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butchcarmy · 5 months

Note

hi tuna! i was wondering if you could write something where carmy and reader are at a house party and either one of them is sitting on the roof smoking a joint and the other finds them up and there joins them? thank u in advance <3

YES. I really loved this prompt... so here ya go!

word count: 1.4k

content tags: smoking, substance use, first meetings

Parties like this aren't usually your scene.

It's not like you can't appreciate it as a bystander—you suppose there's an appeal to music so loud you can't hear your own thoughts. There are certainly some days where you want to lose yourself in a crowd, drunk and careless. Today is not one of those days.

You can't quite remember how your friend convinced you to come to their party. It'll be fun, they promised, a nice change of pace. It is a nice change of pace, sure. It's different from sitting by yourself at home, but…

Now you're just sitting by yourself at someone else's home, smoking a joint on their porch.

This is more your pace. You're relaxed into one of your friend's water stained outdoor chairs, feet propped up on a low table. This is about all you can handle today—slow drags of weed and the sound of summer bugs in the trees. The sound of the party lays muffled behind you, sealed by the porch door.

The noise of the music and dancing inside becomes sharp for a moment as you hear the door opening. You look over your shoulder to see someone you don't recognize hastily stepping out. He seems frazzled, brushing back the brown waves in his face back with his hand. He also seems very…handsome.

“Sorry, didn't know anyone was out here,” is the first thing he says. He has a nice voice, low and smooth. And nervous, you notice.

“It's cool. It's not like I own the porch.” You shrug, taking another inhale from your sizzling joint. You had hoped that your comment would loosen the tension that'd tied knots all in his face, but it doesn't. He just laughs breathlessly back, short and shaky. “Not a party person?”

“Not really.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. That's when you notice the tattoos on his hands, emblazoned across the backs and his knuckles. Pretty. “You?”

“Sometimes. But not today.” That works—you see him visibly relax, even if just a little bit. “My friend invited me—it's their party—but I, I don't know. I guess I thought I'd be up for it, but…” You shrug. “And now I'm here.”

“I see. I get that. Uh—” He pauses, taking a slow hit from his white cigarette. “My coworkers, um, they invited me. I didn't wanna be an asshole, so I came, but…” He sighs. “Yeah. Now I'm here.”

“Tough.” You nod at the empty seat next to you. “Seat's open, if you want it.”

“Thanks.” He takes the seat next to you. This is when you really take notice of his muscles, especially his biceps and pecs wrapped tightly in that white t-shirt of his. A burst of attraction rushes through you.

“Uh—” You should keep talking. Distract yourself from his, uh, everything. “Do you smoke?” He gives you a funny look, eyes glancing towards his cigarette. “Fuck, I mean, do you smoke weed? Sorry, I'm a little high.”

“It's cool.” He's actually smiling now. It's a nice smile. “Yeah, not often, but I do.”

“Well.” You extend your hand towards him, offering him the joint. “You can have some of this if you want. Might help you relax. No pressure, of course.”

“...Actually, yeah. That'd be nice. Thank you.” He takes the joint from you with his other hand. Now he's got a cigarette in one and a joint in another. You both share an amused, knowing look. “You smoke cigs?”

“Sometimes. Here, let's trade.” He hands you his cigarette. “Not that there's anything wrong with dual-wielding. Take one hit off the joint, and then off the cig…”

“Dual-wielding,” he repeats, laughing under his breath. You chuckle, entertained by the thought and his reaction. You don't mean to watch him as he brings the joint up to his lips and pulls, but you do anyway. You're not sure if him smoking a cigarette or a joint looks more attractive.

“I feel like we should know each other's names now.” You know it sounds a bit forward, but the high's making you brave. You introduce yourself to him. “And your name is?”

“I'm Carmen.” Of course even his name is pretty. “Most people just call me Carmy, though.”

“Carmy.” You can't help your smile. “That's cute. Do you have a preference?”

“Uh—” He looks good with a little bit of pink on his cheeks. “Carmy's fine.”

“Okay, then. Carmy it is.”

You two develop a rhythm. You trade the joint and cigarette back and forth, inhaling puffs of weed and tobacco back to back. Intimate is not quite the right word to describe it, but you're not sure if there's a better word for it. You definitely feel something of a connection pulling the both of you closer together. You even think that somehow, the space between your seats is shrinking too.

“I used to smoke more weed back in college,” Carmy says. The joint's almost finished by now, and with it, you both become a lot more loose-lipped. He's staring into the distance like he's remembering something. “You ever green out?”

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head. “Back when I first started smoking—well, I started with edibles.”

“As does everyone.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. It's way too easy to go overboard with edibles.”

“Seriously. I've only ever had edibles once, and. Well.”

“Ah…It was bad, I take it?”

“Yep.” He laughs quietly, and the infectious sound of it makes you smile. “It was awful. I even threw up.”

“Oh no,” you gasp. “That's how you know it's bad. I've managed to stop myself from throwing up, but I've definitely felt like I was dying a couple times.”

“Oh, of course. As it goes.” You both chuckle. “I thought my tolerance was high enough. It wasn't that many milligrams, but I guess my body hated it.”

“It happens.” The cigarette dies out in your hands, burned right down to the filter. You snub it out on the arm of your chair. “I used to enjoy edibles, but ever since I greened out real bad one time, I just can't do them anymore. They just wreck my shit.”

“Maybe that's for the best.” He puts out the joint too. “Just stick to regular lung damage like the rest of us.”

“Lessons learned, I guess.” You grin. A comfortable pause settles. “...Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“We've smoked it all. Everything.”

“I have some more cigarettes if you want one.”

“No, no…” You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees. He instinctively mirrors you, sitting up in his chair. “It's all gone.”

“Oh. Well.” He tilts his head to the side. “What should we do now?”

“We could sit here and suffer. Or…” You rest your chin in the palms of your hands, cradling your face. “I could roll us another joint back at my place.”

“Oh.” Looks like it clicked. His blue eyes are widened with surprise.

“You don't have to,” you say quickly, “really. But I've been having a good time with you, and I…I like you. I think you're cute.” Ordinarily, you wouldn't be this forward, but you swear you feel something here. “Sorry if this is—too much.”

“No, not at all,” he replies, just as quick. “Don't apologize. Please. I just—” He fumbles, making a vague hand gesture. “This has been really, really nice. You're so easy to talk to, and I, I'm not used to that.” He smiles at you, shy and adorable. You're momentarily gripped with something akin to cuteness aggression, but you keep it under wraps. “I…I like you. A lot. I'd love to go to your place.”

“Yeah?” He nods. “Okay. Cool. Um…” You feel your insides jumbling all over each other. “Sorry, now I'm getting all flustered.”

“It's okay.” His smile blossoms further, turning into something radiant. “I like it. You're cute.” You make a small noise at that.

“Smooth talker.” You stand up from your seat, and he looks up at you momentarily before following suit. “I'm just down the block. Up for a walk?”

You don't bother telling your friend you're leaving. The two of you chat and laugh all the way to your place, your voices echoing down the quiet road. Turns out your friend was right after all—the party turned out to be very, very fun.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #my blurbs #my asks #stoner carmy #i had so...much... fun.... i HAD SO MUCH FUN #thank you anon for giving me an excuse to write this. i really enjoyed it

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mirage-aera · 5 months

Note

can we please get more angst? 🙏

like what if reader decides to unalive herself? cant take the grief anymore and knowing that drinking and binge eating will not do anything but just burn money and delay the inevitable. and simon is too late to save her. cue simon grieving in return and drowning in guilt and self hatred for putting her in that situation.

•°. *࿐ Drowned

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2

Synopsis: By the time Simon returns to your shared home, it's already too late for you. You've hit rock bottom in the rabbit hole, and Simon is ready to jump into that same hole.

Word count: 2.606

Masterlist

First of all I’d like to apologise for my two month(?) absence. I got overwhelmed with school work that I needed to focus on and some personal problems happened. For anyone who has stuck around, this is the long waited part 2 that I promised a while ago. I haven’t written anything in my long break so bear with me. Second of all you guys really want more angst from me. I was planning on doing a happy ending but this will do.

TW!! Suicide, alcoholism

For the people that wanted to be tagged: @somehopeatlast @yyiikes

It’s too much. Everything is too much. Everyone has been telling you that healing takes time. When in reality, all that you feel is despair. Instead of the wound gradually closing, all that’s really happening is your heart getting ripped out day by day. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this charade up. You’re throwing people fake smiles left and right, and ‘I’m fine’ has left your mouth more times than you could actually care for. It’s as if you’re living life as a mindless zombie. Barely doing the bare minimum to sustain yourself. Every time someone checks up on you, you tell them you’re doing okay, could be better but you’re fine. At least, that’s what you want them to think. You’re just a shell of the person you were when Simon was still here and alive. You’re blowing through your money like no tomorrow. But can you get yourself to care enough to do anything about it? No, and not for the foreseeable future. You spend your days drinking away, either at home or in bars. You’ve tried moving on, but the only thing you’re able to see in them is Simon. You chicken out before anything can get serious. Your bingeing habits haven't changed a bit, you’re on the same routine.

It's been months and you can’t get out of this rabbit hole you’ve dug yourself. Months.

It’s crazy to think about the chokehold Simon has on you, even when he isn’t physically here himself.

You’ve had enough. You’re not living life as is. You’re practically a dead person walking, a mindless being. All you’re doing is blowing money when you could be doing anything else but that. You’ve contemplated long and hard about this decision, and to be frank. You see no negatives to this option. Taking the way out seems like a way better alternative for you than continuing to waste the air around you with useless breaths.

The hooded figure that you sometimes see outside your window has started showing up less and less. You’ve made eye contact before, but before you can even mutter a word out the shadow has vanished. As if he never existed and is a figment of your imagination. You could’ve sworn that those were the eyes of Simon. His sharp brown eyes are unmistakable. You can recognize them from anywhere. But, he is dead. The possibility of it being him is simply impossible. You stare solemnly out the window. You want to see whether the shadow really is a figment of your imagination, or if it’s actually a person. But they never show up. If the shadow had shown up, would you have gone through with your plan? Probably not. As insane as it might sound, you feel a sort of pull for the shadow. As if it’s calling out for you.

When all you can see is the dark starry night. You sigh and shut the blinds. No one needs to see what you’re going to commit. You head upstairs to your once-shared bedroom. You walk absentmindedly to Simon’s bedside drawer. Revealing a small handgun. He always keeps weapons on him, or around him. To keep both you and him safe in case anyone ever dares to try anything in your own home. You pick up the piece of iron. Simon has taught you how to use it, in case there’s an emergency and he isn’t there to protect you. Back then it felt like a light piece of metal. Now, it sits heavy in the palm of your hand.

You slowly sit on the floor. Your back against the side of the bed. You expected to feel afraid. But to your surprise, you don’t feel anything at all. As if everything is numb. For that part you are a little thankful for, it’ll make this so much easier for you to do. You turn the gun in your hands. Inspecting your executioner. Minutes pass, and you’re still sitting idly on the floor. You’re waiting for the right moment. Deep down, you’re hoping that Simon will walk through the door. Wrap you up in his arms and tell you how everything is okay now. That it was simply a mission gone wrong, which made it so he couldn’t come home at the promised time frame. But as the silence of the house engulfs the house in an eerie peace. You close your eyes. This is the right moment. Simon won’t show, and he won’t show. You need to get that in your thick skull.

You look around your shared bedroom for the last time. Picture frames litter your dressers. His clothes are still hanging in his section of your closet. You put the gun away and back into his nightstand. You can’t do this, not here at least. Not at the serenity that belongs in your bedroom.

You scramble up from the floor. You pick up the crinkled piece of paper sitting on Simon’s desk. You go downstairs and pin it on the fridge with a magnet. Visible for anyone who comes looking for you. You rush outside, not bothering to bring a jacket with you. You’re not going to need it anyway. You run outside, not noticing the shadow blending in the night watching you. He wants to follow you, like he usually does, wanting to make sure you don’t do anything stupid or that you’ll regret. But this time, he can’t bring his feet to move. He simply watches you run off to whatever destination you have in mind.

You run off to the bridge you frequent with Simon. Not a lot of people go across it during the day. No one ever comes through at midnight. Giving you time alone to think and reminisce. You lean on the metal railing. Images of the various late-night dates Simon would take you on during his off days flash through your mind. You crack a small smile at that, embracing the pleasant memories once again. Your smile drops. Memories, that’s all they’ll ever be. You won’t be able to recreate them or make new ones anymore, not with Simon or anyone else. You brush away stray tears and let out a soft sniffle. You climb over the railing. You stand on the other side, peering down at the frigid cold water below. You look behind you, making sure no one is there. You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes, and let yourself slowly tip over the edge. One to two seconds feel like minutes. You feel the wind rushing past your face. Soon the cold water greets you. Despite the freezing temperature, it feels like a warm embrace. As if it’s welcoming you. You let yourself sink, letting more memories of you and Simon flash through your mind. Soon enough, everything goes black. You’ve lost this battle. Was it worth it? Some would say not, but to you? It was. You were miserable day after day. This was a peaceful alternative.

***

The shadow gets worried when hours pass by and you don’t return home yet. A bad feeling settles in the depths of his stomach. A nauseating feeling overwhelms him. He emerges from the shadows of the night. His mask was illuminated by the moonlight. He wants to know where you’ve gone. He shoves a flowerpot on your front porch aside with his foot, revealing a spare key. He grabs it and unlocks the door. It opens slowly. He steps inside, he takes off his worn boots. Not wanting to have anything traced back to him, anything that’ll show someone has been in the comfort of your own home. He looks around with confusion. He spots your phone and keys on the dining table. That’s weird. You never leave without those items, something Simon has drilled into your mind. He frowns behind his mask. He looks around everywhere. Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. He squints his eyes at the fridge. A note is pinned on the piece of metal. He takes big strides towards the fridge and reads the note. His heart sinks to his stomach. The urge to throw up is getting to him.

To anyone who finds this note. It’ll most likely be you, Price. I’m sorry. I know I’ve said that I’m fine, that I’m getting better. But I think you know this as well, that I’m not. If anything, I’m getting worse by the day. I’ll keep it short. I have nothing much to say anyway. Not that anyone would care. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll be long dead by the time you find this note. I don’t even know where I am. I might be in my bedroom, bathroom, in a ditch somewhere, or even floating in a river. On the bright side, I’m happy. Happier than ever. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I have Simon to keep me company.

I love you Simon, I’ll see you soon.

He rips the note off the fridge. He rereads it over and over. Hoping, no, praying that his eyes are deceiving him. That this is just some sick joke being played on him. You’ve done your fair share of pranks on him, but they’ve never been this extreme. He crumples up the note and shoves it in his pocket. He rips his mask off and throws it on the table near your phone and keys. He lets out a snarl. He slams his palms on the wooden table. “Fuck!” He exclaims. He pulls out his burner phone. He dials a number. They immediately pick up on the third ring. “Simon.” A low voice comes through. “Price.” He replies. He clearly doesn’t sound happy. He can’t let out tears, not now. He doesn’t deserve to. “Did you find something?” This sets something ablaze in Simon. He lets out a dry chuckle. “I’ve found something alright.” He sneers. He can’t help but convert the feeling of anguish to anger, and frustration. Anything but sadness. A low hum follows. “What did you find?” He takes a deep breath in. “I’ve found a suicide note in my own home.” He spits out. A painful silence ensues. “What?” He glares at the wall, lined with your pictures together. “You’ve fucking heard me. Want to explain that to me? You said she was doing fine!” A sorrowful sigh could be heard through the fun. “That’s what she said. I-” Simon interrupts him. “And you believed her?! How didn’t you see what was going on?! I told you, I fucking told you to keep an eye on her while I am gone!” He snaps. Something he probably shouldn’t do to Price, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. Another sigh could be heard. “Simon, listen. The mission-” He scoffs. “I don’t give a damn about the mission right now. My girl is dead for fucks sake!” He shouts. He continues. “I wasn’t happy with this mission. I already told you, I’d only agree to do this if you keep a close eye on her. I trusted you, Price. Now look at what happens. I faked my death, and now she’s dead!” He takes another deep breath to calm himself. “After this mission, I’m done. I’m pulling out. It’s about time I retire from this shithole anyway.” He sneers and hangs up. He throws the phone down on the table as well. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

He takes a seat at the table. He runs his hands down his face. A million thoughts run through his head. How did it end up like this? Multiple what-ifs pop up in his mind. What if he showed himself to you on the first day he came back to see you, would you still be alive? He lets out a low growl and slams his fist down on the table. Silent tears stream down his face. How does he always fuck up whatever good comes in his life? At this point, he’s just cursed. He can’t have happiness without something ruining it.

After he collects himself he gets up, but he still has work to do. And as much as he wants to drown himself in guilt and self-hatred. He understands that he still needs to finish his mission. He narrows his eyes as he walks out of your house. The people at the other end of his wrath need to watch their backs. Simon will make anything and anyone suffer, to make them feel the same pain he’s feeling. Deep down, he knows nothing will compare to it.

***

A fucked mission later, a hell of debriefing, he comes back home as a retired soldier. A home that has turned into a cold, haunting, and uninviting. Everything that made this house a home was you, you were his home. You aren’t here anymore. And it’s all his fault. If only he went against orders, let you know what was happening. You would still be here. If only he came to check on you more often, he could’ve seen the signs and stopped you. If only he could’ve shown any sign he’s still alive, you would probably still be here. Alive, breathing, at home, doing whatever you love to keep yourself busy while he’s gone. But no. He fucked up, and he’s paying the price for it.

For days on end, he will feel the remorse, the regret, the guilt. He would fall into the same rabbit hole you dug. Instead of you going down it. You’re already rock bottom, he’s simply joining you. He spends his time drinking. That’s what he knows helps best in this situation. Whenever he’s not drinking he’s spending time in his home gym.

A thought crosses his mind. The same one that has yours at one point. He lays in bed, your pillow still has your smell and it haunts him. He reaches over to his nightstand and opens his drawer. What he sees breaks his heart all over again. His gun. It has been moved. He’s certain this wasn’t how he left his gun before he left. He always made sure that the grip was facing him so he could grab it quickly in a time of emergency. It isn’t lying in that position anymore. He sits up with the gun in his hand. He plays around with the piece of iron in his hand. Unloads and loads the bullets over and over. Pushing the safety back and forth. Anything to distract him from the void he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach. Your note that you’ve left on the fridge rests on his nightstand. You said you were going to be okay. That you’ll have Simon to keep you company. Well, he isn’t fucking there, is he? He wants to join you so desperately. But he’s afraid, not of death. But even if there is an afterlife, would you accept him? He lied to you. A lie that cost you your life. He doesn’t know if he could endure that on top of the grief he’s feeling. But even seeing you one last time would be better than this.

So he sits there, in the darkness of your shared bedroom. Contemplating if he should join you. Something you were doing a few nights prior. If only he didn't accept the damn mission. He wouldn’t be drowning in his grief and self-hatred if he let the mission go. You would be here, in his arms. And that thought would forever haunt him until he does opt for the other route.

I’m sorry lovie, for everything.

#cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader

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babydollmarauders · 2 years

Text

TEENAGER IN LOVE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem! hughes!reader

pt. 2

request: “hi! can i request something with trevor zegras with the prompts 20 and 23 please? thanks sm!! 💗”

20. “can we stay like this forever?”

23. “sleep over? please?”

summary: in which y/n reminisces on how her and Trevor started their secret relationship.

notes: i changed up prompt 23 a little bit to make it fit better, i hope that’s okay!

i was listening to Teenager in Love by Madison Beer quite a bit while writing this so…

Trevor and y/n are in an established relationship during the first little “present” scene.

reader is 20 in the present and 19 in the flashback.

**PRESENT**

i’ve never felt comfortable on planes. it doesn’t matter where i’m sat or what i’m wearing or who i’m with, i don’t like planes. my family knows this, my friends know this, anyone who will listen to me talk knows this, my brother however, simply does not care. and now i’m stuck on the Devils charter plane, not even sat next to Jack because he’s busy sat next to Dougie, talking about some video game they both play. so i’m left beside Jesper Bratt, who’s already asleep after only being in the air for maybe half an hour.

i didn’t intend to even tag along on this road game to California, but i moved in with Jack a couple months ago and he apparently didn’t trust me to stay in New Jersey by myself, citing his reasoning as “i don’t want any chance of you having boys in this apartment.” but the joke is on him, because he’s really just providing me with a trip to see the only guy he should be remotely worried about, Trevor.

as the only girl, growing up with three brothers, they’ve always been a bit overprotective. and by a bit, i mean a lot. even Luke, who’s a year younger than me, has had his fair share of threatening guys “in the name of my safety.” all of their friends have gotten the “if you even so much as look at my sister, i’ll make sure you never see anything again” spiel, and for a good nineteen years, their friends respected that. until Jack’s best friend, Trevor, and i were left alone for a night at the lake house last summer.

**FLASHBACK**

all the guys have left for a party down the road, they even took Luke along with them for his first party as an eighteen year old, and i’m looking forward to a quiet night of watching romcom’s on the couch with no judgment and no one complaining that “that would never happen in real life!”

decked out in one of Quinn’s oversized Canucks shirts, pajama shorts, and some fuzzy socks; i’m lounged on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket burrito. i’m just about to hit play on a movie on netflix when the front door opens and shuts and i hear footsteps getting closer to the living room. averting my gaze from the tv, i look over in time to see Trevor freeze in the doorway to the living room, and i become acutely aware of my current state of no makeup and probably looking like a dork with my blanket draped over the top of my head.

i’ve never had a problem acting normal around any of my brothers’ friends. usually, they’re all just like extended family, unwanted additional older brothers. except Trevor. when Jack first brought him home during their USNTDP days, i immediately got a schoolgirl crush. and unlike usual crushes, it’s only gotten worse with time. luckily, Quinn and Jack have never seemed to notice my awkward and shy behavior when Trevor is around, but Luke has and he’s made it his mission to send me scowls and snicker at my misfortune whenever it happens.

“oh hey.” he cocks his head in one those ‘sup’ nods and takes a glance towards the tv screen before fixing his gaze back on me.

“hey. what are you doing back already? are the others coming back too? i can go back into my room. i don’t wanna be a bother or anything.” cue the embarrassing rambles.

“nah, it’s just me. feeling kinda homesick, i don’t really wanna be at a party tonight.” he shrugs his shoulder and sits on the arm of the couch next to me. “whatcha watching?”

“oh, i was just gonna watch a romcom, but it’s fine, i can watch it in my room. you can have the tv if you want.” i have to crane my neck some to look up at him from my spot. “i can leave you alone.”

i start to stand up, still wrapped in my blanket burrito when Trevor grabs the back of the blanket and tugs me back down onto the couch. he stands and walks in front of me before taking a spot on the cushion next to me.

“so, what romcom are we watching?” he asks, kicking his legs up on the coffee table in front of us.

“you don’t have to watch it. we can watch something else, if you want.”

trevor’s only answer comes in actions, grabbing the remote from my hands and clicking play on the movie. i don’t bother to fight him anymore, allowing myself to get sucked into the movie instead.

i’m sat rigid throughout the entire movie, keeping aware of my limbs, not letting any stray too far towards the cushion beside me. and about halfway through the movie i remember how weird i must look and move the blanket onto my lap instead of wrapped around me. i can barely focus on anything other than the fact that Trevor is sitting next to me. the fact that i can smell his sandalwood cologne. that if i were to lay my hand next to me, i would almost be touching him.

once the movie ends, i expect him to put on something for himself or even just go to his room, but instead he turns to look at me.

“you okay?” he asks. my eyes widen slightly before i catch myself and revert them back to normal.

“yeah, why?” i try to sound calm, but my voice is slightly shaky, and i’m just hoping he didn’t notice.

“you seem uncomfortable. did i make you uncomfortable? did i do something?” i shake my head a little too violently for someone who’s supposed to be calm.

“no! i’m not uncomfortable! why would you think that? i’m cool.”

oh my god people who are cool do not say ‘i’m cool’, what is wrong with me? he chuckles and i can’t help the small smile that breaks out on my face at the sound.

“i was just checking.” he puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “we should play a game.”

“what game did you have in mind?”

“truth or dare? i don’t know, i’m just bored.”

“sure.” i have a feeling this will not end great for me, but i’m not about to let him know that.

“okay. truth or dare?” we turn and sit criss-cross on the couch, facing each other properly as i weigh my options.

“truth.” safest option. he takes a second to think about his question.

“okay, i got one. does it ever annoy you, how overprotective your brothers can be?”

“oh yeah. one hundred percent. they have all these rules for me; don’t drink unless we’re with you, no dating until you’re 30, don’t leave the house unless you tell us where you’re going, don’t crush on any of our friends. it’s overwhelming sometimes. and i can never stick up for myself because they’re so quick to hurt whoever hurts me, which is nice, yes, but it’s definitely taken a toll on how i present myself. it’s made me shy and my friends say i can be a crybaby sometimes because i’ve never had to handle problems on my own. like, don’t get me wrong, i’m grateful for my brothers, they’re always there for me, but sometimes it’s just too much. ya know?”

he nods, genuinely seeming interested in what i had to say, and my heart flutters.

“i can’t say i understand because i’m the older brother in my family, but i can imagine it can be difficult sometimes.”

“anyways, truth or dare?” he ponders his options before choosing dare. “i dare you to text the guys and tell them you just watched a romcom. and you CAN’T say it was with me.”

he groans and lets his head drop back for a few seconds before pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing for a minute. turning the screen so i can see what he just wrote, he lets me press the send button.

To: Jack-Attack, Huggy Bear, Moosey Hughes

just watched this great romcom on netflix called Set It Up. you guys should watch it. 10/10

i let my own head drop back in laughter and let out an ugly cackle.

“truth or dare? you evil little witch” his mocking insult rolls straight off my back when i see the smile on his face.

“truth again.” i shrug when he raises an eyebrow at my safe choice.

“have you ever broken any of your brothers rules?” my mind short circuits. there’s only one rule i’ve broken, and that’s by liking him. do i admit that? or do i just say no? technically, he didn’t say i have to say which rule i’ve broken, so-

“yes. but you can’t tell them that i have! it has to be our secret! they’d pester me to no end until they found out which one i broke!”

“okay, our secret. promise.” he holds his pinky out, waiting for me to link it with my own. a pinky swear. how adorable. fuck. i bring my own hand up, linking my pinky with his before breaking away and setting my hand back in my lap.

“truth or dare?” i ask.

“truth.” i take a few seconds to think of a question. how is this harder to think of than coming up with a dare?

“what’s your favorite part about the off season?” it’s a relatively boring question, but the first one i thought of.

“oh that’s easy. coming here. i love spending time with you guys.” more heart flutters, i may need to get that checked out. “truth or dare?”

“don’t kill me; truth.” i joke and he laughs again.

“i should’ve expected that, shouldn’t i? alright, if you wanna keep doing truth, i’m just gonna dig deeper and deeper until you tell me your darkest secret, y/n. which rule did you break?” my stomach drops. can i forfeit? can i plead the fifth? is that a thing that you can do in truth or dare? i wouldn’t know, this is my first time playing. i think i’m just gonna have to say it. it’s not like he’ll ever know it’s him.

“you can’t tell them! remember that!” i remind him before admitting- “having a crush on one of their friends.”

his jaw drops and he lets out a completely fake gasp.

“that is not what i was expecting. i expected you to say the drinking rule or the telling them where you go rule. how scandalous, y/n! a forbidden romance!” his jokes make me feel slightly better, at least he’s not judging me.

“yeah, yeah! it’s not like i’m dating the guy.” i defend myself. “truth or dare, Zegras?”

“dare, i’m feeling adventurous.”

“i dare you to go in Jacks room and steal my book back for me. he took it away from me because he said reading was boring and this trip isn’t allowed to be boring.” he bursts out in laughter, barely able to form words for a few minutes before he speaks again.

“oh you’ve got me doing your dirty work for you! i respect it!” he leaps up from the couch and within a couple minutes he’s back on the couch, my book in his hand. he tosses it on my lap and throws a wink my way. “one book for the lady.”

“my sanity thanks you. i can’t start another book until i’ve finished this one and it was killing me slowly.”

“truth or dare? although, i don’t know why i bother asking at this point.” i roll my eyes at his sarcasm and decide to throw him a curveball. mostly for myself though because i have a feeling i know what his next question would be if i pick truth.

“dare.” he grins, and for a second i regret my choice.

“i dare you to tell me which friend you were or are crushing on. c’mon, i can keep your secret.” he asked it anyways. what the hell. i don’t think you can do that. can you do that?

“that’s basically a truth! i picked dare! that’s cheating!”

“it is not!” now it’s his turn to defend himself. “i DARED you to tell me! i promise i won’t judge you, or laugh, or tell your brothers!”

oh god, i’m gonna have to tell him, aren’t i? i mean, i could always just say one of the other guys. i could say Alex, he’s always been the sweetest to me, so i’m sure Trevor would believe it. but then he might say something. it’s not that i wouldn’t trust him to keep it a secret if i say someone else, but Trevor has a big mouth, and sometimes he talks without thinking. he could slip up. so it’s smarter not to lie, to avoid any trouble or confusion. so i close my eyes and count to ten before i say it. here goes nothing.

“you.” i still don’t open my eyes. too afraid of his reaction. but now he’s quiet and i don’t like the silence. oh god, is he disgusted? is he trying trying to figure out how to let me down gently? “don’t get weird. you don’t have to say anything. you can just forget you heard that. pretend you didn’t hear any-“

i’m cut off by his mouth crashing down onto mine. i freeze, overthinking everything, before eventually melting into the kiss. moving my lips against his. it’s slow and sweet, and not at all the reaction i was expecting from him. we pull apart and i allow my eyes to flutter back open, watching his face as he slowly breathes in and out. he catches my eye and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“i’ve wanted to do that since high school.” his hands grip my hips and i let him pull me onto his lap, straddling him. butterflies are flying around in my stomach and my heart is pounding against my chest, but i let my body relax into his.

“really?”

“yeah.” he confirms, leaning his forehead against my own. “the first time Jack had me over to your house, he gave this whole lecture about how you were off limits. and i thought ‘no problem.’ but then i saw you, and i got to know you, and it turned out to be a big problem. you’re so beautiful, and then you turned to be this sweet, funny, amazing girl. and god, i could not get you out of my head. i still can’t.”

this time it’s my turn to plant a kiss on his lips, this one a chaste peck. i slouch down and lay my head on his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“can we stay like this forever?” i ask, but before he can answer, his phone buzzes on the cushion beside us, and he picks it up and curses.

“Jack just texted to say they’ll be home soon. he said Cole is wasted and they need to put him to bed.” i pull back and nod my head, moving to get off him. but he wraps his arms around my middle and holds us chest-to-chest. “do you want me to tell him you’re asleep? you can come in my room. we can just cuddle, nothing else necessary. but i just got you, and now i just wanna hold you.”

i smile and nod again, silently saying a thank you to whatever higher entity above granted me such luck as to have him like me back.

“yeah, i’d like that.” we get off the couch and make our way to his room, remembering to turn the tv off on our way out of the living room. he opens the door to his room and allows me to enter first before he comes in.

“you can go ahead and lay down, i’m just gonna change into some sweats first.” he walks over to his opened suitcase on the floor and pulls out a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt before leaving the room, going into the bathroom across the hall. i do as he says and lay down on his bed, on my side facing the door.

it’s not but a moment after he gets back into the room and shuts the door, that we hear the front door of the house open and shut, followed by multiple pairs of footsteps and some mumbling.

“jesus Cole, you could help me out here and actually move your feet.” i can hear Quinn say as he passes by Trevor’s door, i’m assuming helping Cole to his room. Trevor snickers and comes over to the bed, clicking off the lamp before laying down behind me and putting his arm around my middle, pulling me close against him. after about 15 minutes i can feel his breath start to even out, and i look over my shoulder to see his eyes fluttering open and shut, obviously having trouble staying awake.

“you can go to sleep, Trev. i’ll go to my room once i know they’re all in theirs.” i whisper.

“no. sleep over here? please? i wanna hold you tonight.” his voice is soft and low so we don’t get caught, but also laced with sleepiness. i shake my head.

“what if one of them finds us in the morning? you know how my brothers will react.” at my words, he pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and taps a few times before leaning over me and plugging it in on the nightstand.

“there. i set an alarm for 7am. you know the guys won’t even wake up before 10, so that gives us plenty of time for you to go back to your room before they can catch us.” i sigh and snuggle back into him.

“alright. i’ll sleep in here.” he plants a kiss on an exposed spot between my neck and shoulder and i can feel his smile on my skin.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders #anaheim ducks #teenage dream au <3

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vvolfy · 1 year

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The brothers + MC at the mall (in the human world)

Lol, these hc’s were also brainstormed by @absoluteyeet and @stardustursa

American malls, for the win LOL

Divider credits to @rubystarraven (if its not okay I can take them down they’re just super cute!)

Lucifer:

Would spoil MC without hesitation, and especially of the risque variety.

Reluctant to tag along because he would have to babysit his brothers (as usual)

Would visit stores that specialize in formal wear, (appearances matter), expensive colognes.

MC drags him into Bath & Body Works, but he doesn’t stay for more than 5 minutes before he loses his sense of smell and develops a headache.

The type to stand outside of stores with his arms crossed, only to say he isn’t rushing anyone. (he is)

He’s like a cranky old man. From complaining about the malls music choice to criticizing anyone that passes him.

Any food vendors that sell fine chocolate would pique his interest.

100% avoids mall vendors. You want to fix his D.D.D? Too bad so sad. Mammon already scams him. He doesn’t need another.

Bookstores (Barnes & Noble) would be his go-to.

As would antique shops. Those are his favorite.

Would be the first to leave the mall. Honks at the rest to hurry up.

A MC plushie from Build A Bear would perk him up, I think.

Mammon:

Has a coin purse, despite being broke. Lucifer takes it and hits him with it when he makes bad choices.

Obviously cannot be left unattended. (Do your job MC)

Spoils MC unconditionally after stealing Goldie back. (Spoils himself as well.)

The type to haggle prices.

Has been kicked out of most stores for haggling/stealing.

Food? Yeah. Like everything else, it goes on Lucifers tab please.

Resorts to stealing and gets caught.

Tries to steal cologne from Bath & Body Works while MC is shopping, only to spray himself in the eyes.

Makes MC at Build A Bear, makes MC pay for it.

Leviathan:

Only tagged along to go to Gamestop, Hot Topic, Spencers, and for the Asian food vendors. Otherwise he is being forced to go. Send help.

On his phone and switch the whole time, headphones on full blast. (He’s a pro at playing and walking.)

“I guess I’ll h-hold your hand MC. N-Not that I like you o-or anything-- y-you’re just so n-needy you’ll hold a filthy Otakus h-hand--”

“Can we go now?”

Talks MC’s ear off at his favorite stores. (Always listening ofc)

Due to sensory reasons, he avoids Bath & Body Works, though he’ll wait outside for MC.

Loves stim toys. Walks out of Hot Topic with a bag full of em.

You can find him at the arcade! Claw machines are his favorites!

He would share Dippin’ Dots with MC.

Would go to the pet shop to see fish and snakes ofc

Would go to Barnes & Noble for the mangas, duh

He would spoil MC in his own way. “It’s not like I l-love you or anything! I just didn’t want y-you to feel left out! Ugh!”

I think he would love Build A Bear. He would so build Lotan and Henry, and carry them everywhere. He would also love a plushie of MC.

Satan:

In this for Barnes & Noble or any bookstore really.

Actively avoids the others. (Except for MC)

Loves the cafe in B&N, would eat croissants with the blackest coffee while reading.

Lucifer physically curses Satan to follow him if he doesn’t leave w/ them.

Accompanies MC where ever they go/want to go. (Spoils them too.)

Would stop at the pet store to see the cats. Expect him to be there for a long while. Cats > you.

Stops at Bath & Body Works for warm scented candles.

Like Levi, Satan would LOVE stim toys.

Starbucks 100%

Would go to the movies with MC to watch movie adaptions of books.

The last to leave the mall, by closing time. Lucifer is angry.

Leaves with like, 50 new books.

Loves a cat plushie from Build a Bear, though a MC plushie would be better.

Asmodeus:

Would live in a mall for eternity if he could.

Takes his sweet time in every single store.

Manipulates a few human lackeys to carry his and MC’s bags. If he can’t find anyone, then Beel would suffice.

Takes MC to Sephora or Ulta to spice up their vanity wardrobe.

Would definitely take MC to Spencers for the risque stuff. ;)))

Bath & Body Works spree. (He has a huge collection of their products, duh.)

Would make MC at Build a Bear 100%, along with a bear of himself. (Rose bear for him!!!)

Wouldn’t splurge at the food court tbh, he doesn’t want to get dirty.

Would be the one to help MC choose fashionable clothing. (Lingerie, etc)

Though he does his own nails, I think he would still go to the salon w/ MC to both get their nails done. Mani/pedis, duh.

The type to try every. single. beauty. sample. in existence.

If you thought Mammon was a heavy spender... lol

Beelzebub:

“Hey MC, I’m hungry.”

Pulls MC to every food vendor until they flood a table with various snacks and food (Onlookers are shocked)

He would carry MC’s bags to exercise so long as MC feeds them.

His way of spoiling MC would be sharing his food, but I think he’d also buy MC stuff, like what he sees them taking an interest in, you know?

Would definitely hit the gym or martial arts training, whatever available in the mall at the time.

For additional exercise, carry both Asmodeus and his bags.

Would mistake soaps and candles at Bath & Body Works for food. Lord help us.

Better dip with Mammon before Lucifer kills the three of you for embarrassing him. (And that shoplifting charge)

Carries MC anytime they say their tired, or when MC wants a piggy back ride lol

Would love any food related plushie MC gets him, though he eats it because it looks too realistic.

Frequently checks on Belphegor who decides to sleep on a massage chair.

Helps MC reach the taller shelves.

Belphegor:

Tired Edge Lord(TM) didn’t want to go until he was yoinked into Spencers by MC. More face jewelry for him. Plus some quality time with MC is always best. (Works at Hot Topic too)

Finds a massage chair, falls asleep instantly.

(If) Lucifer manages to get him out of the chair, it’s a team lift.

Will wake up to MC or food, or both. Both are nice.

If he’s awake enough he would love it if MC shared their Dippin’ Dots with him.

If he has enough energy he would gladly hold MC’s hand as they walk together.

He would definitely be a candle man, and would love the soft scent candles Bath & Body Works sells.

Would love Build A Bear like the others. Cow plushies, and a plushie of MC are ideal to snuggle with.

Loves stim toys like Levi and Satan do.

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forget-me-maybe · 2 months

Text

Snippet Sunday/WIP Monday/Am I late to the party?

since i missed that the lovely @kimberbohwrites tagged me yesterday we're doing this today!

i've seen that most of us have already done this so i'll just do an open tag for anyone who wants to share something!!!

anyway, the truth is that the last week(s) my writing has been... slow... nonexistent...

SO i looked through my wip-folder to see if i had anything to share and i found this wip that i wrote a while back but never finished (ehm).

it's a modern band au kind of. there's boobs but not anything more nsfw. cw lorroakan related abuse. also i write this as someone who doesn't know shit about music more than listening so warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing.

(and it's not completely done either but i need to throw something out here or i might just lose my mind. also here's to hoping it'll light some fire under my ASS)

here's chapter 1, maybe (it's long, like 4,5k words so buckle up):

~*~

Tav is late. It’s a normal occurrence, it just can’t be helped. She and time have never been in agreement with each other. But today she’s extra late. She’s already texted the band’s group chat to let them know she’ll be in the rehearsal space in fifteen minutes, but that was twenty minutes ago and she’s got at least another ten blocks until she’s there.

It’s early Eleint and the heat still hasn’t seized its grip on Baldur’s Gate. Sweat beads on Tav’s forehead as she all but jogs through the streets, the straps of her bass case rub uncomfortably against her bare shoulders.

At least she can find some comfort in the music blasting from her headphones. Polar Apes just released a new album and while it’s not their best (their first one is), it’s definitely not their worst (their fourth one is).

Perhaps she’s distracted by the music, or perhaps it’s the harsh light from the sun that blinds her enough to run headfirst into something. Or someone.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snarls.

The man she got a faceful of chest from scowls deeply at her, his tail swooshes irritably behind him. He’s tall and dressed elegantly in a turtleneck and a blazer. His shoulder length hair is tied back in a half-updo, a pair of browline glasses sit upon his long nose. He’s rubbing his chin, probably where one of her horns hit him. She should perhaps feel sorry, but his snarl didn’t make for a good first impression.

“Well, fuck me I guess. I could say the same to you, fancy boy,” Tav bites back.

Though one might not think it possible, the man’s scowl deepens. Tav doesn’t stop to think about it anymore, she’s in a hurry and makes a point of bumping his shoulder with hers as she passes by to continue her journey.

“Wait!” the man calls out behind Tav, and against her better judgement, she actually stops. Not without releasing a deep sigh, though.

“What?” she snaps and turns around with her arms folded over her chest.

“I – zurgan – I’m looking for Ramazith’s College,” he says. Tav glares at him in return, of course he’s one of those arrogant snobs. The school is known all over Faerûn for its classical music programme. The headmaster, Lorroakan, has a reputation of being a piece of shit and nowhere near as talented as he makes himself out to be. But still, it produces some of the best musicians on this plane. “Could you, perhaps, point me in the right direction?”

“If you say please.”

“Excuse me?” he blurts out. Tav continues to glare at him, her tail taps impatiently at the cobblestone. The man looks like he’s going through all five stages of grief before he resigns and says the magic word. “Please.”

“Alright, fancy boy.” She feels the side of her mouth curl into a lopsided smile, the man’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I don’t know how you ended up in Brampton, but you’re on the wrong side of town, so to say.”

“Well, I’m fully aware a prestigious college like Ramazith’s wouldn’t be located in a wretched place like this.” He gestures around him, the rundown buildings of Bramton are decorated with colourful graffiti. The area has suffered some gentrification the last couple of years, but it still carries that rugged charm Tav loves with her home. “How do I get to the right side of town?”

“The nearest metro is down that street.” She points to the street in question. “Hop off at the Wide and the college will be just a street down. It’s a huge tower, you can’t miss it.”

“And… If I were to walk?”

“Then you have a forty-five minute stroll in that direction,” Tav says and points… in the same direction she’s going.

Zurgan, indeed.

She weighs her options, either she walks with the arrogant man for another ten blocks or she takes a detour and actually risks getting kicked out of the band once and for all. The rapid buzzing from her phone in her front pocket makes the decision for her.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“There’s really no need.”

“Not the whole way for gods’ sakes,” Tav explains. “I’m heading that way.”

“I guess that’s acceptable.”

Tav huffs, which is the only sound any of them make for their whole walk. Tav keeps a fast pace throughout the streets but the lanky tiefling has no problem with keeping up while she’s dripping with sweat in her shorts and tank top.

When they finally arrive at the entrance of her rehearsal space. She should probably not lead him directly to what could be considered her second home but she figures she could send Karlach on him if he were up to any funny business.

“This is me,” she says and points to the building. The man scowls as he takes in the scenery, clearly not impressed by the rundown property but at least he doesn’t say anything. Tav repeats her directions once more to make sure the man finds his way and with an awkward wave, he heads off.

Tav shakes her head as she unlocks the old door and heads down to the basement. In the small room they call their studio Tav finds her friends, Lae’zel is behind her drums as usual and Karlach and Shadowheart are crammed in the small sofa.

Tav puts on her most apologetic smile.

“You’re late,” the githyanki says. “If you are not on time, how am I to trust you to be on beat?”

“Have I ever disappointed you, Lae?” Tav smiles.

“Yes,” Lae’zel deadpans. “Many times.”

“Easy now, rockstars,” Karlach interjects, knowing full and well the smaller tiefling and the githyanki can get at each other’s throats if not interrupted.

~*~

When Rolan arrived at Baldur’s Gate’s main station he had expected smooth sailing to his goal at Ramazith’s College. Getting the acceptance letter was a dream come true and he felt like his luck had finally turned. He’s always loved music but there was never enough money in the household for tutoring, just the old piano in the living room. Many evenings had been spent trying to get the hang of the sounds and make them sound beautiful together. Even more evenings had been spent learning how to read notes.

He had not expected to get lost in a rugged part of the Lower City. He had not expected to run into that little tiefling carrying a guitar case. She had almost pierced his skin with her horn as she collided with him. In all honesty he hadn’t been paying attention at all, he was busy trying to read the street signs and figuring out where the hells he came from.

Now she’s disappeared into a rundown building that doesn’t look safe at all. But her pierced nose, stretched earlobes and tattooed arms give the impression of someone who can handle themselves so he shouldn’t worry at all.

Wrong. He shouldn’t worry because he doesn’t care.

No, he’s got a forty-five minute walk in scorching heat, wearing too many layers to look forward to. He was just trying to look professional and now he’s going to have to get changed before he meets with Lorroakan.

Damnation, he’s already late.

He’s practically dripping with sweat as he arrives in the Upper City, but his thoughts are consumed with the magnificent tower in front of him. Pride and confidence flows through him, he’s finally where he’s supposed to be.

~*~

It’s just fucking typical that her strings were to break three days before their gig. It’s also fucking typical she has no spare ones and hardly enough coin to get her through the month. But, at least they’ve been promised some drinks for the gig. It’s not a huge gig, just at their local in Brampton, but still they’d like to make a good impression. Who knows who might be listening?

For such a big city as Baldur’s Gate, it should be considered strange that there’s really only one place for musical equipment - Sounderous Sundries. Tav doesn’t mind though, the building is as old as the town itself and the glass dome creates a colourful light around all the instruments that are on display. Especially the Gondian bass she’s been eyeing since the moment she was old enough to reach over the counter.

This time her attention isn’t turned to the instruments, but to the man tending the front desk. It’s the same man that Tav helped find his way to Ramazith’s a month ago. He looks a bit worse for wear, a bruise marks his cheekbone, perhaps he just runs face first into people all the time. He notices her just moments after she notices him.

“It’s you!” he blurts out.

“It’s me,” Tav concurs. “What are you doing here?”

“Working, I have to earn my keep somehow.” He straightens his back and clears his throat. “Welcome to Sounderous Sundries, how may I assist you today?”

Tav can’t help but snort out a laugh at the pretend sincerity.

“I need strings,” Tav says and points to her case on the back. “Gave up on me yesterday and we have a gig in three days.”

“One should always have spare strings at hand,” he mock-scolds. Tav rolls her eyes.. “Please, follow me.”

Though Tav is fully aware where the strings are located and which ones she wants she decides to indulge him. He leads her to a shelf, one arm folded over his chest and his other hand under his chin. He’s kind of cute like that, she thinks.

“You should come,” Tav says and gets a questioning look from the man. “To the gig! Could be good for you to listen to some real music instead of that pompous stuff you do at your school.”

“Excuse me, classical music holds depth and intricacies no other can capture. You’re just uncultured.” He frowns. “But please, enlighten me, what sort of music do you play?”

“Well, it’s kind of indie rock but with a garage feel and Shadowheart’s voice gives it a bit of a shoegaze vibe,” Tav explains.

“You’re just making up words.”

“Ugh, come see for yourself.” Tav digs through her pocket for her phone and opens a blank text. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details. I might even draw you a map!”

“Alright,” he mumbles and types in his number on the phone.

“Cool.” Tav grabs her usual pack of strings and heads towards the counter.

~*~

After a long day at Sounderous Sundries, Rolan finally gets back to his small dorm room. It doesn’t hold more than a bed, a desk and a small drawer for his clothes but he doesn’t need more. Between school, work or getting “tutored” by Lorroakan he doesn’t spend much time there anyway.

He pops down on his bed right away and looks through the messages he’s missed during the day. Twenty-five unread messages in the family chat, something about Danis’ birthday. He makes a mental note of sending him a happy birthday later.

There’s one message from an unknown number, contrary to his better judgement it makes his heart flutter a little bit.

”hey, it’s tav! the girl from the store n the street. we’re playing at the nightowl, moss promenade 42. on stage at 11pm (we hope). bring friends if u like. see u there! ✨ ”

Oh, she writes like a teenager. His pulse stabilises.

And bring friends? He hasn’t had time to make any friends. But it would seem strange to show up by himself, if Cal and Lia were here he’d ask them, of course. He could ask the chatty trombonist in his musical history class. He’s a bit annoying but at least he won’t be sitting in the pub alone like some creep.

“Hi Tav! Good to finally put a name to your face. I’m Rolan by the way. Though I should focus on my studies, perhaps experiencing this “real music” of yours will broaden my knowledge. I shall see you there.”

It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz again. Is she one of those people who are always on their phone?

“nice to meet u, rolan! 🌸 grab a drink with me after the show? 🍻 ”

Cal has been on about that he shouldn’t answer people right away, but Rolan’s never really understood the meaning of that. Making someone wait just seems impolite.

“Nice to meet you too, Tav. I could be persuaded to have a drink or two.”

“betcha i can make it three 😏”

He grins to himself, and types before thinking:

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.”

Hells, did he just send that? Yes, message sent. No little red exclamation mark. No divine intervention to make his phone dysfunction at this very moment. He throws his phone to the end of his bed and groans into his hands.

The phone buzzes again and he considers throwing it out the window instead, maybe even throwing himself with it. Avoid whatever scolding she’s got coming for him, change jobs, move to another town.

But, his curiosity can’t be sated. With a flick of his tail he retrieves the phone.

“haha maybe i will be 😈 ”

Oh.

~*~

They’ve set up, sound-checked and warmed up. Everything is as it should be. Still, Tav is nervous. It’s stupid, they’ve played here a couple of times before and they always have a great time. Yet tonight she can’t help but glance out at the crowded bar.

She doesn’t want to admit she’s searching for a certain face. But she’s definitely searching for a certain face.

They’ve texted every evening since she got his number and she really thought he’d be here. He gives the impression of enjoying their chats at least. Perhaps she’s just naive.

“Stop your senseless pining,” Lae’zel scolds her.

For once in her life, Tav actually agrees with the drummer. She sits down on the sofa in the crowded backstage space that can’t be more than a repurposed cleaning closet. Shadowheart flicks away Tav’s tail that was tapping impatiently against her knee and Karlach shoots her a comforting smile. It’s just a couple of minutes until showtime and she has to get her nerves in order.

Finally, it’s go time and Tav all but bounces out on stage. In a corner she couldn’t see from the angle backstage, she spots Rolan and a brown haired human by a table. He raises his tankard to her and she shoots him a grin.

She’s ready.

Lae’zel counts them in and then they’re off. Tav’s fingers move across the strings at what feels like their own accord, it’s instinct to her and it seems the same magic is working at the rest of the band. Shadowheart’s voice has never been clearer, Karlach solos rip through the whole locale and Lae’zel doesn’t miss a single beat.

They’re fucking tight.

Time stops and moves too fast at the same time. Tav is so lost in the moment she doesn't notice their thirty minute gig has run its course until she hears Shadowheart’s voice.

“We’re Last Light, thank you all for coming!”

Tav pants and takes a bow toward the cheering crowd before she turns to her bandmates. Even Lae’zel has a hint of a smile on her face.

“Ladies, you fucking slayed out there!” Tav blurts out and pulls them all into a hug once they’re back in their little cupboard.

“Right back at ya, rockstar!”

“You did not disappoint me today.” Lae’zel deadpans.

“Next time we should play somewhere bigger,” Shadowheart adds. “And for money.”

They all agree and share one more hug before they make quick work at taking down their equipment. They receive compliments from some of the regulars at the bar and then finally, <i>finally</i>, Tav can get her promised drink for the show they put on. The bartender is even happy enough with their performance to promise them a second and third round.

Tav gulps down the beer while avoiding other patrons as she manoeuvres herself to the table in the back corner. The men at the table are busy with some discussion that Tav just can't figure out for the love of her life. They seem to be in disagreement though, deep frowns on both of their faces. Tav makes herself known with a small laugh and golden irises turn to her.

“That was noisy,” Rolan states as a matter of fact.

“Always a charmer,” Tav teases and sits down next to him.

“I enjoyed getting a new experience under my belt,” Rolan continues in the same tone.

“Oh, so close to a compliment.” Tav pats Rolan’s shoulder condescendingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.”

“You’re talented.” A smile spreads on his lips and one of his canines gets stuck on his lower lip. Tav almost chokes on her ale from how utterly adorable it is.

“Thank you,” Tav mumbles, a blush creeping up on her face, probably turning her usual blue hue into an embarrassing shade of plum.

In order to regain some decorum she turns to introduce herself to the other man by the table. Within seconds chatter fills the air around. The three of them share stories and laughter. Tav talks about Baldur’s Gate, recommending places to visit and which tourist traps to stay away from. In return she gets to hear about Waterdeep and Elturel.

When the rest of the band joins the table (“Scoot, everything else is full.”) Rolan wraps an arm around Tav’s waist to pull her with him as he slides down the bench. She tries really hard not to think about how his hand stays on her hip as the night continues on.

When the last call rings she doesn’t want it to end.

~*~

“Wanna get a nightcap?” Tav asks. She and him have fallen behind the others on their hunt for a late night meal.

“I would like to,” Rolan says, furrowing his brows. “But everything is closed.”

“Oh, I meant at my place,” she says, her face getting that lovely plum hue he noticed earlier in the pub. “But I get it if it’s too forward.”

Too forward? He’s been too forward all night, holding onto her waist like he owns her. When he had noticed what he had done it was too late to apologise without it getting even more awkward.

“Okay,” he says, not fully pleased with how pleadingly it comes out. “I mean, yes, I’d like that.”

“Fantastic! Prepare for a bit of a hike.”

She grabs his hand and pulls him down a side street. Though it technically isn’t a hike to her flat, just a three minute walk, there are five flights of stairs to climb before reaching Tav’s home. Rolan is panting once he gets to her floor but she doesn’t seem fazed at all. Must be used to it by now.

Her studio flat is small but charming, cosy even. There’s just enough space for a sofa and a small dining area, and a bed with what seems like an excessive amount of pillows. Posters of different bands he doesn’t recognise decorate the walls. In one corner her bass and an amplifier stand in a messy nest of cables. A thick, maroon carpet fills the floor and she’s extremely stubborn to make him take his shoes off before venturing further into her home.

The nightcap in question is a choice between a bottom shelf whiskey and an equally low-shelved red wine. He lets her choose for them and releases a small sigh of relief when she grabs two wine glasses.

Once the glasses are filled, she leans against the kitchen counter. A comfortable silence falls between them as icy blue eyes stare into his golden ones.

“I think I should thank you,” he muses.

“Whatever for?”

“For inviting me tonight.” He takes a step closer to Tav.

“Hm.” She chews her lip.

“Hm?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

“Ah, with pleasure.”

With one hand placed just above her tail he pulls her flush to his chest. Their lips meet carefully at first, exploring and testing out each other. It doesn’t take long for mouths to open, she tastes of the cheap wine and something he can’t place, something that’s just her.

Careful steps lead him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, bringing Tav with him, her legs ending up on each side of his thighs. He can’t help but grin against her lips. Eager hands pull at all layers of fabric separating them, Tav’s tank top disappears first, then the zipper of her high-waisted shorts.

He lies back to admire her plump breasts and soft belly that he wants to run his tongue all over. At the same time she works with the buttons of his shirt and all blood must’ve been redirected to his cock because he doesn’t remember what he looks like underneath the thin cloth before lustful eyes turn into pitying ones.

“Rolan,” Tav whispers. “What happened to you?”

His blood freezes.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he tries to brush it off but his voice catches ever so slightly.

“I am many things but I’m no fool.” She gets off of him and sits down to the side of the bed. “I know a beating when I see one.”

He doesn’t want her to look at him like that, with pity, like he’s some wounded animal she needs to take care of.

“I said it’s nothing for you to worry about,” he snaps, standing up and buttoning his shirt back up.

“Please, Rolan.” She grabs his hand. “Who did this to you?”

He yanks his hand back.

“I said leave it,” he hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

And with that, he leaves Tav’s flat. Slamming the door behind him with a force that invites no argument.

The streets are empty and cold as he heads home, the metro stopped running an hour ago, but his fury keeps him warm. How could he let his guard down like that? Allow her to within days tear down walls he’s worked hard on to build up.

No, he’s going to have to rebuild those walls, higher than ever before. He needs to be strong. And he’s stronger alone.

~*~

She fucked up. Utterly and completely fucked up. Tears stream down her face and it’s so fucking stupid, she’s only known him for three days. And she shouldn’t be crying, he’s the one who’s getting hurt, clearly not ready to talk about it, and she kept prying and prying.

Fuck!

She buries her face in her pillow and screams for all she’s got. Somewhere along the night either the alcohol or exhaustion from sobbing claims its victory and she falls into sweet oblivion.

As she rolls out from her bundle of blankets to slam down on her alarm clock, it’s not only her head that hurts. Her chest aches from how things were left off last night. Without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sends the first text.

“rolan i'm sorry. i shouldn’t have pried like that”

She gets no answer. She doesn’t really expect one either but she’s still disappointed.

“i get it if u don’t wanna talk i just need to know if ur alright and got home safe”

Of course he won’t be alright.

“i’m sorry”

“please just let me know ur safe”

As safe as he can be.

Shaky hands prepare coffee as she steals glances to the phone on her bed, hoping for the screen to light up before she has to jump into the shower.

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t light up as she gulps down her coffee and chews down a dried up croissant. It doesn’t light up as she dresses herself for the day. It doesn’t light up as she makes her way to the bistro where she waits tables.

Tav doesn’t hate her job, she doesn’t like it, but it’s work and she needs the coin. Today’s different though, she can’t even blame it on the hangover she’s rocking, she usually finds work a good distraction to a pounding head. But still the hours drag themselves by and every time she glances at the clock, she finds that no more than a couple of minutes have passed.

At her lunch break, as she sits in the alley behind the bistro, she finally has time to see if Rolan has answered. Her heart stings to see the only message she’s received is from Karlach.

“HOW DID IT GO WITH FANCY BOY? 👀 ”

Tav sighs and types.

“not well, he walked out. my fault tho”

“I’M SORRY TAV. WANNA TALK ABOUT IT?”

“idk i have to get my thoughts in order”

“I GET IT BABES <3 LEMME KNOW IF U CHANGE UR MIND”

The hours crawl by for the whole day, once she gets home she tries to pluck some lines to a new song they’re working on but nothing sounds right. She tries to listen to the latest Rana De Frey to see if she can feel something else, but even her usually patient neighbours are tired of her bullshit and shut her down with a couple of loud bangs to the wall.

Just as she’s about to give up for the night, she gets the text she’s been waiting for.

”I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

~*~

Rolan isn’t sure what he did to set off Lorroakan this time and why extravagant boots keep hitting his abdomen. Every time he thinks he’s got the man figured out something the headmaster takes an unexpected turn and punishes him for something new.

Perhaps he will never figure him out.

Perhaps that’s the point.

Something clicks. He almost feels it physically in his mind.

He’s either going to die in the hands of Lorroakan or he has to get away.

He knows he’s gambling his future, but he at least he’s not stupid enough to gamble with his life.

The problem with being in a new city where he hasn’t had time to make any connections is that there’s no one to ask for help from. There was someone who wanted to help him once, but he ruined that chance a month ago.

Perhaps she’ll forgive him if he just talks to her. Hah, he doesn’t remember getting a blow to his head but he’s clearly not thinking straight.

But what other choice has he got? He just needs somewhere to go to recover a bit and then he’ll figure out the next steps.

Though every part of his body aches and pain surges through him with every raspy breath, he stumbles across town. People send him looks, ranging from pitying to pure disgust but no one lends a hand. Bloody Baldurians, he thinks.

It takes him three attempts to remember the code Tav pressed in. He ignores the iron taste in his mouth and is probably running purely on adrenaline as he makes it up the stairs to her flat. He bangs on the door.

No one answers.

And he’s so godsdamned tired. He could go look for her at her rehearsal studio, but his legs won’t carry him any further. He slides down with his back against the wall.

He’ll wait here for her. He just has to rest his eyes for a bit.

#forget writes #rolan x tav #wip whatever

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nyanmao · 1 year

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i want to talk about this whole scene because it's so. So important for shima's character im(very honest)o

((so, for an easier read im going to give a number to the 7 pics: 1 is top left, 2 is top right, 3 is middle left, 4 is middle middle, 5 is middle right, 6 is bottom left and 7 is bottom right. there should be no confusions now.))

OKAY!!!! so before this scene, we see mukai and shima talking about feelings, about how shima sees people and how he sees love/lovers as not important. he brings up the fact that his father had an affair and things were rough in his household because of that (we can also see a bit of it during some of the flashbacks we get of his childhood too), so his perception of love is stated to not be the same as everyone else's.

now, why do i bring this up? well, well, well, my friends, we all know that shima here is having a bit of self discovery, and while everyone suspects it's because he has had Thee realisation that he may like mitsumi back, i think it's a bit more complicated than that.

you see, in pic 3, we can see how every action of mitsumi's has affected shima in some way. he's been shown kindness in actions which he has probably never received back. shima doesn't trust anyone besides maybe chris and rika, and even then his relationship with rika is fucked up because of the mistake of trusting someone else in the past. so for him to begin trusting mitsumi only for her to like him romantically as well is quite a hit. he tries to save it, make it easier for her but he isn't in it and mitsumi notices and she would rather a happy and comfortable shima than an uncomfortable one so she breaks it off.

in pic 1, we see a glimpse of his guilt for not being a good boyfriend to her even if he didn't want to be one in the first place. he should've played the part, didn't he? it almost feels like déjà vu... it was a special thing, just like his child actor days, filled with laughter and fun, but shima had to go and ruin it with his feelings for the ones who were actually having fun, no matter how uncomfortable he felt about it.

but he knows, mitsumi is different than them. she's... better, in some way. she still hung out with him, gave him gifts and bought him free food (pic 3), teaches him how to hold crabs (pic 4) after they broke it off. with her, shima is different. himself, maybe. it's like all of his fears are watered down, slowly dissolving with the sea water as he gets bit by a crab because he failed to hold it right (pic 6). there's no judgement, and it goes both ways (beginning of the chapter + pic 5).

the pinch hurts, sure, those crabs are little assholes, but it brings shima to this conclusion: love, like the crab's pinch, hurts. (and it begs the questions:) but isn't it beautiful when you hold it between your hands and give it to someone else's open hands? isn't sharing the beauty of nature with someone the ultimate language of love? (pic 7)

still, love is confusing, and shima has a long way before he does anything with his new found feelings of affection towards mitsumi, but i'm very excited to see how it goes from here!!

((tag urself im mukai bc same))

#roa.txt #roa reads stuff #skip to loafer #stl manga #stl manga spoilers #shima sousuke #iwakura mitsumi #hes such an interesting character honestly #also this is so long and so wrong probably but isc thats how i see him #anygays im tired im gonna go to sleep now #goodbye girls gays and theys see u later with more s.hima and lgbt content

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 2 months

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Ambitious plans and tempting promises under the stars

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Nobunaga x OC (Juliet)

Prompt : Constellations

Part of : Sunshine and Starlight hosted by @violettduchess and @lorei-writes

Tag: Love Triangle Unrequited love Angst Fluff Realization of feelings

Word Count : 2.906

Author’s Note: The dices of the games are cast as Nobunaga proudly shares what's within his heart to his favourite westerner adviser, offering her something anyone else would accept immediately ... but not her.

The heart isn't famous for accepting orders not even from the most powerful warlord of the country, desires clash with one another as a dream of a sweet love for a certain fallen monk stir the pot in the stormy sea of feelings raging in her.

All the while the two lovers seek answers in the star, knowing nothing of the wish of a certain someone who isn't willingly to give up the only woman he has ever loved. 🤩

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @natimiles @nightghoul381 @dragon-liquorice @candied-boys

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was an occurrence, most unusual for Nobunaga to invite a girl he barely knew to his quarter, let alone summoning her only to speak.

A pattern that repeated itself quite frequently over the last month, becoming the source of rumours and idle gossip among retainers and servants alike even though his most loyal vassals appointed to escort her revealed nothing, much to the disappointment of the castle’s staff.

That night Hideyoshi was the one chosen for the job, an occasion he couldn’t help but be suspicious of, gazing at her every so often as he led her through the maze-like hallways of the castle up to his room, as he ordered him that afternoon.

“It seems he is quite curious about those like you. I have always wondered why.”

“Maybe because our merchants bring you weapons.”

“We still managed just fine with our katana. We didn't need firearms that anyone could use like barbarians.”

“Well you should inform Nobunaga of your opinion next time you have the occasion.”

He merely shot her a burning gaze met with a smug smirk of hers, as they continued to walk.

Her arrogance strikingly resembling Nobunaga’s one, hitting on his nerves, he suppressed an exasperated growl clenching his fist, his tone harsher than what he would have liked to be with a girl, but he couldn't help it.

“It will do good to not do anything funny with him, got it.”

“As if ?”

“Look out to not put any spell on him.”

“Or …”

Her tone provoking as she gazed straight in his eyes, defiance glimmered in her tourmaline irises, that so much reminded him of Kicho with the same mysterious shade.

“Or I will see a proper punishment will be bestowed upon you.”

Her smirk tugging at her lips drove him mad, as words not yet spoken lingered in the air.

- I would like to see you try.

But what came out of that treacherous lips was something much sweeter in jarring contrast to the idea he had of her as a cunning spy.

“Don’t worry I won’t do anything to him. I would have no reason to after all, that is ?”

“No one knows, you may be interested in governing this land yourself or have other wicked plans.”

Her laugh broke through the walls, it was strange he should have hated to hear it he should have sensed the prickle of fake in it and yet what shook him the most was that there wasn’t malice in it nor shallowness.

It seems she was really enjoying herself … much to his annoyance.

“Seriously you pull the funniest joke I see why you are such a popular guy.”

“Are you trying to butter me up ?”

“Me ? Never.”

They walked side by side for a while, he was studying her face up close, seeing in every move of her body a trap his lord may have been captured in enchanted by sweet promises and gentle lies told from that mermaid.

“I feel your gaze, are you so wary of me ?”

“Of course I am, good-looking girls like you are often used as spies.”

“How so ?”

“You are clever enough to get what you want, even more because you certainly don’t lack attractiveness.”

His sudden compliment seemed to have pleased her, strangely so that idea didn’t disgusted him.

Not even one bit.

He wanted to continue but the words he had in store for her wilted on his tongue as she smiled, shyness lingering on her lips as she looked up at him while a rosy blush on her usually fair cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Maybe she wasn’t so bad … he shook his head, Nobunaga’s liking must have rubbed off on him, something, as strange as it sounds, he didn’t desire for nothing should have swayed his mind from thinking about his lord as his first and only priority.

“We have arrived.”

Suddenly he came to a halt, turning to address her, until now lost in her reveries judging by her absent gaze.

“Oh already ? Well thank you for the escort Hideyoshi. I won't put any spell on him, not tonight, so please sleep tight.”

He really couldn’t understand her, she seemed like a sweet girl, funny even, but at the same time experiences taught him not to trust anyone no matter how innocent they seemed to be, maybe he was reading too much into her, and she really wasn’t a spy, as he thought all along, in any case he couldn't afford to lower his barriers no matter what.

“Good evening, Nobunaga.”

Even after all this time it still felt strange to address the castle lord by his name, but he asked it, and so she shall comply, even more because he treated her more like an adviser than a random girl that lived in his palace, thing she was immensely grateful for.

“Good evening to you, my little four leaf clover.”

If there was something good to say about him is that he was creative at least with nicknames, she didn’t bother too much after all it was rare anyone remembered her name, for how different it was, and so she settled with whatever surname they gave her, some more pleasant than others but still not her name.

There was only one man that reminded of it, the same that conquered her heart against all odds, a thought she fretted to conceal, focusing on the deep voice of his lord as he talked to her.

The evening was going on smoothly as ever, when suddenly he rose from the seat to go out on the balcony.

Usually this was the sign their discussion was ending for the time being.

But not that night.

From his place he beckoned her to come closer, an order she felt compelled to obey, charmed by the glimmer in his eyes reflecting the light of the lanterns in his ruby irises while hair dark like the sky above swirled around his stern features.

“Come here.”

His voice a velvety caress entrancing her every sense as she rose from her seat, approaching him attracted like a moth by the flame in his gaze as he looked at her.

“What do you see Juliet ?”

He gestured at the landscape before turning to look at her, looking for an answer she desperately desired was the right one he desired to hear.

“The stars. I see them glimmering like gems on a navy velvet blanket.”

“You see they shine above us on this vast land, from up there I can see cities and fields stretching on the horizon.”

As he spoke he got closer to her, almost too much to her but if she did move he could have been offended, and so she ignored his position turning to look at him, offering him the brightest smile she could muster.

“What do you think people need the most in a ruler ?”

“That he could assure them peace and stability, not taking too much away but giving. A generous leader and a wise one at that, capable of making them happy.”

“You are right, they need a good leader. That's the kind of ruler I want to be to them all.”

The dark sleeve of his kimono followed close his movements as he moved his hand all above the city below, before addressing her once more.

“I want to see everything under my domain … with the right woman by my side.”

There was passion in his speech matching the fire in his gaze as he looked at her, giving her a hint she pretended to not understand as her heart clamoured madly in her chest.

“You may overlook all this with me.”

His words, for as much as predictable, caught her off guard as he engulfed her hands in his, squeezing it softly, she wanted to laugh it off as a joke, but the flame in his eyes told her he wasn’t in for a tease.

Not now.

“Here you won't be reprimanded nor chided, you will be free to be yourself as you like. You could be my concubine or even wife if it makes you happy, no one will talk bad about you any more.”

His voice a tempting promise, underlined by the sultry, sinfully soft brush of his thumb on her hand placed on the railing.

“Would you like it Juliet ?”

He really was a devil whispering on her shoulder things she always dreamed of offering her a life with him, power and money.

He was giving her everything asking in return only to be his lover.

She looked at him, her heart unsure beating for another man.

One she was sure wasn’t interested in her.

Or maybe this was a lie she told herself compelled as she was to accept his proposal no matter how crazy it sounded.

Juliet knew nothing of the feelings swirling in Kennyo’s heart … after all, how could she ?

He showed her kindness … but not love.

Then what reason did she had to refuse ?

“I am flattered by your attention.”

“I am glad you think that, I am a most determined man. I know what I want, and I always have a way to obtain it.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand, so different from his, a hint of possessiveness, that lacked in Kennyo’s gentle touch, as he looked straight into her eyes, almost as he was peering into her very core studying a loophole to break through her walls and conquer her heart.

“And right now what I want the most is you.”

His words took her breath away, sending a shiver down her spine.

Juliet didn’t know if it was the freshness of the air or fear, but she didn't like that proximity … not even one bit.

She always felt safe with Kennyo, cherished and protected, no matter how close they were.

But right now she didn’t feel that way.

Like a rabbit in the clutch of an eagle she could only stare back at his eyes burning bright with passion in the dark of the night, she felt powerless, completely at his mercy, like a possession he could make his and discard in the same night.

Kennyo looked to protect, despite his appearance, whereas Nobunaga looked to conquer.

The idea of being desired, owned, cherished even, only for a while inevitably destined to be discarded makes a storm of unknown feelings rage in her heart.

“If I may, I have to think about it. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do.”

At least he pulled away, and she felt she could finally breathe again, think again for her own, away from the commanding hand that treated her like she was no more than a doll, his to cherish and do as he pleased.

“I am most grateful for your patience, lord Oda.”

She pulled back from him, bowing to him to conceal the disarray his proposal provoked in her.

“There is no need for any title. Feel free to address me by name.”

The truth was that she needed that distance, at least to quiet her heart about the shining treasure he was offering her on a silver plate.

“I wish you to take all the time you need to think about my offer, after all you will have plenty of it, my lucky charm.”

And here back to objectification, but she preferred it that way after all it was way easier to put a wall between them if he shows her his true colours, because she didn’t know right now if she could have been so foolish to betray her heart over him when he looked at her with that smouldering scarlet eyes boring into her core, offering him things she wished of but never dared to think she would have obtained.

A wish made even more tempting by the gentleness of his fingers as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I hope my gift is of your liking.”

Juliet looked at him, despite herself, confusion flickered in her gaze as she saw something close to affection swirl in his eyes, maybe curiosity or maybe love but right now she didn’t want to know.

Her fingers reached her ear, brushing over his in the meanwhile, but she was too worked up to notice the flame flickering in his eyes ... and even if she did, she pretended not to notice.

A smile bright as the sun broke on her lips as her digit grazed something cascading from her ear over her curls.

Of all the things he may have gifted her he picked a hairpin.

Exactly like Kennyo did, so long ago.

“Thank you. I will always treasure it.”

“Do as you wish. I prefer it that way though so you will always have a way of thinking of me.”

She smiled shyly at him, for once not knowing what to reply.

A confusion he did nothing but enhance taking her hand in his only to place a gentle kiss on its back.

It was such a gentlemanly gesture from someone she thought anything but, enough to swirl the pot of feelings raging in her heart.

“I bid you goodnight Nobunaga.”

“I would have preferred having your company for the night, but it seems I ran out of luck today.”

There was something wistful in his smile as he told her that, resuming his palace behind the desk as he adjusted the papers on the table as if it was no big deal.

But she saw in his eyes that wasn’t the truth.

There was a strange kind of longing in his scarlet gaze, but the wind scattering his raven curls around his stern features made it hard to read anything more in his core, more protected if possible than the castle itself.

“Goodnight Juliet.”

He was ready to give her everything she desired … then why she hesitated to give him an answer ?

Her heart drummed in her ear as she walked around the hallways directed to her room, she hadn’t in her to take off his gift, and remember the spark of electricity of his fingers when she brushed over them … or the smouldering passion in his scarlet gaze.

Why ?

Why was Nobunaga interested in her ?

Why didn't she accept ?

Why was her heart so hard to betray ?

Why did she still love Kennyo ?

What he felt for her ?

He never gave her any hint regarding his feelings and even if, unpredictably, he could have requited her affection his disciples seem to have a choice of word about his decision, given the fact that as a westerner they believed her to have ties with the religious they loathed.

She went out on the balcony, looking up at the stars seeking an answer late to come, gazing at the moon smiling down at her with sympathy, seeing in her heart the resolution to the question she asked them of, sharing it with the stars, twinkling brightly in a sort of dance that did nothing but entrance her further into the admiration of the galaxy, but not revealing any hint to her.

She leaned her back to the column of the patio, sighing softly a murmur lost in the frizzy wind of the night as she looked at the clouds chasing one another in that sea of stars, she did her best to understand, but to no avail, where each constellation was.

All the while her mind lost in contemplation let her heart stir the lead to her thoughts, as images of that kind monk, and his charming beautiful smile appeared to her like on a screen, remembering each adventure they went on together.

They weren’t much adventures, more like encounters but in a romanticized way, for her, they were.

Worthy to be remembered because he was with her, sharing laugh and secrets, chatting of everything and nothing, as the distance between them shortened still like the ones between their hands, still tingling with the warm sensation of his calloused fingers entwining ever so shyly with hers.

It was only to keep her safe, to prevent her from losing him in the crowd that was what he told her with his gruff tone that could do nothing to hide the gentleness in his silver eyes, shining under the warm rays of the setting sun as he led her away from the madding crowd and in the quiet safety of his cottage.

An house she dreamed more than once to call theirs.

The realization of her feelings took her breath away, as she clutched her fingers on her heart trying to tame its beating.

Unaware of the fact in the same moment, gazing up at the sky thinking of her was him mulling over his love for her, wondering if it was star crossed or written above the stars.

Little did they knew of the smug smirk curling Nobunaga’s lips at the prospect of conquering her heart for his own in a battle he had no intention to be defeated in, like a King slumped against the cushions of his seating, rolling a konpeito over his tongue as he looked at the city lights from his tenshu as the crescent moon reflected in the glass jar of his sweets, the same he clutched protectively with a smile.

#ikemen sengoku #my writing #ikemen sengoku juliet original character #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen nobunaga #sunshineandstarlightcc #ikesen

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rosesradio · 6 months

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i’ve been feeling this way for a while, but i’m serious when i say that the reblog to like ratio on artists’ creations (not “content”!! creations!) actually makes me sick to my stomach

most of these posts i’ve found have a reblog count that’s not even one fifth the amount of likes

and it just gets worse every day. it doesn’t matter how “popular” it’s perceived to be—an artist is considered “lucky” to have notes like this

of course, most people who don’t care have already looked away—and I know nothing is going to change on a large scale, but i still feel the need to talk about it.

why is this the way that it is? are people worried about their blog aesthetic? that can’t be it, the likes can’t contain That Many aesthetic blogs…could it be that they’re worried about getting In Trouble for reblogging the Wrong ship art? Perhaps, but that’s also stupid—this isn’t just an issue with “problematic” ships or rare pairs, but also the most popular of ships. it’s a tumblr-wide issue

of course, there’s also other forms of art, like edits/graphic design

and, of course, my writing, which is so embarrassing i hesitate to even show it

i’m honestly lucky to find one with a reblog—some have up to 20 likes and no reblogs

this was one of my lucky ones. it’s lucky that even one sixth of the people who liked this wanted to reblog—heck, one or more of those might have been me self-reblogging (not that there’s anything wrong with that ofc)

now, before people accuse me in particular of wanting popularity—i do, but that’s besides the point. i am sick of this on the behalf of artists, who are so immensely talented, it’s heartbreaking to see that so little people want to share their work.

i don’t care if my works get 5 notes, but the fact that no one reblogs it tells me that my works aren’t good enough. that’s not me being melodramatic—what else do you expect creators to think when they have a piece with 20 likes and 1 reblog? of course you’re going to wonder, despite this being an issue with Everyone, what is wrong with your creation in particular.

and, of course, i could go on about the added “hits versus kudos versus comments” issue on ao3, but everything i want to say has been said before

the lack of engagement in fandom coupled up with the increasing entitlement (coupled up with the “walking on eggshells” of the rise in purity culture, but that’s another post)—it’s made fandom a not-so-fun space to create in. of course, i still love it—i still intend to create and share my works with anyone who will enjoy it while i watch discouraged artists deactivate and the people who enjoyed their content ask why they left.

i just hope when people see these posts about reblogging and The State of Fandom, they don’t feel like things are just going to get worse until a crash—anyone can make things better. every reblog and nice tag makes a world of difference.

#fandom #fandom culture #fanart #fanfic #ao3 #tumblr

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reyesstrand · 1 year

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commiseration monday

thanks for tagging me @alrightbuckaroo & @theghostofashton <33 rules: with ao3 down, it seems like the perfect time to share something from our wips so we do have something to read.

here’s a little something more from food fic. aka one of the few things from this fic i haven’t already shared 🫣

“Are you sure?” Carlos asks suddenly, out of nowhere, his mouth still pressed to his spot on TK’s neck.

TK reluctantly pulls back, only to see the pained expression stretch across his boyfriend’s face. It hits him, then, what Carlos won’t say—are you sure about me? Are you sure about a home together? Are you sure even if an arsonist burned our last one to ash? It makes him ache to think that this has been occupying his boyfriend’s mind, on top of insurance paperwork and their parents’ concern. He exhales shakily and fits his palm to the side of Carlos’ face. “I’ve been thinking about how our new place can be anything we want it to be. But I think we’ve gotta prioritize a nice kitchen.”

“You want that?” Carlos’ voice is so quiet, so similar to the way his words split in two when he broke down on the side of the road, smoke blazing behind them and soot smeared over his face. Again, he hears the truth: You still want me?

“I do,” TK says, willing it to come out as sure and steady as he means for them to. “You aren’t getting rid of me, Reyes.”

(He doesn’t know, yet, that their number one pick from all the listings they pour over—a good mix of those they find for themselves and those his dad’s realtor pulls for them—is a loft downtown, with wide open windows that lets tons of natural light in, with exposed brick and sleek concrete floors, with a kitchen perfect for the two of them. He doesn’t know yet, that they’ll tour the space and he’ll immediately imagine it: their mornings getting ready together, their date-nights making dinner together, their ability to host more elaborate game nights. He doesn’t know yet how quickly and awfully it’ll crumble around him.)

Carlos just smiles, and it’s such a slice of hope, TK decides to anchor himself to it forever.

no pressure tagging @strandnreyes @paperstorm @morganaspendragonss @chaotictarlos @carlos-in-glasses @rosedavid @freneticfloetry @safeashousespdf and open-tagging anyone who’d like to participate <33

#tag games #my fic #tarlos

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workingforitallthetime · 1 year

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drawn arrows unseen

part 15 / previous installments/tags

Mason plays nine games, and at morning skate before the tenth game, they make him lead the stretches. The clatter of his teammates’ tapping sticks fills the circle. He’s staying in Anaheim.

It’s harder to follow the Pats in his new time zone, but Mason manages it. He watches the fuzzy WHL stream when he can, and he sees his share of media coverage about next year’s presumed 1OA draft pick and his incredible shot and his dedication to hockey and how he’s only 5’9 but he’s sturdy with those thick hockey thighs, and that’s when Mason usually makes himself close the tab.

He keeps texting Connor just the same as ever. Hockey stuff. Draft stuff. Being Connor’s friend from the safe remove of his phone feels allowable. It also feels a little fraudulent, but it’s not like Mason’s going to stop talking to him. Maybe their texts are less frequent this season, but Connor’s got a lot going on. Anyone who follows hockey can tell that.

One afternoon a text from Connor catches Mason at home, on an off day in the middle of a homestand. He wonders later if Connor planned it that way.

hey this is going to come out soon so turns out I’m an omega

Mason’s hands go numb around his phone. It’s really happening. Kent was right. Mason was right, or his nose was. He can’t tell himself any more that maybe this is all some fucked-up mistake. He can’t think of what to say back, or make his thumbs work to say it. Another text from Connor appears before Mason can unfreeze, and he immediately feels guilty.

R u surprised?

Sweat pricks at the edge of Mason’s forehead. How the fuck is he supposed to answer that? Yeah no your scent’s been driving me crazy all year, bet you didn’t think this could get any more fucked up huh! No way. Connor’s got enough to deal with already. He makes himself type kinda, and hits send. Thanks for telling me, he adds.

He stares at his phone. ok, Connor says. And then

Have you

A fragment, like Connor meant to rewrite or delete it instead of hit send. But it’s an opening Mason has to take. Connor’s going to find out sometime. If Mason doesn’t say it now it’ll only be worse later. His hand shakes as he thumbs Y and sends it. Another fragment. He should keep typing. He can’t make himself.

Instead, a reply from Connor pops up. 🅰️?

Heat roars through Mason’s belly at Connor calling him alpha, even in emoji form. Suddenly he feels more confident, ready to take charge of the conversation. Did the beard give it away?

Connor’s typing bubble appears. Then it goes away. It comes back, for a long time. But after another pause, all that appears is ya😂.

Idk why it’s not out yet, Mason says. Guess nobody cares about anaheim. He’s been bracing himself, knowing it wouldn’t take long once they reopened locker rooms to the media. But all of their very few beat reporters are betas. Trevor’s buzz hasn’t been enough to bring the national broadcast through town yet this season.

But this conversation should be about Connor, not him. r u ok? Mason asks.

just getting used to it

you could talk to owen, Mason suggests.

haha that’s what kent said

Heart pounding, Mason immediately swipes over to his text thread with Kent. Did u say anything to connor?

No but u should.

Mason can practically see Kent rolling his eyes as he types it. He’s halfway through a response when the texts on his screen are replaced by an incoming FaceTime.

Connor.

The same photo of Connor that’s always been in Mason’s phone, the two of them at U18 worlds, medals around their necks and trophy held between them. Mason opens the call and the photo is replaced with Connor’s face, a little narrower and sharper than it was a year and a half ago. The panic Mason felt at the FaceTime alert is washed away by the relief of seeing Connor, the anticipation of hearing his dry voice.

“Hi,” Mason says, embarrassed at the fondness that manages to pack itself into that one single syllable.

“Hey.” Connor’s wearing an old white t-shirt with a collar that’s stretched crookedly. The tips of his collarbones show underneath its edge. “Just thought I’d call. Probably should have in the first place, but.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Mason’s body autopilots him through his apartment while his eyes are glued to Connor. He closes his bedroom door behind him even though there’s no one else at home.

Connor sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know.” He looks so young.

The room behind Connor is nondescript. Mason can see the edge of the doorframe, the anonymous seam where the wall meets the ceiling. Probably their apartment in Regina.

Mason scoots back on his bed to sit up against the wall. The last time he saw Connor looking anything other than perfectly self-possessed was that first practice in Texas, holding his stick too tight. Mason knew what to do then. He doesn’t now.

“How’d you find out?” Mason regrets the question as soon as it’s out of his mouth. It’s not like Connor’s going to say I scented you and it was game over.

Connor’s eyes shift to the side, evasive. “It was pretty obvious.”

Mason wonders if there’s an omega equivalent of his own experience. For a split second he pictures Connor waking from a dream, slick pooling between his legs, and then he makes himself stop thinking.

“How about you?”

Mason scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, also obvious.” What would it be like if he could just say it? Most insane wet dream of my life, popped a knot. Would Connor ask him more? Would he stay on the line as Mason told him about the dizzying sensitivity of his knot swelling in his hand and what it might feel like swelling inside Connor, would he murmur geography questions to Mason while he…

He's seventeen. Mason wrenches his thoughts away and changes the subject. “Has anybody given you a hard time?”

“Nah.” Connor’s voice is wry. “I mean, I’m getting chirped, obviously. Like, Val…” Connor rolls his eyes like never mind, and Mason makes a mental note to check the Pats roster for who the fuck Val is.

“Are you worried about the draft?”

Connor shrugs. “Not much I can do.” The indifference seems more practiced than genuine. “Maybe Fantilli beats me out after all.”

“Fuck that,” Mason spits. “You’re better than he is.”

“He’s not an omega.”

“That we know of,” Mason counters.

Connor laughs. “I’ll keep you updated if I find out anything next month. Breaking news.”

World juniors. Mason’s been trying not to think about it. “You guys should have a good team.”

“You’re definitely out?” Connor’s blue eyes bore through the screen at him.

“Yeah, not an option.” It’s the right thing. But that doesn’t stop Mason from wanting to abandon his NHL contract and run straight to Connor.

Connor has a funny look on his face. “They probably wouldn’t let us room together anyway, eh.”

“Yeah.” It hurts to say it. “Guess those days are over.”

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen #cw for some impure thoughts about a then-minor

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crows-home · 2 years

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Nobody asked but here are my thoughts about Infinite and the president’s sonadow fanclub because i haven’t stopped thinking about it for WEEKS and if I don’t get it out there I will implode.

More of a lighthearted, crack treated seriously type of thing.

So if we’re sticking with the main Sonic Forces timeline, i think that the jackal squad didn’t die or anything. They just got real beat up by Shadow and fired by Eggman as a result. the loss stings everyone’s pride, but none more than infinite.

He sees his team sulking for days and thinks “how can i embarrass Shadow the same way?” and Sonic is doing the whole Twitter Takeover with Eggman and Shadow and he’s like. Oh yeah. I’m gonna embarrass you all in front of so many people.

So the whole “a file called Sonadow.” thing plays out and it’s funny!! Infinite spent a few days searching for sonadow fanart and fanfiction around the web and compiled a folder and sends it to Eggman live. (and it’s surprisingly hard to find any sonadow content. apparantly its a rare thing.) He and his crew get a laugh out of it.

And then:

It’s like one of those things where you start doing something ironically. saying a phrase or doing a mannerism in the day as a joke. He’ll see a pepsi can and a coca cola can together and laugh and point and say “haha. sonadow.” and his crew will laugh too. He’ll find fanart and tag Shadow in it to annoy him.

Then I think this leads down a pipeline to him actually reading fanfiction and theories. “For fun,” he says.

“Look at this,” he says to Vanish, gesturing to his tablet screen. They’ve just collected a bounty in a snowy mountain and are taking a rest in their tent.

Vanish squints and reads over his shoulder. “What...”

“There’s a small community of people that genuinely believe Sonic and Shadow have a secret relationship and go out on cheesy dates.”

Vanish laughs in disbelief. “That’s crazy.”

Infinite nods, absently rubbing his knee because the cold makes his joint ache. “I know. I mean, if they were actually in a relationship they wouldn’t meet at a restaurant for a date. Obviously. These people don’t know anything.”

Vanish stares at him for a moment, but Infinite has continued scrolling.

“Whatever you say, boss...”

Anyway. Time passes and it’s. Not a joke anymore.

the more he reads, the deeper he gets, until one day he’s fully onboard like. “Woah, hang on. This actually makes a lot of sense. Are they really together? They have to be!”

I like to think he saw fics and art and scoffed like. “The characterization is so off.” and “He would never say that.” and “I bet I could do better.” so he starts creating his own stuff and putting it online. maybe he started with crack fics and his team just smiled awkwardly when anything was brought up because. well, Infinite is still a damn good leader and his hobbies aren’t really hurting anyone.

but infinite is really miffed because no one will take him seriously!! like, his crew is not as invested in this as he is and whenever he gets a good conversation going with someone online, they either move on from “sonadow” really quickly or they have a different view on their relationship than he does.

until he’s browsing forums and notices a single user that has been posting continuously since like. almost 2001???

so he hits up the user “Sonadowfan1″ and they talk EXTENSIVELY and holy shit. It’s like he and this person are on the same wavelength. this person GETS IT.

Sonadowfan1: I’ve believed in their relationship almost since day 1

User69420: Wow, you were there since the beginning?

Sonadwofan1: I was. And let me tell you, the way they worked together, the way their chemistry works, I have never met another pair of beings so closely intertwined. But they love to dance around each other.

User69420: Exactly! Did you see the clips of their time at the Olympics?

Sonadowfan1: I was there in the audience! It was quite something to see in person.

So Infinite has a new internet friend that he can share his ideas with. Sonadowfan1 recommends fanfiction and sends their favorite clips and they have some damn good taste since they’ve been around for a while.

Meanwhile Infinite’s crew is just happy he’s not coming to them every time he needs to vent his frustrations. They hear his phone ding and see him grinning a minute later, typing away like a kid.

Months pass and he and Sonadowfan1 decide to meet up. It’s the middle of the night, and Infinite is hesitant. But Sonadowfan1 insists that it’s the only time that he’s able to step away from his job. But he makes Infinite agree to come alone.

User69420: Why? What are you playing at?

Sonadowfan1: I have a very recognizable face. I trust that you won’t reveal my identity, but only you.

Infinite frowns. It’s a dumb statement, really. Infinite thinks he would sell this guy’s information for a price in a heartbeat. But, whatever gets him the meeting with the only other person that believes in this as much as he does- maybe even more.

“Should we...?”

Eclipse points to Infinite, who is getting ready to head out and meet with his online friend.

Rumble blinks. “You want me to stop him? He can handle himself. Let him get this out of his system or enjoy himself. At least it’s not affecting his work.”

And just. Long story short that’s how Infinite comes face to face with the fucking President of the United States. They agree to have monthly meetings. The pres shows Infinite his own Sonadow files and the picture he keeps on his desk. They go over their interactions and break them down, frame by frame.

#sonadow #sonadow fanclub #i feel like i should make that a tag #my writing #if i wasnt doing the whole. you are at your lowest i am rising higher #i would be writing this as a full crack fic because its so funny

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