#his was a lot more challenging if i remember correctly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

updownlately · 1 year

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everything feels right (since you came along)

| ingrid engen x reader | fluff | 6.2k | inspo: fallin' all in you by shawn mendes and golden by harry styles | a/n: this one's been in the works for nearly a month now...definitely challenged me but we got there in the end. thanks for the req! hope this is to your liking! Idk if managed to capture ingrid's personality or not but i can at least say i tried ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~~~

You loved challenges. Or at least that’s what you told yourself, convinced yourself was the truth. You took pride in tackling difficulties in your life, facing any and each issue head on. So when you showed up to the training grounds of the FC Barcelona team, you didn’t really understand why you were so nervous.

Wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts, you contemplated why you had accepted the offer. Here you were, six thousand miles away from your childhood home and one thousand away from your second home, alone, in a country you had visited less than a handful of times, on a mission to prove yourself. You hadn’t really didn’t thought this through, had you?

Mentally kicking yourself for doubting yourself and then for being so socially awkward, you shook your head. You had this. You didn’t become a top class midfielder by doubting yourself. You hadn’t put in all this effort only to question if you deserved this opportunity.

Shaking your head, you pushed the negative thoughts of your mind, rolling your shoulders in a successful attempt to gain some confidence before finally grabbing your bag from beside you and stepping out of your car.

Mentally hyping yourself up, you had just barely shut your car door before an unfamiliar voice reached your ears, the smile on the speaker’s face nearly audible.

“Hi! You’re the new signing right?”

Turning your head around, it took everything in you for you to hide your shock (and awe) at who stood in front of you.

“I- uhm, yeah- I mean yes, yes I’m the new signing.” Stammering, you willed yourself to act at least somewhat collected.

“Well I’m glad we get to finally play with you and not against you, speedy. If I remember correctly, you and Leah had given us enough of a tough time the last time we played you.” Thankfully, the teasing tone didn’t go over your head, a smile appearing on your face at the friendly nature of the other midfielder. She began to walk past you, looking over her shoulder and slowing down, silently beckoning you to join her.

Taking long strides, you quickly caught up to her, falling in step beside her as you both crossed the parking lot.

“To be fair, your guys’ attacks weren’t any easier to stop by any means. Especially those of the sneaky number 11. Seemed like she had magnets on her feet and the ball with how fluidly she moved across the pitch,” you smiled back, the nerves in your body lessening slightly.

“I like you…you’re going to fit in well.” There was a smile on the taller girl’s face, a fond shake of her head further supporting her belief.

“I hope so,” you whispered. Unfortunately for you, your voice came out more panicked than you intended, the nervousness clear from the way it slightly shook.

Stopping in her tracks, the blonde turned towards you and put a hand on your shoulder, your footfall also pausing.

“Hey…listen to me, you didn’t just walk into here demanding a spot on the team. You earned it. And don’t be nervous about the girls either, they’re all really nice, I promise. Just relax, be yourself, vale?”

You nodded in response, inhaling deeply to try and calm yourself.

“They’re all really excited to meet you, ever since you were announced. Mapi’s actually already been talking about how you and her could master breaking multiple defences with your speed and her passing.”

You grin this time, warmth spreading in your body at the fact that the girls were already accepting you into the team. Letting Alexia lead the way, you followed her as she led you through the halls.

It was a a few short minutes later that the two of you were standing outside the locker rooms, loud yelling and laughter audible even through the thick walls and shut door.

“Excuse them, they can be a little hyper sometimes…” Alexia stated, head shaking fondly as she opened the door and ushered you in.

Entering the room however, the whole immediately quietened, almost as someone took a remote to the room and hit pause.

You were met with over a dozen smiles, a handful of the girls waving at you as you looked around the area.

Nervousness taking over your body again, you bashfully smiled back, raising your hand and giving a timid wave.

Almost as if she was sensing your nervousness, Alexia stepped up from where she was behind you and addressed the team.

“As you all are aware, we have a new teammate joining us today, I know you all will be welcoming but still, do your best to make her comfortable and please don’t be weird around her, at least for today.”

Shooting you a soft smile, Alexia headed towards her own locker, wordlessly gesturing for you to do the same.

Glancing around, noting the only open locker being beside number 23, you hesitantly made your way over. Standing a mere few feet away from her, you waited as she looked up from tying her laces. You had met Ingrid a few times before, it came with being friends with Frida. Your interactions with the other midfielder were limited, yet, unbeknown to the Norwegian, you’d always been mesmerised by her confidence and beauty, admiring the way she so easily glided between teammates and fans.

Nodding in question when you met eyes with her, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking about the locker beside her. The taller girl answered in the same manner, shuffling over, shooting you a gentle smile, one that you returned with ease.

Settling down beside her, you murmured a small hello, too shy for anything else. Caught up in unpacking your kit bag, you failed to notice the admiring gaze that Ingrid sent your way.

Deciding to take initiative, the Norwegian spoke.

“Glad to have you here. It’s going to be fun playing Frida now, at least I can be the one bragging to her about our fantastic mid-line.” Head snapping up from where it was buried in your bag, in the midst of looking for a hair tie, you tried and failed to hide your surprise.

“I- uh, huh?” You squeaked. Disbelief rolled through you. Not only did the Barcelona girls just accept you into the squad without the least bit of doubt, Ingrid, class midfielder Ingrid, pro at reading attacking plays Ingrid was complimenting you right now. You couldn’t tell if life was real right now.

Stopping your internal fan-girling, you spoke again. “I mean, you guys have an amazing mid-line, an amazing team all-around really. I don’t think I can improve perfection.”

“Considering I nearly hated playing against Arsenal last season, I’d beg to differ.” The dark-haired girl shot you a cheeky smile, unknowingly melting your heart.

“Fine, fine. Just know I’m just as excited to be here. And if it counts for anything, games against you guys were some of the hardest.”

“Team of champions right? More so now that you’re here.” You couldn’t tell if the other girl was trying to turn you to mush or make you feel comfortable, but whatever she was doing, you didn’t want her to stop.

You could only respond with a smile and a “hopefully”, your heart beating too fast at her compliments to string any other words together.

The two of you silently finished getting ready, your hair still loose. Following the rest of the girls out together however, you both at the back, you were failing miserably at putting your hair in a bun, it too short to stay without something holding it in place.

Noticing your struggle, Ingrid took her spare elastic off her wrist and handed it to you. “You know you could just ask one of us? And definitely me?”

A sheepish smile on your face, you took the hair tie. “I do now.”

And as you walk out together, Ingrid asking if you’d like to partner up for the day, you couldn’t help but feel even more relaxed, the homey and welcoming nature of the club (and of course of the brunette beside you) bringing you a sense of calmness.

~~~

It seemed like nervousness was becoming a common theme for you here in Spain. You were currently sat in the team bus, waiting as the rest of the team filed in. A pre-season game saw you all travelling out to Buñol to play a friendly against Levante. It wasn’t the fact that it was a pre-season that had you so worked up however. Just before leaving, Jonaton had pulled you aside, quietly informing you that you would be starting, news that came as a shock to you.

Since joining the team a slight over a month ago, you had barely played as a sub, much less as a starter, still trying to get a feel for where you fit in and the high on-field intensity of the team, so the decision had you dumbfounded. You assumed it was so that the coaching staff could figure out where to play you and how to best utilise you without the stress of it being an important game, but unfortunately for you, the once low-stress game had now become the main root of your anxiousness.

Headphones blasting, you noted as the doors to the bus finally closed, the last few stragglers taking a seat. It was then that the seat next to you was finally filled, your new bus-buddy appearing with her signature smile shining.

You couldn’t help the grin that took over your face, overriding your inner turmoil, the taller girl’s smile infectious.

“This seat taken?”

“Ingrid,” you shook your head in amusement, “do we really need to do this every time?”

The girl in front of you shot you a teasing wink before sitting down, a playful ‘yes’ escaping her lips.

The first day that the team had to travel, you had apprehensively boarded the vehicle, unsure of who you would sit beside, very much aware that there was a system to this, regardless of what team you were on. You had anxiously looked around, slowly stepping further down the walk way until you had made eye contact with Ingrid, her waving a hand to beckon you over.

Walking up to her, you had asked her the exact same question as seconds ago, and the Norwegian had just fondly shook her head, tilting it to the side. “I saved it for you.”

Your head had ducked down in embarrassment, endearment causing a slight blush to coat your cheeks, before you had taken a seat beside the brunette, her passing you one of her earbuds before relaxing into her own seat.

Since that day, it had become a sort of ritual between you two. You had only had a few bus rides since but each one consisted of either of you reaching the bus, sometimes together, and claiming a set of seats in the middle. When the other would eventually join, headphones would be shared or connected, the both of you more than excited to share your love of music, bonding over your versatility in styles.

So, as per tradition, Ingrid sat down beside you and you passed her your phone, letting her set up the shared airplay for herself.

Your thoughts being drowned out by the music humming through your earbuds, you let your head rest against the window, your leg bouncing fervently, partially in beat to the music but also due to your unease. Really, your whole body was thrumming, nervous energy almost palpable by the girl beside you.

You weren’t sure how long passed, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the chatter of the team fading to mere background noise. All you were aware was that between the handful of genres and songs the both of you had queued up, at least seven had passed, your nervousness not lessening like you had hoped it would.

Turns out, it wasn’t just you that was keeping track of your kangaroo leg. Ingrid was nearly losing her mind seeing you bounce up and down. The blurry motion of your limb just barely managing on, seeming as if it would fly off if it hadn’t been attached to your torso. She wondered why you were so hyper. It was only a friendly game after all.

Taking a deep breath in, she reached out to you, placing a gentle hand on your thigh, just above your knee.

The touch snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at the Norwegian, a wry smile on your face, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Your leg. It keeps bouncing. What’s the reason?”

Eyes widening, you contemplated telling Ingrid about what Jonaton told you. He didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone right?

“Uhm- Jonaton just told me a little while ago that I’m starting. I think he wanted to give me the bus ride as time to prepare, but if anything, I think it just made me more anxious.” You let go of the breath you were holding, your chest easing just by telling the girl beside you.

“That’s good! Right?”

“I think so? I’m just worried I’m not gonna play well y’know? Even though it is just a friendly…”

“I think you’ll play great, really. Just pretend that it’s one of our practices and that we need to kick Patri’s butt so she doesn’t get too big-headed,” the brunette joked, hoping to get a laugh out of you.

It was a successful attempt, a slight smile appearing on your face.

Shoulder’s relaxing, you took a deep breath in, Ingrid’s relaxed demeanour bringing you a sense of calmness.

It didn’t last long however, your heartbeat reaching its earlier speeds as you realised that the dark-haired girl hadn’t moved her hand yet. You quickly peeked at where it was resting on your thigh, sneaking a glance at Ingrid as well. It seemed that the Norwegian hadn’t noticed where her hand was placed, and you didn’t want to bring it to her attention, too afraid she’d take the grounding touch away.

A small smile on your face, heart racing for all the right reasons, you let yourself get comfortable in your seat, eyes closing, revelling in the touch and ground presence of your person.

~~~

“Your cheeks are a bit too red for a team photo…everything okay?” You knew the taller girl meant it out of concern but you couldn’t help but flush more at her statement, finding the concern etched on her face endearing.

“I- yeah, no I’m okay?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” This time Ingrid turned to face you, taking the time to really check in with you while the photographer was still busy directing the rest of the team where to stand.

You could feel your face heating up now, starting to fan yourself to make it die down just enough that you wouldn’t look like a tomato in the photos.

“I’m okay. Sorry this is nerve-wracking.”

“It’s okay. It’s very easy. I promise. All you need to do is smile and look good, and you are already really pretty, so I wouldn’t worry.”

Ingrid’s words brought another wave of heat to your face, you now ducking your head down in order to avoid anyone seeing you so red.

Laughing at your reaction to her statement, the Norwegian smiled, proud of herself for eliciting this response. Choosing to put you out of your misery, the older draped an arm around you, leading you to where she was supposed to stand, photographer’s positioning be damned. Her arm resting on your shoulder, she pulled you in beside her, shooting anyone who tried to question your new position a glare.

You knew she meant well, but with her arm around your waist, Ingrid had just increased the already bright blush on your face by tenfold, resulting in you nearly looking like you’d been poorly sunburnt. Just with the knowledge that she chose to comfort you, chose to wrap an arm around your waist where no one else could see but you and her, your smile became electric, shining brighter, true happiness reaching your eyes.

~~~

Your first game with the team had been a success, if you were to say yourself. You hadn’t got much playing time, only being subbed in for the last twenty or so minutes, but with the team already up 3-0, the lack of pressure to play well allowed you to focus on connecting with your team. Sure, practices had given you the opportunity to learn how to fit in on the field, but mid-game? That’s where the real test was. And you were pretty sure you passed it, most, if not all, of your passes connecting, no fouls or cards your way, and you almost assisting a goal if it hadn’t been deflected last minute by the keeper. All in all, you were happy.

The team could tell, having witnessed your restless form on the bench throughout the first and second half, and in the locker rooms during half-time, where you chose to stand, shifting from foot to foot until Ingrid had pulled you down to sit beside her, the sides of your bodies flush together in order to fit on the cramped bench.

So seeing you now, chasing Ingrid and Aitana after they had dumped their water bottles on you, your own in your hand spraying reckless behind them, was a refreshing sight. Even Lucy, someone you had been lucky enough to play with on the Man City team, hadn’t seen you this relaxed post-game ever. If you asked her, she’d tell you that she was glad you fit in well with the youngsters on the team, and especially with the Norwegian you had dubbed ‘your extrovert’. The sunshine personality of the tall girl had brought out a more care-free you, evident by the way you were being piggybacked around the sidelines by a now-drenched Ingrid as Aitana trailed beside you both, the three of you interacting with fans.

By the time you all had made it into the change rooms, there was a content smile on all of your faces, you leaning into Ingrid as she quietly ushered you to change, the both of you whispering and laughing, unaware of all the fond smiles directed at you.

Yeah, if Lucy had anything to say, she kept quiet, adoring the sight in front of her, glad you weren’t putting too much pressure on yourself like you normally would. Mentally making a note to thank the Norwegian another day, she turned back to her kitbag, hearing your shared giggles fill the space near her.

~~~

“So what you’re basically telling me is that you’re addicted to coffee?”

You were currently out in the streets of Barcelona, the taller girl having nearly dragged you out after practice so she could show you her favourite cafes around the city.

“No. I just love the way it energises me and I know what good coffee tastes like.” “Meaning you’re dependent on coffee to get you through the day and you’ve tried enough coffee to be able to identify the imperceptible difference between good and bad brews?”

“Alright, now you’re just spinning my words.”

You merely shrugged in response, a teasing smile on your lips. “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, yet here you are spending time with me?”

“I’m not answering that.”

You stopped in your tracks forcing Ingrid to stop too since your hands were intertwined.

Turning back to face you, she cocked her head to the side.

“Okay, what now?”

“I win.” “Oh my god, you’re insufferable. Listen, I’ll make you a deal…if you can tone down the annoyingness to zero, I’ll get you an extra pastry.”

“Tempting. You do love my annoyingness though...”

Rolling her eyes, Ingrid couldn’t stop her smile. “Sadly I do love it.” I might just love you.

“You have a deal. A pastry sounds heavenly right now.” Leading the way, you tugged on the brunette’s arm, the eagerness in your step at the promise of food taking her heart away and putting it in your hands.

~~~

“Why do you do this to yourself? And by choice?”

“Because it’s fun, and trust me, Alexia said the view at the end of this one is great!”

The two of you were currently up at half past five am, on a hike recommended to you by the two-time golden boot winner. You had somehow managed to drag Ingrid to do it with you, promising her a picnic and that you’d buy the coffee for the next week. (You didn’t know it, but Ingrid would’ve done it with or without the promise of coffee or food, happy to just be in your presence).

So here you were, about 1 third of the way done through the one and a half hour hike, the taller girl trailing behind you, questioning just why it was you of all people she had to fall for, silently of course.

The sun was set to rise at just slightly past seven, giving the two of you plenty of time to set up the breakfast picnic that you were currently carrying in your backpack. Though, you’d have to make it up there, and at the rate that the usually excitable and energetic Norwegian was gruffing at, you weren’t sure if a completion was in the cards today.

Calling out behind you, you thought it would be worth a shot to bribe the midfielder even further.

“If we make it to the top before….,” you checked your watch calculating the time, “fifteen before seven, we can have a movie night tonight, and I’ll let you pick whatever stupid horror movie you probably want to watch. How’s that for some motivation?”

Turning around to face the brunette, you waited for a response, her having stilled in her movement at the offer.

“Two movies, I get to pick both, and it’s at my place so that we can make a pillow fort.”

You were just about to agree to her terms, well-aware that she was as much of a child when it came to day to day activities as you were when the other girl beat you to it.

“Oh, and I get to pick the takeout,” you were met with a smug look, Ingrid confident that she was going to be the clear winner in this bargain, knowing how excited you were to do this hike.

“Ingrid…”

“I don’t mind turning back around?”

“You’re so stubborn, you’re lucky I’m the one who suggested this…” You couldn’t believe the cheekiness of the girl in front of you, laughing to yourself and shaking your head.

“Deal you dork. Now c’mon, we have a hike to finish and a time to beat.” Reaching your hand out, you let her take it, intertwining your fingers and pulling her in beside you, hands swinging in the limited space between your bodies.

Of all the people you could’ve taken a liking to here in Barcelona, in Spain, hell, the whole world, of course you had to choose the human golden retriever beside you. The one that was so perfectly stubborn, so energetic, and your anxiety-reducing, lovable, ray of sunshine here in the city. If you didn’t know any better, you’d spend the next few minutes of whatever minimal darkness there was in the sky looking for a shooting star, hoping you could have her in your life forever, preferably with a different title if the universe was feeling particularly kind.

~~~

“You do realise you can just ask her out right?”

Caro’s whispering brought Ingrid out of her trance. The two of them were sat in Alexia’s living room, the team deciding to hold a movie night under the pretence of a bonding session.

The midfielder had been staring at you, at your curled up body on the floor leaning what looked to be uncomfortable against the front of the couch. You had your legs pulled up to your chest, arms crossed above and head resting on the back of your folded hands. There was no way that could be comfortable and Ingrid knew it, longing to be able to just tuck you into her side, let you rest as she held you through your nap.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ingrid shot back, voice a murmur, careful not to draw the attention of the other girls in the room.

“So the puppy dog eyes, always partnering up with her, sitting beside her, sharing your music with her, coffee dates and all have just been because you’re friends? Ingrid…she might be blind but we aren’t. I’m not.” Caro leaned away from Ingrid, not extremely worried about the other girls hearing her. They all knew, could see the heart eyes you two had for each other. It just seemed that while the both of you communicated extremely well on the pitch, the same excellency did not translate to both of you off the pitch.

Ingrid’s heart raced slightly just at the thought that you might return her feelings. Trying to remain cool though, she dismissed Caro’s (accurate) assumption. “No. We’re just friends. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“So you do like her.” The finality in Caro’s tone has the dark-haired girl frazzled.

“I-no. I never said that.”

“You didn’t deny it…”

“I-no…listen, it’s-“

“Ingrid…just ask her out okay? One of these days, while you both are together, like you two always now seem to be, just ask her out. I don’t think the team could take any more of you both shooting heart eyes at each other when one of you aren’t looking.”

Head hanging down in embarrassment, Ingrid blushed at just how obvious she had been. Really though, she couldn’t blame herself. No one else ever had her smiling like you did. No one else brought butterflies to her stomach even close to what you brought each time you’d walk into the room.

“Are you sure?”

“About you two being obvious? Yes. It’s sickeningly sweet.”

“No, about her liking me back…”

“Oh. Yes.” The tone of finality in Caro’s voice wasn’t lost on the tall girl, her heart racing at the idea of you liking her back.

“Also, please could you get her to a more comfortable position? I rather not see her hunched over from back pain tomorrow…”

Cheeks hurting from just how much she was smiling, Ingrid went to gently shake you out of your slumber, pulling you up to a half-sitting, half-leaning position beside her in the limited space. In your sleep daze, you didn’t realise what was going on, your body focused on going back to sleep, and so you let yourself be pulled up and sat down, cuddling into the warmth beside you, blissfully unaware.

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, you eventually waking up to the unabashed teasing of your teammates and the sight of a blush adorably coating your cuddle buddy’s face.

~~~

It was a few weeks later that a team dinner found the both of you sat beside each other, the rest of the team becoming accustomed to you two nearly doing everything as a pair. Even with something as insignificant as photos for social media, you both would always be stood by one another, Ingrid’s arm often slung over your shoulders, your own wrapped around her torso. So really, no one batted an eye when you both simultaneously scooted your chairs closer to each other, bursting out in laughter when you realised your shared action and timing.

And as the dinner went on, the two of you only jumping into the conversation once in a while, more content to be caught up in your own world, in your own little bubble, the team couldn’t help but tease you when you would chime in, exasperated at the fact that neither of you had admitted your feelings for the other. If they had it their way, the pair of you would have been locked in an equipment room together ages ago. Luckily for you however, Alexia had long warned the other girls not to meddle, a soft spot in her heart for the both of you.

Now though, the captain may have just slightly regretted that decision. Witnessing the two of you be so tuned in with each other, likely appearing as a couple to those that didn’t know you, all the blonde wanted to do was let the younger girls put their plan into motion.

“You know, I have a feeling it’d be a lot easier to tolerate you two if you just asked her out.”

Ingrid had just barely stepped away from the table to head to the washroom when Alexia quickly slid into the seat beside you.

“Huh what…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come one, you guys are so lovesick all the time. She shoots you heart eyes when you both get ready for training and you don’t stop smiling when she’s beside you. Honestly the sweetness is making me sick, it’s annoying. Ask her out, make it easier on us.”

Alexia sounded absurd to you. “She doesn’t like me like that.”

“Says who? You both are always touching in some sort of way. She always goes out of her way to stand beside you. And don’t deny how she always practically hugs you in photos.”

“She’s touchy with everyone.”

“Lo dice en serio? When’s the last time she gave anyone her hoodie? She gave it to you right away after you spilled water on your shirt.”

“She would’ve done it for anyone,” you argued. You couldn’t believe Alexia was really talking to you about this. You knew some of the girls like Aitana and Patri had been teasing you two about this but you’d never thought Alexia would join in. And so what if it was true that you did like Ingrid. She just liked you as a friend.

“So you’re telling me she would’ve told anyone that they look good in her clothes?”

Alexia’s words evoked your face to redden, mouth opening and closing a few times, words evading you.

“Listen, it’s not like that.”

Alexia hummed, turning to get up from the seat. “She’s probably coming back soon. You believe whatever you want to believe…”

You pouted at her statement, watching her as she walked across the table back to her seat just in time for the topic of conversation to appear in the vicinity.

Surely she didn’t reciprocate your feelings right? You would have been able to tell. If anything you both just got on really well and she appreciated that…right?

~~~

“You’ve been quiet. It’s not normal.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you turned to look at Ingrid.

The two of you were currently walking down the streets of Barcelona, the dinner having wrapped up only a short while ago. You both had (after a lot of back-and-forth) agreed that you’d walk the taller girl home, you joking that precious cargo should always be escorted.

“Just thinking…”

“About?”

“….stuff?” You answered, the statement more a question than a solid response.

“Well that doesn’t sound concerning.” Ingrid looked over at you, eyebrows perked up in question, waiting for you to continue.

Eyes shooting away to look ahead, you willed yourself not to make eye contact, choosing to continue walking.

It was after a couple of minutes of silence that you finally found your bearings and decided to take the chance.

“You think that if, hypothetically speaking, if we were to date, would we be good? Like good together? ‘Cause everyone keeps saying it and…” Gaze drifting to see Ingrid’s shocked expression beside you, you quickly backtrack, embarrassment coating your cheeks. “I- uhm, forget that I said anything. It was a stupid question. It doesn’t matter anyways.”

Body slightly stiffening, you forced yourself to pretend like you hadn’t just made a complete and utter fool of yourself.

The pair of you walked quietly for a bit, both lost in your thoughts, too afraid to voice out your want for the other. Letting the hum of electricity from the dim streetlights and warm glow of the stars and moon soften the stifling silence, you let your mind wander into what the potential outcomes could be of this night. You could very well end up in a situation where Ingrid liked you back, yet that seemed so unlikely, too perfect for it to be true. What you were more concerned about at the moment was whether you’d lose a friend, one of the only people that brought you comfort in this new city and club.

Stuck in your musings, you didn’t realise when you were nearly outside Ingrid’s home, The sight of the familiar street nearly breaking you out of your thoughts, yet not distracting you enough. It was then, as you approached the front of her house that the Norwegian’s soft voice pulled you out of your own troubled thoughts of how much of an idiot you were.

As Ingrid stopped in front of the gate, you could feel your heart starting to pound increasingly harder. You really didn’t want to lose her as a friend. You didn’t know what you’d do. You hadn’t met anyone as energetic as her before, her sunshine personality drawing you in, trapping you in a warmth of light that you didn’t want to escape.

You knew you couldn’t fully tell her, but the way your heart would skip a beat when she’d casually drape an arm over your shoulders had you smiling. How she’d drag you throughout the numerous cafes she’s discovered in her time in the city, never failing to make your day. You were absolutely smitten if you were honest, and the thought of her not wanting to be friends after becoming aware of your feelings absolutely broke you.

Noticing your dazed expression, Ingrid grabbed your fingers with hers, the both of you now standing hands held, out in the night, almost like two fools ready to partake in playground activities. Her intent behind her actions however was successful, pulling you out of your thoughts and into the present with her.

Taking a deep sigh in, your eyes now looking up expectantly at her, Ingrid jumped off the cliff she’d been resting on since you joined.

“I’d like to think we’d be pretty good together.” You swallowed hard at her words, eyes growing wide, too afraid to say anything. “You aren’t the only one who’s thought about it…”

This time, it was your turn to be shocked. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Sorry- what?”

She took a deep breath beside you, eyes now barely meeting yours, instead staring past you.

Peeking over at you to assess your reaction, Ingrid let out the breath she was holding.

“I think…and I’m sorry if I make this weird…but I think- no I know I like you, like more than a friend. I think I always have, ever since you shyly sat beside me in the locker rooms that first day.” Sensing she had your attention and that you hadn’t yet nearly lost your mind at her, she continued. “I’ve liked you for a while now, I just didn’t want to make things weird between us…I don’t want to lose you as a friend though. So if you don’t feel the same please just let me know, because I don't know how much longer I can hold back the urge to be with you all the time.”

“You are pretty much with me all the time though, so I don't know what you’re holding back on.” You spoke, hoping your voice didn’t betray the smile on your face. You stood, staring at the ground, kicking at the little pebbles at your feet.

Ingrid looked up at you slowly, an incredulous expression on her face. “Is that all you have to say?”

Meeting her gaze, you revealed the smile that you were hiding. “I think…I think we should go on a date tomorrow. What do you think?”

“Wait- really?” Laughing at the surprise on Ingrid’s face, you stepped in a little closer.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p’, a smile bright on your face, even in the dim light. “You and me and the cafe around the corner you like so much…I’ll swing by around nine?”

And as Ingrid eagerly nodded her head vigorously, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her midsection, a chuckle espying your lips at her enthusiasm, nervous butterflies in your stomach finally, for the first time since you moved here, settling down into a comforting hum full of hope and happiness.

It felt good to be nervous, you liked this kind of nervousness.

Pulling the Norwegian close, a hug full of promises and a ‘see-you-later’, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe this move wasn’t so terrible after all.

(Future you would agree, a handful of years down the line, as you’d inevitably drag Ingrid on another hike, promises of date nights and cuddles a misdirection as you’d finally reach the peak, the brunette seeing the beauty of another sunset before turning to see the sight of you on one knee.)

#ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #ingrid engen imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #fluff #my writing #fic req #efr #not properly proofread but fuck it im posting #woso #woso one shot

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justcallmecj · 4 months

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Seeing Your Dragon Form: First Years

(I feel like this chapter of the series may be crappier than the previous ones. I'm slowly running out of ideas and have used up quite a bit of my writing energy recently. I've come to realize that writing for the First Year Squad is just harder for me because I'm used to the pure crackhead energy the fandom gives them, but I'm still going strong! Oh well, I really want to write, so here I am!)

^Original note from Quotev that I put prior to the chapter. As a sort of mini explanation for my mindset going into this one.

Ace

Ace wanted to look unimpressed and chill, but he was currently losing it, and you could tell.

When you finally settled down, he approached you with his hands behind his head, really trying to hit home the idea he wasn't fanboying over you right now.

You brought your head down to allow him to get a closer look as well as touch your horns and snout.

He was a lot gentler than you thought he'd be.

He carefully ran his hand up and down your snout, making you hum in the process.

He tried talking to you, getting frustrated when you'd only hum and growl, before those two working brain cells in his head worked and he figured out that you couldn't actually talk.

He doesn't know, for some reason, a part of his brain just assumed you'd be able to talk.

Despite the current situation, Ace's behavior didn't change. He still tried to tease you, coming up basically unsuccessful because that's just how it is between the two of you, didn't stop him though.

Once, when you weren't paying attention, he tried to climb onto your back, not expecting the reaction that you'd have.

When you realized, you rolled over, trapping him under you. Due to the size difference, he was completely stuck, despite how much effort he put into trying to push you off him. You made sure not to hurt him though, and you didn't.

He could practically hear you laughing, even if it just came out as draconic grumbles.

sigh "You really never change, huh? You big bully! Though honestly, what can I say? I'm the same way, and I wouldn't want you any other way."

Deuce

Deuce was certainly nervous.

No fear. His brazen, delinquent years prepared him to take on any challenge that may be thrown at him, but this was definitely different.

He was stunned for a decent while after you transformed. Just kinda standing there, frozen in place.

Pretty sure his brain fried for a moment.

When he finally came back to his sense, he tried to play it all off with compliments, but really, there was no tricking you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt and ignored it.

He was the most interesting by your wings.

(If I remember correctly)One of the reasons he likes being on the Track Team/Magical Wheel(?Can't remember which), is feeling the wind rush past him when he picks up speed. Because of this, he really admired your wings, which could do the same thing but ten fold.

He really wanted to ask you to take him on a flight with you, but was too shy to ask out loud. Maybe one day he'll have the confidence.

He made sure to be extra careful around parts like your horns, tail and other parts that may be considered sensitive/vulnerable. He didn't want to risk being even a little to rough and hurting you. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt you. (He doesn't realize how tough dragon skin and scales are, just give him a while).

All in all, it was a pleasant experience for the both of you. He had fun getting to see a new side of you, and you got to have a breather in your dragon form with no worries about who's around you.

"This is truly amazing. I can't believe you're capable of something like this. You really make NRC much more fun than it would be if you weren't here."

Jack

His reaction was much different from the others.

You and him are pretty similar in more ways than some may think.

Both of you are non-human beings capable of turning into a natural animal form. Him a wolf, you a dragon.

He was calm, but astounded. He didn't think you'd be quite so big.

He gets bigger than a normal wolf when he uses his Unique Magic, but he always assumed that was because he's a bigger person himself. Maybe it's just natural for anyone capable of this ability.

He was cautious to approach, not fully aware of how conscious you are, taking his own wolf state into account.

You just sat down, tail resting on the forest floor, wings at rest, showing just how comfortable you were in the situation. That convinced him that nothing had changed except how you looked.

He sat next to you, showing the same peaceful signs. Tail resting and ears calm.

You came closer, laying your head down next to his side. He reached out a hand and gently stroked the top of your head.

You two just stayed there like that for a while. Peacefully enjoying each others calm presence, until he stopped petting you.

You had gotten so used to the feeling and were so close to falling asleep, him stopping upset you.

In retaliation, you picked up your head and placed it down in his lap. He panicked for a moment before freezing, not knowing quite what to do.

He soon recognized the affectionate action. It was one his younger sister and brother would do when they wanted affection without actually saying they wanted affection. A silent plea.

He placed his hand back on your head, petting you like he was not even a minute ago. Sometimes he'd move his hand and scratch behind your ear, which caused you to hum and delight.

"We really are more alike than I thought. Are you sure you're not just a dog in disguise?" You grumbled at the playful tease, making him laugh.

Epel

Epel actually reacted much differently than you expected.

The moment he saw your dragon form, he wasted no time in rushing over and didn't even attempt to hide his complete adoration.

He jump up and down, bouncing on the heel of his feet. He rushed around, taking in every detail about you that he could.

His attention to speech completely leaves his mind and his natural accent slips in until he's speaking with such a think accent it's sometimes hard to understand what he's saying.

This may very well be the most excited you've seen Epel act, other than when he's getting competitive.

When he was finally able to wrap his head around everything and calm down, his demeanor changed on the dime, much like his personality can.

He softly took hold of your snout and held if close to his chest with his arms holding onto the underside of your head, something he likes to do even when you're in your normal form. For him, it's a show of trust, one he knew you'd understand.

A soft hum found its way out of your throat. He giggled at the affection.

You both took a rest and talked. It may have been a one-sided conversation, but he didn't mind.

He rambled on and on to fill the silence, accompanied with the occasional scratch under the chin.

There was a moment where he got jealous about how much bigger you were than him normally, let alone now. But, he soon got over it after thinking about how it must have just been natural since you weren't human.

"As much as I think it's unfair you can do all these cool things about how you look while I'm stuck like this, I'm still really happy that you opened up to me. I know what it's like to not be content with how you look, but we can do our own thing together!"

Sebek

Now, normally, Sebek is really respectful towards you. A byproduct from how he treats Malleus and how similar the two of you are.

Throughout the school year, it's taken some work, but you've gotten him to truly see you as a friend, not just another fae.

But, things did change a little bit after seeing your dragon form.

He's never seen Malleus's, because Malleus sees no use in taking his dragon form most of the time, so he didn't quite know what he was expecting to see from you.

When he watched a massive, spike covered, ice coated dragon walked out of the mist that practically came out of now where, he was honestly a little scared.

He remembered a story Lilia had told him and Silver once. It was about how once, when Malleus was young, he changed forms after throwing a temper-tantrum. After that, Sebek just started associating the idea with anger.

But, his time as a guard(and your friend) allowed him to be more observant than some. He saw every cue that would tell your current mood. There was no anger, only a calm curiosity. A curiosity towards him.

The idea of you watching him with the intention to see how he'd react embarrassed him. He turned his head to hide the reddening of his cheeks, but he didn't realize the red had crept up his ears and right into your watchful gaze.

You made a sound, one he didn't recognize, but it sounded faintly like laughter.

You were laughing at him!!!

He stomped a foot and grumbled under his breath, only causing you make more of the laughing sounds.

After that whole fiasco, Sebek finally felt comfortable enough to let down his guard.

His sharp hearing allowed him to quickly pick up on the different meanings of certain sounds, enough to have a semi-coherent conversation. He made sure to keep his voice quieter than usual, only being able to guess how sensitive your hearing may be right now.

Eventually, the interaction between the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar conversation, like nothing was different about this scenario than usual.

"I really should be finding Waka-sama right now, but as Silver has told me, I may need to lighten up. So, we'll stay here for a while longer." His voice got just a bit quieter, "Thank you for showing me this."

And then the original note I put on Quotev after the chapter-

(Well, I think this set actually came out a lot better than I initially though it would. These five weren't as hard to write for as they usually are once I actually started soooo- YAY!!)

You can see the mindset change, wow.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #ice dragon!reader #justcallmecj fics #justcallmecj headcanons

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absolutely-esme · 10 months

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Monster!Tim Coraline AU part 2

A while back, I posted an Idea I had For a Combination of a Coraline AU and a Meta!Tim AU. It's here assuming I made the link correctly.

Well, I had more thoughts on the matter, so I'm making another post.

First off, I want to expand/clarify on how Tim's powers work.

Tim fights (or otherwise challenges) various supernatural things and gains power from defeating them. I touched on this before and mentioned that it was because it was symbolically similar hunting and eating prey. I would like to talk a bit more about what this entails.

Upon achieving victory, Tim takes a bit of power from the defeated opponent and incorporates it into himself. Tim can gain abilities this way or just boost his own power level a bit. He does not physically eat any part of his opponent.

The opponent is left a bit weaker, but does not lose abilities completely and is not permanently damaged. They can get their power levels back up given some time. Think of it like donating blood, they’ll be a little weak and woozy for a bit, but no lasting harm is done. Now, I cannot stress enough that this is because of the choices Tim makes.

Tim chooses to use his powers in the gentlest way available. He chooses not to take more than they can safely part with. He chooses not to simply consume them completely. He chooses to pay careful attention to how much power his opponents can afford to part with and whether or not they are in a position to weather the recovery safely. Tim grew up looking up to Batman and Robin. He believes in harm reduction.

That’s why the supernatural-leaning rogues fear him so much. Their instincts are very aware that this is a predator that has simply decided not to kill them today. He probably won’t next time either, but he could easily make a different decision at any time. At least some of them are not entirely aware of their ties to the supernatural or why the third Robin inspires such primal existential fear.

The thing that drives Tim to keep doing these challenges is not primarily a desire for power (though some of the abilities he gains are useful), but rather because it makes the hunger more manageable for a bit. It doesn’t stop it, but it takes the edge off for a little while. Tim was incredibly suspicious of this at first. He knows full well that his condition makes a point of being inconvenient and that it is easy to spiral out of control in a way that makes one dangerous to oneself or others. He remembers how miserable the fallout of trying to eat to fullness was. He made a careful study of the challenges and how they affected him. He kept meticulous notes on his mental and physical state. He also created and stuck to a very rigid schedule on how often he would allow himself to “hunt,” and made a point of not taking too much from his “prey.”

Tim starts off pretty close to a baseline human and gathers abilities over time.

When he is very young he gains improved stealth and the ability to sense secrets. For a little while, that’s all he has, until he learns that there are other things in Gotham he can challenge.

While he was still very young he collected the ability to make his fingernails razor-sharp, the ability to climb like a goat, some minor enhanced strength (just enough to somewhat offset the disadvantage of being so tiny), partial immunity to slipperiness caused by water (from the many rain/fog/whatever spirits to be found in a city as gloomy as Gotham), increased impact resistance (don’t know what that thing was, but Tim’s not sure if he actually beat it or if it was just so high above his level that it felt safe to feed him a scrap of its power purely out of curiosity over what he might do with it), and a bite like a beartrap.

Then the Beldam incident happened. He got a lot from dealing with the Beldam because that wasn’t an ordinary challenge (by his way of doing things). The Beldam was too powerful, too dangerous, too impossible to contain, too sneaky, too focused on targeting vulnerable victims who won’t be missed in time for any sign to be found. Tim had to stop her for good right then and there because he only had one shot. Even if he survived and escaped (which wasn’t especially likely if he held back at all) she would go right on killing children. There was no way to put the Beldam in Arkham even just until the next breakout. No way to track the Beldam. No way of protecting other isolated, vulnerable children without lethal force. So Tim killed the Beldam and consumed it entirely (he has to think of the Beldam as an it, he can’t afford to do otherwise).

From defeating the Beldam, he gained a supernatural knack for fiber arts (especially spinning, weaving, and sewing), the ability to control things he makes with these skills to a certain degree, the ability to see through buttons he’s sewn on things, some slight shapeshifting, minor space-folding on the level of making his pockets a bit bigger on the inside, and illusory powers that allow him to make things seem a bit nicer/brighter/more pleasant. He also gains a pretty huge general power boost that goes into enhancing his existing abilities. He takes to spinning some very strong cord and keeping a few skeins on his person at all times because it’s useful for a number of things and makes a pretty good weapon, especially with his ability to manipulate it.

The shapeshifting isn’t much on it’s own, but it can combine with other abilities he’s taken on to let him make greater changes and take on forms that better support use of his powers.

After the Beldam incident, Tim’s power levels increase a good deal very quickly, allowing him to challenge and defeat stronger opponents and collect stronger abilities. Tim continues wandering, continues fighting, continues gaining power.

(Trauma? What Trauma? He’s fine. It all turned out okay in the end. The Beldam is dead. The souls she trapped are free. Tim totally doesn’t have complicated feelings about killing her. It. Tim is fine. Tim totally doesn’t have nightmares about an evil Batman with buttons for eyes. You would not believe how fine he is.)

He collects some extra senses that allow him to maintain greater awareness of his surroundings. He gains the ability to produce and maintain a very small fire (like a candle flame on a tealight) at his fingertips. He gets quicker reflexes from something he probably wouldn’t have been able to beat prior to killing the Beldam (he had to tank an uncomfortable number of hits in that fight).

He gains the ability to find and use what he decides to call shortcuts. They’re these odd little throughways tucked into out of the way places that he can pass through and go from one place to someplace a fair distance away. One of them is an odd little opening in a wall between a dead-end alley and a rooftop on the other side of town. The shortcuts don’t look odd or out of place. He mostly recognizes them by vibes. If he had been born with this ability rather than gaining it later in life he probably wouldn’t have realized that there was anything odd about the shortcuts or that no one else could see them.

…

Tim goes on doing his thing, pretending he wasn’t traumatized by the Beldam, and even managing to heal a little despite his somewhat unhealthy handling of it.

Then Robin dies, and Batman loses it. Now Batman is self-destructing and looks like he’s going to take all of Gotham down with him, the Other Gotham Nightmares are back, and Robin is fucking dead.

Tim is not okay.

Tim tries to get someone else, anyone else, to deal with the situation because a violent, out of control Batman is a pretty massive trigger for him. No one else who seems like they might be able to do anything for Batman is willing to intervein. Batman is getting worse.

It looks like Tim is going to have to be the one to do something about this.

…

When Tim eventually begins his training to be Robin, it is such a hassle learning how to fight without his powers. Batman and Nightwing think he’s incredibly clumsy when he first starts his training and wonder just how the heck he managed to follow them undetected for so long. Then the clumsiness clears up more quickly than they would have expected, and they are concerned that he might have had a concussion when he started training and they didn’t notice.

It’s actually because he has to re-learn how to get around without using his powers in a way that Batman and Nightwing would notice, and he’s started to forget how to account for large bulky items that aren’t tucked away in a pocket dimension. That said, he did do it all without powers in the beginning so he’s re-learning rather than learning something new for the first time. Also, he figures out pretty quickly that he can use the stealth he got from secret hunters and the goat-like climbing ability he got from a Jersey Devil because neither Bruce nor Dick realizes just how unusual Dick’s childhood level of ability was.

While Tim is operating as the Bats’ emotional support child, he uses his illusion powers from the Beldam to look cute, comforting, healthy, and un-concerning. When he’s not with the Bats, he drops the illusion and just goes about his business with his actual appearance. When he has some shit to get done far enough outside of the Bats’ sphere of influence that he can be reasonably confident he can avoid them finding out about it, he turns into something out of a scary movie.

Guess who gave digital art a try? Here we have Emotional Support Tim, Regular Tim, and Cryptid Tim.

I hadn't originally planned for Cryptid Tim to be showing that much skin, but i had to spend a lot of time figuring out the anatomy before I could figure out how to dress him, and by the time I realized what I was doing, i'd put so much work into the shading on the ribcage that i didn't want to cover it completely. Tim won't actually dress like that in Cryptid form, I just worked really hard on the anatomy. I should do more art to figure out his actual Cryptid Garb.

I went the stretched out, spindly monster route for Tim's Cryptid form because his magic/condition is called "afflicted with gluttony." I know a lot of artists make monsters based on the concept of gluttony heavyset with lots of excess fat tissue, but I feel like it makes sense to have a gluttony monster look hungry, like no matter how much it's eaten it's nowhere near enough.

The gray-ish skin with darker gray hands was just because I thought it would look spooky, and redoing the hands once they were done felt like it would be a lot of work. Hands are hard. Especially with foreshortening.

#Hungry Monster Tim AU #DC #Batman #batfamily #batfam

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 4 months

Note

Hi Elanor!!! I scrolled way far on your blog the other day (it is excellent and humorous) and you had a really lovely response to an ask along the lines of "I failed out of my Master's degree how do I try again". You had a variety of excellent advice but one specific bit that I appreciated greatly was when you mentioned that you'd had to stop partially through a degree (if I remember correctly) and then when you went back you intentionally only did studying part time.

I found the last twoish years of my schooling very challenging and then had to drop out of a degree about 2 years in and there's been a lot of subsequent fumbling (and therapy) to figure out what I actually want to study and to set my own goals and I got diagnosed with adhd recently as well and.... for a lot of my own reasons I've been considering just going at it part time for at least the first 1-2 years. Reading that it's not just me that may benefit from not making studying my entire life meant a lot. I come from an intensely academic family for whom this sort of path just Does Not Compute and so it was very relieving to read that no, it's not just me!!

Anyway -- thank you! I hope you are having a good day :)

:D :D :D

I'm so pleased it helped! And yes, absolutely, part time is a super valid way to go and for me personally it's the only option. I unravel very quickly if I try full time study. I also have to say, as a lecturer, the part time students are always the better students when compared as a group to the full timers. More dedicated to self improvement, more likely to participate in their own learning, more likely to understand what they want to achieve, and more likely to get the higher marks.

If you do decide to try it, good luck! And well done for the hard work you've done so far in detangling the headrubbish. That's a difficult job.

#asks

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loversmantra · 9 months

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keeping quiet.

content. geto suguru x reader. typical geto hurt, no comfort, gn!reader, geto is implied to be taller than reader, arguing, brief gorey imagery but it is very light, me remembering halfway that he really does have a point, discussion of whether non-sorcerers deserve to live or not lmao, uh yeah he's not doing well but tbh no one is

wc. 1.2k

message from noe. is this the thing that kills my writer's block? is it? regardless, look guys! i wrote a thing!

the question is as unexpected as what will come next.

you’ve had a habit of sneaking in suguru’s dorm lately. he says having you close helps him sleep. you know he never does – he watches you breathe until the sun rises. you know he’s lying to make you feel better about yourself – like you’re succeeding, you’re healing him, he’s getting better thanks to you. you hate it.

you notice all his bad habits: it’s not just the sleepless nights. he’s picked up smoking from shoko. he rarely eats, rarely even drinks water. he trains a lot – a lot more than his body can take.

he lies. all the time.

‘i’m fine.’

he lies.

you see everything, you notice everything, but you can’t bring it up. he deflects, he pushes back, and you’re afraid you can barely call yourself his partner anymore – not when you spend more time away on missions than with him. you’re afraid you’re making him angry with all your questions – when you feel like the Suguru you see when you’re with him, between the endless back-to-back missions, is no longer him but rather a remnant, a ghost of the boy he used to be. you’re afraid he’ll leave if you keep insisting – because most the time you spend together these days is spent with you sleeping and him watching you. so you keep quiet. you keep quiet so you can keep him.

you’re afraid, and you’re tired, and he’s tired, and you watch as he wastes away.

you see everything, you notice everything, yet somehow the question is as unexpected–

“what if we kill them all?”

–as what will come next.

you’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly, at first. it’s late, you’re already half asleep, and he’s holding you tight against his warm, warm chest. his voice is a devilish whisper in your ear. a challenge. a plea.

you rise on your elbow and turn to look at him. words fail you, and very intelligently, you say:

“huh?”

you think you see the ghost of a smile gracing his lips, and you would be overjoyed if he hadn’t just suggested actual murder in the most serious tone you’ve ever heard from him.

“you heard me,” he murmurs.

oh, you heard him.

“who do you want to kill?” you ask, but you know the answer. damn it, you know the answer.

suguru’s no stranger to killing, to death – to dying. kill them all, he said. kill them all…

what you want to know isn’t who. what you want to know is if he’s willing to say it out loud, in front of you. right to your face. he hasn’t been the same. you saw.

“the non-sorcerers.”

he says it like it’s an insult, like the very idea of them is appalling.

“what?” you scoff, disbelieving yet somehow not surprised. “what’s the point of that?”

“what’s the point?” he too rises on his elbow. you’re no longer looking down at him, you’re forced to tilt your chain and look up. it’s uncomfortable; it’s always like that with him. why would sharing a bed be any different?

“the point,” suguru starts again, and the emptiness, the raw coldness of his voice paralyzes you, “is to stop sorcerers from dying.”

“so you want to prevent deaths by causing deaths?”

it doesn’t make sense to you, what he’s saying. he who was so hellbent on ‘protecting the weak’– where has he gone? what is he doing?

“these… they’re the reason we’re dying. all i want is our survival.”

he’s looking at you, but it almost feels like he’s piercing right through, digging through the tender flesh to try and touch your heart itself. is he trying to convince you?

“suguru,” you sigh and sit up, rubbing your eyes – stalling for time, “do you really want to have this conversation now?”

he follows. once again, your chin tilts up so can look him in the eye. “now’s as good a time as any,” is what he tells you in reply.

you’re about to reprimand him, to demand he elaborates, because you’re really just in the dark here – but he does so on his own.

“why should we suffer so they can prosper? why do we have to die while they thrive and multiply?”

“they can’t defend themselves against curses, suguru–“

“curses that they create, curses that we have to eradicate at any cost,” he breathes and his voice breaks. you know exactly what he’s talking about. who he’s talking about.

you can almost see it: the mountain of bodies the school is built on. you can almost taste it – the blood on their hands.

but this isn’t the way, you know it.

“they’re killing us,” suguru says, and you know he’s talking about non-sorcerers, but that isn’t who you’re thinking of.

“curses are killing us, suguru.”

“curses born from non-sorcerers.”

“non-sorcerers don’t even know that they’re–“

“even worse,” he snaps, eyes hardening in a way you’re not sure you’ve seen before. “they get to remain blissfully ignorant while we’re dropping like flies.”

“and what about the non-sorcerers who die? those we can’t save?”

it’s getting harder and harder to keep your voice down – it’s still the middle of the night, and you really don’t want to wake satoru , or he’ll get pissy and bother you all day.. you pause and take a deep, cooling breath.

a cloud passes, and the shadow settles on suguru’s face. his eyes are hidden, his lips shine in the moonlight.

“think about it,” you pick up right where you left off, at a more acceptable volume. “think about all of those who had to die confused and terrified because they simply had no idea of what was happening. they’re people, too.”

“you’re right,” he whispers, and for a moment you see the light return to his eyes. you see hope.

it’s extinguished just as quickly as it’s appeared.

“you’re right,” he says again, “they get to be people, but we’re just the meat shields that stand between them and oblivion.”

you feel your face fall and watch as suguru’s does the exact same, mirroring your expression perfectly. is he sad that you’re upset? you have every right to be upset. he’s so cold. so empty.

he isn’t listening. you can’t reach him. your words can’t touch him.

“i’m sorry,” he starts again, “i didn’t… i didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t think of you like that.”

you watch his hand rise and reach for your cheek, and you’re not sure where the urge comes from– something almost animal–

you flinch away from him, and something in his eyes breaks.

“let’s just go to sleep,” you rasp, hurriedly laying back down with your back to him. “you have a mission tomorrow, you need the rest.”

“don’t we deserve to live?” he asks. he sounds so fragile.

not like this, your mind screams. not like this.

“it’s jujutsu society that needs to change,” you breathe. “satoru has the right idea.”

“of course, gojo satoru is always right…” he’s so busy being petty, you wonder if he’s even processed what you said.

he’s quiet for a long moment after that. is he actually pondering on the idea?

“what we need,” he lets out with finality, “is to strike the evil at the source.”

you keep quiet. you feel him lay back down and slide under the covers. then you feel his fingers brush against your nape. you fall asleep to his voice saying: “i love you.”

what comes next is something completely unexpected. you never see him again.

keeping quiet didn’t help you keep him.

#☆ — by noe #❥ — suguru #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru #geto suguru #getou suguru x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru drabble #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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fourthwingfan · 6 months

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Madness - Chapter 10

Hello Dear Readers! Here comes the new chapter, it's 6239 words, so be prepared.

What do you think about a game? It's almost Threshing. If you can guess (correctly or close to that) what kind of dragon and/or what kind of signet Aelin will have, then I'll answer one question in private about the story. Even if it'll be a spoiler. Good luck!

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

I look up, and up, and up, and I can only blink.

“Well, that’s…” Ethan swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.

“Amazing.” Liam grins.

Ethan and I turn, both staring at him like he must have hit his head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Ethan asks.

„I mean look at that. I heard a lot of stories about this, but it’s so much more complex. It will be a real challenge.” Liam grins, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun as he rubs his hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee.

“Challenge? Yeah, sure we can go with that.” I laugh at him. “At the gym in the challenges you don’t have a real opponent, it was way too easy for you.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ethan stares at me. “You’ve never lost either.”

“Well…yeah” I scratch my head.

„Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” another squadmate - whose name I don’t remember - says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” An obnoxious girl says, maybe her name is Vila? At some point I should start memorizing their names. But they are fucking annoying.

I shoot her a glare and then shake it off.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the first-year snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

My eyebrows lift. They’re really annoying.

“We have such a lovely and cohesive squad.” I murmur to Liam. “What is his name anyway?”

“Do you really not know their names?” He laughs at me. “We’ve been squadmates for a while.”

“I know your name, Ethan’s and Vila’s too. Oh and there’s Theo and Zanaya.” I list.

“That’s all?” He grins “You know my name because we’re friends. Ethan is my friend and he hangs out with us during classes, so that doesn’t count.” He counts the names on his fingers. “And the only reason you know Vila’s name is because she annoys you. Theo and Zanaya don’t count either. They’re the squadleader and his executive.”

“Fine. I admit it. I don’t know their names. “I give in. “They die like flies. We’re the smallest squad.”

“Then why do you think it’s called the gauntlet?” I hear shouting behind me.

God. They’re still arguing.

„It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Vila and the man next to her. “Are you two done arguing? Because all six of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”

There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.

“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Liam, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you’re the best of the squad. Then Aelin, Jake, Ethan, Rio and Vila.” He finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the smallest squad so far. You need to work hard to remain intact. If you’ll lose two or three more cadets then you’ll be dissolved and you’ll be assigned to another squad. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff. No doubt that someone has a watch.

We wait silently, thinking about what he said. I don’t want to be assigned to another squad. I like it that Liam is my squadmate, and I’m starting to like Ethan too. There’s no guarantee all three of us will be in the same squad.

„Here we go!” Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you’ll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

„Wouldn’t it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?” Ethan asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Emetterio replies. “The timing is part of the challenge. And some words of wisdom, before you start.”

“There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Vila points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts there? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Rio whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock.

„What if we can’t make it up?” Vila asks from my right, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Liam,” Professor Emetterio orders, and Liam moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

Liam is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him two rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs, Liam’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” I yell to encourage him.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Liam sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Ethan and I cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect technique!” Professor Emetterio calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

„Aelin, begin!” Emetterio orders.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part.

I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead.

I start to hum to calm myself. The music always helps me.

I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense but it’s bearable. Not bad.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one.

I repeat the motion, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

I still hum as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path and I almost hit the wall with my head.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.

There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next. I then launch myself towards the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp.

I throw myself to the next and move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion.

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into face-first of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Aelin!” Liam shouts from the top.

My other hand is still holding the rail. I can do it.

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

I immediately start the hand over hand to get me to the next one, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

I reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate. I need to do it with one go. If I stop they will probably roll me off.

I bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

I hear someone cry out and my head snaps toward the voice, just in time to see Jake wobble and slip on the rails. The air freezes.

“Jake!” I hear Vila screaming.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling his wide black eyes as he falls. Halfway down the cliff.

Shit.

“Aelin! Come on, you’re almost up here.” Liam shouts at the top.

I look at him and nod. Yes, I can do it.

I face a giant chimney formation rising high above me at a twenty-degree angle and pause.

God, it’s really high. But if Liam could do it, then so do I.

I sprint toward the leaning chimney and flings myself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with my body.

Okay, now I need to climb.

I start hopping up the conduit slowly, maybe a little too slowly, until I reach the end and drop down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

Fuck. It seems the most difficult obstacle of all of them.

But I can’t give up now. It’s the last one. I can do it, I just need to be fast.

I sprint toward the ramp, using my speed and momentum to carry me almost all the way up the ramp.

Just before I start to fall, I reach up and I can grab onto the lip of the ramp with one arm.

My god. I did it.

I reach up with my other arm and haul myself over the edge.

As soon as I stand up, Liam is there and sweeps me into his arms.

“You were great Aelin!” He laughs. “You did it!”

I still can’t believe that it’s over. I hug him back and start laughing too.

“Yeah. It seems I did it.”

“How’s your face?” He pulls back and look at the side of my face. “You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s not that bad actually. I mean, later it’ll hurt probably.”

“Then we will get some ointment later.”

I nod and then we watch the others.

Ethan has made up his way to us. He was the slowest of us who made it to the top, but it doesn’t matter to me. He did it, and we survived.

Rio made it too. He did a great job and since then he bahaves as if he was already chosen by a dragon. And naturally Vila argues with him about this too.

Vila had to use the ropes at the shaking pillars. She almost fell down like Jack.

Shit. We lost Jack.

There are only 5 of us first-years left.

***

The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

“Calvin Atwater,” Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.

First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.

There’s nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day…except it’s not. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues.

Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?

„Aurelie Donans.”

Shit. She was Vi’s squadmate. She told me what happened yesterday. Watching one of your friends falls to death? It’s cruel.

I look at Violet and see that she ripped open one of the scabs along her cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Dain asks Violet the next night - as I approach them - two worried lines between his brows as he clasps Violet’s shoulders.

“If her parents aren’t coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I’m the last person she saw,” She explains, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie’s pack.

Every Basgiath parent has the same option when their cadet is killed. They can retrieve the body and personal effects for burial or burning or the school will put their body under a stone and burn their effects themselves. Aurelie’s parents have chosen door number two.

“And you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks, palming her neck.

She shakes her head. “I know where the burn pit is.”

“Besides I will be there for her.” I say and stand next to Violet. “Now hands off. We have more important things to do, than listening to you.”

“Cadet Melgren, do I need to remind you that I’m a squadleader? Show some respect.” He growls at me.

“Respect must be earned. And I think it sends a completely different message that you coddle Violet, squadleader.” I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s okay, Dain. We should go.” Violet says then we start to climb the stairs of the academic tower’s turret past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

„I never got the chance to ask you if you made it all the way up,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I’m too short to span the distance, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. I’ll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet on Presentation day.”

“I help you. We will figure something out, together. You’re not alone, Vi.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

The burn pit is nothing more than an extra-wide iron barrel, whose only purpose is to incinerate, and the flames burn bright against the night sky as we stumble out onto the roof.

There’s no one else up here as Violet slips the bag from her shoulder.

I stop a little further away from the pit. She wanted to do it alone, and I will respect her wish.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear her whisper, as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

The flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the fire, just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

Instead of walking back down the stairs, I make my way to the edge of the turret where Violet stares at the sky.

It’s a cloudy night, but I can make out the shadows of three dragons as they approach from the west and even see the ridge where the Gauntlet lays, waiting to claim its next victim.

It won’t be me.

I stand here, patiently waiting for Violet to be ready to go back, letting minutes tick by before the bells sound for curfew. We climb back down the stairs without a word.

We walk through the courtyard, empty but for a couple who can’t decide if they’d rather kiss or walk near the dais.

“I don’t want go back yet.” Vi whispers while avoiding my eyes.

“Then we won’t. Come, if I remember correctly there’s an alcove over there.” I smile at her softly. Understanding the pain, that makes her want to hide.

We’re heading for the alcove where Dain and Vi first sat after Parapet.

It’s almost been two months, and we’re still here. Still waking every morning to the sunrise. Doesn’t that mean something?

I wonder as we sit in silence, watching the stars on the sky.

The door that leads to the tunnel we took to cross the ridgeline to the Gauntlet this morning opens along the courtyard wall, just left of the academic building, and my brow furrows. Who would be returning this late?

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction.

Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by us, their boots crunching on the gravel.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses.

My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid.

Shit.

He knows we’re here.

Instead of the usual fear that spikes in his presence, only anger rises in my chest. If he wants to kill me, then fine. I’m over waiting for it to happen. Over walking through the halls in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, immediately looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the couple who definitely decided making out is more important than getting into the dorms by curfew.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” Xaden says.

„You sure?” Bodhi’s forehead puckers, and his gaze sweeps over the courtyard.

“Go,” Xaden orders, standing completely still until the other two walk into the barracks, turning left toward the stairwell that will take them to the second- and third-year floors. Only when they’re gone does he turn and face the exact spot where we’re sitting.

“I know you know we’re here.” Violet says and moves toward him. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

I try to suppress my laughter as I walk next to Violet, standing between her and Xaden.

“No questions about where I’ve been?” He folds his arms across his chest and studies us in the moonlight. His scar looks even more menacing in this light, but I can’t seem to find the energy to be scared.

“I honestly don’t care.” Vi shrugs and makes her way toward the dorms without another word.

“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have to go. It’s curfew after all.” I say.

“Are you going to tell someone that we were out?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care what you do.” I cross my arms. “It’s probably the best if I don’t know anyway.” I mutter silently.

He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t care, do you?”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing out after curfew, Sunshine?”

“Counting the stars, what else?” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me.

“The same.”

Sarcastic ass.

“Look, are you planning to kill us or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.” I ask.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, like I’ve just inquired about his dinner preferences, but his gaze narrows on my cheek. There’s still a bruise from yesterday’s Gauntlet practice.

“Well, could you?” I mutter. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

“Am I affecting your schedule, Sunshine?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

“I just need to know what my chances are that Violet and I are going to make it through alive.” My hands curl into fists.

The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm.

His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Chances at what?” he asks, tugging me just close enough that my shoulder brushes his biceps.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand. He’s a damned wingleader, which means he’s excelled at everything in the quadrant, even somehow managing to get past his own last name.

“Chances at what?” he repeats. “Do not make me ask three times.” His ominous tone is at odds with his gentle grasp, and shit, does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“At living through all of this! I have to figure it out how Violet can make it up the damned Gauntlet. And there’s my own problems I have to deal with, and here you are, annoying me.” I half-heartedly tug at my wrist, but he doesn’t let go.

“I see.” He’s so infuriatingly calm, and I can’t even get a grip on one of my emotions.

„No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because she’ll fall to her death and you can kill me anytime, we saw that on the mat the previous time.”

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Sunshine. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You know the problem with this place?” I tug my arm back again, but he holds fast. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?” My eyes narrow on him.

„I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

I answer before I can think better of it. “Hope.”

“Hope?” He tips his head closer to mine, as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right.

“Hope.” I nod. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Riders Quadrant, but it isn’t a guarantee that I will survive it; but when General Melgren gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.” Gods, why am I running off at the mouth to this man? What’s the worst he’ll do? Kill you?

„Sure you can.” He shrugs. “You just might not like the consequences.”

I roll my eyes, and to my utter embarrassment, instead of pulling away now that I’m free, I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength. He certainly has enough to spare.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that both of us would live. And then we make it almost two months and I get…” I shake my head, clenching my jaw. “Hopeful.” The word tastes sour.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you are reminded that you can’t help Violet, and you give up. I’m starting to see. He holds my gaze locked with his. “Here’s the thing, Melgren. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Not hope that we live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” He shakes his head. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your father or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the entrance to the barracks, but he’s right behind me, close enough that the door would slam in his face if he wasn’t so unnaturally fast at catching it.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need.” he calls after me, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“My self-what?” I turn around, my jaw dropping.

“People die,” he says slowly, his jaw ticking before he drags in a deep breath. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

What an annoying prick.

I open my mouth to retort when I hear footsteps.

We turn around and face the man whom I know too well. He’s the aide of General Melgren.

Fuck, he must be back. I can feel my face turning as white as a ghost.

Xaden must see it too because he steps in front of me without a word. He’s trying to protect me?

“Wingleader Riorson I need a word with Cadet Melgren, leave.” The man says to Xaden without a glance at him.

“She’s in my chain of command. I don’t see why I should leave her here.” He crosses his arms. “If you have something to say then do it in front of me.”

“Fine.” The man nods and stares at me. “General Melgren wishes to see you. He returned from the front and like’d to hear your report.”

My god. I didn’t prepare a suitable story for him. I will be in big trouble, if not worse.

“I understand, I’ll be there.” I nod.

Without another word the man turns around and leaves us alone.

“What’s all this about?” Xaden looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. You heard him. The General wants to see me. I have to go.” I say and try to walk past him to the doors but he grabs my arm.

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He leans closer. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It was a surprise, nothing else.” I try to lie, in hope that he lets it slide. I don’t want him to find out.

“Why don’t you call him father?” He observes me. “You always call him General. He’s your father isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. It’s just that we’re cadets and it wouldn’t be appropriate.” I yank my arm and he releases me. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

I walk out the door, towards the building where the offices are located. I feel nauseous. Everystep on the stairs is harder. I’m scared.

I stop in front of his door. Breath in and out. Then I knock.

“Enter.”

I open the door and enter his office. The air is chilling because of the open window. I stand in front of his desk and wait until he’s done with writing whatever he’s writing.

“What happened since we talked last time?” He puts down his pen and looks at me with a cold gaze.

“The challanges are over for now, we started practicing on the Gauntlet.” I try to keep it short.

“How many challanges did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose a single one.” I reply in an emotionless tone. I need to lock up my feelings as usual. This is the only way to survive it. Later…later I can think about it.

“That was expected.” He nods with approval as he stands up and walks around the desk. “The Gauntlet?”

“Yesterday was our first session, I made it up on my first try.” I answer.

“And what about that Riorson kid and the other marked-ones?” He raises an eyebrow and stands in front of me.

I gulp.

“There’s nothing that’s worth mentioning.” I try and hope so hard he’d accept it.

He grabs my arm tightly and yanks me toward him.

“I will decide if it is worth it or not.” He squeezes my arm tighter. It will leave a bruise. “Do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, General.” I reply quickly.

“Good. Now tell me what you know.” He releases my arm and I try not to show that it hurt.

“They attend classes like anyone else. They don’t stand out.” I say the basic facts that anyone can know. I don’t want to betray Liam and his friends. “Most of the other cadets are avoiding them. Some of them are good at studying while others at fighting. They seem pretty normal to me.”

“Hm. And Riorson?” He asks with a calculating look.

“We don’t have much common classes. At Battle Brief he’s observant and clever. At the gym he’s strong and quick. He spends a lot of time with the leader of the Flame Section, Garrick Tavis.” I say only what’s neccesary to ease his suspicion.

“Do you ever see them in groups larger than three?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

The night at the tree. Images flashes through my mind. But… they didn’t do anything wrong.

“No. Never.” I shake my head.

“I see.” He looks at me with a gaze that makes me chill to the bones. “That’s all you could gather the past weeks? I heard you’re friends with Colonel Mairi’s son.” He spat the word friend as if it’s a disease.

“I’m close with him because of his relationship with Xaden, and he’s a first-year too.” I lie to him. I can’t bring more attention to Liam. He’s truly a good person. “He’s a pretty private person, but slowly opening up. Maybe later I can gather more information. I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“And the daggers? Did you see them with the marked-ones?”

“No, they mostly use the ones they earned at challenges.” I’m curious to why that strange dagger is important to him. “If I know what they are, maybe I could search more efficiently.”

“That’s above your paygrade, Cadet.” He says towering over me. “You’re dismissed.” He leans on his desk.

“Understood.” I say and turn toward the doors.

There’s a sound, a dagger cutting through the air. Instinctively I turn around and lean to the side.

I was almost too late. I feel the dagger grazing my cheek and then the blood.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He knows that I lied to him?

In the blink of an eye he’s there and squeezes my neck.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you’re alive is because of my mercy.” He leans closer and cuts off the air supply when he squeezes harder. “I expect useful information from you. If you have to then use your body. You’re only worth is your usefulness. I don’t need people who are useless.”

There’s a knock on the door behind me. He glares at me a moment longer then releases me and pulls out his dagger from the door and sheetes it.

I start coughing and try to squeeze enough air in my lungs through my bruised throat.

Damn. I almost died.

The General is already sitting at his desk when another knock sounds.

“Go, I have better things to do.”

I open the door and see General Sorrengail.

“General.” I greet her in a rasp voice.

She looks at my cheek where the blood still flows with a raised eyebrow then toward my neck.

Shit, I didn’t think. She’s not stupid. I have to get out of here.

I exit the office and without another word I’m stumbling down the stairs.

I need to go out. I need air. My thoughts are fuzzy. I almost died. The sentence repeats again and again in my head.

But depsite of it, I still can’t bear the thought of betraying the marked-ones. Liam. Xaden. I…like them.

But what if it’ll cost me my life?

#fanfiction #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x oc

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pablitogavii · 1 year

Note

can you do something simmilar to the makeup routine pablo but its her dong his makeup for like a video?

I'm gonna change this idea a bit but hope you like it :)

"Hola Culers! We are here with another challenge video on our official Barça YouTube channel, make sure to subscribe and send requests what you would like to watch next!" one of the social media PRs spoke to the camera before inviting you and Pablo to join her.

"Today one of our first team players, and a fan favorite, will be doing his girlfriends makeup here on camp live and in person! Are you ready Gavi??" she asked him and Pablo was a little nervous just nodding his head.

"I think he is gonna do great!" you added holding his hand in reassurance knowing that being on camera isn't something he likes all that much but is getting used to it slowly.

"I'll try not to hurt you, amor" Pablo added making both girls laugh before you gave him your makeup bag where you packed all the products you use daily.

"All of this!? I have to use it all?" Pablo said and you giggled knowing that was bare minimum you put on when you are in a rush out of the house.

"So, you can't tell him what to use or how to use it at all. But yes, you should try to use everything in her makeup bag. Good luck!" and with that Pablo placed each product on the bench keeping the brushed inside the bag while observing them all trying to remember what you sued first in that video he narrated some time ago.

"So, I'm gonna use this first.." he takes moisturizer and you smile proud that he choose correctly. He moved closer to you and you did as well leaning your face forward and he instinctively kissed you making you both blush before he started to apply some cream onto your face.

"Bueno, that's done. What's next? Um..this goes to your cheeks I remember but there is another cream? Ah sí, that's the one that makes you look tan" he says and you giggle earning a pout as he took some foundation onto his fingers and started to apply it onto your face...with his figners. You looked at the girl who was smiling behind his back.

"Now cheeks. Smile princesa" he says and you do making your cheeks pop as he applied some blush, well a lot of blush on your cheeks playfully like a child painting a picture.

"Díos Pablito, I'm blushing a lot now" you say seeing yourself in the small pocket mirror and he smiled nodding his head while going through the rest of your products.

"That's how you look when you see me shirtless so it's all good" he says and you blush more slapping his arm playfully.

"Bueno, mascara is scary...I don't want to poke your eye" Pablo said and you smiled shaking your head and reassuring him that everything is going to be fine.

You moved even closer tossing two legs over his while staying very still and looking up while he applied mascara so carefully on your eyelashes.

"Ah!" you lied and he started panicking trying to see if you were okay but when you burst out laughing he rolled his eyes holding his chest.

"¡no es gracioso!" Pablo said and you pouted apologizing while giving him small kisses until he forgave you.

"Oh I forgot the eye cream! Mierda!" Pablo said grabbing a concealer pretty much impossible to put it after he already applied mascara .

"That's okay. I was traveling last few days so she didn't stay up late" he smirked and you slapped his shoulder again while he whispered 'payback' into your ear.

"Bueno, lipgloss" Pablo said opening it but instead of putting it on your lips he puts it on his instead making you confused.

"Amor, I'm pretty sure you are supposed to be doing my makeup?" you say with a giggle and he pretended to be offended that you were questioning his master techniques. You raised your hands in surrender as he grabbed your jaw pulling you close and kissing your lips so that the gloss would stay.

"That's perfecto!" he said licking his own lips noticing the sweet taste and sparkles still evident on his mouth making you giggle.

"Master technique ;)" you tease while he tries taking it off with the back of his hand and he giggled looking to make sure he's done it all.

"And that's it! She looks beautiful like always!" Pablo said presenting his masterpiece as you smiled kissing his lips again leaving more sparkles.

"Amooor! I'm gonna have sparkles on my lips again!" he whines and you smirk pulling him closer so he can look at the mirror.

"You already have sparkles everywhere Pablito" you say and you both laugh as the girl joined to end the video.

"Guys please rate how Pablo did from 1 to 10 and by the end of the week we will see which player is the best makeup artist! Pedri will be joining us next time with his better half Francesca and thanks you two for doing a challenge with us today! Anything you wanna say for the end?" she says and Pablo nods first.

"I'll win against Pedri for sure!" Pablo said making you giggle and shake your hand.

"I was gonna say I'm proud of how Pablo did, I was expecting worse to be honest but he put things to right places at least...also, good luck on the next match and siempre visca barça!" you say and Pablo smiled wide at your support of his team pulling you close as you both waved at the camera.

comments:

barçafan: I'm so jealous!!! But Pablito being careful while doing mascara was so adorable <33 10/10!!

pablofangirl: such a pure love between these two young people! I give it a 10!

pablogavirafans: i give it a 9 only because he forgot "eye cream" aka concealer hahah

fansss: but his "master technique" deserves a 10 come on!

barcelonafanclub: so cuteee!

Hope you like it :))

#pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi #gavigif #gavi imagine #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca

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drmaddict · 1 year

Text

Patchwork II - Growing Up

This is the second part to this story:

https://www.tumblr.com/drmaddict/721982589869621248/patchwork?source=share

Summary: Growing up comes with a lot of challenges.

Warnings: teenagers fighting on a party, fluff, use of (y/n)

Word count: 2.757

"What are you doing here?"

Mike stoped in his movement. He had almost made it.

"Nothing." he said far too quickly and turned to Henry. Disappearing the small something in the pocket of his jacket pocket.

Henry just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If I remember correctly, everyone's privacy is considered here."

"I... I just needed... batteries.", Mike stuttered.

Henry grinned. "You'll have far more success in (y/n)s cabinet."

Mike turned bright red and looked down at the floor.

"Mike come on. I was young once, too."

The boy tossed the condom packet on the bed and continued to look at the floor. Hoped fervently it would open up and swallow him.

Henry closed the bedroom door and sat down on the armchair in the corner of the room. "We should talk about this, right?"

Mike shook his head. "You know the internet is very informative," he muttered, still red-faced.

Henry smiled. "Yeah. I know. I was young once, too," he pointed out again. "But that doesn't change the fact that these with latex and we know you're allergic to it thanks to your chemistry experiment in school."

"Oh."

"Yeah oh. Mike there is nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared. You can talk to me about anything, but you don't go digging around in my or (y/n)s stuff! ... We don't want to traumatize you right away," Henry continued to grin.

Mike turned to the window, overwhelmed, and buried his face in his hands. "Too much information!"

Henry laughed amused.

Mike looked at him sullenly.

"Sorry big guy. I'll stop." Henry raised his hands placatingly. "You and Amber have been together for so long, it's understandable you want to make that step.... She wants too, right?"

Mike slumped a little. "Yes Amber does." he mumbled.

Henry stopped. "What about you?"

Mike shrugged.

"You don't have to."

"I should want to, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to do anything you're not ready to do. No matter what anyone at school might say."

Mike plopped down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know if I.... quite yet..." Mike waved his arms around. Who could have guessed that such a tall and strong teenager could look so small.

"Sex can have many sides Mike."

Mike just grumbled.

"Start with something you feel comfortable with. You'll figure out what you like."

Mike sighed. "And what if I do it wrong?"

"That's the beauty of it. There is no wrong. Just two people and agreement. This isn't a boxing match Mike. There's no perfect technique and no strategy. But at least talk openly to Amber about what you want. Share it with her somehow. You wouldn't want her to torture herself for you either, would you?"

"Of course not!" he blurted out immediately. He immediately sat up and looked shocked.

"Then do her the same favor."

Mike sighed. "Yeah okay."

Henry smiled gently. He stood up and walked over to his nightstand. "Here." He tossed a red packet at Mike. "These are latex-free."

Mike caught them more poorly than he could.

"And now get out of here!"

The blond haired boy stumbled out of the room as fast as he could, still bright red.

The adjacent bathroom door opened and (y/n) peered through the gap. "You'll have far more success in (y/n)'s cabinet," she mimicked him. "Did you have to violate him with that picture?"

Henry grinned. "As long as I have to listen to Humphrey jokes, yes."

"Men." she rolled her eyes and went back into the bathroom. "You coming now?"

Henry ran after her at a quickly.

Henry was sitting on the sofa reading a script when Lilly shot through the door and quickly ran up the stairs.

"Lilly?"

"No time!"

"Why aren't you at dance practice?"

The door to her room slammed into the lock and he just heard the key turn. Damn.

"Lilly, what's wrong?" he called through the door.

"I need (y/n)!" she called back.

"(Y/n) is not here! I can help you. Now open up."

"Or Mimmy or Fatima!"

"Why not me?"

"I need a woman!"

Henry sighed. "At least tell me what's wrong."

"I've got my period!"

Henry faltered. "First time?" he asked uncertainly.

"What do you think?" she yelled through the door.

"Lilly this is-"

The door was yanked open. "Don't tell me that's normal now!" She held up a finger.

Henry looked overwhelmed at the delicate now 12-year-old creature. "Do you know how shitty it is for women who do professional sports to still have to deal with something like this?"

She cringed and screwed up her face. Henry gently supported her.

"Okay. You just take a deep breath and lie down. I'll call (y/n) and then we'll take it one step at a time."

She let herself be led to her bed and lay down on it.

"I'll be right back."

Lilly nodded and pulled the covers over her.

Henry went into the kitchen and got a hot water bottle ready while he pulled out his cell phone and called (y/n).

"Hello?"

"Hey... Uhm little problem-"

"Did Mike break something again?"

"No! No Mike is fine... I think... Lilly just stormed through the door and it turns out she's on her period. She's freaking out right now and thinks her dancing career is over."

(Y/n) sighed. "Can't I have an undramatic child?"

"And your hope was in Lilly, of all people?"

She sighed before pulling herself together.

"Fine. You-"

"Hot water bottle's on. I'll make tea in a minute."

"Perfect. I'll buy her whatever she needs. Give me half an hour. Try to keep her calm until then."

"And how-"

Tuut tzut

Henry looked at his phone, perplexed.

He wasn't disgusted by it. God it was just normal, but he knew Lilly. And Lilly always knew exactly how she thought things should be. That her body was now 'betraying' her was hard for her to swallow.

Carefully, he walked back to her room.

"Hey princess. Are you okay?"

"No." she pouted.

He sighed. "Here. For the cramps. The tea is gross, but it always helps (y/n)."

She reached for the cup, smelled it, and put it right back down. "What's this?"

Henry laughed lightly. "I don't know."

Lilly grabbed the hot water bottle and placed it on her stomach.

Henry sat down by her bed. "(Y/n) will be right in."

"Good."

Silence settled over the room. Uncomfortable silence.

"You know there are a lot of female athletes." said Henry, looking at the shelf of trophies and medals.

Lilly just puffed and continued looking at her blanket, tugging at a loose thread.

Henry sighed.

"I didn't even get to go to practice today," she grumbled.

He patted her hand. "I'm really not an expert on this," Henry said.

"But?"

"Unfortunately, that's it."

Lilly rolled her eyes. "Men." she grumbled.

"Yup. You're a woman now."

All eight sat at the kitchen table, looking spellbound at Fatima, who had three letters in front of her.

One from Oxford. One from Cambridge. One from Havard.

"What do I start with?" asked Fatima for the first time in a long time with no real plan.

"We can open all three at the same time," (y/n) suggested.

"I can't do that," Fatima groaned, already pushing the letters away from her.

Henry stroked her back soothingly.

"Deep breaths."

Fatima drew in an exaggeratedly deep breath.

"Me one, you one, and (y/n) one. Okay?"

Fatima nodded and grabbed the letter from Oxford.

All three tore open the envelope and pulled out the letters.

Fatima let out an uncharacteristically pointed scream. "I did it!"

Henry looked questioningly at (y/n). She just nodded with a smile.

"Three times, actually," Henry grinned. Fatima snatched the cover letter from their hands and skimmed the pages. "Oh, God. What am I going to do now? How am I supposed to decide?"

"No, no, no!", Henry grabbed her by the shoulders. "First rejoice! Then mull it over."

"You did it.", beamed (y/n) at Fatima. "God I'm so damn proud of you. Come here." She pulled the girl into her arms.

"I'm worth something," Fatima whispered.

"You always have been and you always will be. Do you hear?"

Fatima nodded and let herself be pulled back into the embrace. Everyone jumped up and hugged the two until there was only a tangle of family in the kitchen.

It was Emilia's birthday. Emilia had invited friends. Emilia had invited her boyfriend. Joseph. Henry sat in the bedroom, watching the boy in the garden through the window with suspicion.

He had decided he didn't like him. There was something boastful about him. He had also overheard him calling a classmate fat, which brought up unpleasant memories.

"Want some night vision for later?", (y/n) grinned at him and held out a coffee.

Henry grunted. "I'm just keeping an eye out."

(y/n) continued to grin.

"I just don't like him," he blurted out. "He's such...such-"

"Such a spoiled asshole?"

Henry looked at her in surprise.

"Hey I'll let them have their way. I'm not always for it by a long shot." she stated defensively.

Henry looked back into the garden. "What's going on now?"

A flurry of activity arose in the party. Joseph could be seen talking vigorously at Emilia, and Emilia's face grew smaller and smaller.

Henry immediately got up and went down the stairs. (Y/n) right at his heels.

"Joseph-" he heard Emilia's broken voice.

"Are you doing everybody now, or what?" followed Jospeh.

"That's not even-"

"Keep your fucking lies to yourself!"

Henry pushed his way through the group of teenagers when he already saw Mike pushing his way between them. A good head and a half taller than Jospeh, he had an intimidating effect for now.

"Think about what you're saying!" said Mike emphatically.

"Yeah. You don't want anyone to know that she's already spread her legs for the whole school. You know, some girls appreciate staying pure."

You would have thought Mike would have just put him in a headlock and dragged him out, but it was Fatima, of all people, who hit him with a skillful hook and sent him staggering back.

"Don't you ever talk to my sister like that again.", she hissed at him. "Now get the fuck out of this house or you'll learn what it's like to have Mike break you."

Joseph stumbled backward toward the patio, where Henry was already waiting for him. He grabbed the boy roughly by the back of the neck and pulled him along. "I better drive you home," he growled.

(Y/n) went to Emilia and Fatima and took care of damage control.

Henry, meanwhile, pulled Jospeh with him and shoved him into his car.

"Get in! Buckle up!"

Jospeh reluctantly obeyed him.

Henry started the engine and drove off. "If I ever see you treat my daughter like that again, you'll meet my brother. Royal Marines. Think about it."

Joseph looked at him angrily. "Do you want to threaten me?"

"Yes I am. Because we're going to your mother's house right now, and she's welcome to find out how her little sunshine is doing." The boy got smaller. Figures. Henry rolled his eyes. "Now shut up."

He dropped Joseph off at his parents' house, calmly told his mother that there had been an altercation and that her son's image of women could be set straight, and drove back home.

The party had broken up. Forgotten mugs still stood in the garden and rapidly changing lights shone from the living room.

Henry peeked around the corner and saw everyone spread out together in the living room watching 'The little mermaide'.

Emilia loved Disney movies more than anything. Since no one really knew how she grew up, they just assumed she was making up for a little childhood with it.

Henry quietly disappeared into the kitchen and retrieved his secret weapon.

When he returned, he leaned over to Emilia and held out a cup of hot white chocolate. Filled with colorful marshmallows. "Here. Helps with heartache."

Her eyes sparkled slightly with tears. "Thanks," she whispered, moving a little to the side.

Henry somehow squeezed in next to her and held her close.

(Y/n) smiled gently at him from across the room.

Henry was sitting in the kitchen drinking his coffee when he heard a car come to a stop in front of the house.

He looked out the window and saw Jason's car.

Not a minute later, the boy was standing in front of Henry, looking at him frantically. He held up a pile of sheets. "Taxes." was all he said.

Henry looked uncertainly at the pile.

"Um."

"How do you do your taxes?" asked Jason, exasperated. "I've got side jobs and income from YouTube. But if I do the math, I get 4,000 pounds back and that can't be right!"

"You know..."

"Henry help me!"

"I've got an accountant! No one knows how to do this!" blurted out Henry.

Jason stared at him. "How much does an accountant cost?"

Henry's face turned pitiful. Jason understood and slumped. "Is (y/n) there?"

"Coming in an hour."

"Whiskey?"

"It's eleven in the morning."

"It's taxes! Help me or give me the whiskey!"

Henry immediately reached for the bottle and handed it to the boy.

"How much do you actually make from YouTube?"

Jason waved it off and took a big swig from the bottle.

"Do you have a minute?"

Henry turned to the little thirteen yearold boy who was looking at him with his dark puppy eyes.

"Sure Kamon, what's up?"

Henry signaled to Kal that it was time to take a break from playing, to which the furry mountain just puffed and threw himself into the shadows.

"So... What do... Girls... How does someone ask for a... date?"

Henry looked at the boy's face, who looked as if he would like to disappear into the ground.

Henry smiled gently and sat down on the steps of the terrace. He motioned Kamon to join him. Henry threw Kal's ball without much force and started to speak. "Well the difficult thing is that every girl is different," he smiled. "Everyone's going to like something different."

Kamon looked to Kal, who put the ball down in front of them. The boy grabbed it and it was now in his turn to throw the ball.

"How do I know what to do?" he sighed.

"You should be yourself."

Kamon slumped his shoulders. "Then it'll never work.", he grunted.

Henry slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. "Oh, nonsense. Even Mike found someone.", he winked at Kamon.

"But Mike is-" he interrupted himself.

"Mike is what?"

Kamon wrestled with himself. "Mike is popular. And... He's big and strong and I'm-" he raised his arms powerlessly. "I'm just like that."

Henry sighed. "Kamon you're thirteen. There are boys who grow until they're seventeen. You've still got time. And as for muscles. Not everyone is into that either." He grinned. "(Y/n) likes it more when her partner is slimmer. She picked me anyway."

Kamon continued to throw the ball listlessly. "What if I make a complete ass of myself?"

"It's okay to be scared. They're women. They can be very intimidating. Who are we talking about, anyway?"

Kamon faltered. "Um-"

"Come on." grinned Henry, giving him a buddy-buddy punch.

Kamon dropped his chin to his knees and looked out into the garden. "Alex." he said so quickly that Henry almost didn't understand.

"Alex?" He considered. "So what?"

"Alex... Smith." he mumbled very quietly into his knees.

Alex Smith... Smith... Henry's eyes grew wide. Oh. Alex Smith. The little soccer player from his class. The boy Alex Smith.

He saw tears forming in Kamon's eyes.

"Kamon! No! Don't cry. It's okay!"

"It is?"

"Yes Kamon!"

"You don't mind?"

Henry took him in his arms. "Of course not."

He stroked his back. "We all love you. No matter who you bring home."

Kamon sniffled into his shoulder. "How do you tell (y/n) something like that?" he asked into his T-shirt.

Henry smiled. "Well one would take me with them and then you make (y/n) a really big cup of coffee and then.... you just tell her. Because (y/n) loves you all." He grinned. "And since you are the least amount of chaos, you are her little secret favorite." He winked at Kamon. The latter smiled at Henry out of teary eyes.

"Will you help me?"

"Always. No matter what."

#henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #fluff #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavil x reader

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Wicked games: part 2**

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you and Joel have been rather timid when it came to expressing your care in physical ways. But once you get started, one lucky night, you find it’s hard to actually stop.

word count: 3.6k

WARNINGS: brief mentions of alcohol; lots of making out, fingering, handjob & blowjob, piv, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

A/N: thank you so much @cheshire-noir for beta reading and for screaming with me about this man, I love you.

gif: @jdmorganz

If you’ve learned anything in the past two months, being with Joel Miller didn’t come short of challenges.

And there were a plethora of them.

First, he was overly-cautious. That meant that he was watching Ellie and your backs at all times. He grudgingly agreed to Ellie spending time with the other kids in Tommy and Maria’s camp, and that was only because both you and her nearly begged.

“She’ll be safe,” you told him.

Granted, you’ve used your sweetest tone that you knew would be more than influential to Joel.

“Alright,” he succumbed, much to Ellie’s excitement. “Just stay close to the other kids and don’t—“

“Got it, thanks Joel!”

And off she ran, leaving the two of you behind. You were quite amused at Joel, but you would never laugh in his face.

“—don’t run outside the fence! Just keep in the—oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“She’s gone,” you told him, stroking his arm. “Let her be a kid and have her fun.”

“Dang, it’s tough taking care of these kids.”

“Don’t I know it?”

But luckily, after that, Joel softened and warmed up to the idea of Ellie having full freedom, thus allowing her to integrate with the community and even make friends. Which meant that you and Joel had more time to spend together.

Or at least, that was the theory.

It has been a long time since either of you has gone on dates or gone further than that. Dates, you got it covered: you’ve both gotten better at it, taking it slowly and allowing each other the personal space you need in order to explore what feels right and what doesn’t. But being physical… that turned out to be the biggest challenge you and Joel had to navigate thus far.

It’s not that you were completely lost on the front of intimacy. You remember what it felt like to have someone’s body glued to yours, the first touches that set the body afire and the kisses that perpetuated the idea of neediness and that desire that nested in your belly, eager to be detonated.

It’s just that it’s been so long, you were both shy to initiate. You were both waiting for each other to start, and then your mind spun nervously, creating self-doubt and fear.

Joel certainly began to feel like this was all a bad idea. Even though the desire was there, tempting, just like you, needing to be pushed, touched.

“Where’s Ellie?” he asked one faithful evening.

You were lying down, reading a book and listening to something in the background, one of those cheesy 80s music that Joel couldn’t help but love. You stood up halfway, your eyes meeting his. “Sleepover with a few girls.”

“Oh, alright then.”

“Yeah. She’s gone for the night.”

Something clicked in Joel’s head. Interest peaked, he looked at you with a half smirk that triggered yours too.

“What?” you asked bemusedly.

“What you’re sayin’ is, we’re here by ourselves the whole night.”

“Mhm.”

You smiled as Joel approached you, lying down next to you. “What do you have in mind?” you asked him cheekily.

“If memory serves me correctly… some music and dimmed lights go a long way.”

“I might have something else to set the mood as well.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, watching you shuffle around for something unknown. He felt his heart pounding in his ears, his whole body as if it were being boiled alive. But he knew that if there were any ideal moments, this was surely of ‘em.

When you returned, Joel noticed the bottle of whiskey in your hand and the two glasses. You poured a little in each, handing one to him.

“Should I ask where this came from?”

“I wouldn’t.”

Joel chuckled, staring into the glass. “Should I be worried about it?”

“I wouldn’t.”

You drank in near-silence, thankful for the room you now shared in one of the houses of the compound. While it was true that you remained alone till tomorrow morning, you didn’t want to risk this opportunity by leaving the premises.

Soon, you were three glasses of whiskey in, cheeks flushed and bodies warm. You were lying down next to each other, giggling and sharing stories.

“You play the guitar?” you asked.

“Used to. I’m a bit rusty now.”

“Can I hear you play something?”

Joel’s stomach grumbled with worry. He chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah, I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re wonderful. Please?”

He couldn’t resist your sweet plea, nor your siren-like voice. There was something absolutely mesmerizing about you, your voice, your eyes… God, your eyes. It’s like they held the entire sky full of stars in them.

Still a little reluctant, Joel stood up, a little unbalanced, and brought in his guitar. It needed a bit of tuning, but it would do.

“Now, remember I haven’t really played this thing in a while,” he told you. “Only for Ellie, that one time, and it was a silly song.”

“Just play.”

Your smile was so heartwarming that Joel found it impossible to stop himself from playing that guitar. So before he knew it, his fingers were doing all the work, playing a rendition of one of your favorite songs, “I Want To Know What Love Is”. His gruff voice, in that low baritone, singing those beautiful lyrics, it was absolutely enchanting.

“Needs some work, but—”Joel tried to excuse himself.

“I think it’s great just the way that it is.”

Joel sported a half smile, feeling like a flustered teenager around you. But perhaps that was actually the charm.

“Can I try?” you asked.

“You play the guitar?”

“Seems like a good time to try.”

Amused, Joel handed you the guitar, watching you study it closely. You played a few strings randomly, causing him to chuckle further.

“Hey,” he cooed, gently touching your hand.

“That bad, huh?”

“No, no, you could be one of the greatest guitarists of this apocalyptic time.”

“Why, thank you.”

Something in the way Joel stared at you told you that the time for subtlety and flirtatious hints was over. He wanted more, and in that moment, gazing at him, you wanted more too, finally ready to move past the shyness of asking.

“I was gonna ask you—to show me what you like,” he tutted.

“What?”

“I think we’re both too old to be playing silly games. Granted, it’s been a long time since I’ve even wanted someone around me, but you… you got me feelin’ like I’m a teenager again.”

You couldn’t help the thrilled chuckle that escaped past your lips as you smiled at him.

“So I’m askin’ you to show me what you like,” he continued, hand still over yours. “Where you like to be touched and kissed. How.”

You felt your cheeks burn unusually much, your body nearly aching, longing to the point where it was getting unbearable to even breathe next to Joel. You put the guitar away, rolling enough so that you were face to face with him. The whole room seemed to smell of him: musky, earthy, and warm.

“We could start with something simple,” you teased, pulling him in.

His lips were softer than what you had expected; frankly, you thought his whole being was just rugged and tough to break, but as you were about to find out, under the right circumstances, Joel Miller could be turned into putty.

He was practically melting under your touch, but you weren’t that far off either. His beard tickled your face in the most unexpected and pleasant way, triggering sensations you long thought of as buried. The kiss remained a mere exploration, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep it tender.

Although you were both starved, your bodies seemed to be moving on their own accord, exuding sheer neediness. Joel did his best not to whimper right there in your mouth, but it was no easy task; before he knew it, unholy sounds were leaving his throat, those of arousal and desire, his large hands gripping your waist.

You barely stopped for air in your quest for pleasure, yet you made sure to take it slow. You straddled Joel’s lap, removing your clothing one by one under his mesmerized hazel eyes. He remarked on the scars that mapped your skin, tracing each one mentally before he could do so with his lips and hands.

But then he came to realize that it was his turn to undress, and suddenly things weren’t so appealing anymore.

You saw him become fidgety and self-conscious, closing back inside his shell. You glared at him with big eyes, almost begging for him to return your look.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” you reassured him. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Trust me, darlin’, if I’d want this anymore, I’d explode.”

You smiled shyly, noticing Joel’s appreciative glare over your naked body in the golden dimmed light. So wanting is not an issue.

“Then what is it?” you asked.

“Just… not sure you’d wanna see this scarred old body.”

“Joel. I want you just as you are. And scars are badass.”

“They’re ugly reminders.”

“They are not.”

So you set up to prove it to him in ways that words would never convince him. You peppered gentle kissed down his neck, your hands sneaking beneath his shirt simply to caress the skin there, and Joel whimpered, powerless under your touch.

He’d never in a million years imagined a greater temptation before him, someone so powerful bringing him to his knees in the most effortless way.

His whimpers were uncontrollable, his body a furnace, nesting a fire that begged to be released. It has been far too long, and even longer to spend aching in your presence. Your every touch, every kiss was guided by sheer desire, and Joel could feel the heat radiating from your fingertips and into the way you were touching him all over, making him painfully hard—and aware of the fact that you were butt naked, while he remained clothed.

So he changed that in an instant: your fingers and his were working in tandem to dispose of his shirt and throw it somewhere on the floor. You noticed why Joel was so self-conscious about his appearance: plenty of scars traced the surface of his surprisingly soft skin, each telling a different story. You took a moment to soak up the image, your fingers carefully touching a particular one on the right side of his abdomen, deeper than the others. Joel sighed, his chest heaving with anticipation and melancholy alike, and his eyes met yours.

“Nearly ended me, that one,” Joel explained, his voice bitter and filled with regret.

The thought of not having him—or Ellie—in your life provoked much more sorrow than you’d thought. So you programmed yourself to set the mood back by grabbing his hand into yours, guiding it to your core. You both gasped simultaneously, Joel’s eyes dropping in between your legs, watching in a trance how you pressed his fingers onto your clit. He followed your lead and dragged his index through your folds, collecting the slick that had shockingly gathered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, and you smiled. “This what you wanted?”

“Mhm.”

Joel’s touches were tentative, merely testing you and himself, stretching both your patience thin, but they remembered their way around. You bit on your lower lip when Joel’s finger breached your entrance, soaking it completely. The sensation made him tremble almost, and his chest heaving some more.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you frantically nodded.

You wanted to tell him that there was no need for the constant reassurance and checkups, but it has been over a year, and you knew him better than to insist on ignoring the little things that made Joel Miller who he was.

Your fingers set for an important task thus pressing pause on his filthy magic on your clit: with eager motions against his belt and zipper, you helped Joel out of his jeans and boxers, gulping when you noticed how hard he was. It must’ve been uncomfortable, yet you couldn’t help but feel flattered.

And oh, so needy.

You didn’t give him any warning, and neither did he when he resumed his motions over your aching cunt, his index pressing boldly inside you. Next thing he knew, your hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it ever so slightly, just to test the waters and see what Joel’s reaction was. The second your eyes locked on his figure, contorted in sheer ecstasy, you knew you’d hit the jackpot.

“Fuck,” he murmured in a guttural voice, trying to keep his voice to a minimum.

But God, how you adored listening to his grunts and helpless whimpers.

“What—what else?” he asked in a haste, to which you frowned momentarily.

“What else what?”

Goodness gracious, your voice was like honey pouring down on the warmed up skin, drizzling slowly, impossible to ignore.

“What else—do you like?” he struggled to say while you fisted his cock faster.

“I’m quite enjoying this.”

“Devil woman.”

He grinned like a madman in utter despair, breaths ragged, irregular and messy just like his mind. He’s been deprived for far too long; so long that he’d even forgotten his own touch. But this, right now? It couldn’t get any better.

And then you filthily wrapped your mouth around his cock, and Joel damn near lost his mind completely.

“Atta girl,” he groaned, resisting the urge to fist your hair. “Just like that. You keep doing that—fuck.”

With one hand you jerked him off at the base, and with your mouth you took as much as you could, listening to Joel’s moans like they’re the most fascinating record you’ve ever heard.

This shell of a man was now being broken down to his center, hopeless and desperate for any touch you’re offering him. He was weak for you, and there was no more denying that, hard as any of you might’ve tried.

“Fuck—you gotta go easy on me, baby girl—“his voice warned, thick with neediness and desire.

You released him from your mouth with a plop, the wet sound just as arousing as the filthy number you just performed on him. You smirked at him, eager to feel him; before you could wrap your hand around his length again, Joel kissed you, his lips practically devouring yours with a force and determination to be reckoned with. Soon, you found yourself writhing beneath him, legs spread to make room for him to grind in between.

His body acted like a furnace, heating you up as well. You were surprised to discover tenderness in the way his calloused hand gripped your sides, kneading the pillowy flesh like it was the most saccharine fabric he had ever felt. You didn’t beg for anything; your mouth was too dry, and your cunt too soaked. All you could do was gaze hungrily at him, and nearly slobber when Joel’s equally famished gaze fell upon your naked figure, eyes darkened by lust.

Each passing second spent without feeling him was agonizing. You struggled to understand how come you both became so desperate for this long-lost sensation of bodies thrashing and clashing against each other when you’ve gone without it for so long. Breaths erratic, Joel spat in the palm of his hand, then wrapped it all too eagerly around his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. The way you were glistening in the dimmed lights, pussy full on display for him, turned him feral. There was no other word for it. He ached, begged himself, whatever deities might’ve been up there in the skies to take mercy on his soul and let him enjoy this gift he’d been blessed with.

“Might this be something you’d like too?” he cheekily decided to ask at the very last minute possible.

You would’ve laughed at his audacity to ask such a stupid question in such a tense moment. You really would have. He was waiting for you to say anything, his leaking tip barely nudging between your folds, and you exhaled. Loudly.

“Joel,” your tone seemed to be scolding him.

“Yes?”

Your hands find their way around his neck, pulling him down. You were breathing into each other’s faces by this point, both driven half-mad by lust and desperation.

“Please,” you said at last, giving him the most pleading, suggestive look he’d ever seen a woman wear.

Joel smirked, though not mockingly; he was rather surprised that you could possibly want him this much. But then again, he was astounded by his own feelings for you, his judgement too clouded to allow any rationality to slip through the cracks of his sanity—or whatever was left of it.

“I hope you won’t hold it against me if I… break,” Joel said, his tone revealing a little fear.

You frowned. “Break?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“That’s for me to feel.”

Something about that statement built on his hunger even more. Joel finally pushed into you, the slip of his cock eased by your prior arousal. You both moaned out loud, jaws dropped at the sensation. The feeling was that of familiarity and closeness, but also excitement. Those shouldn’t go together in times such as those, but there you were.

“Oh… fuck,” you groaned.

Joel gave you both some time to adjust: you with his size, and him with the feeling of your hot, tight walls wrapped around him. But after a little while, it became as maddening as it was pleasurable to simply sit like that, with Joel fully sheathed inside of you, no movement to be felt. You weren’t sure how the first move came to be; maybe it was you who grabbed him by the back of his neck to press his lips onto yours. Maybe it was he who held onto your hips and gave the first thrust, head buried in the crook of your neck, lest he was overwhelmed. And he sure was.

Either way, once the first step had been done, Joel found the strength to start moving. His pace wasn’t shy—you could tell he had experience under his belt. But it wasn’t rough either. It felt rather like a concoction of sentiments, all chaotic, now burning together at the same pace.

Your lips hadn’t left his, no matter how sloppy the kiss turned. You honestly liked it that way. It felt real and honest. You barely allowed yourself some extra breaths of air. All you needed, all you wanted to feel were his tender kisses, his cock pushing further and further inside you, and the hotness and stickiness that came with all of it. You wanted Joel as he was. You didn’t want to play any game, and you wanted him to know that too.

Your moans were more frequent, as were Joel’s grunts. You had no way of telling how time moved in that moment, neither did you care. It felt like it was all happening too fast and yet too slowly. With each additional thrust, each grunt of Joel’s, your belly ached and imploded more, your whole body begging for its sweet release. God, you doubted you’ve ever wanted or needed to come more than you did at that very moment.

“Joel—“you cooed desperately, pathetically even.

His thrusts, much like his breaths and grunts, were lacking self-control: they became messier, the pace with which he was fucking you faster, greedier. Your hand entangled in his hair, tugging at the charcoal locks like your life depended on it; you mewled and moaned relentlessly, no other words falling down from your tongue. You couldn’t give the man any proper warning.

“Focus,” he seemed to warn you huskily. “Right here. At me.”

You realized he was looking at you, perhaps chasing his own high as he did so, but when that final snap of his hips against yours hit, Joel finally broke.

“Godfuckingdamnit, yes,” he groaned in one go as he came all over your thighs, stroking himself to completion and making sure he’d milked every ounce of arousal possible.

Your orgasm came a bit later, when his mouth was boldly pressed against your swollen pussy and your fingers were rubbing against your clit. That time you couldn’t contain your scream. The only word you did remember how to say was his name. A prayer, a beacon of hope and desire, maybe even more than that.

Fuck! was your closing word when you came, white-hot heat running through you as you spasmed and fell apart right in his mouth, fingers intertwined with his hair, pulling him in as much as you could.

Your cheeks reddened at the sight of Joel’s beard all smeared with your juices. The sight was beyond lewd, forbidden to a certain degree, but it seemed Joel wore your climax on his face like a badge of honor.

Even more so when he wiped his mouth with his thumb, boldly sucking on it right before your shocked eyes.

“If I’d’ve known you were this sweet, I’d’ve tasted you a whole lot sooner,” he teased.

You could tell he’d grown a bit more confident through the simple human act you just performed together, so the smile that followed was appreciative and fond.

“C’mere,” you told him, gesturing to him to join you in bed.

Once again, you weren’t sure how long you stayed there under that blanket, talking and smiling at each other. Could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours. All you knew was that you were reminded how easily happiness could be found, should the right person be next to you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

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porkcutletbowl44 · 21 days

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Will we be getting some ‘life of Simon’ POV scenes? I’m imagining now he’s more upset that he’s actually losing reader now that we’re putting our foot down and getting closer to Keegan. Even though for some reason he now wants to work things out. That and only seeing Fawn on the weekends, is he starting to regret his ‘new life’?

I remember you writing that he loved reader because we’re ‘a challenge’ and Colleen is ‘easy’ if I remember correctly.

After the baking scene with Keegan and Fawn, I can’t stop thinking about juxtaposing it to Simon’s possibly-now-boring home life with that fake bitch. Also Imma need more fluffy scenes with Keegan, fawn, and reader doing family activities please with Keegan being fatherly pleeeaasse 🤲

I hope this makes sense in this answer cause I don't wanna spoil anything—

There will be more insight on Simon and what's going on in his head, there are somethings I have planned for him that drop lil hints and beating himself up about his major fuck up

AND YOU BEST BET THERES GONNA BE LOTS OF KEEGAN FLUFF FROM NOW ON 😆😆

#ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #keegan p russ x reader #thanks for the submission!#anons welcome

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cbrownjc · 3 months

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As an older fan, I’m starting to get some major Sherlock-vibes from the show, in the sense that fans are coming up with all these big-brained theories to explain weak writing that we have to have faith will come to fruition in some future season. Why make the change to Lestat saving Louis? Why is Louis seemingly stronger than Armand? Why have the Loustat reunion, only for Louis to leave and challenge the entire vampire world (despite the fact that he’s apparently in a better place mentally-speaking)? Why publish under Daniel’s name, when that would clearly paint a target on his back, especially now that he’s a vampire? What’s going on with Daniel’s eyes?

The whole “spite” thing seems like a clear mis-direct, but with only like 8-ish episodes a season and Dubai-era Devil’s Minion being 100% subtext so far, I don’t think the writing team can do DM justice. All the inconsistencies seem like they’re being written off because it’s the unreliable narrator show, when they’re actually just plot holes.

Like…I 100% think the writing team forgot makers can’t telepathically talk to their fledglings, and that’s why they had to add in the throwaway line of Lestat actually whispering to Louis in 1x02. There was no hidden reason we were meant to find, it was just inconsistent internal logic justified because Louis can’t remember anything correctly.

IDK. I don’t want to be a downer, but a lot of my hype for the show just kinda fizzled out with the finale. I'm still gonna watch S3, but I think I'm just gonna wait til the whole thing comes out this time.

Hi!

So I never watched Sherlock nor was every in that fandom, though I did hear about some things after the fact. So I can't compare it to that fandom. But I can compare things to another book series that was being adapted fandom I was in which was Game of Thrones. And I think wrt things we are at least nowhere near that level of things and theorising. Yet.

Maybe because, unlike ASOIAF all the VC books are written and done. So that's a plus.

And see, the thing is? I can actually see a lot of methods to the madness of some of the things you've listed. Especially given the nature of how the story in the show is told through POVs. Where the issue comes into it is not ever knowing if what you are seeing is true, false, or just an interpretation of the truth -- as in Louis' POV of the play-trial rehearsal.

And I'd really like to know if how they ended this season is how they plan to end every season when a full book has been adapted? Something that wraps up the main character arc and story, but just leaves a host of other questions that, if we weren't getting a Season 3, would have never been answered. And who knows if they will all be answered in Season 3? As far as Devil's Minion goes, or Armand himself, I'm not expecting it to be now, given that Season 3 is The Vampire Lestat adaptation and Armand is a straight-up villain/antagonist in that book and Daniel doesn't appear in it at all, so anything we get with him will be extra anyway.

Now, as to whether Rolin Jones and the writers have a plan, Rolin says he pitched an 8-Season (or so) Arc to AMC before he was given the show to run. So at the moment? That is the only solid thing we have to go on right now wrt if there actually IS a play or not for the show.

But see (and oh boy, please forgive me as am I about to go into a big digression here), plotting a TV show is much harder to do than a book or a movie. TV writing is way more organic given that unforeseen circumstances can occur that you've never planned for when you go into a new season of TV production. Such as the studio asking you to split the first book you're adapting into 2 seasons instead of one, leaving you with only a month to rewrite the scripts. Or, a writer's strike and then an actors' strike a few weeks later, delaying production for months. Both of which happened to IWTV wrt Season 1 and then Season 2.

So organic things beyond the show's control are why it is much harder to plan out every little detail of a TV show in advance over multiple seasons. Take another AMC show, Breaking Bad. It's known that Season 2 of that show was intricately plotted out in advance but then, after that, the writers plotted and wrote the rest of the show as things came along for the remaining seasons, with no grand design to it -- even though the creator of the show, Vince Gilligan, knew way in advance how the show was going to end. And the show was able to get there, to that ending, without having a meticulous plan over seasons on how to do so.

I mean, the character of Jesse on Breaking Bad was originally supposed to die at the end of the first season. But instead, he lived through the whole damn thing. That was not planned at all.

And I think that might very well be the situation we have going here wrt IWTV. I think there are larger things they already know in advance about the show -- which books out of all of them will adapted into full stories vs which will only get references. Which characters in the show will make it into the show as full characters vs which characters will either be cut or combined with other existing characters (as Sam Ried revealed in his interview with Autumn Brown that that is going to happen -- that some characters will be combined with others). And what end point they want each of the main four characters -- Louis, Lestat, Armadn, and Daniel -- to be at when they get to at least Season 8. (If not Season 10, which is what AMC wants, 10 seasons). I think those are things Rolin and the writers very much know.

But I don't think the show has every single little detail plotted out for every little thing wrt how they are going to get to certain things. Not super far in advance at any rate.

I do think they'll purposefully put in seeds for later -- that they very much know they are going to need later -- though I think at most they do it one season ahead if it's a little thing. I very much do think that is what the things from episodes 1x02 and 1x03 very much were, since Season 1 and 2 were supposed to just be one season originally. Or the fight in 1x05 only being shown from Claudia's POV. I think that was also deliberate and they are very much planning on visiting it once again in Season 3, as they did in Season 2.

But I also think there are some things the show has not plotted way in advance and only figured out when they are writing that particular episode. Or maybe just decided to do that season as they were writing it, and not before then. Just like how almost every other TV show works, even ones that might very well know the ending they are working toward.

So I in no way think the show has figured and plotted out every single moment and beat of Armand and Daniel's relationship. Why? Not only because much of it happened in the past -- which yes I very much still think it did -- which covers 12 years of time, but because if you look at this clip, Rolin Jones kind of hints that they haven't plotted it out completely point for point even though there are some things they've thought and figured out:

tumblr

video credit: Rei Gorrei on Twitter

So as far as Devil's Minion goes, I think Rolin and Co -- mostly Rolin -- has an endpoint for it in mind. But how they get to that endpoint is probably not planned out to the letter, super far in advance. And something they very likely just come up with as they are writing that particular season. At most? I'd say they've put things in this season that will be relevant next season and that's it.

So, I'm not going to say they can't do it justice. Not yet. I frankly don't have enough data to call that in a yes or no fashion since we haven't seen anything adapted from it aside from the 3-4 days Daniel spent in a cage, which is just the very start of how Devil's Minion begins. Basically one or two paragraphs. That's all they've really adapted when it comes to it at the moment.

And hey, it's okay if you feel down about all of this. If it helps, I'd say try and take a pragmatic approach to the show season by season, and if you feel it's better to binge it than watch it episode by episode for a time, that's good too. This is going to be a long journey after all.

#Devil's Minion #The Devil's Minion #Daniel Molloy #Armand #The Vampire Armand #Rolin Jones #Interview with the Vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #iwtv spoilers #video #tv production

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zsakuva · 6 months

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How do you come up with so many intricate plots and characters? They seem so… human? I’m very surprised you don’t read much! I guess what I’m asking is, what’s your creative process? Do you take inspiration from aspects of yourself, or is it more of a form of escapism? When you write your plots, do you imagine yourself as the character, the audience, or both?

Another thing that truly amazes me and makes your channel stand out a lot is the way you give the listener a voice. It feels like each listener is so different and unique, and *actually* interacts with the character. It also feels like you’re never spoon feeding us information? All the questions do get answered, but it’s different style imo. Usually, in most ASMR RPs I’ve heard, the speaker will repeat what you said verbatim, (eg. “You think XXX?”, or “You want me to XXX?”), and the frequency at which these types of phrases are used makes it *seem* like a RP. Of course, it’s a challenging medium - the audience needs to know whats going on somehow, but you manage to achieve the same in a much more subtle way. It makes me wonder how long you spend planning out your content haha.

Final question, do you prefer to type or handwrite your plans, scripts, etc? I’ve always preferred planning on paper, even though it’s a bit impractical haha. Also, would you mind showing us your handwriting? I think it says a lot about a person! There’s the stereotype that people usually have a certain handwriting that corresponds to their major/occupation, and if I remember correctly, I think you studied film? I’m just curious hehe. No pressure, of course!

Sorry for sending you an essay, I hope you have a restful and comfy Friday!

Thank you!

Honestly, I don't know how I do it myself considering my memory is absolute shit! Though I don't read much, I learn about characters through other mediums such as television shows and movies. I'll try and break this down for ease of reading!

~My Creative Process~

When making a character or series, it all depends on where my initial inspiration began. For example, with Niall, I wanted to create an M4M series exploring a character who carries trauma of being forcibly outed, betrayed by someone he confided in, and how those events affected him through his adult life. The core of Niall's story was confronting fears that manifested due to the Listener's actions in school, and finding that there was a way to heal, albeit slowly, and a hope to love despite external animosity. Niall exists because I wanted to tell a particular story.

With Zaros, he first came about because of The Noble Trials plot. I knew that he would be different from other characters, so I'm using this series as a means of testing my skill with a new editing style, story format, and new world setting. Although it's more work, I have the most fun with The Noble Trials and making its lore (though I'm always a sucker for that)!

I go into creating characters with the belief that they are all extremely flawed. Whether that be by nature or nurture, there will inevitably be some slew of events in their pasts that shaped the way they act in the current timeline. This also extends to the Listeners so they aren't rigid, boring, and an empty shell. Characters can clash, but they can also change with and for each other. A good example is Isaac's story. He was scarred by his past, and was willing to confine Pickle in the house if it meant not losing someone he cared for again. Pickle was also scarred with abandonment and instability, wondering if they would ever find a home. Isaac gave them a place to belong, and Pickle gave him consolation and courage to face the unknown.

When I write, the character's actions must reflect the backstory in which they were crafted, so I always need to dive into their heads.

~Listener Dialogue~

This requires much more thought to make interactions seem authentic, but there's a fine line between repeating words verbatim and not alluding to any sort of context. I dislike repeating the Listener's words so I try to indirectly insinuate what they were saying whenever possible. If I can do so with SFX alone, that's a bonus! But when scenes contain heavy dialogue, it can be difficult to get the message across without being heavy-handed with repetition, unless that's the purpose of a specific moment.

~Handwriting vs Typing~

I always handwrite my outlines! On some occasions, I can start and finish a script without the help of one, but my workflow tends to include writing an outline of some kind, and it has to be done on paper! I feel like the ideas manifest quicker that way.

However, I always type my scripts. It's much easier to edit, share with other voice actors, and there's a level of professionalism in formatting that motivates me to write more!

Here is an example of my writing. This screenshot was part of a Twitch stream!

#zsakuva #sakuverse #audio roleplay #boyfriend audios

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i-3at-s0ap · 5 months

Text

I've been having some (scattered and unhelpful) thoughts about Nicky being transmasc and how that affects the Nick vs. Narcolas situation, and I thought I'd make a post abt it!

Senseless blabbering under the cut ⚠️

(for the purposes of this post, Nick is pre Meth bay and Glenn's son, Nicolas/Narcolas is post Meth bay and Jodie's son and Nicky is post demon-ification)

Ok! So, I headcanon Nick Close to be transmasc (whether binary or not isn't important rn). The real question is, Is Nicolas also transmasc?

Possibility 1) Nicolas is transmasc. Growing up Jodie's kid, he was exposed to queer people, yes, (I don't think Jodie is transphobic/homophobic or anything) but it would've definitely been a very sanitized, corporate, binary queerness. I think Nicolas would've realized he was trans at a very young age, Idolizing his dad and wishing he could be like him. Realizing he was trans kinda made that fiction seem more reasonable and attainable, so he wouldn't have pushed the feelings down. I think talking to his dad about this would've been a fairly "typical" coming out. Lots of "I love you no matter what" and "this is a big decision but I will support you". Support, but it was also a serious matter.

Nick on the other hand would've grown up with Glenn and (only while he was very young) Morgan. At least in my head, they would've both been pretty down with gender fuckery and playfulness around gender expression and identity. Like Nicolas, Nick would've also realized pretty young, given his parents exposing him to Queer culture and making sure he knew he could be whatever he wanted. When he came out it wasn't ceremonial or anything, and was met with a resounding "fuck yeah! Rock on man".

When Nicky was """created""" these memories coincided and heightened his awareness of the differences in his upbringing and also how he lives now. I'm sure there's some good potential for stories, angst and fics in there.

Possibility 2) Nicolas is a cisgender boy.

Nicolas grows up surrounded by men like his dad, masculine and, in his eyes, perfect. He is constantly trying to be like his dad, and feeling inadequate because of that. Alongside this impossible standard of manhood he is being raised in, he is also having to face the challenges and toxicity of cis boyhood.

As he becomes Nicky, the memories of the playfulness of being raised by Glenn and being trans are mixed with the experience of being surrounded by unachievable toxic masculinity of being Nicolas. Nicky has no idea if he counts as trans or not, being he technically has the body of a cis boy, (something Nick longed for.) He has a very complicated relationship to womanhood and being trans, while also having lived as a cis boy too. Let's face it, at least in my experience cisgender boys are taught to be transphobic, homophobic, racist, ableist and every terrible thing in the book. Although I doubt Nicolas was the worst, he still grew up in a "agree with these terrible 'jokes' or you're out" environment, one that is suffocating and hypnotic to be in. The cognitive dissonance and later guilt he would've experienced upon remembering his life as Nick, as a transmasc, would've been painful at best, downright excruciating at worst. (Kinda a really extreme version of the human experience of doing something wrong then regretting it later.)

In my personal experience, I spent the first 12 years of my life as a cisgender girl, and to be completely honest I had some fucked up opinions on neopronoun users, furries, alt people and people who are nowadays called 'cringe'. It fucking sucks looking back on that even though I've since come out as trans and bi (and am dating a neopronoun user!!!! Hi Leonardodicapriowo!!!!) I still (correctly) feel incredibly guilty about the things I thought and the things I said. (I'm fairly sure I wasn't vocal about my opinions and never really hurt anyone, but you can never know) I also feel like that concept could be explored really interestingly with Nicky.

Idk these thoughts have just been floating around in my head for a while and I thought I'd write em down somewhere!

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies s2 #dndads s2 #dndads s1 #nicky freeman #nick foster #nicky foster #nick close #nicky close #nicolas foster #Narcolas #trans #transmasc #transgender #headcanon

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gerrystamour · 1 year

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here i have found some peace of mind [chapter two]

Rated E | Steddie

[ PREVIOUS ]

Steve gets to know 'Chris' a lot better. CW: This chapter deals a bit with dysphoria and deadnaming. Steve is deadnamed by a colleague in the chapter (which is based on a situation I actually went through and I'm personally working with HR to address). This chapter also delves into grief a little bit, particularly about the loss of a parent. Because apparently I not only wanted to process my Trans Feelings, but also my Grief Feelings. (Though my relationship with my dad before my dad passed was not strained) NOW INCLUDES AMAZING FANART drawn by my lovely lovely lovely friend Simon @sentient-trash !!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

longing for isolation, for starlit skies

Steve sat at his desk typing up an email to one of the event managers’ clients, quietly grumbling to himself about why he had to email them without any real heat. The managers were busy, and sometimes it just made more sense for Steve to email the clients outright. He would do it, he would just bitch about it while he did it.

“Steve.”

Looking up, he met Joyce’s eyes and cringed under her stern expression.

“Yes, Joyce?” he asked, but he already knew what this was about.

“I was looking through the turnovers. Did Nancy give you a group the other day?” she asked, and Steve looked at his computer.

“It’s just a band and film crew. I’ve already made contact with the client,” Steve said, his ears heating up when Joyce sighed.

“I’d like to speak to you in my office, please,” she said and walked away.

Sighing heavily, Steve finished the email he was working on, sent it, and locked his computer. When he got up and turned, Nancy was hovering at her cubicle and chewing her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” she mouthed, and Steve just rolled his eyes and trudged across the room to Joyce’s office and shut the door.

When he sat down heavily, Joyce sighed again.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve, so you can relax,” she soothed, and Steve tried to do just that. “I’m concerned because I don’t want you burning yourself out again.”

“I know. It’s just rooms, and it’s a band so it’s super easy,” Steve replied quickly. “She wanted me to handle it.”

“Then she should have turned it over properly and put it in the notes that she wanted you to handle it,” Joyce said sternly.

“Nancy seems to think that if she turned it over properly and asked for you to assign it to me, you would assign it to one of the other managers,” Steve said with a knowing raise of his eyebrows when Joyce looked away and cleared her throat. “C’mon, she has a point, Joyce.”

“That’s because if I agreed to assign every group she wants given to you, you would be back in the same mess you were last summer,” Joyce said a bit defensively. “Tell me about the group, and I’ll decide if you can keep it.”

“I already made contact with the client!” Steve said.

“And you were not actually assigned this group properly. If I decide I want to take the group from you, that is my decision to make as your manager,” Joyce said, standing her ground.

Steve sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “You would undermine your team like that in the eyes of the client?” he asked, and Joyce pursed her lips.

“And Nancy didn’t undermine me by assigning you a group?” she challenged, and Steve sighed heavily.

“It’s a band and film crew, about twenty rooms if I remember correctly. They’re arriving in July, have already sent the rooming list and the riders, and the tour manager has already received the confirmed rooming list,” Steve rattled off and leaned back in the chair to stare up at one of the motivational posters on the wall above his boss, getting ready for Joyce to take the turnover.

“Is there any catering?” she asked.

“Nope,” Steve replied, trying not to sound dejected. He really liked working with bands and film crews, so the two being combined? He was looking forward to it.

“Steve, you know I’m not trying to punish you, right?” Joyce asked imploringly.

“I know, but you’re also refusing to give me work that you know I actually enjoy,” he replied with a sigh as he looked back at her. “I know you’re worried about me burning out, but that means all I’ve gotten for almost a year has been small little meetings and pop-ups. I haven’t had a single tour, or band, or film crew in months and I’m starting to get sick of my work.”

“Why is this the first you’ve mentioned this?” Joyce asked, and Steve cringed at that.

“Because I knew you were just trying to help me, and I figured if I just kept going without complaining you’d stop babying me,” Steve replied honestly, shrugging one shoulder.

“Oh, Steve, I wasn’t trying to baby you or treat you like you were less capable,” Joyce replied with a big sigh. “And you telling me how you’re feeling about your work is not complaining.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve started, but just trailed off with another shrug. “Just… don’t give it to Tammy. She screws up rooms-only blocks like this every time, and I’ll practically be handling the group anyway.”

Joyce huffed a big sigh and shook her head. “You can keep this group. It has been a while, and I don’t want you burning out because you’re bored either,” she said and Steve looked at her, shocked. She still had a stern expression as she added, “I will be speaking to Nancy about going above me like that.”

“Of course,” Steve said quickly, so happy that he was keeping the group to feel bad that Nancy was going to get chewed out.

“And you! If you’re feeling that way about your work, you tell me, got it?” Joyce added firmly, pointing at him.

“Right, of course, absolutely,” Steve agreed, nodding quickly. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Joyce called and Tammy, one of the event managers, poked her head in.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone calling for Steve?” she said with an apologetic grimace. “He said his name is Chris? I have him on hold right now.”

Steve nodded and turned to Joyce. “Are we good?” he asked, and Joyce smiled and nodded.

“Yep, we’re good,” she replied and waved him off.

When Steve got back to his desk, he heard Tammy speaking to Chris before she transferred the call. Steve picked up on the first ring.

“Good afternoon, Steve speaking?” he said quickly.

“Good afternoon, handsome. How are things going in hotel land?”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes a little bit. “Busy, as always. Can’t complain though,” he replied as he tapped his pencil against his notebook. “How can I help you, Chris?”

“What if I just wanted to hear your voice?” Chris teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m on the clock. How can I help you?” Steve asked again, but there was a part of him that was still flattered by the attention, interested in the attention even.

And so began the almost-daily calls from Chris. Steve never actually reached out from his end because there was no reason for him to until they got closer to the actual stay. It was always Chris calling him to make requests, to discuss the area a bit more, or sometimes just to chat. As their work relationship progressed, Steve found it easier to fall into more friendly banter, even returning some of the flirting.

Steve still refused to try to find out who the band was or look Chris up, but mostly because he didn’t want to give a face to the man he was talking to on the phone just yet. He knew that if Chris was even half as hot as he sounded, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

As it stood, most days Chris would call, they would discuss matters pertaining to his band’s stay in July for five minutes, then spend the next twenty just talking about other stuff. Usually, it was just Steve talking about his job and complaining light-heartedly.

“The worst way to receive a rooming list is as a PDF,” Steve grumbled into the phone as he painstakingly copied and pasted a rooming list into a spreadsheet. “Please know that if a Group Housing Coordinator receives a rooming list as a PDF? They hate the client just a little bit.”

On the other end of the call, Chris chuckled before stopping abruptly. Steve smirked a bit as he could practically hear the dots connecting in Chris’ head.

“Didn’t we send our rooming list as a PDF?”

Steve snorted. “Maybe,” he replied cheekily, and Chris groaned.

“Is that why you are resisting my charm?” Chris whined and Steve laughed.

“That, and I’m also on the clock,” he reminded Chris teasingly.

“You could always give me your number?”

Steve sighed and thought back to the employee conduct manual. It would be wildly inappropriate to give a client his number. “Not while you’re my client,” he responded, resolving to pull out the conduct manual and read it over again.

“So… after?” Chris pressed and Steve laughed.

“I’m not making any promises, Chris,” Steve sighed, chewing his lip while a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

There was some shouting on the other end of the call and Chris sighed. “Alright, Stevie, that’s my cue to go in a bit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Steve almost said yes, but then remembered he had requested the next day off. “No, unfortunately I won’t be in the office tomorrow. I’m taking a personal day,” he replied.

“Oh, doing anything fun or interesting?” Chris asked, and Steve actually grinned at how interested he sounded.

“I wish. Uh, nah, I have appointments and then visiting a cemetery, so,” Steve trailed off with a shrug before cringing. Chris couldn’t see him shrugging, what the hell?

“Oh shit, sorry. That was really stupid of me to ask,” Chris said, and Steve laughed.

“It’s all good, man. I wouldn’t’ve answered if it bothered me,” he admitted and on the other end of the line, Chris chuckled lightly.

“That makes sense. I’ll talk to you another time then.”

“Or you could relax and not call me again about your stay in July,” Steve insisted as he always did when they were about to hang up.

“Mm, no. I think I’ll continue to micromanage our stay, just to keep you on your toes, Stevie,” Chris replied and then hung up.

Steve sighed with a little grin as he hung his receiver up, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“What the hell was that, Dingus?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin and looked up at Robin peering over his cubicle with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Steve lied, and he could feel his face burning with his blush.

“Stephen, are you flirting with a client?” she hissed as she hurried around the cubicle wall to sit on his desk.

“No,” Steve hissed back, glancing around but thankfully no one was paying attention. “No, he is flirting with me.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “He?” she asked excitedly.

“Did you need something? Because I’m kind of busy,” Steve said, shoving his glasses up to scrub at his face.

“I texted you about food in Dustin’s Office, but you didn’t respond so I came to find you,” she immediately replied, smiling when Steve locked his computer and got up.

“I’m definitely in,” he replied happily.

“We’re talking about everything I overheard tomorrow, you hear me, Harrington?” Robin said as they walked, pointing at him accusingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes with a chuckle.

❖

The next morning, Steve woke up with his normal alarm, even though he technically had the day off. It was a bit nice, being able to get up and not rush through his morning routine. He even had time to make a proper breakfast and eat it while listening to an audiobook.

Steve took his time in the shower and then shaving and doing his hair. With a small grimace, he put on gloves and tried to hold his breath as he smeared his testosterone gel on his shoulders. Holding his breath never seemed to work as the sting of the alcohol evaporating always hit his sinuses.

Once he was showered and groomed, Steve went back to his room to get dressed. “Robbie, time to get up!” he called as he passed Robin’s room, pounding on her door without pausing in his steps.

Forty-five minutes later, Steve and Robin were in the car on their way to the first of several errands and appointments. The two of them tried to schedule as many of their things for the same day as they could so Robin wouldn’t have to worry about catching the bus. Plus, it was generally just better to have company for errands and appointments.

“So, what’s up with you and your client?” Robin asked around a yawn, scrubbing her eyes. She had been working a huge dinner party until two in the morning the night before, and hadn’t gotten home until after three.

“Nothing is up, Robs,” Steve muttered, trying to recall the perfectly good explanations he had come up with for what she overheard yesterday but drawing a complete blank. “He just calls a lot, and he just flirts with me. It’s nothing.”

“Okay, but you were definitely flirting back,” Robin said, and Steve shot a quick glare at her. “C’mon, Steve, I can tell when you’re flirting, and you were definitely flirting. I’ve heard you shutting people down before and you were not doing that. Maybe you thought you were, but you weren’t.”

“Fine, maybe I was flirting back. It’s not like it matters, or like anything’ll come of it. He’ll get bored eventually, and he’s only going to be in town for like… three days,” Steve said explosively, running a hand through his hair. “If we hook-up, and that’s a huge if, it’ll be super casual because he’ll be off to the next place, so, whatever.”

There was a long pause, the silence between them deafening.

“Steve,” Robin finally started, and her voice was the gentle one she only brought out when Steve was being especially reckless. “You know how you are with casual…”

Cringing, Steve tried to wrangle up some kind of defense against that. But it was true, it was largely why he struggled so much with dating and a huge factor in why he and Nancy didn’t work out. Steve’s feelings for people seemed to move at the speed of light with zero in-between, whether they were platonic or romantic. The reason he only had one friend was thanks to Robin being very similar, or at least receptive to having someone immediately prepared to die for her after two proper conversations.

“Like I said, he’ll get bored eventually,” Steve said instead of addressing Robin’s point out loud. “It’s not like he even talks about himself much.”

“Maybe you should ask him about himself,” Robin suggested, shrugging when Steve glanced at her questioningly. “If he’s just in it for some casual sex while he’s in town, he’ll probably avoid opening up, right? But if not… just because he’s not in town long doesn’t mean it has to be casual.”

Steve considered Robin’s words for a few moments, rolling them around in his head. “Maybe,” he conceded after a bit, ignoring the smug smile that split Robin’s face.

A few hours later found the two of them at the big cemetery near the posh neighbourhood where Steve grew up in the suburbs. It was one of the errands Steve dreaded, but he did it every year anyway.

Steve didn’t like visiting graves. It felt performative, fake, like it was an act he was putting on. There were better places for him to visit where he felt closer to that person than their grave. But Steve knew that if his mom arrived tomorrow and there were no flowers from Steve on his dad’s grave, she would immediately call him and demand an explanation.

He didn’t hold it against her, not at all. Melissa Harrington was amazing, even if she wasn’t very present in Steve’s life as he was growing up. She was doing what she could to make up for that, and even now that Steve had moved out to the city, they met up regularly for brunch on the weekends.

Steve’s relationship with his dad had been strained just before his unexpected passing. Thomas Harrington had grand ideas about Steve’s future, and he pushed Steve hard to reach that potential. He hadn’t done it cruelly, by any means, just thoughtlessly and without considering Steve’s wishes at the time. When Steve had gotten his first job at a hotel and fallen in love with hospitality, Thomas was not very happy and made his displeasure known.

Ultimately, though, Thomas had been coming around. He’d started showing an interest in Steve’s work and growth at his property. They were fighting less and enjoying each other’s company more often again.

One of the last conversations Steve had with his dad had been an aborted attempt to come out of the closet. Steve never got the actual words— “Dad, I think I’m a boy…”—but there was something in the way Thomas had gripped his shoulder firmly and pulled him into a tight hug that said he knew and that it was okay.

If Steve had known he wouldn’t get another chance to try again…

After a lengthy walk, they finally arrived at Thomas’ grave and Steve immediately began tidying it up. The graveyard was well maintained, so there wasn’t much for him to do, but it felt better fussing over brushing grass off the gravestone than just standing there. Once he was done, Steve laid the flowers on the grave and stood back up.

Robin had joined Steve on his annual visit to his dad’s grave since the first anniversary of his passing. She never questioned why he didn’t say anything when he was there, and she never tried to make him. It was the one reason he always visited the day before the actual anniversary to avoid running into his mom. Melissa would spend hours at Thomas’ grave talking to the gravestone, and she didn’t understand why Steve couldn’t.

It just felt weird to talk to a slab of granite in the middle of a silent field of slabs of granite. The body six feet below them wasn’t his dad anymore; that body stopped being his dad suddenly and quietly—painlessly, the doctors all insisted—in the middle of the night seven years ago.

“Need more time, Dingus?” Robin asked quietly, and Steve took a deep breath. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he found that he’d been crying.

Quickly wiping the tears off his cheeks, Steve shook his head. “No, I’m good,” he said, and he sighed happily when Robin tucked herself under his arm.

“We should get take-out tonight. We earned it after all our running around, yeah?” she said and wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist.

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah, take-out sounds perfect,” he hummed, tugging Robin in tightly against his side to kiss the top of her head.

❖

Returning to work the next day was hard, but Steve needed to keep up the momentum. If he took the rest of the week off like his mom always tried to get him to do, Steve would wallow and come back to work in a worse mood.

Unfortunately for him, he had the absolute displeasure to open his emails to find one of the above-property sales managers deadnaming him to not one, not two, but three different clients.

It wasn’t the first time she used his deadname in an email directly with a client. She did that a lot, and Steve was endlessly patient about it because he knew this came with the territory of not legally changing his name yet. The main system where this sales manager would see his name still had his legal one, and Steve reasoned that she oversaw too many properties to remember his preferred name.

It was different this time.

Good afternoon Martha,

Thank you so much for reaching out about your request to add more rooms to your block! I am connecting you with my amazing on-property colleague Carly (Steve) who will follow-up with you if they have availability. She will be delighted to assist you.

It was the first time she added his preferred name in parentheses like that with a double-whammy of using the wrong pronouns. Steve stared at the email, and then the other two and, yup, sure enough she did the same exact thing in every email. The kicker for him was the fact that the sales manager had, at some point, added her pronouns in her signature.

Steve drafted an absolutely scathing email that would absolutely get him fired if he actually hit send. The vent helped a bit, so he deleted it and focused on actioning the requests and replying to the clients. His signature obviously had his proper name and pronouns, so he hoped politely responding would make her look like the moron she was to the clients.

But he was set even further off-kilter by the whole interaction. On top of his grief, he felt like he was drifting outside of his body, above it and slightly to the left so that he could observe himself. Everything felt wrong, things he hadn’t felt dysphoria over in years crawling back up to suffocate him.

He felt nauseous at the way his hands moved on the keyboard or lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, the way he crossed his ankles under his chair or waved to Nancy as she walked past. Steve laughed at a joke Tammy told him, and the sound of it in his ears was like shards of glass and he just barely concealed his grimace long enough for Tammy to turn away. Steve caught himself chewing his nails at some point because they were too long, people could tell.

Steve was proudly out as trans. He managed to get his pronoun and pride pins approved against his property’s dress code and all of his public social media disclosed that he was trans. All anyone had to do was look him up online and they would know.

That didn’t mean he wanted to be seen as trans all the time.

He knew he was fortunate enough that HRT treated him well and he had been able to afford top surgery, so he “passed” pretty well. That meant he could have the safety of people’s assumptions in situations where that person might be hostile if they found out. Passing made his job a lot easier, even if a lot of his work with clients happened over emails and only face-to-face once they came to the hotel.

To be outed from the get-go in those emails? It, quite frankly, sucked.

The giant shit cherry on top of the shit sundae was that Steve had to renew his security badge with the airport that day, too.

All of his paperwork was under his legal name, obviously, but the security agent the year before had let him put his preferred name on his badge. When he made the same request to the agent this year, she argued with him about it in front of the other people in the pass office. The agent only agreed to put his preferred name on the badge when her manager came around to investigate the hold-up and gave her a stern look.

If Steve wasn’t so raw from everything else, he would have been grateful. However, he just felt sick, like he had bullied them into letting him keep a badge that didn’t have his deadname on it.

Like he was getting away with something because he was a big enough dick about it.

By the time he returned to his desk, he had more emails from the bitch from sales and one of the clients responded asking who “Carly” was, and Steve was ready to go home.

Just then, his phone rang, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to check who it was.

“Chicago In-Terminal Hotel Events, this is Steve speaking. How can I assist you?” he rattled off in his best customer-service voice given the circumstances.

“Heya, Stevie! You kinda sound like shit, man.”

Steve laughed humourlessly, even as something loosened in his chest at hearing Chris’ voice. “Thank God someone knows how to use my actual name,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

There was a pause before Chris sternly said, “Of course. What sort of asshole doesn’t use your actual name if they know it?”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve said vaguely, minimizing his emails so he didn’t have to look at them while on the phone with Chris. “What’s up, Chris?”

“Honestly? I’m just kind of bored and I missed chatting with you yesterday,” Chris replied, and his tone was so sincere that Steve felt bad that he was in such a messed up mood. “I know you’re on the clock, but if you have time…?”

Steve tapped his pencil against his notebook as he considered. He was in a rotten mood, but he already felt himself settling back into his skin, feeling a lot less jagged and wrong just after a couple minutes listening to Chris’ voice. That was a bit scary to consider, given the nature of their relationship. This guy shouldn’t have that much power over Steve’s moods, yet he did.

Remembering Robin’s suggestion from the day before, Steve decided to try that.

“Listen, Chris, I’ve had a really shitty day and talking about myself would suck for you,” Steve started slowly, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you could tell me about you? It feels like I do most of the talking…”

There is another long pause. “I dunno, man, there isn’t much to say about myself…”

Steve’s stomach dropped at the deflection. So, did that mean the interest was just casual on Chris’ end? He didn’t want to open up because he was just looking for a quick fuck, nothing more? Steve lied to himself and decided he could live with that, probably.

“Okay, sure. I’ll have to talk to you some other time then,” Steve said, his voice going tight.

“Steve, wait, don’t hang up. I didn’t—there’s just not a lot to talk about that isn’t already all over the internet, y’know?” Chris laughed a bit and added very quietly, “like, I’m surprised we’re even still talking at all at this rate.”

Steve frowned at the last bit, and reconsidered his decision not to sleuth out who the band was. Were there some shady details surrounding Chris Cunningham or the band he was managing the tour for?

“Dude, you—I haven’t even looked up the band you’re managing. I have no idea who you are,” Steve admitted, and the startled laugh he received brought a smile to his face. “Besides, why would I take what the internet says about you when I could get the real details directly from the source? Would you look at my socials and decide you knew me based on that?”

Chris chuckled. “I mean, I have peeked at your socials, Steve,” he confessed, and Steve felt his blush all the way down to his bellybutton. “I didn’t do much digging, I promise! I just—I’m very visual and wanted to put a face to your voice.”

“No, you’re all good, my public socials are, well, public for a reason,” Steve said with a laugh, chewing his lip a bit. “You, uh, like what you saw?”

Chris gave a quiet groan. “You’ve no idea, big boy,” he confessed softly, his voice deep and rumbling through the line, raising goosebumps up the back of Steve’s neck. Then Chris took a deep breath and asked, “okay, Stevie, what do you want to know about me?”

Everything, Steve almost said, and he barely stopped himself. “You mentioned your uncle once. Can you tell me about him?” he said instead, and Chris’ laugh was beautiful.

“My Uncle Wayne, literally one of the best things to ever happen to me, honestly,” Chris sighed.

“Only one of the best things?” Steve questioned curiously.

“I mean, the band actually breaking onto the scene makes that list,” Chris laughed, then added, “getting to talk to you is on there, too.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, blushing at how genuine Chris managed to make that absolute line sound. “Okay, tell me about your uncle.”

“Uncle Wayne basically raised me. I lived with my own folks until I was like, thirteen? I think? Then moved in with Wayne. My old man wasn’t a fan of my lifestyle and all that,” Chris explained, his tone flippant, like it didn’t hurt anymore, but Steve had a feeling that wasn’t true.

“It sucks that your parents were like that,” Steve said quietly, hoping Chris heard the sincerity in his voice.

“Yeah, but hey, I wouldn’t’ve met the boys or—yeah, the boys, y’know? Wayne taught me everything I know about guitars and music and shit,” Chris said fondly.

“You play guitar?” Steve pushed, a little embarrassed at how much more attractive Chris was with that little bit of new information.

There was silence over the line for several moments, long enough for Steve to get concerned the call was about to drop when Chris finally said, “Yeah, uh, like a little bit? I don’t play as much as I used to, and obviously not good enough to actually be in the band or anything.”

Chris was laughing at that in a way that didn’t quite sound forced but it didn’t sound real either. “Well, I still think that’s really cool. Always had a thing for musicians,” he teased instead, smirking at the startled laugh that bubbled out of Eddie.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Stevie,” Chris said, his voice low in a way that had Steve shivering.

The next couple of weeks passed with daily phone calls from Chris where he vaguely talked about his life prior to the band taking off, about the band mates and their antics. He mentioned a YouTube channel briefly once, and Steve was tempted to find it but… he liked getting to know Chris without that crutch. Steve liked the mystery of not knowing what Chris looked like.

Steve was really smitten with the way Chris talked about the people in his life, the way his tone would turn so painfully affectionate that Steve could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Did Chris have dimples? He hoped Chris had dimples. Steve was always a sucker for dimples. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Chris told his friends about their conversations, and if Chris spoke about him with that same tone.

If Steve also became a bit more active and a bit sluttier on his socials knowing Chris was maybe monitoring them, that was his business.

“You seem really close with the band for a tour manager,” Steve commented one day after Chris told him a funny story about the frontman nearly falling off the stage during a recent soundcheck. Apparently, he went to lean on his cane purely out of habit, forgetting he wasn’t using it at that moment, and was barely saved by one of the other band members.

“We’ve all been best friends since, like, middle school,” Chris said quietly, and Steve’s smile was big enough to hurt his face. “The band got serious about the dream in high school and then the five of us just… did what we had to to stay together.”

“That’s amazing. I only have, like, one friend that I’ve had more than a year,” Steve said, and he cringed at how pathetic that sounded.

“C’mon, no way,” Chris laughed, and Steve cringed again.

“I’m serious, man. I was… I used to be an asshole,” Steve confessed lightly, thinking back to the way he was in high school and his only attempt at college.

It was a lot of desperately performing a gender that felt wrong and overcompensating for his feelings of inadequacy. He remembered the way he lashed out and held people at arm’s length, the way he would sling cutting remarks at anyone who seemed to be thriving in their own weirdness. How dare they be weird and happy, when Steve had been trying so hard to be normal and was so miserable for it?

Steve felt bad for Carly when he looked back on those memories. She wasn’t real and, on some level, she knew that, even back then when she had no vocabulary for it. Not being real was scary, confusing, painful, and like a wounded animal she bit and clawed anyone who came near enough to see how hollow she was.

That didn’t mean Steve stood by those actions, that he didn’t feel immensely guilty for them, but he was working on showing compassion to that part of himself. It was something he learned in therapy the handful of times he actually went.

“Hm, well, you don’t seem like an asshole anymore,” Chris said, breaking Steve out of his thoughts.

“I’m trying everyday not to be,” Steve agreed, smiling as he tapped his pencil against his notebook.

Chris paused for a bit, sighing. “Go to dinner with me,” he said abruptly. “We’re at the hotel for three nights, right? Go to dinner with me.”

Steve’s breath left him in a whoosh at the blunt request. It was more of a command and that thought left Steve feeling a bit lightheaded. “You’re my client—” Steve started, and Chris made a bit of a noise.

“The way I see it, I stop actually being your client at five that Friday when you clock-out, right?” Chris said a bit suggestively, and Steve blushed.

Steve had looked up the employee conduct manual and the official rules were that dating clients was allowed as long as it happened off the clock and off-property. Their phone calls were blatantly against those rules, but they discussed enough about the room block each time to justify the conversations a little bit.

“Stevie?” Chris sounded so unsure that Steve instantly felt bad for letting his brain run away with him.

“It definitely has to be when I’m off the clock, and we can’t have dinner on-property,” Steve practically whispered into the phone and Chris made a triumphant little noise that brought a grin to Steve’s face.

“Fuck yeah, Stevie, I can’t wait! I know the perfect place!” Chris gushed and then some shouting in the background caught Chris’ attention. “Yeah! I know—I’ll be there in a—fuck off Garebear, I’ll fucking cut you—Stevie, I gotta go, okay?”

Steve laughed and nodded. Grimacing as he reminded himself that Chris couldn’t see him, Steve said, “yeah, of course. Talk to you later.”

“You know it, gorgeous,” Chris cooed and then dial-tone was droning in Steve’s ear.

It took Steve probably a full minute to actually hang the receiver up and wipe the grin off his face.

[ NEXT ]

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