distance. After hastily diving into the shrubs to not be seen a plan is devised, one of the group is to get out on the path and walk towards the pair to see if they’re friendly while the others creep through the brush to jump in if required. Now obviously it has to be someone who looks the most harmless and disarming at which point everyone just turns and looks at the sometimes gremlin of a cleric and with a sigh, Eridol wanders back out to the path and begins walking as non threateningly towards what we now know are a human and a warforged. After about a minute of walking, the human sees Eridol and confusedly grabs some binoculars to confirm what he sees before promptly yelling and throwing up before both him and the warforged point their spears towards the now halted gnome who puts his hands up and begins yelling at the pair about being a bit lost and looking for somewhere to stay.

Eridol carefully proceeding towards the pair trying to be as disarming as his crippling mental issues allow the human gets a look of recognition over his face. Proclaiming that he knows who the tiny cleric is and it’d been months since the gnome had come through on his religious quest. As Eridol tries to hide his sheer panic behind pleasantries about how he unfortunately doesn’t remember the hunter at the moment and that maybe they should introduce themselves. The construct just continues scanning the horizon but the human introduces himself as Jeremiah, current perimeter guard for the village of kincaid and that this is way above his paygrade so Eridol needs to come with him to see the village leader. Sensing a complete lack of hostility Eridol agrees, but first asks Jeremiah to not freak out over something real quick as he calls out to the rest of the party who were hidden in the undergrowth several feet away.

After the guard stifles a definitely manly shriek, his face gives way to recognition and curiosity as he seems to remember Veiraen and Whisky and then to pale reverence as he sees Septima. Before stuttering that they definitely need to inform the village leader about the group. The group and their new guide wind through the forest until they come across a village built in a clearing, cozy buildings and vegetable plots intermingle throughout the town as humans and half elves go about their business. An impossibly tall tree waving limply in the background, bands of decay and discolour damaging an otherwise pristine forest. Jeremiah leads Septima and by extension everyone else to the local tavern before excusing himself momentarily as he runs off and returns with an older looking half elven woman who exudes druidic power and introduces herself as Liana Cypher, current leader of Kincaid village and currently very confused as to how we’re all here, especially Septima because he left through to the sanctuary over a century ago and that should have been a one way trip to safety. If septima was capable of showing emotion he would have assuredly been annoyed as he matter of factly informed the druidic leader that where they had come from was no sanctuary, but rather a prison that we had escaped from through the magical equivalent of a secret tunnel and that Septima was being pulled somewhere close by whatever approximates a gut feeling in a magically animated mannequin. This gets Liana’s attention and she asks if Septima would like to talk in private while the rest of the group got settled in the few rooms available in the inn. Eridol spends his time deep in prayer frustratedly asking for guidance and receiving nothing. Veiraen slowly meditating through a song on his violin about the connection he had with whatever was inhabiting his prior sword. As the song reaches its peak he sees the briefest echo of the spirit of Cricket smiling at him before it fades away. While the angsty teens do their thing, Whisky and Emmi sample the local wines and ales … for research purposes, obviously.

Septima and Liana make their way through the remainder of the town towards the great deku tree, Liana going through how for the last few hundred years people have been drawn to the tree and it was supposed to lead to a safe haven but since Septima and his cohorts had gone through over a century ago, the tree and its surroundings had slowly started showing signs of disease that the abilities of the town could only slow but not cure, almost like there was something within the tree itself leeching the life out of the forest. As they reach the base of the great dying tree, the reverberations within Septimas’ soul seem to harmonise with ... something. Whatever he has being pushed towards is so close, almost close enough to reach out and touch, but as his hand grazes over the tree it can only feel the barest traces of life travelling through what he knows should be a vibrant spectacle of life. Liana asks if Septima would need to travel again like last time and is met with a brief murmur of agreement as he contemplates what needs to happen. The pair begin their short journey back to the tavern, with Liana reminiscing about the first time Septima had come through on the way there before bidding the group goodnight and leaving Septima to wrangle several drunk/passed out teammates which are promptly ushered/thrown into their respective rooms for the night. Come morning and septima lays out the plan, we need to travel into the great tree but make sure not to complete the journey to find what he needs and to help save Ostaria from the whole “reality shattering and destroying everyone” thing we had been sent to fix. With everyone in agreement, a message is sent and Tacty’l Ymon soon find themselves at the base of a once great tree alongside Liana who mentions that to find what they seek, they will need to trek to the top of the canopy and jump. Which is met with varying degrees of enthusiasm from the group. They travel for the better part of 30 minutes up the side of the tree until they reach the near bare canopy and look down a familiar well shaped tunnel through the innards of the tree ending far deeper than the trunk or physics would allow. Eridol feels his thread of divinity thrum slightly and he makes a silent prayer before imparting a mote of protection onto Septima. Liana asks if the group is ready and begins the ritual required to open the path between planes. With a whisper she proclaims “Fall through the leaves like sunlight and be reborn in the roots” and runs a dagger up her forearm, silver liquid spilling out and falling down the trunk in a solid sheet before ushering the group to jump into the definitely real portal that’s down there in the dark. One by one they fall through the darkness for what feels like hours before taking what feels like a hard bend and stumbling out in a heap into an endless flat expanse with no visible source of light. Withered near identical trees waving slightly despite the lack of a breeze spot the otherwise empty landscape as the Septima feels a strong tug and begins moving towards the horizon with the group silently in tow. Time seemed to stretch and contract around them, making it impossible to get a bearing on how long they marched past the near identical trees after what seemed like weeks or hours a blip on the horizon appears and grows into a seemingly dead and petrified version of the tree they had fallen through to get here. A malformed knot of flesh and stone rings the considerable tree like a cancerous growth. Shifting and unfurling as we approach. Before us stands a mostly decayed large red dragon, what little flesh remains is mottled with patches of stone and petrified wood, fusing it to the base of the tree and keeping the dragon in place. It’s cold undead eyes pass over the group, lingering on everyone but Emmi before resting onto Septima, both feeling the pulsing connection that ties them together, a piece of Septimas essence hidden deep within the dragon. A booming voice pierces the stillness of the place. The dragon introduces itself as Nerglyth and it would like to be free. We all learn that several hundred years ago it was held here by Septima, Fulgür and Fafnir and that over time the dragon had found itself being used as energy for the tree, until the dragon found that could go both ways and began leeching energy out of the tree and memories of those who had travelled through it. Nerglyths voice was all encompassing as it tried to goad Septima into finishing what he started before turning to smile at Eridol and ask if he was here to make another sacrifice and we were offered a choice, complete the ritual it needed to leave and we can have the piece of Septimas soul keeping it tethered here. It just needs two more lives, paltry in the grand scheme of things really. The semi petrified red dragon began to shift and extend itself away from the tree which in addition to proving how utterly gigantic it was also allowed a low hanging branch to come into view of the group. The branch contained 2 figures hanging from nooses along the branch, one almost ethereal and one fully visible. Free hanging nooses are visible throughout the rest of the tree. Veiraen and Emmi both recognised the bodies at the same time as the children taken to be sacrificed by the mistress and her makeshift coven as Eridol becomes transfixed by the girl swinging in the noose. The girl he had to use to complete part of the ritual leading to a possible escape to the material plane. Regret and anger and shame tunnel his vision until all he can see is the girl. Both he and Septima put themselves forward as sacrifices, each wanting this to be over and not willing to let someone innocent take their place. As they wordlessly begin their walk towards the dragon, Eridol falters slightly. A small surge of recognition making him take stock of the situation they’re in. Whatever this creature is, it is definitely undead and extremely powerful. For an abomination to be this smart isn’t unheard of, but letting it loose into the world is to be avoided no matter what. Eridol stops and says as much to the group, much to the disappointment and anger of the dragon. Over Nerglyth’s snarls and insults, Eridol goes to turn back to the group asking Septima to come with them, there has to be another way to fix this and they know what they’re up against. Septima continued forward towards the behemoth undead figure until they are feet apart and with a shout of “Get the heart!” begins shifting into something more wild, but Nerglyth as smart as he is saw the betrayal coming and a wave of necrotic ice washes over the druid and most of the party in an instant. The ground erupting into slippery jagged shards impeding all but Whisky from moving freely and with a roar the fight for our little piece of reality begins. Whisky and Emmi take up the offensive as Septima begins searching for what brought us all here. Both Veiraen and Eridol have major issues with the terrain, either from the rancid icy breath or draconic shouts that tore at the ground beneath them, leaving them buried up to the neck. As Veiraen and Eridol worm their way to freedom, Septima gets a lock on his missing piece from deep within the dragon and shifts into a mouse to more easily search the colossal moving carcass. The group continues their assault to distract the dragon with Emmi leaving wounds that would gravely injure other foes and the others doing what they do best, annoy anything larger than themselves. Septimouse slowly creeps through the putrid organs, careful to not draw attention to themself until they finds a small pulsing orb and it’s at this exact moment the dragon notices a missing warforged and the group watches in terror as it unleashes a torrent of gross mourning breath into its own ribcage, slamming into Septima with enough force to revert from his mouse form and knock the druidic construct unconscious. The spark of divine protection doing its job and bringing him back from the brink of death, but it’s too late, the stone binding Nerglyth to the tree snaps and sloughs off its form. A life has been given as required and freedom is so close. A surge of necrotic energy lashes in towards the barely conscious druid, leeching what remaining energy the druid had. WIth the last few moments before fading into unconsciousness, Septima reaches out for his missing essence, hands grasping at the shard inches away from his fingers and he sees a large draconic claw reach in and pluck it away. The group watches in awe as the dragon begins limping back towards the tree that held it for so long, Emmi Veiraen and Whisky trying to slow it down and inflict as much damage as possible, while a panicked Eridol reaches around his holy symbol and plucks part of his own essence, forcing it unceremoniously through a hole in the dragons chest and into the still twitching body of Septima. The drid makes a hasty exit through one of the freshly gaping wounds left by the group or the dragon itself and can only watch as Nerglyth presses the shard of Septimas essence up to the trunk of the tree and with an earth shattering kaboom a tear in space forms within the trunk. Booming laughter echoes through the landscape and in an instant Nerglyth is gone. The pressure of the tear grows stronger and stronger as this small pocket of reality collapses in on itself. Septima instantly shoots out a wall of vines to try and stop everyone from being sucked in, but the pull is too strong as both he and Veiraen tumble along the ground and tree towards the rip in reality. Knowing how close the dragon was to redeath, Veiraen desperately throws his daggers through the void as both he and Septima catch themselves feet from the opening. Septima reaches out for the sliver of his soul that had trapped Nerglyth here as a large coil of rope rushes past them before snapping taut. Eridol, Whisky and Emmi acting as anchors from their restrained spot on the ground giving them something to climb away from the yawning hellmouth. The pull of the hole only gets stronger as they begin making their way back up the rope and Septima dislodges his fragment from the tree. What little is left of this sparse landscape continues to fold in on itself as time bungee corded around as Septima becomes more self absorbed than normal and for the first time in centuries is whole again. He opens his hand and another smaller portal opens near everyone and they all tumble through at the last possible second for dramatic tension. The silent blank reality pocket is replaced in an instant with the sound of waves lapping on a shore. As one, they look out over the ocean in front of them and see a clear division of sea and air. A horizon that wasn’t there the last time they stood on the shores of Ostaria. Eridol excitedly contacts Core to tell him that they did it, they fixed everything and is met with incredulous joy from their sorcerer companion. The walls surrounding Ostaria had been gone for over a month, Core had been trying to contact us every day since trying to get an update. Tacty’l Ymon stands silently on the beach as Core congratulates them. They had done it. Hundreds of thousands of lives got to continue without the immediate threat of reality collapsing around them. We end the session with Eridol and Septima falling over laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation with the remainder of the group following suit shortly after.

#Tactyl Ymon #Septima #Eridol #Emmi #Veiraen #Whisky #Tornur #dnd

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blurry-fics · 5 years

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Chapter Two

Prove Me Wrong | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bad driving, minor angst, profanity

Word Count: 1841

Author’s Note: The first chapter from Tyler’s POV! I’m not really sure why I dedicated an entire chapter to them grocery shopping together, but I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless :)

I laid into the horn for a third time, hoping that Y/N would hear it. She had said she would go grocery shopping with me today, but all three of my texts announcing that I was outside had gone unanswered. Now, creating as much noise as possible was my last resort to get her attention.

“Hey!”

My eyes shot to the porch. Y/N’s brother, Carter, was leaning out the front door. I immediately pulled my hand off of the horn and rolled down the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

“Trying to get Y/N’s attention!”

“You know, we have this really cool thing called a doorbell right here,” he said, gesturing to it. “Works great!”

“Sorry!”

Carter waved a hand at me, “I’ll go get Y/N.”

The front door shut and I leaned back into my seat. Leave it to me to make an embarrassment out of myself in front of Y/N’s family.

I was starting to get impatient when the front door flew open again, revealing Y/N with only one of her shoes on. She slipped on the other one and came running down the path towards my car, looking frantic.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she slid into the front seat. “I was up late last night working on a paper, and then I fell asleep today right before you were supposed to show up and - oh, you texted me.”

“Three times.”

“Oh man, I’m really sorry, Ty,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“It’s fine. As long as you didn’t totally bail on me.”

Y/N turned to me and smiled. Despite the fact that she had just woken up from a nap, she still looked absolutely gorgeous.

Stop, Tyler.

“I got to have a nice chat with your brother about not making so much noise,” I laughed.

“So I heard. He was talking about it as I was running around my room trying to get ready.”

“Ready to go?”

She took a moment to look around the area she was sitting in, “Yeah, I think I have everything.”

“Great.”

I pulled away from the curb and headed towards the grocery store. Y/N was quick to kick her feet up on the dash.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I said, idly tapping my fingers against the wheel. “I don’t know that I would know what to buy if it weren’t for you.”

She laughed, “You know you’ll have to learn how to shop for yourself eventually, right?”

“Not as long as you’re around.”

“I may not be around forever, Ty.”

I turned to look at Y/N. She was looking out the window, watching the trees that were whizzing past as we drove down the quiet street. It was hard to imagine a life without Y/N. She meant too much to me for me to ever let her go.

I thought back to the night that her feelings for me had been revealed during a stupid game of truth or dare. She had been so scared that I wouldn’t think of her the same, but it had never felt that way. Y/N was still Y/N, no matter what her feelings towards me were. I had never understood what made it such a big deal.

“Ty!”

My reflexes kicked in just in time for me to swerve away from a trash bin sitting on the side of the road. Y/N had a hand splayed out on the dash as she turned to me with wide eyes.

“What was that all about?” she laughed.

“I was thinking,” I smiled innocently, hoping she wouldn’t press the matter any further.

“Well, think less next time.”

“Yeah, then I might finally understand what it’s like to be you.”

“Hey!”

She reached over and lightly punched me in the arm. I laughed and tried to duck out of the way, but the confines of the car didn’t really allow for that.

“You’re mean, Joseph.”

“You love me.”

“Maybe I do.”

* * *

“Now where are we going?” I asked, leaning my body into the grocery cart to get it to start moving.

“We still need to get you fruits and veggies.”

“I don’t eat those.”

“You’re going to now.”

I groaned, but knew better than to argue with her over this. She was just making sure that I was taking care of myself, that was nothing new.

“What do you think? Apples?” she asked, holding up a particularly shiny one.

“Sure.”

She shot me a look, “Have some enthusiasm, Ty.”

“Then show me some exciting fruit!”

Y/N tossed a couple apples into a bag and added them to the cart with the rest of my groceries before moving on to another type of fruit.

“How did you learn all this stuff?” I asked as she looked over some oranges. “I don’t even know where to start with groceries, aside from snacks.”

“My mom used to drag me and my brother to the grocery store with her when we were little,” she smiled. “I guess I memorized her shopping list from seeing it so many times.”

“So what you’re saying is that I should be paying attention to what you’re choosing?”

“Tyler!” she laughed, turning to face me. “Are you not paying attention?”

“I’m just pushing the cart.”

She pursed her lips for a moment before bagging the food in her hand and adding it to the cart as well. The disgruntled expression on her face made me smile and for a moment I couldn’t get myself to look away from her. Everything about her was just so…

No.

Y/N started to walk farther down the aisle, so I followed after her. She stopped in front of the salad section and began to look over the options.

“Now that looks like a level of cooking that I could handle,” I said, hoping it would get another smile out of her.

It did.

“Why don’t you pick a kind that looks good? I don’t need to pick all of your food for you. You’re the one that’s going to be eating it.”

I moved around the cart so that I could better see my options. Y/N grabbed a bag for herself and put it into the little basket that she had grabbed for her own groceries. She didn’t have nearly as many things to buy, mostly because she was still living at home so her parents handled most of the shopping.

“What about this kind?” I asked, reaching for a bag.

“Ty, it doesn’t matter what I think.”

I glanced at her for a moment. She was too busy looking at more salad to notice.

“But for the record, that kind is really good,” she added.

“Ok, I’ll give it a try.”

I added it to the ever-growing pile of groceries in the cart. If I was lucky, I could convince Y/N to come over and help me put away all the groceries.

“You know, I really do worry about what you’ll do if we’re ever apart,” Y/N said.

“I’ll just call you wherever you’re at for help.”

She turned to me, “I can never escape, can I?”

“Nope.”

“I think there’s only a few more things that we need to pick up and then we can get out of here.”

“Lead the way.”

I followed Y/N through the produce section as she picked up a few more things that she said would be good for me to eat. Occasionally she would try to explain how to pick out good fruit, but I knew it was no use. All the information would be gone again by the time I had to grocery stop for myself.

“I don’t even know what to do with half of this stuff,” I said as we loaded bags into the back of my car.

“You know, there’s these great things called cookbooks and the Internet that you can use to find recipes. They even tell you what to do to make the food.” Y/N shot me a smug smile from the other side of the car.

“You and your brother are the same person, I swear.”

I loaded the last bag into the backseat and then shut the car door. Y/N did the same and hopped into the passenger seat of my car while I returned the cart to where it belonged. She had already started playing her music by the time that I hopped in the driver’s seat.

“I’m way cooler than Carter, just so that’s clear,” she said before I had even buckled my seatbelt.

“I never said one of you was cooler than the other, I just said that you two are the same person.”

“That would imply that his level of coolness is the same as mine, and there’s no way that I’m as dorky as him!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry! You’re way cooler than Carter,” I laughed, throwing my hands up in defeat. Y/N seemed pleased by my response.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, are you coming over? Or should I drop you off at home?”

“I can come over for a little bit, as long as I’m home for dinner. I still have more homework to catch up on.”

“Do you ever get a break?”

She leaned back and kicked her feet up on the dash, as she always seemed to do. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

I put one hand on the back of her seat so that I would actually be able to see out the back window while I pulled out of the parking spot. My mom would never let me hear the end of it if I scratched up my car again.

“Then consider hanging out with me your break,” I smiled.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my time.”

* * *

I pulled up against the curb outside of Y/N’s house. She gathered up her things before stepping out onto the pavement and leaning down into the car.

“Thanks for letting me come over for awhile, Ty. It was a much needed study break.”

“It was the least I could do after basically making you grocery shop for me. Thanks again, by the way.”

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, “It was fun.”

“Agreed. Good luck with studying.”

“I’ll need it.”

Y/N shut the car door and waved to me through the window. I watched as she walked back up the path to her house and jumped up the steps that led to the porch. Once she was finally inside the house safely, I pulled away and headed home.

The quiet of the car allowed my mind to wander. I thought about Y/N, mostly.

A bird dived at my car, making me almost swerve into a trash bin for the second time that day. Apparently daydreaming and driving wasn’t a good mix for me. I reached over and turned the radio up, hoping that it would give my mind something else to focus on.

* * * * *

Taglist

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deepdaleducks · 6 years

Text

Embers (Slow Burn 3/Fire Series) - Dele

Author’s Note - again a massive thank you to everyone for reading this series. I’m gonna write three more chapters so keep an eye out for those! Before you read this make sure to read part one and two otherwise nothing will make sense. Hope you enjoy feedback is more than welcome (it makes me so happy so PLEASE give it)

Part One - Slow Burn

Part Two - Flicker

There’s not much thought that goes into the decision to ignore every single one of his texts and calls. Your text chat a one-way stream of baby please call me, I’m sorry, please just let me explain, if you let me explain it’ll all be okay, can we talk about this, you can’t ignore me forever, baby please, I love you, I’m sorry. His name appearing multiple times in your call log, each one with the red phone next to it to show it went unanswered. The flowers he sent to your office on Thursday on your colleague’s desk instead, after you had tried to throw them in the bin and she’d insisted they were too pretty to go to waste. The week goes by easily, your friends coming over for dinner to distract you from the thoughts in your mind. Another half a series of Grey’s Anatomy finished and three empty bottles of red wine in the recycling bin.

On Saturday, Chloe calls, claiming her week has been busy and she’s been dying to here about how things with Dele are going. You laugh aloud at her wording, telling her that things aren’t going anywhere at all and if anything things have back pedalled so far that you might as well pretend you have never met. Explaining the situation to her helps you to mull it all over in your head clearly. For five days you’d been thinking over it all in a million different ways. So with her, you start again from the beginning, like sifting through a freshly opened jigsaw and finally putting pieces together. You discuss how you met, how he tried to kiss you that first night, how you became friends because you were dating someone else, him meeting Ruby, your break up, him trying to set you up with other people. She listens to your every word and by the time you even get on to talking about his break up you’re forty-five minutes into the phone call.

“I just don’t get why he was constantly going back to her.” She says, huffing in annoyance. “Like, if he knew you were in love with him, and that’s why their relationship ended, why on earth was he still sleeping with her? Actually, more importantly why was she still sleeping with him?”

“Have you seen him? That’s why,” you reply, attempting to laugh whilst you do so.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be hating him right now? God, he’s such a fucking dick…”

And you continue with your story, everything he said in the kitchen last Saturday night, how things could have gone in the living room on Sunday night. When you get on to the events of Monday night she starts yelling, screaming that she’s going to come and ‘punch him to France and back’. After a while, her doorbell rings and she says that she has to go as Marcus’ girlfriend has arrived and they’re having a sleepover before going to watch the game tomorrow. She hangs up and you absentmindedly turn on the TV, Match of the Day immediately coming on. Reaching for the remote, you go to turn it off when they begin to show the highlight of Spurs’ game against Burnley. Your heart aches at their 2-1 loss, knowing how angry he will still be at his injury, how he would be grumbling at the tv saying what he would have done differently if he’d been able to play. The battle in your mind begins again. Your thoughts once again torn between the love found in years of friendship and the hurt caused by his actions. Your complete lack of trust acting as the canyon between the two feelings.

Your doorbell rings early on Sunday morning and you’re pleased to find your best friend, Amy, stood on the porch. She takes you for brunch, refusing to let a Sunday tradition die, even though you had to change your brunch partner. Afterwards you go window shopping and browse various furniture stores, planning your dream houses of the future. She tells you about her date last night and gives you gossip about her sisters, trying everything to not let you think about your own love life. The darkness begins to settle in after your early dinner and you both head to your cars to go home. For the first time all week, your phone doesn’t light up with his name, and you think that maybe he’s given up. Maybe he’s gone back to her again, and maybe he’s happy.

But when you arrive home, there he is, sat at the breakfast bar, back facing you and head hung low. He doesn’t turn around when he hears you come in, only lifting his head slightly to acknowledge your presence, planning to let you speak first. You move closer warily, a whole list of questions forming in your mind. You’d ask how he got in, why he’s here, what he wants. But you already know the answers. He’s here because you’ve been ignoring his calls for a week. He’s here to talk; to plead his case. And he’s here because of a small, carved piece of metal that you had given him once, back when he was the person you trusted most in the world. You notice it sitting on the counter in front of him, single and alone, not even attached to a ring or a chain. Walking past him, you tilt your head to look at the key, not bothering to glance up at his face.

“I gave you that for emergencies…” You trail off in a harsh and cold tone. “And for watering my plants when I’m away.”

He finally lifts his eyeline further to gaze up at you on the other side of he breakfast bar. “Well I figured that since you haven’t answered any of my calls and texts all week, maybe you’d dropped off the face of the earth and your plants might need a water,” his voice is spiteful but comes with a humour underlayer that attempts to break through your stone-cold expression.

“My plants are just fine without you. I am just fine without you, thank you very much.” You lie, brave face feeling weaker by the second.

“I’m not.” He replies, lowly. You take a moment to look him over, eyes dull and hollow, hair tousled and messy, skin paler and cheeks a little gaunt. He looks like he hasn’t slept or ate in days, and as bad as it seems, it makes you feel a little better to know he’s been suffering. “I’ve been going out of my mind without you. What you saw on Monday, it wasn’t what you think. I went out and I ran into her.”

“Okay so you ran into her when you were out, how the hell did she end up in your car on your driveway?” You interject, unwilling to hear his spiel.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be there to see that? You told me you were going out with Amy.” He defends, not doing himself any favours in his wording.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Dele? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” you yell back, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation.

“She was there to pick up the rest of her stuff! Okay?” He cries, temper rising to your level. “After what happened on Sunday, I didn’t want that to happen again. And she still had stuff there. I know we’d been broken up for weeks, but she still had some clothes there and make up and some fucking shampoo things in the bathroom. I didn’t want you to have to see that. I was planning to throw it out, but then I saw her, and I figured that she should just come take it instead, rather than throw it out.”

“Oh yes because now was the perfect time to be acting in favour of the environment, congrats, Del.” You retort, flicking on the kettle a little more aggressively than necessary.

“Maybe I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe it wasn’t the most well thought out of ideas. But I wanted that stuff gone, and she was there, and its her stuff. Look I might not have made the most sensible of decisions, but at least I’m not the one who chose to completely misread a situation. And I’m not the one who’s so immature that I ignored your calls and texts all week and didn’t even give you a chance to explain.” Defensively, he pleads his case, moving from his seat by the breakfast bar, to come stand in the centre of the kitchen with you. His words do nothing but rile you up further, but you let your anger show through silence. The air between you falling flat, you stand on opposite sides of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about all of it. I should have texted you, I should have told you that she was coming over. I- I just thought that because you were out, you would go home and that I could just tell you the next day.”

“Actually, I don’t think you were thinking at all.” You take a breath and look him in the eye, smiling slightly to lift the atmosphere, “but when do you ever, right?” Your joke helps to subside some of the anger building inside you. As if on autopilot, you reach into the cupboard and pull out two mugs, making two cups of tea, one with one sugar and one with a splash of milk. He mumbles a thank you when you pass him a steaming hot mug, the two of you now a little closer together.

“Her stuff is gone. She took a taxi home. I haven’t seen or heard from her since Monday.” He says, defeated. You look him in the eyes, trying your best to decipher if he’s telling the truth. “I know you don’t trust me right now. And I know that my actions in the past don’t exactly make it seem like I’m telling the truth. But I promise you, I am. I love you. And I’m so sorry that I might have ruined this. I just really want to work on this with you to fix things, because I know that we can be happy together. I want to be the person making you happy, and it kills me that I’m the one making you hurt right now.” You break eye contact in an attempt not to crack and fall straight into his arms.

“I really want to believe you, Dele. I really do.” You pause and let out a shaky breath. “Just after everything. After hearing you say its over so many times and then watching you fall straight back into her arms. You told me you loved me. How do you think it made me feel to see you with her again? It’s like none of it meant anything. I’ve heard you lie an awful lot, but I never thought you saying you loved me would feel like a lie.”

“It’s not a lie. I do love you” He interrupts.

“Yeah, but it still felt that way and I can’t change that. I wish I could, but I just can’t” You huff, you mug already forgotten on the side. “God, the amount of shit that went through my mind. I’m a worst-case scenario person, you know that. I just kept thinking that you were planning on sleeping with her again. That it was really that easy. That I was nothing to you.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him. “I- I think for now, we need distance. I need to learn to trust you again. You can say you’re sorry and that you love me a million times over, but I think that to move forward from this, and I do want to move forward from this, we need to go back to square one and build something from the ground up.” You give him an earnest look. The thought of losing your best friend outweighing any anger you could harbour. He nods slowing in agreement, choosing not to talk and instead finishing his brew. He moves closer to you, extending a hand out in front of you as if he was greeting his boss. You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion, and he draws your eye line down to his hand. Tentatively, you lift your own and slip your palm into his, shaking his hand lightly.

“Hi, my name is Dele and I’m 99% sure that you’re my entire future. Can I take you out on a date next Friday?” He introduces himself. “Square one, right?” He smirks at you, proud of his ability to worm his way back under your skin.

“How come you’re only 99% sure?” You ask, lips pursed together defiantly.

“Oh no, I’m 1000% sure, I just didn’t want to scare you,” He responds, causing you to laugh out loud. “I’m gonna go. I’ll text you during the week maybe,” He hesitates, nervously. “But you can, erm, you can call me any time – if you want to. And I’ll pick you up at 7 on Friday?”

“Sounds good to me,” You say as he grabs his belongings, noticeably leaving the spare key on the kitchen counter top. You follow him out into the hall, and he opens the front door, before he steps out into the cold, you stop him. “Hey, Del,” you say to get his attention, reaching out for his wrist to pull him back and into a gentle hug. The week of not seeing him and being in his arms making you ache for his touch. When his hands settle round your back and his face rests in your hair, he lets out a sigh, and the both of you relax for a moment. “We’re gonna make it, Del. I know it.” You whisper quietly into his ear, pulling away and brushing a faint kiss on to his cheek. It feels shy and new and reassures you that things will be okay eventually. He lets his hands fall and wishes you a final goodbye, baby before turning and disappearing into the dark of the night.

You next hear from him two days later through a text message. No hello, how are you just a picture of some paint swatches and the words ‘which of these do you prefer? I’m not good at this’. You might have decided to go back to square one, but he was certainly texting you like you’d been friends for years, which technically you had.

Me: Are you redecorating?? Which room? My answer definitely depends on the room.

Del: Whole house. So I’m gonna need a LOT of advice.

Del: Do you wanna just come over to help?

Del: I’m sorry that might be too far. It’s okay if you don’t want to.

Across town he sits in his living room, surrounded by paint samples and colour swatches, nerves coursing through his veins, eagerly awaiting your reply. At home, you type a reply, excitement spurring you on.

Me: No, that’s okay. I’d love to come over. See you in twenty? X

Hitting send, you head off around the house to grab your belongings; car keys, mint gum, jacket from the stairs. You drive the roads to his house without thinking, mind knowing exactly when to turn from completing the journey so many times in the past. He welcomes you at the door, taking your coat and ushering you into the living room, decorating books sprawled out on the floor, small swatches of paint already drying on the walls.

“So, erm. Dare I ask what’s brought this on?” You ask humorously as you slowly make your way around the room looking at his work so far.

“I guess I just wanted a fresh start you know. I don’t want to move because I love this house, but I feel that it’s just a bit dead. Like it could use a bit of life breathing into it.” He replies, joining you on the floor to look over colour samples. A thought forms in the back of your mind that maybe he’s doing this for you. Maybe he’s erasing every trace of her in this house. Maybe he’s really serious about starting from square one. But then you mentally slap yourself for thinking that he’s changing the world for you, when you never asked him to; for thinking more of this than just a man repainting his house.

The two of you sit there on the floor for a while, mulling over colour samples and interior design magazines. Discussing which colour would look best in the kitchen and the dining room. He says he’s already settled on a light blue for the master bedroom, showing you a sample of the paint that he’d picked up at B&Q earlier. The sample being the exact colour of your favourite dress and flower. You smile at the idea of him painting your favourite shade of blue in his house – in his bedroom – and you let yourself dream of a future here, with him, for a minute.

Your conversation drifts from decorating to friends and work. You ask him how his recovery is going, confessing that you’ve still been worrying about him all week. He tells you that he’s still not able to play and that he’ll be attending tomorrow’s game as a fan once more. The idea of him sitting there alone in the stands, dying to be on the pitch, saddens you and before you can stop yourself, you’re letting yourself open up to him again.

“I could come with you? If you wanted, that is. I haven’t been to a Spurs game in ages.”

He picks you up right on time, as promised. On the drive into the city you discuss the game, who he thinks will be playing, how he thinks it will go. He asks about your day at work and you tease him saying that your colleague appreciated the flowers he had sent her last week. Pulling into the car park, you open the car door to be hit with an unseasonably warm February evening. Feeling a little hot, you stop to tug off your jacket, forgetting about the shirt you picked out earlier that sits underneath. Turning back to grab your bag from inside the car, he notices the name emblazoned across your shoulders. His name. His old shirt, actually. Gifted to you after the first game of the season. When you realise what he’s seen a blush slowly creeps on to your cheek as he smirks at you.

You sit there in the stands together, cheering and yelling, both enthralled by the game. He throws his hands in the air in frustration when the ref blows his whistle for a foul, claiming that it wasn’t a foul at all. His passion for the game distracts you and you find yourself watching less of the game and more of him.

After the game ends, he takes you down to see the rest of the team, all the guys greeting you with hugs and hellos, some of them mentioning that its good to see you. Eric pulls you into a hug, dragging you off down the corridor away from the group.

“You know he’s really sorry, right?” He says lowly, trying not to be overhead by the crowd of people congregating down the corridor. “He should have explained sooner, he fucked up, but he’s been going crazy and he really loves you.”

“Eric,” You cut in, “I know. We’ve talked it all over, and its going to take us a while and a lot of work to get to where we want to be, where we should be. I know you’re his best friend, but you don’t have to plead his case for him.” You nod at him reassuringly. He smiles back at you, his eyes still boring it to yours worryingly.

“Are you okay? He’s my best friend, and you’re his best friend, so I wanna look out for you,”

“I’m on the way to being okay,” You reply to his question, swinging an arm around his waist and walking back to the group with him.

Dele drives you home, conversation sparse between songs coming through the radio. His company feeling comfortable the way it used to. He pulls into your driveway, tyres rattling over the gravel. Killing the engine, he turns to look at you.

“About Friday, I want it to be a surprise, but don’t dress too fancy, dress practical.” He says, looking you in the eyes seriously. You crack a smile at him, confused by his statement.

“Dress practical? What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, imagining a whole series of activities he could have planned for you.

“It’s a surprise!” He insists, “just wear like jeans and some trainers or something. I like you like that.”

And so you agree, laughing slightly at how ridiculous he is. “I’ll see you Friday,” you say sweetly, reaching over to kiss his cheek, as a way to reassure him that this is working; that you’re making progress together. He waits in the driveway till get in your house, turning around for one last wave before entering. A blush creeps onto your cheeks making you feel like a teenager again, cursing yourself for being so weak to his charm.

Friday rolls around once more and you find yourself standing in front of your wardrobe, attempting to find an outfit that was suitable enough to meet his practical dress code. You settled for a classic ‘jeans and a nice top’ look with dark blue jeans and a white blouse, paired with white converse. Hair curled and make up natural, you head to the door when he rings the bell. He stands there in the doorway with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, dressed neat but casually. You invite him in, heading into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. He refuses to shed any clues as to where he’s taking you and its still unclear as he drives you into the city. He pulls into a parking garage off Brick Lane and together you walk down the street, still unaware of your destination. You stop in front of a mini golf club and you turn to look at him in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You ask, a little in shock that he would plan something like this; that he would remember something like this.

“First time we ever met, we snuck off from that fancy dinner and went to all night arcade. And you were gutted when we found out that the mini golf was shut.” He states, looking at you with a proud grin on his face. “I promised that I’d take you some other time and I never did.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” You beam at him, “I’m going to be so happy when I completely wipe the floor with you. You do realise you’re about to get absolutely hammered, right?” You mock, heading through the door with him.

He leads you over to the counter where he collects two balls and clubs, ordering two beers to go along with it. Handing you a beer, the both of you cheers your glasses.

“To starting again,” He says, looking you in the eyes.

“To winning at mini golf,” You say, and he looks away as he laughs before taking a sip. “Oh! You broke eye contact, that’s seven years bad sex for you, mister!”

He looks at you in shock. “That’s not a thing,” he protests, but you adamantly insist that it is; that your German friends from university had taught you the tradition. He smirks at you, “Besides, I don’t think I’m going to be having any bad sex any time soon,”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not going to be having any sex any time soon,” You retort, walking away from him towards the first hole. He feigns hurt as he follows.

The two of you take turns attempting each course. You perform a lot worse than you had expected, your competitive nature with yourself causing extreme disappointment. He misses the easiest of shots, racking up his points to be higher than yours. And when you finish, your score is 9 points lower than his, making you winner. You brag about the win over French fries and milkshakes, laughing at his defeat. His competitive nature fails to make a show, as he shows pride in your success, beaming at you as you lift the plastic trophy provided for you when you handed in your clubs.

The night drifts on and the dark sky calls you home. Your hand finds his over the console, the touch helping to mend the bridge between you, fingers laces together as he drives. He walks you to your door, asking if you want to go to the game with him in the morning. Instead of answering you reach up a lightly brush your lips over his, timidly, a little bit more of your heart open to him. He’s taken aback initially, allowing you to take the lead. Your hands wind our way around his neck, deepening the kiss. Shocks flow down your veins, only encouraging you further. It feels good be to back in his arms, connected once more. Your fingers weave their way into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer, not wanting to be apart from him anymore. Mind wandering, you forget everything that has happened last week, every shred of self-restraint you once had gone with the wind. With no intentions of stopping it, you open up further to him and he immediately pulls away. Shocked and hurt by the action, you pull back, unwinding your hands from his hair and brushing your hair out of your eyes. Despite it being your decision to take things slowly, his hesitation stings.

“Breakfast tomorrow at half nine before the game, I’ll pick you up.” He says, leaning down to kiss you softly again. It’s quick and leaves no time for you to attempt to pick things up again. You watch as he turns and heads back to his car, shaking your head as a you see him go to attempt to stop thoughts of him from running around your brain.

“God, that boy,” You whisper to yourself, stepping through the door. His charm and gravity pulling your closer back towards being his again with such ease. You could make him grovel all you liked but it wouldn’t take long for him to soon be in your arms again.

Let me know what you thought in my ask box or in the comments and what you wanna see happen next. I have an idea but suggestions are welcome x

#footballer imagine #dele #dele alli #jesse lingard #marcus rashford #england nt #eric dier #spurs #writing #slow burn #sb series #fire series

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