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ficklecat · 7 months

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OC Intro: Phineas Morgan

(dialogue responses to the OC interview prompt)

1. Please state your full name and occupation.

“My name is Phineas Morgan, but you can call me Finn. I’m a teaching assistant for Dr. Nichols, and I’m pursuing my master’s in classic and romantic literature.”

2. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

“Well…I like to read, obviously. I’m probably in the middle of about six different books right now, not including the ones for my studies, so obviously I’m great at commitment. But to my credit, I’ve got four dogs, and I think at least three of them love me. Um…I’m an orphan, which I guess makes me mysterious to some people. Oh and of course the obvious thing - I’ve got albinism. Just in case you were concerned, I do always look like this.”

3. How would you describe your childhood?

“In a word? Chaotic. Of what I can talk about comfortably, most is still sort of jumbled for me. I entered the foster system when I was 9, and I was pretty fortunate for a while before things got bad. I was displaced three times, which is less than the usual by a long shot. But most of my memories are either jumbled and confusing or just outright unpleasant to recall. Nothing was stable. It was…difficult. Chaotic.”

4. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

“An attorney, like my dad.”

5. Do you have any role models? Tell us a little bit about them.

“My partner Emmanuel’s father is probably one of the best people I know. He’s incredible. He looked out for me when I was a kid even though he didn’t have to. He still does. He’s hilarious and sweet, always trying to help people even when they don’t deserve it. And he can grow anything, anywhere. He texted me a picture the other day of like twenty cucumbers on his kitchen table with a bunch of emojis and the words ‘LOS PEPINOS’ in all caps.” (laughs) “He’s a gem. I love that man.”

6. Are you introverted or extroverted? Why?

“I guess you could say I’m more introverted but I can achieve extraversion pretty well when I need to, like when I’m teaching. As for why…growing up in foster and group homes it’s kind of dangerous to stand out. You just keep to yourself, you don’t know who’s safe. So I guess that’s a reason. But I really think it’s just because my nose is stuck in a book half the time. I usually prefer to listen over speaking in general, too. Easier to learn that way.”

7. How would you describe yourself in three words?

“Academic. Romantic. Cautious.”

8. What do you like to do for fun?

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I like to read.” (laughs) “But I enjoy watching movies too, and spending time with my partners. I like taking my dogs to the park or on hikes, as well, weather permitting.”

9. What's your greatest achievement? Why do you consider this your greatest achievement?

This was answered in an ask, check the tag to find it!

10. What's your biggest goal? How do you hope to achieve this?

“Big goals are hard for me. Right now the biggest goal I have is to graduate. Which I’m on track to do so…that’s good.”

11. What does your dream room/house look like? Would you mind showing some inspiration pictures?

“Ah, I don’t really have an exact layout idea. But I would love a cozy home with a little library and a yard for the dogs. And definitely a king bed. A nice rustic kitchen for Vi and E to cook in. But nothing flashy or massive. Just enough space to spread out a little. To be comfortable in a place to call my own.”

12. How would you describe your style?

“Practical for sure. Academic. I like to be comfortable but presentable. Being able to pick my own clothes was kind of a big deal for me and I went a little crazy at first before I found my style . I’m just glad I figured it out before long. You should have seen me when I was 18…far too much argyle for one man…”

13. What's your favorite song?

“Currently anything from Unreal Unearth. But Bowie’s Life On Mars? is always a favourite of mine.”

14. Where are you happiest?

“When I’m with my partners and dogs. When we cuddle up on the couch at night and I’ve got limbs and paws digging into me…it sounds uncomfortable but I’ve never been happier than when I’m sweaty and crampy and squished into a couch corner like that. It’s my favourite place to be.”

15. Who is the most important person in your life? Why?

“I have two people. Emmanuel and Violet. I love them with every part of my soul. I can’t imagine what life was like without them. I don’t want it.”

16. Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?

“Yes. Because I found them.”

17. Have you ever been in love?

“Many times. All the time. I’m in love with my partners. But I’m in love with Gatsby too, you know? I’m in love with Jane Eyre and Sir Gawain. I fell in love with Violet like I fell in love with Zelda Fitzgerald. I fell for Emmanuel like I fell for Alexandre Dumas. Every time I’m with them I’m in love all over again, every time I read beautiful prose I’m falling in it. It’s hard sometimes to be falling that often, but it gives the grey things in my life some colour.”

18. Have you ever been kissed?

“And then some.”

19. Describe an average day in your life.

“Wake up, take out the dogs and feed them breakfast, black tea, then shower and prep for my lectures. Do that, then office hours, lunch, classes, and then it’s pretty much dependent on what E and Vi want to do. We try to eat dinner together every night at the least, or we’ll do homework or study nights in the library rooms during busy weeks.”

20. Describe your nighttime routine.

“After dinner with them I’ll come home and take care of the dogs again. If E and Vi come over we’ll usually talk or play a game or watch something until we turn in. And if none of us get handsy I’ll usually be the last to fall asleep. But if I’m alone, I’ll read or do some more prep work if I need to, or just watch TV until I’m ready for bed. I drink a nightly cocktail of medicinal tea with CBD and some other stuff in it to help me sleep, so I’ll do that about thirty minutes before bed. Then I’ll take the dogs out and do my skincare and it’s lights out.”

21. (Make up a question) Tell us a “low-stakes” unpopular opinion you have.

“Admittedly most of my unpopular opinions are about literature, but I’ll avoid boring you and save those for my lectures. Generally speaking I feel like most of my opinions are unpopular so I have plenty, but I’ll just say for now that I think Crocs are actually fucking awesome. They’re comfortable and adorable and I have been known to wear them in public despite protest from Violet. I’d wear them all the time if I could. I once almost wore them to lecture with a button down and trousers. I don’t even care. Let my feet be comfy. And evidently my most unpopular opinion has to do with oat milk but if I talk about it a certain person I know will actually become genuinely upset with me so I’ll refrain.”

(Manny yelling from the other room) “Oye canche, don’t start with the milk thing again!”

(Finn laughs)

#Phineas #OCs #axel’s brainpals #oc ask game #oc prompt

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5688xoxo · 2 years

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“We were all there - the goddess, the mortal and the boy who was both.”

I don’t know why people don’t talk about this line more often. I think it is the strongest and the most beautiful line in the Song of Achilles.

Yes, even more beautiful than “I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell...” or “He is half of my soul, as the poets say...” (This is my opinion, and I’m entitled to it - don’t come after my head with a sword if you don’t agree with it. Those lines are beautiful too, )

Btw, about why “We were all there...” is my personal favourite -

1. It signifies an end. Literally a third of TSOA was about Thetis (the goddess in the line) trying to separate Patroclus (the mortal) and Achilles (the boy who was both). With the three of them together, it seems that the conflict between them has been resolved, even before we actually see it happen in the last line of the book when Thetis says, “he waits for you,” thus accepting their relationship and ending the conflict.

2. THE WORDPLAY. The way that line is written - in an absolutely beautiful and tragic, classic Miller way - it acknowledges two things. First being Achilles’s boyishness. It is written, “the BOY who was both” not MAN or WARRIOR. It shows the internal struggle Patroclus has faced throughout the war about the fact that Achilles grew up and lost his boyishness. It hints at the fact the Patroclus still might me an unreliable narrator, as he was up until the point where the war began. We can say that Achilles either somehow retained some of his boyishness through the war, or that Patroclus was so in love with him that he couldn’t acknowledge the fact that Achilles had changed.

3. The other thing it acknowledges is Achilles’s mortality. Though much of the book, Patroclus views Achilles as some sort of otherworldly being, and his mortality is only acknowledged as a faraway, abstract concept. When he is first told that Achilles will die in the war, we see Patroclus realize for the first time that Achilles can die, but that doesn’t mean he will die in the near future. When this line is said, we see Patroclus finally coming to terms with the fact that Achilles can and has died, as finally accepting Achilles as the boy who was both.

4. Patroclus accepting Achilles’s mortallity may also signify him accepting Achilles’s humanity, and thus, his faults. One can interpret it as Patroclus seeing Achilles as at least half human and not all-divine and accepting the mistakes he made during the war.

5. And lastly, the thing that makes me absolutely bawl. This line shows us Patroclus’s devotion and love towards Achilles (though we don’t really need that to prove his love and devotion. Literally a third of the book is just Patroclus waxing poetic about Achilles’s beauty). Patroclus loves him so much and his memories of Achilles are so vivid that when he is talking to Thetis about said memories, he can feel Achilles, in the flesh, sitting there with them.

I’m impressed by your patience - you’ve shown plenty of it by navigating to the end of my jumbled, emotional rant/word vomit about TSOA. Thanks for reading!

#tsoa #patroclus #achilles #patrochilles #patroclus x achilles #my rants #the song of achilles #ancient greece #greek mythology #thetis #analysis #tsoa quotes

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whelvenwings · 3 years

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who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #destiel fic #WELL HERE SHE IS #I'll reblog in a sec with the ao3 link because tumblr hates external links #also thank you so much to sammich for beta reading this ah #also if anyone's asking if i intend to be extra #and keep making banners for even little fics that i post #the answer is YES FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE #because what is more calming than photoshop and a podcast

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lucy90712 · 3 years

Text

Mcyts with a Portuguese,Brazilian s/o (hc)

Request: Hi :) Could I request a headcanon for George,Sapnap and Quackity with a s/o or their crush having their first language brazillian portuguese? I don't know why but I think Quackity would do a stream of them speaking spanish and his s/o speaking portuguese since they're smiliar languages but idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ thank you <3

George:

He would tease you for the way you pronounce somethings wrong or when you can't remember the English word for something. If you are trying to explain a word that you can't think of he will watch you struggle even though he knows what you are trying to say because he finds it funny watching you find every possible way to explain the thing. Eventually he will tell you he knew about 0 minutes ago and you get mad at him but he gives you cuddles to make up for it even though you both no he'll do it again another day.

Although he loves your accent and could listen to you talk for hours on end and he does, any time that you are telling him stories or ranting he won't stop you or even interject so that he can just listen. Sometimes you might get s bit insecure that you are talking too much but he will encourage you to keep going because he just wants to hear your voice. If he can't sleep he will get you to talk to him and play with his hair which sends him right to sleep because your voice calms him.

He would also love trying some of the traditional food from where you are from although he can be kind of picky he is always up to try something once and he likes most of the things you make. He also enjoys going food shopping with you and watching you get excited that they have something you had growing up that you haven't had in years or when they have something new that you have never tried and you try it together once back home.

You also teach him a bunch of words which he can say to people to confuse them most of which are insults but he also learns the Portuguese word for my love and calls you it all the time which you find so endearing especially when he started to call you it and couldn't quite pronounce it correctly but he soon learnt. Try's to get you to teach him swear words but you refuse to because you know that it will work against you in the long run and he knows that too but at least he tried.

Sapnap:

He is so confused when you speak Portuguese to start with and he doesn't understand a word you say for a while so you can say things about him when you are annoyed and tell him it means something else which you do for quite a while but eventually he learns more and you can't get away with it anymore. He is definitely interested in learning Portuguese not only from you but from different apps and loves seeing your face when he says something new that you haven't taught him. One time he told you a full story in Portuguese and you were stunned to say the least but also so proud that he has not only learnt so much but that he is doing it for you.

Would love going to where you/ your family are from to take in the culture and meet some of your family members who just adore him and the effort he makes to speak to them in Portuguese even though they know enough English to speak to him just fine. He is like that with your parents too even though they raised you bilingual he likes to show that he appreciates their heritage which they think is very sweet so he is a big hit with the whole family. His family love you as well because you have taught him so much and they got to see a different side if him when he went to them excited about what he had learned.

Sometimes he likes to try and make you traditional dishes which he isn't as good at but you still appreciate the effort and as time goes on he gets better and occasionally he will make something better than you can. You also try making Greek foods for him so some nights you make each other food and then try it to see how the other did which doesn't always go well and sometimes ends in you just ordering food instead but it was fun trying so who cares.

Quackity:

He would love having you teach him Portuguese while he teaches you Spanish because although they are somewhat similar languages there are still some differences which you both find interesting. Half the time you don't notice the differences until one of you says something and the other has absolutely no clue what they are saying or thinks it means something wildly different. You both have your favourite compliments that you tell each other all the time, in fact they are some of the first things you taught each other. Pet names are also never in English because its just much more fun that way and it feels more heartfelt.

Would get you to do alt Spanish streams with him where you speak Portuguese the whole time and he speaks Spanish, the viewers would love it and feel appreciated when either of you notice them and can speak to them in a language that most streamers can't. It can get a little chaotic when you two try and talk over each other and everything just becomes a jumble of words. Those streams soon become fan favourites because you two are very chaotic but there are also some really cute moments between the both of you which are always clipped and put all over TikTok and you only know that because you often get tagged or see them on your for you page.

You both would make the mistake of telling each other how to say swear words so when you two argue or are ranting there is no stopping either of you from bringing out the best insults you know which normally ends arguments because you both get so creative that you just have to laugh at what the other comes out with. Arguments are never serious when involving you two and they always end with you both cracking up at the other until you have forgotten what you were even arguing about in the first place.

#george x reader #george #georgenotfound #georgenotfound x reader #gnf #sapnap #sapnap x reader #quackityhq #quackity #quackity x reader #quackityhq x reader #headcanon #mcyt #dsmp

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salcreus · 3 years

Text

Hermits Helping Hermits, and why it’s so brilliant

Excuse any grammar mistakes, it is very late and I am very tired as of writing this haha

First off, if you don’t know, there’s this new thing that the Hermits came up with called Hermits Helping Hermits- HHH for short as I like to call it. Here’s twitch’s VOD of Ren’s POV if you want to get to know that better, instead of reading a badly written paragraph about it by yours truly. (This one is by far the one with the most interactions with it, but there are far more hermits involved in this event :) <3 Check their twitch streams and/or Youtube VODS channels for more of that chit-chatting spicy goodness)

But, if you don't want to sit through two and half hours of video footage (which honestly I don't blame you), the best resume that I can give of it is- actually very explicit in the name. It's just a bunch of hermits helping out another hermit with a certain task, something that is repetitive and would take that hermit absolutely aeons to get done with. It's a very small resume, but at the end of the day, that /is/ the core of this "Event" of sorts.

Now that you got that out of the way, excuse me as I indulge in all of the details that make this simple concept fry up my brain with joy.

Collaboration. That's a word that we thrive for and love whenever a new stream or episode comes out, it brings out the best of all hermits involved while combining their skills and humour (which I'll touch upon in a bit). It's just overall a bomb fest of creativity and oh boy do we eat that shit up whenever we can (If you need any more proof of the fandom's love for collaborative works, check out the poles our beloved miners and crafters have done to us, audience, asking about which content we prefer. Really. It's absurd how much collabs destroy the other options of the polls).

And honestly... HHH is exactly all we have ever wanted in terms of interactions between hermits. You have a bunch of buzzing bees that are together, in this calm environment, doing tasks that don't quite require that much brainpower, and you got yourself this podcast-Esque vibe going on that just works wonderfully with the stream format that they have going on- And that's not even mentioning the use of the voice chat mod! The way that they don't have to just jumble about in VCs, and can just fly away to talk, promotes this easier way of being part of the action (In this first stream we could see hermits just showing up midway through, or leaving, which, unlike having to click away from Minecraft and onto Discord and switch VCs and all of this tedious process- It doesn't feel forced. It's organic, and they are the ones that have the power to do whatever they want.)

(Also quick note not to ever pressure the content creators into talking or joining in yada yada don't be a prick about it <3 They are human beings too, not your personal TV show)

Humour. (Told you that we were going to talk about this) ...Actually, I'm lying, this is more to analyze their interactions and tie with the thing that I talked about above, but I don't actually want to make two separate tabs for this text so like ehhhh- Okay okay so. We all know that putting different types of personalities into a room is bound to give some good shenanigans, we all know that show and tale, so I am not going to re-tell it (Unless someone someday wants me to write about that which I doubt because I'd be a massive nerd about it). No, I want to focus more on the environment itself and how /that/ is one of the tricks on how their conversations turn into this amalgamation of chiller, more daring topics.

Now, by more daring topics, I don't mean that they are going to start cursing out their viewers, but it overall feels like we get to retire a bit from the Minecraft Funny Persona, and focus more on the humans being behind it. Of course, their personal lives are none of our business, but it's nice to see them acting like the nerdy adults that they are- Which I feel is a bit forgotten in this fandom, yknow? The fact that they, too, are absolutely silly and would laugh at 69 jokes as much as we do (season 5 chatting my beloved). This chill, lowkey profile induced by the conditions I talked about above impacts their humour, and thus, their way of interacting in this free for all space where they can just vibe!

Also, I cannot mention this ^ without congratulating Rendog for his way of giving everyone their own moment on the spotlight. If it hasn't been clear before by the Hermitcraft panel at Minecon a few years ago (which he was the host of :) <3), Ren is bloody AMAZING at sparking conversation, and overall debate managing; I blame his cockiness and his lack of shame, but who am I to judge. The way that he managed the tasks given, and was able to put everyone on track when the train was moving away from the action, really shows his skills when it comes to entertaining an audience. I am NOT going to forgive him for the pee talk though, hate the furry </3 /j

Creativity! This is just a small thing that I catched on when I was watching, but I really liked how Bdubs was giving tips on how to make the spikes on the biome pop up more (by the use of walls, stairs, slabs). It wasn't something that was really the centre of attention in this "episode" of HHH, but I appreciate the possibilities that this gives in terms of hermits learning as they work together on something, the sentiment of giving tips and tricks as to how to make something pop up, or how to improve on a certain detail- Another moment involving this was when Xisuma was talking about that lava cast shemanty machinery that I am far too dumb to talk about but you know what, he sure was saying words and I am sure they are very useful. The collaborative process of coming up with ideas and solutions is one that always fascinates me (Maybe that's why the mayoral building is my favourite one of the season so far) and I cannot wait to see what else they can bring to the table, even if it's small.

If this hasn’t convinced you yet I don’t know what it will, but, to be fair, I'm just someone that is Far Too Excited about HHH :pensive_emote: But to wrap things up very badly because I am awful at closing statements, the hermits look like they are having fun with it, which is what matters at the end of the day! They are all kind, wonderful individuals that treat us far too good, and this is not exception. Can't wait to see what they are going to do next, and how this event series is going to develop :) <3

(I was also going to go more on topic about the interactions that happened and jokes, but honestly I think that's a side document for another day dsjffsdmf;;)

#I am nooooot proof reading this #i have an essay to do and this aint it chief!!#hermitcraft #mcyt #long post #rendog #tagging as that since i am showering the man in praises jsdfnsdf #hermits help hermits #salty rambles #bdoubleo100 #xisuma #since they are also specifically mentioned here #i give all of the hermits some choccy milk #hermits helping hermits

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hai I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do more verin x reader, like how would he react after finding out about essek, and he searched for him then he met the m9 and reader ?

Hope this turned out the way you wanted it! 😘

After the disappearance of his brother, Verin could simply not let it go. The Shadowhand disappeared from Exandria’s surface overnight without a word of warning. No traces left. No signs of a struggle that may indicate his enemies having gotten to him. Why would Essek leave everything behind willingly? Everything he gave his life for in service of the Bright Queen and the Kryn Dynasty? There had been suspicions about a traitor amidst the Bright Queen’s court but Verin simply refused to believe that to be Essek. His brother would never… Would he?

Verin, much like his brother is resourceful and shares a similar determination to reach a goal by any means necessary. That goal right now; finding Essek. Verin’s unsure what he will do once he finds his brother. There’s so many questions… But what if the rumours are true? No. He can’t think like that just yet. He will not tarnish that reputation through speculations. He needs answers first. He needs to find Essek.

Months of searching, following whatever traces he could find. Verin had to look to the past any ties before Essek’s disappearance. That lead to a group of strangers. A colourful bunch of chaotic individuals seemingly defying all odds when faced with them. Verin may not be able to track Essek but he could try and find these people… The Mighty Nein.

————

Heavy bag over one shoulder dressed in fine clothes you stroll through low-lit halls flanked by two guards. Radiating a sense of authority and sternness you stop in front the metal bars, on the other side a redhead leaning back against the wall looking up at you innocently without a single worry.

“Master Widogast, I’ve been told you’re here on suspicions of corrupting the minds of your students. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” You address your friend. This never ends. Caleb gets himself arrested because someone finds out what he’s allegedly been teaching at the Academy. He’s dragged off to a holding cell and your disturbed amidst your work day to get him out again. This time you’ve made him wait though. You had an important meeting you couldn’t get out.

“It’s all just a mistake. You’ll find my students can vouch for me and prove this misunderstanding to be nothing more than part of the curriculum of theoretical transmutation.” You dig through your bag, take out a scroll and hand it to one of the guards. The guards reads it over awaiting your command.

“Well, hurry up! Release this man before I have you written up for unlawfully keeping one of the Soltryce Academy’s most beloved teachers.” The guard quickly jumbles with the keys and the barred door is unlocked. Caleb gets up and you step aside to allow him to exit. The guards wait, not entirely sure what to do next. What did you expect of newbies…

“Are you really going to stand around loitering? Back to work.” The guards scurry off and you and Caleb walk next to each other exiting the building and into the streets. Once you’re both in the clear you drop your more rigid behaviour and punch the wizard in the shoulder.

“What was that for?” He exclaims rubbing his arm. That’s gonna bruise.

“The only reason I took this job is to get you and the others out of trouble when you inevitably got yourself in a mess again but between Beau’s bar fights and your borderline treason, I swear you’ll be the ones that will lose me my job.” You’re only half serious. You can’t count the times you’ve had to bail the Nein out for their antics and have definitely been abusing your newfound power to do so. The king might be an asshole but at least the pay is good and the benefits better.

Reaching your destination, wizard at your side discussing who might have spilled the beans on Caleb’s rather liberal teachings you open the low fence to the garden. In the garden you’re met with the familiar disguise of your friend Essek, sunhat to guard him from the harsh sunlight, gardening gloves on harvesting some vegetables. Upon seeing you he grabs the basket next to him and joins the two of you with a smile.

“While I’d hoped this wouldn’t become a habit, thank you, for getting Caleb out trouble, again. Your endless efforts are certainly appreciated. We are in your debt many times over.” The disguised drow sends the redhead a loving glance as he addresses you.

“And don’t you forget it. One day I might come and collect.” You grin at Essek with the pleasure of turning his own words against him. Of course you didn’t mean them. They’re your friends and you’ll never seriously ask for anything in return for anything they ask of you.

“Clever.” Essek speaks sarcastically smiling at your comment.

“But if you feel inclined to repay me for my hard work, you can make sure you’re both on time for dinner tonight. The gang’s getting back together and you’re expected.” Essek hands you the basket he’s carrying providing you with the resources of a home cooked meal for the gathering of the evening. It’s been a while since everyone’s been at the same place the same time.

“I’ll do what I can but I make no promises.”

“All, I can ask for.” You turn your attention to Caleb. “That reminds me.” A quick inconspicuous motion of your hands allows you to summon a small stack of papers. Another perk of your job; getting information the higher ups want to keep to themselves. Luckily a lot of them have assistants that are much easier to get that information from.

“Beau and you can get back to work. But not tonight! Tonight’s work free, for all of us.” Caleb quickly leafs through the ledgers you’ve handed him.

“You know, if you ever grow bored of the court life, you can always join me in teaching free thinking and magic at the Academy…” Caleb jokes as you pick up the basket ready to leave the wizards to the rest of their day.

“And who’s gone bail us both out then?” You laugh over your shoulder closing the fence behind you. Back to your home and prepare for the evening. You can’t help but feel like you’re being followed. You pay close attention to the shadows and for just a moment you’re sure you see something, or rather someone. Choosing not to pursue you continue on to your home. It’s not like your place of residence is a secret to anyone.

————

The house is noisy, happy chatting and laughter fills the dining room. How you’ve missed this. The table has been set, plates, cutlery and all, a multitude of decanters and bottles ready and filled, and plates and platers filled with food are added one by one. There’s something for everyone, everyone’s favourites.

“Yasha, can you take the cupcakes out of the oven for me?” You ask the barbarian wearing her floral embroidered apron stirring a pan on the stove as you plate the smoked pork. Yasha plates the baked goods by flavour and carries the tray to the dining room as you follow behind with your platter. Cheers erupt from the rest of the Nein as you and Yasha place the final dishes on the table. Everyone takes their seats and digs in pouring themselves drinks, taking whatever they desired, happily conversing about what everyone’s been up to in the past few months, talking about new plans for the future and the nostalgic adventures of the past together. You’ll have to get back to that some day. Maybe soon?

Despite the happiness of the whole event you still can’t get over this feeling you’re being watched. It’s not scrying, your home is protected from it and you feel safe to assume it’s not anyone from the Assembly or the king’s council. So who is it?

————

Verin watches the group as they enjoy their feast, his brother among them. He looks happy and content, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. Is this what he left Xhorhas for? He always wanted more, so how could Essek be content with a normal life? No matter the motives he’s loved, they’re his friends, something he never truly had before.

Then talks about the beacons came up. Mentions of the past missing ones and newfound ones. Aeor and its connection to Dunamis long before the Dynasty. The theoretics and potential of the beacons and the continued pursuit of studying them. Within the Dynasty this could be considered sacrilegious. And it made it look more and more Essek was guilt of the treason others suspected him of. His brother was a traitor and a disgrace in the eyes of the Dynasty and his family.

So why does Verin feel like none of that matters? He should be angry. He should dispose of his brother right here, right now in the name of the Bright Queen. But he can’t bring himself to it. His brother is happy, fought free from the expectations of others and the demanded unwavering loyalty to the Luxon and the Dynasty. Essek did exactly what he couldn’t.

————

You excuse yourself from the table making an excuse about checking on dessert and retreating to the kitchen alone. This feeling of being watched was getting on your nerves but tonight should be one without trouble and conflict. You’ll figure out if this watcher in the shadows poses a danger to you and your friends, if so you’ll dispose of them. If it can be postponed until tomorrow, then tomorrow you’ll deal with it but not tonight. Tonight is about peace, friends and family getting back together.

So when you reach the kitchen you open the window taking out the lattice work pies and cakes you’d made and left to rest and cool down before the Nein’s arrival. You get the batter you made and begin making some waffles. While you wait for them to be done you hum to yourself and sit in the open windowsill looking out over the city, inconspicuously looking around for your uninvited guest. The first batch is done and they haven’t showed up yet. Alright, you’ll make a second batch and some extra whipped cream while you’re at it.

Then you catch a glimpse of a shadow. You can’t make out all the details but the attire and a flash of pristine white hair leaves you to think it’s a drow. Thinking on your feet you cast hold person but the drow remains unaffected. Before you know it you’re pushed a few steps back into your kitchen. Supporting himself on the windowsill he holds a finely made blade to your throat. You lift your hands in surrender showing you have no ill intend…yet and are willing to talk and listen.

“My quarrel is not with you but one wrong move and I will not hesitate, mage.” The drow threatens you. You don’t doubt his words but this isn’t your first rodeo. If he tries anything he’s in for a fight. Getting a closer look you study the man’s features. There’s a sense of familiarity and you’re quick to conclude he must be related to Essek in some way. Broader build and longer hair but same features and eyes. He’s probably a fair bit taller too standing up straight instead of crouched in a windowsill.

“Perhaps not but it might be if you do not get out of my windowsill in the next few seconds.”

“Is that a threat?” He pushes the blade a little closer and you feel the cold steel against your skin, one move and it cuts.

“No. But take a look outside. You’ll see the torchlight of the guard patrol. Get inside.” A quick glance over his shoulder gives you the chance to take a step back from the drow and pick up your whipped cream and continue whisking before it loses its structure. He jumps inside and away from the window as you whisk completely indifferent to the fact a stranger just held a sword to your neck and entered your home even with your invitation.

“You must be Verin Thelyss.” You state putting the now finished whipped cream in the ice box. Verin stands there wary of you, expecting you to make a move and attack him at any second but you’re not and even from your demeanour he can gather you have no ill intent towards him. Not at all what he expected, but then again he didn’t expect to find his brother in the capital of the enemy nation of the Dynasty having dinner with a bunch of (previous) adventurers, some of which holding ranks within the Empire no less.

“You’re questioning my motives and calmness.” You lean against the counter crossing your arms. Verin lowers the blade but you’re unsure if it is because of defeat or he doesn’t see the purpose in holding you at sword point any longer.

“Why not just let me be caught by your guards? Why invite me inside your home?” Verin watches your every move, every twitch. You can see the same confusion and uncertainty and panic you’ve seen in Essek many times before so you offer a soft smile. Best you can do for him right now is stay calm, don’t make any uncertain moves and approach him with gentleness. You’re sure with how long you’ve been feeling like being watched today he’s been the one responsible and he’d have caught onto your conversations from the shadows.

“Call it a leap of faith. I trust Essek. He trusts you. You’ve done nothing to prove you have any ill will towards my friends so until you prove me otherwise you’ll be welcome.” You move slowly grabbing two knives. Putting one on the counter and sliding it over a little away from you until it touches one of the pie dishes.

“You’re good with a blade right? You can help me cut these pies and cakes and we can talk.” You gesture to the kitchen knife. Verin looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. Maybe you have but it’s more likely you’ve faced much worse than the likes of him. You move your own knife and he watches you as you begin dividing the cake in even slices.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

“Then why should I listen to you?”

“Because you’re still standing here in my kitchen.” You laugh plating the slices of cake on another silver platter neatly.

“Verin, if you came here to kill your brother you would have tried so this afternoon. That you haven’t only shows you’re not here for that. You have questions. You want answers. Now I’m not just going to let you walk into my dining room until I’m certain that the information you got and the questions I answer will not lead you to violence. So you help me get dessert ready. If you prove your intensions for your brother and my friends are honourable you can join us for dessert. If you prove a danger to them, I will allow you to leave this place tonight but should you ever return I will be the least of your worries.” Verin takes the knife and tests the grip as if it’s a dagger as he looks at the apple pie in front of him. He stabs the knife down carefully and cuts downward repeating evenly spaced out. You wait for him to talk not feeling like you should initiate conversation just yet.

“The one who stole the beacons and handed them over to the traitor mages of your Empire, it was my brother’s doing.” More of a statement than a question you nod. Diving straight into the deep end, aren’t we? No matter, better rip the bandage off quickly.

“It hit us hard as well. Though, I can’t say it was surprise.” You’re not sure how to place what you read from Verin. Pity? Disappointment? And a good bit of acceptance thrown in the mix.

There truly was a sense of acceptance because no matter how much he might want to deny it, just like you said, there had already been that underlying suspicion it was Essek given his aspirations. It’s one of those things that leaves you hoping something isn’t true and you wilfully suppress the possibility until there’s no other way around it and you’re faced with the truth. If what you said is true and what he gathers from your conversation with the Nein and you now, you found out in the moment. He’s only learning about this in the aftermath.

Essek lied to your faces, pretended to be your ally to cover for himself and yet you still found it within yourselves to forgive or at the very least accept everything he had done so maybe, just maybe he could try to do the same. Still he has many more questions but he’s unsure if you can answer all of them.

“I won’t ask you to forgive and I certainly won’t ask you to forget, but I will ask you to give your brother a chance. In his time with us he’s truly been trying to make up for his mistakes and repent for his sins and while they may not all be washed away in his lifetime, it’s a start. He’s just as much of a misguided tool, as most of us, promised an a glimpse of power by forces bigger than him and without a way out when he realised the gravity of his actions and the consequences.” You finish up the last pie and put the knife to the side. Verin hangs onto your every word.

“When we were about to walk into certain death gathering what we could, he told us that if something were to happen to him, we should come find you because despite everything, you were one of the only people he felt he could trust.”

“Then why didn’t he trust me with this? Why depart without a word?”

“Because burdening you with that information would put you in the same place he put himself in. He came here, to a place he knew you couldn’t follow. He left a place he would endanger everyone he cares about because he knows you, just like the rest of us would fight the entirety of the Dynasty just to keep him safe.” You’re right. Verin know you’re right because he would have stood with his brother in the end despite what crimes he had committed. Essek was not the master of this grand scheme but he played his part. He’d spend his life making up for it but at least he will work towards making this world a better place. Verin can only aspire to do that very thing; protect the people he cares about and make this world a better place.

“I still have many questions.” Verin breathes. It’s a lot to process and that’s okay. This is just the start but it is the most difficult part. You grab the plates and platters balancing them on your arms.

“Maybe you should ask him yourself. Why don’t you join us for dessert, Verin?” He doesn’t know how to respond. While you told him you’d let him join, he didn’t expect it to be now or with so little certainty on your end, but maybe you knew more than you let on. Without a verbal response Verin grabs the remaining dishes from the counter and waits for you to lead the way.

Entering the dining room Beau and Veth are in the middle of a drinking contest each with their own decanters of wine. Veth slams down the now empty decanter.

“Momma’s still got it children!” Veth exclaims cheering as Beau sits back disappointed, two more gulps and she’d have won. Yasha comes in telling her she’ll win next time. Fjord passes over a hand full of coins to Jester who calls him a loser poking his cheek giggling. Kingsley is on the verge of challenging Veth to a drinking contest of their own and Essek carefully manages to grab a bottle to refill his and Caleb’s glasses before this goes south. Caduceus is watching the chaos unfold deliberating wether or not he should get some hangover tea ready because they will need it if this keeps going.

When you enter, the cheers for dessert fall quiet quickly seeing the drow behind you carrying several pies. Essek freezes up and Caleb naturally takes a bit of a defensive position without breaking the dinner setting. Verin albeit awkwardly steps out next to you as you helping you put the plates on the table. With a wave of your hand you call over another chair to be put at the head of the table. You gesture for the man to sit and he does debating wether or not this was the right decision as all eyes fall on him. You take your own seat.

“Well, come on guys, dig in!” Not needing to be asked twice they do, some wary of Verin but you know they’ll ease up soon enough.

“So you’re Essek’s brother? He didn’t say you’re a hot boi too. Jeeze Essek, is everyone in your family pretty?” Jester asks stuffing her mouth with a piece of cake. Verin is taken aback by the blue tiefling’s comment and the identical faces he and Essek make are enough to send most of the table in a giggle fit. You cover your own response to this for your own sake.

“Eh-Thank you? I think? Though, if my company is undesired I can leave…” Verin suggests unsure how to further approach this doubting this is the right place for this.

“Nonsense. If our friend invited you to join, for whatever reason, you’re welcome.” Fjord assures. He knows you wouldn’t just allow this without a reason and just by the attitude of the guy, he gets a pretty good estimate there’s no malicious intent in Verin right now.

“Yeah and while you’re here you can tell us about all the embarrassing shit Essek did when he was a kid.” Beau punches Essek’s shoulder past Caleb who’s quick to get out of the monk’s way. Essek rubs the spot she hit teeth clenched but smiling nonetheless.

“So, Verin, what are your intentions here?” Caleb asks an open question hoping to get more insight in the drow’s motives. While he trusts your judgement one can never be too certain and he’d rather not be face to face with Essek’s brother on their way home should that scenario arise.

“I-“ Verin tries to find the words picking them carefully. “I thought I knew before but now I don’t know. I came to find my brother and I found him, among friends. I have many questions, some answered by your gracious friend but I think for now, I’d like to truly meet my brother’s friends because if this is the company he finds himself in, I can only ask to witness his happiness.”

It’s a strange feeling for Verin to come to that conclusion. When he left Xhorhas he considered he might be bringing back the corpse of his brother, by his hand or someone else’s depending on circumstances, or bring him back in chains for treason to be tried in front of the Bright Queen. What he didn’t expect is to be met by an alternative that would change his views on everything. He realises that with your stories and those of the Nein he was just as lost as all of you, but now he’s found a group of people that willingly accept whichever path he chooses for himself without expectations, rules or conditions.

Verin first hand gets to experience why Essek chose to leave everything behind and give it up for these people. They are his friends, his family and he’d never be alone again if they can help it. Perhaps Verin can experience that too one day. The Mighty Nein will make sure he does because as we know, once you get involved with them, your life changes forever.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #verin thelyss #verin x reader #verin thelyss x reader #critical role

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derekmorganscrocs · 3 years

Text

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

#bones #wendell bray x reader #wendell bray #seeley booth #cam saroyan #temperance brennan #angela montenegro #daisy wick #y/n #bonestv #x reader #wendell bray x you #happy galentines #happy valentine’s #valentines

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saturatedboy · 3 years

Text

The paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

(Can be found on my AO3) Requests- Open

Chapter 5 is under the cut

The quiet babbling of the child was concealed by an aeroplane noise being broadcasted from the adult’s mouth. “Here comes the aeroplane,” Ethan had interpreted making an engine noise before moving the green plastic spoon with Rose’s favourite food around in front of her giggling face. Rose, following the movements of the spoon,

had opened her mouth wide in excitement, giggling when Ethan had placed the spoon into her mouth and watched as she clamped her mouth closed around it. Being careful, he slipped the spoon out of her mouth before grabbing a dirtied tissue beside him to dab away any spillage falling out her mouth. The father was silently thankful that his child wasn’t much of a fussy eater, only at the start she was until she realised that ‘hey I’m getting food’ crosses her mind.

Repeating this process whilst making funny faces to make his child laugh, Ethan had glanced at the clock just above the doorway to the hallway to see the time. “Hey Rosemary, how do you feel ‘bout seeing our neighbour. Hmm? You want to- it seems you do with that bright smile of yours.” He discarded the small bottle of baby food into the bin and threw the spoon into the sink before returning to his jumping daughter. Brushing his hand soothingly over her blonde head, he picked her up from under her arms and cradled her into his arms. “Time to get changed.” He spoke more to himself than his intrigued daughter as she stared up at him with her eyes filled with curiosity.

Heading up the stairs, Ethan took the time to think about the actions of the day. He had his tests done, as well as his daughter’s. Next thing he had spoken to two of his neighbours, one refusing to give up on thanking him and the other being quite quiet yet showing her gratitude through her doll. He even got her name which he will try his best to remember since he hadn’t got a clue when there next meeting will be. Then things went slightly downhill but at soon rose when he had been pushed into Heisenberg’s shenanigans. Who knew the Lord was suffering from some memories- maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him? He still functions like a human, just has some ‘upgrades’ to him. But, don’t they all.

Pushing open the door to his room, Ethan laid his daughter down on the double bed within his room and moved towards the set of drawers that held a television. Luckily, he was allowed signal to television programmes (even though there were only 2 he was allowed to reach). A sudden image of Lady Dimitrescu watching the child programme crossed his mind, letting him push out a dry chuckle. “I should maybe go see them soon. Maybe the daughters would like to play with Rose?” Looking back at his daughter seeing her move the fabric under her fingers drew a loving smile from the father. “Yeah, they’ll be curious about you alright.” Dragging out a plain white shirt from his drawers, Ethan threw his blue one off and replaced the white one onto his body. Fastening the buttons, he looked over at the body mirror that stood by his wardrobe on the other side of the room near the door to the bathroom and hummed. “Rosemary, talk for tie or stay silent for no tie.” The child looked at her talkative father and clapped, babbling words in her on language. Ethan took the sign and walked back over to the drawer, rummaging through the top ones for a black and blue tie. Taking the black one, he wrapped it around his neck and left it hanging untied.

Dropping down, he opened the bottom drawers to bring a pair of dark grey pants out and a black belt out. “Be right back Rosemary,” Ethan had walked towards the bathroom and left the door open slightly so he could still hear his daughter. He was quick to swap pants, walking out the bathroom whilst buckling his belt up through the pants loops and starting on his tie. Having her father walking around a lot had the baby giggling. Shooting Rose a funny face with his tongue stuck out, Ethan watches her roll about of the bed with her eyes lighting up from the sun glistening through the window. “I look like I’m about to go on a date,” He gave himself one last look in the body mirror before returning back to his daughter, gently picking her up as he let her fiddle with his tie.

His last sentence had been jumbling in his mind as he ascended down his steps to grab his shoes. A date? No no, this wasn’t a date. Just a get together as an apology. That’s it! An apology meal made by Heisenberg and himself. With Rosemary. Like a famil-

A sudden tightness wrapped around his throat as Rose pulled on his tie hard. A small choking noise came out from him as his face scrunched up. With his eyes going slightly wide in pain and shock, he helped his daughter release the tie from her tough grasp and placed her on the ground as he scanned over his shoe choices. Going in simple trainers wouldn’t do- it would look weird with his outfit. But going in smart shoes, that’s what you would wear on a date and this was NOT a date. Taking his trainers, Ethan tied the laces into sloppy bows and picked up Rosemary after, being wary of her grabby hands.

Looking himself up and down then looking at his pride and joy, something seemed off. Missing. “Urgh don’t do this brain. Now what’s missing?” Looking between the two, Ethan felt Rose once again grab his tie. “You’re so grabby today, what’s going on, oh. Right.” Priding her hands off him once again, Ethan made his way to the lounge room and looked at the couch. There was a stuff monkey there sitting next to the television remote. “Ah ha! Do you want him? yeah you do. That’s why you’ve been grabbing papa the whole time.” Ethan progressed onto the stuff animal and grabbed it by its body, handing it to his little Rose who was about to reach for his tie again. Seeing her favourite teddy dangling in front of her face, she had her hands reaching out for it and her mind went completely away from the strange material that she was once holding before. A sense of relief washed over the blonde before handing it to her, seeing her face light up with enjoyment. “Time to head to a meal now. Hopefully it doesn’t turn out wrong” He kissed the top of her head and walked out the room into the hallway once again.

It had been two days since getting back to a somewhat normal life. To think these were the entities he was once trying to kill, them doing the same Vise-versa all because of Mother Miranda. “She’s dead,” A whisper came from him as he approached the door handle to the outside world. “We are out from there.” Twisting the metal knob, the sudden darkness of the outside world was glazing his eyes. Dark clouds swarmed the sky, the sun setting behind them fearing the uprising moon and their army of stars. Looking around as the door shut behind the males, he walked off his porch. The crisp cold swept over his body, making him slightly regret not bringing a jacket with him. However, that didn't matter, his daughter was luckily wrapped up in a long shirt and a really woolly jumper gifted from her mother. She was settled all in warmth.

Taking the left on the dirt road, he followed it around the circle going clock-wise. The house of Heisenberg had gradually grown larger in size as he gained closeness upon it. An unsettling feeling set into Ethan’s stomach as he remembered seeing the boarded-up windows- which were still boarded up at the time. The garage next to it seemed to be closed although the smell of car petrol did not go unnoticed. Holding his daughter closer to himself in one arm, Ethan stepped up to the two floored house and walked straight to the door. Looking to see if his daughter was uncomfortable, which she wasn’t luckily, he raised a first and knocked against the spruce door with a small horse engraving on it. ‘Huh, strange’ Ethan thought, letting his fingers trail over in engraving after knocking three times. ‘How strange, I have a lion engraving on mine.’-

His thoughts and finger trailing were pulled away from the door as it had swung open, revealing the scuffed-up host of the dinner wearing a tank top that had turned grey with splotches of grime and rust. He had a sizzling cigar in his mouth and an annoyed expression on his face for all eyes to see because of the lack of a hat and shades he would usually wear. Soon however, from not seeing his ‘sisters’ dress, he took a step back and tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. “Erm,” Heisenberg was the first to make a sound. He took a quick look at Ethan, seeing as his white shit he wore nestled nicely against his forearms and his pants highlighted his legs and calf muscles. “T-Totally didn’t...forget?” The cigar that was hanging in his mouth had dropped onto the floor, seeing the other dressed in a formality way.

Biting his lower lip straining a smile, Ethan had struggled to hold in his laughter as he watched the others eyes move about to not stare directly at him. Hunching over being wary of Rose, Ethan let his laughter loose feeling excitement bubble up in his stomach. “You kno-haha. You know,” He spoke, finding it harder to keep his laughter contain to sensible giggle, “I wouldn’t have expected this.” He made a motion with his free arm, the arm moving up and down as though he was presenting Heisenberg to his daughter.

Feeling embarrassed at the given situation, Heisenberg went to protest. “Well- it was shot notice, okay? I’ve been busy and today has been long.” The Ex-Lord defended, biting the inside of his cheek as he glared at the father who had finally loosen his laugh to a soft chuckle. Nodding, not trusting his mouth anymore, Ethan silently agreed at what the Lord was getting at.

“Yes. Yes. You’re quite right. However, it was you who asked for me to come over.” A sigh left Karl’s lips; his shoulders deflated as though a bubble of tense had just been popped within his blades.

“Alright, c’mon. Come in- I need to go wash up.” Moving to the side, Karl let Ethan in along with his little Rose looking around at her new surroundings. From what Ethan could tell as he heard Karl shut the door behind him, the place was rather fitting for Karl’s aesthetic. Unlike his, Karl’s first floor was fully open. However, it seemed the structure was the same, just without the walls. The floor was made from spruce wood, with the four walls being painted in a forest green. He had a love seat along with a couple of arm chairs that surrounded a coffee table with a television in front. Ethan guessed Karl had no idea how to use his television seemingly there was ‘CAUTION’ tape wrapped around it. Pinned on the walls however, there were many tapestries, all different colours and images printed on them. He was surprised he couldn't smell any sort of chemicals in the air, meaning the shorter one was most likely spending all his time in the garage rather than the actual home itself.

“Your place is surprisingly comforting.” Ethan had turned to only just see Karl walking up the steps to the second floor. With a shrug, Karl leaned over the handrail.

“Eh? Tis alright I suppose. Much prefer my factory but it is what it is. Be down in a few.” He called before ascending up the stairs leaving Rose with his little Rose to scout around the room. It was a comfortable temperature, not to cold, not to warm. Being careful, Ethan placed Rose on the floor seeing that there weren’t any hazards about and let her crawl on her hands and knees.

“One day you’ll start walking and I’m going to lose you,” Ethan spoke, watching his daughter fondly as she took off in a sprint crawl away from her father. “Hey, where are you going,” He called out, chasing her as she wondered about thinking her father was chasing her because they were playing a game.

Up on the second floor, Heisenberg had entered the shower fully striped. Letting the water run down his body, he leaned against the wall pointing his head down. “Fuck,” He whispered, dragging a hand down his face. He felt like a complete douche for letting the night slip his mind. Here he was, with Ethan fucking Winters downstairs, as well as his daughter with him. Karl wasn’t even ready for this, everything felt like it was moving too quickly- “What am I thinking,” He breathed out heavily.

Ethan wasn’t his- they couldn’t be moving too quickly with anything. They weren't dating, and that thought hit Karl like a compressor. Grabbing the shampoo, he squirted it into his palm and lathered it up in his palm before scrubbing his scalp hard with it. A soft groan was released from his throat as he hit a certain spot with his fingers coming tangled in the knot of his hair. Pulling hard, a soft pant of a moan left his lips, forcing him to lean back up and crane his neck back. He felt exposed to the cold air, before untangling his fingers from his mess of a hair and tilting his head back under the running water to get rid of the shampoo quickly. He didn’t want to leave Ethan waiting too long.

Going against the idea of using conditioner, He grabbed the body wash after squeezed it into his hands. Throwing the bottle down, he ran his hands over his body harshly. The feeling of his thick hands running over his own chest down to his happy tail had no right t be as exciting as it was. He didn’t understand, was it because Ethan was downstairs? Did he want Ethan to catch him like this? Impurity thoughts channelled through his mind, leaving him in a panting mess. A sudden grasp came to his dick below, making him second guess his fantasies flashing through his mind. Looking down, he saw his hand grasping his dick, the hand moving down to reveal the flushed red head begging for attention. He was uncut, both at the top of his dick and around his lower regions. He didn’t have time to shave, or even find a doctor to circumcise himself. Why should he? He didn’t have a reason to.

Letting go, he watched the skin cover the needy head before going back to washing his body. This was not the time to be getting hard whilst his main guest was downstairs with his little one for the matter. Maybe at a later stage he would do the unimaginable when alone but not when he had guests. Karl knew better than to go ahead and jerk himself off whilst people were about, he learnt that the hard way when being caught by one of his Soldats in the past. Scary time. Ones he prefers to not remember.

Making sure his whole body was clean, he rinsed off the bubbles and turned the shower off. The coldness of his home hit him; he wasn’t use to the temperature just yet. His factory had always been boiling, he loved the feeling of the heat trapping him. He missed the place already- it hadn’t even been 3 days since he last saw it. Wrapping a towel securely around his waist, he left his bathroom not bothering to pick up the dirty clothing he had worn previously and walked towards his bedroom that was very clean. He hadn’t slept there; no he was too busy in the garage part of his hoe. The place was somewhat a safe space already- he felt a little at home there. His bed was untouched, the floor being free of any dirty clothing. Looking about, he walked towards his drawers and opened them up to see a collection of shirts and pants. Grabbing the first things he saw; he unwrapped his towel and let it drop. He didn’t really think much about drying his body fully before pulling the shirt on. It was a brown shirt and dark blue dress pants. Fastening the buttons up on the shirt, he rolled the sleeves to rest just above his elbows and dragged the pants on, finding a bit difficult to pull all the way up. However once up, they fit fine upon his waist. The feeling of wearing something much different to his usual attire was- awkward. He felt like he was about to go to Lady Dimitrescu wedding or something, although he would go in the most unkempt clothing to annoy her. But he had to, he saw how Ethan was dressed. He was well kept, nothing like Karl. Ethan was just-

Ethan was the most perfect creation ever to be created.

“You’re going to look hot for Ethan,” The encouraging words to himself helped him a little to feel safer in the clothing he chosen. He just wouldn’t expect to ever be dressed like this but here he was, prancing around his room thinking about the possibilities that could happen in the next couple of hours. Downstairs he could hear the laughter of Ethan once again accompanied by Rose’s happy cries.

“Huh, this feels like a family moment,” He chuckled to himself as he began to walk away from the bedroom. To hear noise filling the place that wasn’t the dead, but rather people who were alive- this was the closest Karl had ever felt to be a part of a family. The word brought a strained smile to his face. A family. Him and Ethan, and with the little brat to be a family. “Bad Heisenberg, no thinking about shit like that,” He scolded himself before descending this time down the stairs to overlook at Ethan on his knees who were making what seemed to be a toy in his hands, dance for his daughter. “Seem to be enjoying yourself there Ethan,” He spoke, rounding off at the end of the stairs to walk towards the father and daughter who were in the middle of the whole room.

Ethan gave Rose the toy and stood back up, dusting dust off his pants. “And you seem to be having fun dressing up for me, is it?” The teasing tone in his voice did not go unnoticed by the former Lord, a smirk rising onto his features. A deadly glare casting through directed towards the father.

“I could say the same for you darlin’. Even went with a tie. how cute.”

“Alright mister, you got me there. So, what you thinking about cooking good looking?”

“Well, I was- w-what?” The rhyme from Ethan’s words had made Heisenberg feel warm. A fluttering feeling casted over his whole body as he stood in front of Ethan, little Rose between both of their feet. Although he was sure Ethan was just teasing, his words felt real to hear.

“I didn’t say anything, so what we doing,” the words fell quickly from Ethan’s throat, an embarrassed look invading his face as he crossed his arms and tried to give a smug smile to play his words off.

“Yeahhhh, sureee.” Heisenberg watched the pale skin of Ethan's become influenced by a red shade, his nose slightly flaring. Grabbing hold of his shoulder, Heisenberg turned Ethan around and walked towards where the open kitchen was, being careful to not trip over the baby on the floor. ”So if I’m good lookin’, what does that make you buttercup?”

Ethan shook his head disapprovingly, looking at Karl with a raised brow. “It slipped out; nothing was meant by it.”

“Oh, but sweetheart, did it really though~”

“What are we cooking Karl?” Ethan had pretended to not hear any of the nicknames that came from his host- he didn’t want to show any reaction towards them no matter how much a daring grin wanted to be stretched onto his lips. He had to remind himself he only just divorced his ex-wife. He didn’t want to date and neither did he want to feel any sort of attraction towards his own former killers...but was Karl really a former killer- he did try to help him? That was for another time.

“You’ll come aroun’ one day. I don’t know what to make.” Karl leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Ethan’s facial features change every second, clearly not knowing what emotion he should really be showing at his words. ”You what?” He choked out, sticking with a dumbfounded look.

Karl threw his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know how to cook. I lived of cans Ethan, and coffee. It was either cans, or Duke for me.”

The air between them both became unknowingly colder. Ethan had to give himself a few moments to think. He did feel bad at what Karl just told him, to be living off a one-way ticket for meals or risk getting ill. The man in front of him really didn’t know anything about the outside world. “Okay, luckily I do know how to make food.”

“Like a house wife.” Karl piped up, running a hand threw his wet hair as it dripped water upon his shoulders wearing that sharp grin of his.

“I’m not a house wife Heisenberg.” Ethan began to search through the small fridge that was under one of the few counters in Karl’s kitchen. Looking through, he began to make a mental note to get the Lord to join him on a shopping trip to get food. Clearly the agents had spent more money on building fancy places rather than getting things for survival.

“Damn, back to last names huh? I must really be in trouble with you mister.” Suddenly, a flying tomato came flying at him and hit him in his head. “hey! That was uncalled for.” He spoke just barely managing to catch the vegetable as it bounced off his head. In return, Ethan shrugged and continued to rummaged through his fridge picking out certain items. Karl stood and watched, not complaining about the side view he was getting of Ethan down on his knees-

“Where do you keep your spices?” He asked a she stood back up, shutting the fridge with his foot and looking back to quickly check on Rose.

“Cupboard above you.” Karl answered back, also looking at the baby who was smashing the toy monkey onto the floor. Karl had to sniffle his laughter back, slightly proud of the baby’s destruction.

With a quick bang of the cupboard, Ethan had pushed all the items he got out towards Karl. Leaving them by the shorter one, he went to o wash his hands in the sink. “Karl, can you grab a baking tray, grater and rolling pin” Ethan asked as he wiped his hands down on a towel.

“Ethan, have you forgot I don’t cook?”

“Rolling pin looking like a cylinder, grater looks like-” Karl had begun to laugh at Ethan reciting and describing what kitchen equipment looks like. Banging a closed fist onto his chest, Karl swept stray hairs from out of his face.

“Ethan I��m joking.” Before Ethan could even get annoyed at Karl, Karl had already started to move about the area with a happy jump in his step, glad that Ethan was slightly annoyed at his actions. He loved getting a rise out of the other, it just added on the things he loved-

Loved...yeah. He was in love with Ethan. He wasn’t going to complain against that.

“So, what we making papa?” Heisenberg asked, looking at the ingredients all laid out by all the cutlery he was sent on a quest to gather.

“We are making pizza.” Ethan answered back, already starting on making the pizza sauce from scratch.

“Pizza huh?” Karl ponded out loud, watching as Ethan began to use the grater and great cheese.

“Yes. You can start rolling out the pastry if you want. Grab the rolling pin and use the flour to make sure the pastry doesn’t stick to the counter top.” Giving a playful salute to Ethan, who rolled his eyes out and gave a soft kick to the others leg, Karl stood by Ethan and sprinkled flour on top of the counter. Clapping his hands by Ethan to watch the flour dust go poof in his face, Karl was already moving onto laying out the pastry from its packet on top of the flour.

He was given a sharp pain on his ear as he looked quickly at his attacker with furrowed brows. Ethan had flicked the man on his ear shell and stuck his tongue out like a child. Karl’s ear had swiftly turned red but it didn’t bother the lord much really, it only made him eager to try tease the other. “Gotta try harder sweetheart,” Karl spoke to him, rolling the pastry out and flipping it every now and again.

“Nah no can do. I can’t hurt you.” Ethan called back, moving the cheese and grated away from him before grabbing the baking tray and laying out parchment paper on it. Karl gave a scoff at Ethan's words, stepping away from the pastry and instead standing behind Ethan. Like a snake, Karl wrapped his arms around Ethan’s torso and stood on his tiptoes to look over Ethan’s shoulder.

“You can’t hurt me~” He whispered in his ear, tightening his grip on the father’s torso. In return, Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat and turned, flicking Karl on his nose. The pinch of pain made Karl recall backwards and rub his nose.

“I think I just did. Oops.” Ethan turned back around and picked up the pastry to lay out on the tray. “Want to grab a spoon?” He called behind him, waiting for a response as he worked on stretching the pastry in the tray.

Thinking for a moment, Karl went back to leaning against the counter with his arms crossed right bedside Ethan. “What’s in it for me?” He asked, as he simpered looking pleased with himself.

A ragged sigh came from Ethan’s mouth as he turned and copied Karl’s actions by leaning against the counter. However, he didn’t cross his arms. “How about, you get me the spoon and you’ll get a reward.”

“What is this...reward?” Karl leaned to the side, getting closer towards Ethan’s face. The hesitation from the other left plenty of time for Karl to come up with a total of 6 different ways he could be rewarded for getting cutlery- and none was safe for Rose to hear.

Wetting his lips, Ethan smacked his lips together before speaking slowly and a notch deeper than his usual tone. “The reward will be...a day shopping with me.” And all previous ideas flew out of his head. Karl pulled away from Ethan and pouted.

“That sounds shit.” He spoke, becoming grumpy over the fact of shopping. He had seen Villagers do it in the past, buying things. It just looked, none eventful.

“That’s not all.” Ethan held back a grin as he watched Karl become curious again. “I’ll let you hold my hand the whole day.”

“DEAL!” Ethan watched as Karl sprinted off to a drawer and opened it up, grabbing a large spoon and skipping back to Ethan with it in his hand proudly. “Better keep to your side of the deal now papa. Don’t you be forgetting it.”

“I won't forget- I don’t even think you would let me especially with the way you just acted.” Just to hopefully annoy the Lord, Ethan got him in a headlock and with his knuckled, rubbed them against the top of Karl’s head watching him squirm in his grasp.

“Oh C’MON!” He shouted, pushing out of Ethan’s grip and showing him away. Ethan finally let loose of is laugh and grabbed the counter for support. The sight of Ethan being happy made Karl soft. It was a fuzzy feeling with him. ‘Butterflies...that’s what this is’ he thought trying his best to sketch the view into his mind forever.

“Okay! okay,” Ethan wheezed out, “Back to making the pizza.”

#Karl Heisenberg #karlheisenberg #karl hesienberg #ethan x karl #Lord Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #ethan x heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #resident evil 8 #winters x heisenberg

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

Text

Growing Up And Fallin' In Love

Pairing: Clara Oswald x Reader

Word Count: 2,639

Warnings: None

Summary: You turn up on Clara's classroom doorstep, coffee in hand and the request for an adventure. Clara can never say no to you, she loves you. That’s not something she’ll ever tell you though, not in the way it matters.

Request: 30 from Prompt List #1 with whoever strikes your fancy (maybe a companion)? 💜 (sorry if this is late, I have no concept of time math bb) Prompt: “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Clara drummed the end of her pen against her desk. It was sporadic, making uneven tones every time the small plastic canister met the wood. She was staring at one of her students papers, and, for the life of her, she couldn’t work out what on Earth the sentence was saying. It was one of the last papers she had to mark, and she wanted it done before the end of lunch, so she could finish the day on time.

But the words were a jumbled mess on the page.

She turned the page over, read through some of her notes – and, had she spelled ‘what’ with an ‘o’?

Furiously, Clara scribbled it out, making sure that she then spelled it correctly.

It looked bad, unprofessional, lazy. A mess of angry red lines denting her poor students paper. She pulled open a drawer, pawing for the correcting tape.

It wasn’t there.

She tried to remember where she had seen it last, when, depressingly, hauntingly, her mind went to the night before, when she had first started marking this paper. On the edge of her dining room table, with stacks of marking for different assignments ready and waiting.

And then to this morning, where, in her haste to pack up the table on her way to school, she had missed it. The bloody correction tape was still sitting on her dining room table, mocking her, even now.

Clara groaned and rubbed under her eyes, careful not to swipe at her mascara, and narrowed her eyes at the paper.

The words swam.

A different knock than her pen against the desk, softer, more rhythmic, jolted Clara out of her stupor. She looked up and saw you, leaning against her open classroom door; a tray holding two coffees in hand, and a warm smile on your face. “I don’t think glaring at that paper is going to help make it magically marked.”

Clara was sure the surprise on her face showed, judging by the way your smile turned a little smug. It was just… well, it was unusual that you would show up here, at her school. You didn’t work here, and it wasn’t a trip you made often. Lately, the most time you had spent together was when you were galivanting across time and space with the Doctor.

Which was a far cry from the days of when you both grazed your knees on cobblestone pathways as children, or blew up soufflé recipes time and time again.

Clara smiled back with as much energy as she could muster. She was glad to see you, it had been a long time, comparatively speaking. “It’s good to see you.”

You laughed. “I’m sure I’m a better sight for eyes than that paper, at least.”

She let her head fall in her hands, and let out another groan. “Don’t remind me. I’m just so tired, it’s like the word are rearranging themselves on the page. They aren’t making any sort of sense right now.”

You hummed, and suddenly there was a coffee right under Clara’s nose. She looked up again, and there you were, standing right above her, looking at her with delight. You had such an amazing smile, the kind that just seemed to brighten up the whole room.

Clara loved that smile.

“Sounds like you could use a break then,” You said. “Fancy a trip?”

She considered it for a moment. Running away with you to a nice park, or a café, and getting to spend some quality time with you. It was so rare, lately that Clara treasured every moment.

But she couldn’t She had a job to do, after all.

“So that’s what the coffee’s for, buying my love,” Clara mused, and she took a sip. It was perfect, like it always was when you ordered. You had never failed to forget Clara’s order, even when she went through that phase of mixing different coffee syrups together. Hazelnut and mango were surprisingly nice together. “I’m in the middle of a school day Y/N, I can’t just leave.”

“Sure you can,” You then did a little arm wave. “Time travel.”

Clara’s heart fell a little. Ah, right.

You had been talking about a trip in the TARDIS – of course you had been talking about a trip in the TARDIS. You wouldn’t just spontaneously come here for with any other motive, any other… desire, for a trip with her.

You leaned against her desk. “Besides, the Doctor says it’s important, and you know how he can get – what with those scruffy eyebrows.”

Clara let out a mock sound of hurt. “Oh, so you just need a buffer from those big scary eyebrows,” Clara said, and she made her voice sound teasing – she always made her voice sound teasing. “And here I thought I was special.”

Now, it wasn’t that Clara didn’t love the Doctor, she did, truly, the Doctor was her best friend. Sometimes though… Sometimes Clara just wanted to be with you.

Just you.

You rolled your eyes and gave her a fond smile. Again, Clara loved your smiles. “Of course you’re special,” You tapped the paper Clara had been marking. Your hand brushed against the red pen marks Clara had just made. She imagined how they would feel, jagged and rough under your finger. “Now, if you stare at this paper any longer, you might actually shoot daggers at it, and no one wants that.”

Clara sighed. She needed to say no – she really shouldn’t go. The Doctor was notorious at never landing them home at the right time, and she really couldn’t miss the rest of the school day.

But there you were, staring down at her with those big, hopeful eyes, and-

“Okay,” Clara said, and she stood, taking her coffee cup. “One trip.”

You brightened, and Clara knew she had made the right decision.

“But only one,” Clara continued, and she took a swig of her coffee. Instantly, she felt some energy pour into her. “I’ve got papers to mark.”

“Yes of course,” you said, and your grin was contagious. “Papers. Very important.”

Clara pointed her pen at you. “Extremely important.”

Clara startled at the sound of a grating knock, interrupting whatever you were going to say.

Mr Pink was standing by the door, juggling two Styrofoam cups. “I’m sorry Ms. Oswald,” he gaze went to you. “Is this a bad time?”

Clara looked in-between you and Mr. Pink, her head rocking back and forwards like she was watching a game of tennis. The two of you, in the same room together, feeling… feeling like she had been caught doing something she really wasn’t supposed to be doing.

It was you who spoke first.

“Did you bring coffee for you and Clara to share?”

He looked down at the cups, as if he’d forgotten that he was holding them. “Uh, yes. Well – not to share, but I can see now…” his gaze rested on Clara’s hand, which held the coffee you had bought her. “Oh, Ms Oswald,” he said. “I’m sorry, I can see you’re busy.”

Pretences, she had to keep up pretences.

“Not busy at all,” she said quickly, sidestepping you as she came out from her desk. “Y/N was just bringing me coffee whilst I finished marking, from my favourite café.”

“Ah, right,” he gave you a long look, and Clara felt the hair stand on the back of her neck. He then turned to Clara. “I suppose that takes my offer out the window, I’m sure your coffee is better.”

“Nothing wrong with more than one coffee though,” your eyes were sparkling with a certain something that made Clara feel very, very uneasy. It was the same look you had when you tried to set Clara up with Artie Fischer back in sixth form. The same look you always made whenever a man gave Clara any sort of attention.

It was a dangerous, heartbreaking look.

Clara cleared her throat, turning back to Mr Pink. “I’m afraid that I’m not as coffee obsessed as Y/N is, Mr. Pink.”

Mr. Pink nodded. “Right, yes. Of course,” he gave his coffee cups a blank expression. “More for me then, I suppose,” he then gave Clara a hopefully look. “Perhaps another time?”

Clara hummed in a noncommitting tone. She was trying to be polite, really, she was. It just felt as if two worlds were colliding at the moment, which was disorientating and jarring. She wanted to bundle you up and hold you away from her mundane life. You weren’t doing mundane right now.

And Clara liked keeping all this separate, the TARDIS and Coal Hill, they were supposed to be separate.

Well, mostly separate.

“Right,” Mr. Pink drew out the word, then he nodded. “I’ll leave you both to it then. Sorry for disturbing you.”

As he walked away you ran forward, and called out. “Stop by another time!”

Clara wanted to hit her head against the wall. Perhaps then she’d get it as thick as your head clearly was.

When you turned, you gave her a knowing smirk. Then, in a sing-song voice, enunciating every syllable, you said. “Mr. Pink.”

Clara stared at you, and tried not to grit her teeth. “What? No, not at all-”

“Really?” You were grinning now. “Because Clara, the way he was looking at you-”

A flash of annoyance sparked in her gut. “We’re not, that’s wasn’t – no, Y/N. Mr. Pink is a colleague, and nothing more.”

You hummed, cocking your head to the side like you didn’t believe her. “Right.”

Clara swallowed, and regarded you carefully. You really believed that Clara fancied Mr. Pink. You seemed delighted about it, as if the thought of Clara with Mr. Pink – as if the thought of Clara with anyone except you, made you happy.

Clara didn’t know if she wanted to scream, or if she wanted to cry.

“I’m not interested in him,” she said, with all the finality she could muster.

You sighed dejectedly. “You never are. I don’t get you Clara, you don’t even try. He seems entirely wonderful.”

Clara hummed. “Right, yeah. Getting someone coffee, really going above and beyond there.”

You eyed the coffee cup that Clara was currently holding, and slowly raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Clara bit her tongue before she said something ridiculous and completely embarrassing like; ‘it’s different when you do it,’ or, ‘I care about you more.’

She ran a hand over her face. “Why does it matter? You’ve always cared about whether or not I’m in a relationship. Why?”

The look you gave her was so earnest, Clara almost did a double take. It was a complete difference from your demeanour earlier. “You deserve love Clara, in all its forms, especially because I know how much you want it. You deserve happiness.”

Clara stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then why couldn’t you see? How could be so blind? The only happiness, the only love Clara wanted, was yours.

Clara took another sip of coffee. This was how it always went, and it was completely exasperating. Sometimes Clara just wanted to shake you, get you to see beyond the end of her nose. She was right here, and there you were, trying to cart her off with someone else.

And Clara didn’t want anyone else.

It was ridiculous, completely ridiculous. The sort of ridiculous that made Clara wanted to cry out of a window, let the air take all her grievances, all her annoyance away.

“You’re so infuriating,” Clara groaned, and ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I managed to fall in love with someone so bloody thick!”

There was a clatter as your coffee cup met the floor. Dark brown liquid exploded from inside it, painting the floor, the desk, and your shoes. Clara stared at it, flabbergasted. Then her eyes met yours, and she realised she had just spoken out loud.

You looked at each other for a moment, then another. A thick blanket of tension sat heavy in the air between you, so strong it was almost as if Clara could smell it.

In the smallest of voices, you said. “What?”

Clara closed her eyes for a moment, feeling utterly defeated.

A cup of coffee.

That was all it had taken.

Nothing was going to be the same now, even if – at best, you let Clara down gently, you would never be how you were before. When she looked at you again, she found you were holding your hands together, your knuckles white. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. “Y/N… God,” she breathed. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Four seconds. That was how long the silence sat in between you both after Clara had spoken. Four seconds.

Clara had counted them.

And then, out of all the awful completely gut wrenching reactions you could have made… you laughed.

It bubbled up slowly. It was more like a bark at first, then it rumbled on outwards into a series of giggles that reminded her of when you had both been children, dancing in the rain.

Clara flinched.

“I’m sorry,” you said, gasping in between your laughs. “I’m just – I’m an idiot.”

“You need to stop laughing,” Clara said, and she crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself defensively. “No, seriously. Stop it. You don’t get to laugh about this.”

You sobered. “Oh my goodness Clara, no, I – I wasn’t laughing at you, I’m so sorry. I was laughing at myself. I’m an idiot, we’re idiots. The biggest fools in this entire galaxy.”

Clara chewed her lip. She hated this. “What are you saying.”

“So have I,” you breathed, coming towards her. Your hands hovered over her arms, as if you were afraid to touch her. “I’ve loved you too, ever since I met you.”

Clara frowned, thinking about the moment before when you were literally trying to set her up with her co-worker. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” you said, and your voice broke. “Not like how I’ve wanted you. But I wasn’t lying, I want you to be happy, I want you to have love, and I figured, if it’s not with me, then… then that’s okay, because your happiness is more important.”

It shocked a laugh out of her, then it clicked. “We’re idiots,” she breathed. “All this time...”

You laughed brightly, and threw your arms around her, pulling her against your frame. Clara loved your hugs. She had always felt safe in them, had always loved how warm and solid you felt around her.

“I love you,” Clara said again, because now you knew what she meant. Now you knew all the emphasis, all the meaning she held behind those three words.

There was another knock at the door, and Clara genuinely, actually screamed. “What?”

Clara detangled herself from you, and found the Doctor standing in the doorway, exasperated. “What’s with all the hugging? Why do you humans always hug? We need to go.”

“We were busy,” you said, and your hand snaked into Clara’s.

“I promise this can wait,” the Doctor said. “This is more important.”

“It really isn’t,” Clara said. “Not this time Doctor.”

The Doctors eyes fell to your joined hands. “Oh, you two did all that love confession nonsense. It was about time.”

You squawked. “About time, so you knew?”

“Ever since Clara dragged you onto my TARDIS, you could give the moon a run for its money with the amount of mooning you two have done to each other.”

You turned to Clara. “You’re coming with us? One trip?”

“Come to a park with me after,” Clara said. “Do some mundane, boring things with me, inter-sped with the time travel.”

You grinned. “Nothing is mundane with you.”

Clara’s heart swelled. Yes. She loved you.

And she was so glad you knew.

#clara oswald imagine #clara oswald x reader #clara oswald #Doctor Who #DW #out of Elle's vault #vault fic #opening Elle's vault

176 notes · View notes

soukokuwu · 4 years

Note

! urgent! Hello Rachel Can I request just an comfort cuddling in bed scenario with Dazai? I'm so done with everything at the moment Everything is too much, the work , the school I'm so stressed out. My best friend (TW self-harm & suicidal thoughts/attempt?) told me she cut her self again and swallowed like 15 tablets..... I wouldn't say that it triggers me anymore but I'm feeling so bad because I don't know how to help her. 😔

THE PERFECT ESCAPE. genre. fluff, just pure fluff synopsis. he strives to be everything you give to him. word count. 1.4k author notes. hi! i’m so sorry to hear that, i really hope that on your side that you can find comfort in this. my fluff isn’t too good but i do hope it makes you feel at least a little better. and i know the overwhelming feeling all too well, if you ever need to vent/talk my dms are open okay, anony? <3

favourite book in one hand with the other twirling in his own brown locks, he hums a tune he’s made up in his head while his eyes gloss over the page he’s flipped to. it’s a book he’s read countless times and he already has the whole thing memorised by now.

still, he’s addicted.

one other thing he’s addicted to?

your love.

it’s been on the back of his head for a while now — what makes him so attracted to you? it’s different with you. how is it that someone like you, who’s so simple to understand, so, in lack of better vocabulary, ‘layman’, manages to pique his interest? he thinks of it all the time. everyone is normal in his mind, with the exception of ability users, of course, but then, why is it that only you manage to retain his interest?

more often than not, you’re the only thing that remains a constant in his mind, occupying a permanent spot in every thought that crosses it.

it had taken a while, but how is it that you’ve managed to stop making him question how much he deserves every ounce of happiness you’ve bestowed upon him? sure, people might find dazai osamu a remarkable man, one they’d both fear yet crave as an ally. but the man in question finds you absolutely exceptional.

when he thinks of you he thinks of jovial footsteps skipping across the hardwood floors of your shared apartment. he thinks of cotton candy smiles accompanied with contagious laughter. he thinks of bright, alluring eyes brimming with determination. he associates you with the sun in winter, and how good the warmth feels against his skin. he associates you with the calm after the storm, the reward for every hardship he’s been put through.

which is why the moment he hears the keys jingling outside the door, his eyes shoot up, staring up ahead at nothing in particular; at the random dust motes floating through the air. something is off about the way you unlock the door. it’s you; there’s no question about it, he can hear the familiar click-clack of your heels as they uncharacteristically trudge in, any of their usual mirth missing.

and when he watches you pass through the bedroom doors, flinging your purse harshly against the dresser, he knows he’s right. something’s happened with you — he can usually tell at one glance what it is, but today the possibilities find themselves all jumbled up in his mind, like information overload.

oh, that must be it, isn’t it?

your habits are usually followed through each day, but not today. today you don’t even make an effort to get a change of clothes first before heading for the bed (where dazai’s usually already waiting before you get home). so now, dazai doesn’t let you slump down onto the bed. he catches you before you hit the mattress, allowing your head to find purchase on the comfort of his chest.

just like a switch, instead of overflowing determination, tears start spilling from your eyes, dissolving into the cotton of dazai’s plain white shirt; the one you got him as a moving-in-together present. he had felt bad about not getting you anything (he didn’t even think it was a custom to, which you agreed, but you had just felt like you wanted to give him something). it’s very soft and comfortable, which is why he wears it almost everyday.

soft and comfortable — just like you.

now he wants to be that for you. to be the warmth that you envelop and let yourself go in. the safety amongst unknowns and the shelter from the storms. it’s hard considering he’s typically known for being the exact opposite — the one who stirs trouble instead of soothing anyone from it. but for you he tries, because you’re the only one alive capable of making him want to bring out the good in himself.

but he knows better than to ask you about it, he knows it’ll just make you even more frustrated. besides, he’s smart enough to realise the ‘information overload’ he felt earlier is the catalyst for your mood. dazai always knows, and in this moment it is no exception. he can hear from your suppressed sniffles and the subtle clenching of your jaw that you’re trying to hold it in, trying not to cry so much. now this, he doesn’t understand why. do you not feel comfortable around him to let yourself go?

“cry as much as you need to, belladonna, i’ll be here for you, all the way.”

you’re receptive to it, as he can tell by the way you clutch on to his shirt tightly, your nails bound to leave crescent-shaped indentations on your palms. you continue to pour your emotions out through your eyes, with dazai patiently waiting, one arm round your back and the other pulling locks of your hair away from your face.

he never once thought that he would ever associate tear-stained cheeks and humid heat with perfect, but that’s what he thinks now. but no, that’s inaccurate. he thinks the crab dishes you make and the way the sun hits your face is also second to none.

“hey,” dazai calls out your name, planting a kiss upon your eyelids before flashing you a confident grin, “whatever it is, i know you’ve got this, okay?”

in comes your self-deprecating laugh, a sign of your inherent doubt in your own abilities, or rather, the lack thereof. “i just feel like i’m screwing everything up and that everything’s just piling one on top of the other and…”

dazai lets you ramble on, lets you get that weight off your chest. doesn’t interrupt you with pointless, empty sugar-coated consolations. instead he makes sure you tell him of every single thing that’s bothering you now (of your own volition, because he never forces you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with). and when you finally fall silent save for the sound of your heavy breathing, he knows that there is something that’s still stuck in the back of your head. something that surpasses the average problems that school and work proposes.

but he doesn’t press. instead, you find him baring his soul. a different kind of comfort, the most effective one in your book, and it’s still comfort all the same.

“i think, despite everything i’ve been through,” he lets his digits caress down from your temple to your chin, curving his index finger and tilting you upwards so he can look into your eyes as he tries to tell you of something important, “you’re one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.”

your mouth is slightly agape, as though you wanted to say something but you decide against it midway. dazai chuckles knowingly, “you know i’ll never say things i don’t mean, belladonna —” a peck on the lips, and he licks the saltiness away — “never to you.”

everyone can remind you of how strong you are, but none of them will ever carry the weight that dazai’s brings. with him you know he means it, you know he’s serious. because he never takes these things — or you, for that fact — lightly. and you can’t seem to think of how good you must have been in your life to deserve someone like him; someone who knows to be patient and makes you an exception although he’s not one to be known for doing so.

you feel special, wanted, significant.

and he doesn’t let up on it for the rest of the night. he leaves you for just a moment, so you take the chance to slip out into something more cosy. this means oversized sweaters and shorts. and you are pleasantly surprised when your boyfriend comes into the room armed with snacks and hot chocolate, which, in his head, represents a delectable heat to shelter through the storm.

he even has all your favourite movies and series lined up in a folder on your smart television, choosing one at random to start with while he lets you settle into his arms. all through the shows, he does subtle things like feed you a piece before feeding himself, and lightly squeezing your arm in a constant pattern (which you later learn on your own is morse for ‘i love you’). it’s in these little things that surprisingly touch you the most.

it’s in how he doesn’t — despite knowing many things — actually know how to be the least bit comforting yet he tries anyway, even to go so far as to act like he knows what he’s doing. it doesn’t escape your notice. you know that dazai osamu is many things; a suicidal maniac, a feared enemy, a questionable lover (to others but never to you). but one sure thing is, to you, he’s a perfect escape.

he’s perfect.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @smoochi-dazai @animatedarchives please ask me to be added/removed! <3

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oddlyhale · 3 years

Text

(This mostly feels like an online diary entry, so forgive the spillage of thoughts that could become a jumbled rambling mess.)

Still speaking as somebody who's still fairly new to the RWBY fandom and still learning new things every day via RWBYtwt and here on RWBYtumblr, and just talking with fans who've been with the show for as long as its been airing, it sometimes feels like I've already been here for years.

It's incredible how I learn how entirely toxic and immature the fandom chooses to be than just grow up and accept the flaws that their favourite show has. Even the ugliest flaws that they refuse to fix and has hindered them for years.

To be honest, I've always been a critical person. Even for shows that I absolutely love without question, I won't blind myself to the flaws they have. I don't like to be treated like I'm an idiot, so I assume shows would also not want to treat their viewers like they're idiots that can't pinpoint the problems in the writing or animation.

But what I may say is that the biggest reason why I even started this RWDE Tumblr is because of Twiins and her sister, Critter. I really loved hearing their opinions on episodes, what could be fixed and their video essays on what to do/what not to do in writing. It hits different when you're hearing it from people who've been watching RWBY from the very beginning. It's like they're veterans and I'm just this peewee still trying to figure out how the hell aura works.

Actually, I've always been a fan of people who make content that involves looking into TV shows with a critical eye. It makes me think about how I should look at scenes and characters more closely and familiarize myself with how they should've/shouldn't have behaved or how a scene was bad.

I was so sad to see Twiins leave, but I really hope she's happier doing what she likes now without the fandom leeching on her. I can't explain how disappointed I felt when I saw the screencaps of fans being dickheads to her, and even more disappointed to see how bigger RWBY content creators behave. It really did cement into my mind that it's all just some tightknit bro-club that likes to harass people who criticize them for anything they do. It left a bad taste in my mouth at how childish that the adult fans can be. I can understand how frustrating the tweeny fans can be when they have their keyboards and tapping away hate, but I can't find it in myself to be angry at them. Annoyed, but they're stupid kids with stupid motives, they'll grow up and realize how stupid that was. I hope.

(And anyway, these bigger content creators that love RWBY should be putting a better influence on how to behave and how not to be such a toxic bunch to anybody who disagrees. Accept that flaws exist in the show and it's OK to point them out when you feel unhappy with them. It doesn't mean you hate the show - you do like the show, but you just happen to have a big brain and can point out something's wrong in the writing. That's how the world spins.)

Even if this behaviour hasn't been hitting me, I have seen this very behaviour elsewhere. Especially in Twitter - oh how twitter dot com can be the actual cesspool of hatred. It makes Tumblr look angelic.

It's very snake-like on Twitter, as though you should be more than careful to not wake the beast, or else you'll be slammed and eaten up, only to be spat out and left in a twisty mess of "why?" And the fans act fast - a little too fast. With how fast they react to "bad takes" from people who were displeased with things in the show, it did numbers in my head at how the fanbase has truly shrunk in popularity. If it's that easy to find people you hate, then well, I guess this show really is bleeding out like a stuck pig, and the blood is of the fans that leave as quick as they came.

But still, even if the popularity shrunk, it still has the most rabid ones still around, and they rear their little heads more than usual. A mean girls club, the frat club that requires your pain for their pleasure. That seemed to be what the fanbase was towards Twiins and Critter. Just waiting for the next person or existing person to say ONE MORE bad thing about RWBY, and suddenly it's hunting season.

And just to throw in here - even as I was watching RWBY for the first time without context, yes my brain was turned off as I watched the volumes. And I still felt everything frying in my head because nothing was flowing correctly in the episodes and my brain went ouch. I can legit forgive the shit and turn my brain off for the show if anything was fluent and not so stupidly written. But no, I had to turn my brain back on. Because I don't like being treated like an idiot.

I hope nothing but the best for Twiins, and I will still support her and her sister. They both deserve better and deserve the best pizza they've ever had with new or current shows they watch.

Anyways, I am glad that the encouragement from these YT critics gave me the courage to do my own RWDE blog. It's awesome to meet new people who also feel the same, and I love reading/listen to hot takes or new things I'm still opened to learning.

And yeah, the news of RT selling out made me laugh, but it still sucks knowing they'd eventually lose.

#rwde #rambling #anti rwby

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Note

ahhh grats on the milestone!! also holy shit youve got 500 prompts stored away somewhere??? im gonna go with my favourite number combo..... 317 👀 im super excited to see what you come up with!! 💖 -bbsitterpng

@babysitterpng Thank you so much!!! And yes, 500 goddamn prompts, all carefully curated, only the best for my beloved mutuals and followers!!

I got SO ELATED when I saw that you sent me a mystery prompt request!!!! ❤️💕 I would have finished it yesterday, but I got uhhh distracted 😏😏😏

317. “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again and again and again; I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this immediately, and while I worry the exposition seems too rushed, I am very satisfied with the rest, all near 4k words!

So please, enjoy~

Today has been a long day that started when the sun had barely found its place in the sky.

Neil was beating at his bedroom door, asking why it’s locked, threatening to kick it down, demanding that Billy get up right now to mow the lawn, just to complain about what a shitty job he did after, shouting about how he has to do everything himself.

Billy would beat his pillows, lift weights till his muscles hurt, and smoke like a chimney, all to alleviate stress in one way or another.

At 12 Max was leaving to go play DnD with her little loser friends, ready to skate her way over there, but Billy needed to get out of the house, have a valid excuse, and it doesn’t get better than “watching out for his little sister.”

They’re on good terms now, after they had gotten in an intense fight and she screamed at him to just leave her and her friends alone, and after not spending every waking hour hating and antagonizing her, she’s not as annoying anymore, and Billy thinks that perhaps his anger was the issue here, not her being a little shit.

That realisation helped him a lot in general. It’s around that time he “apologised” to Harrington the best he could, but when Steve was nice and understanding of his issues, it only made him angry again. Billy doesn’t believe he deserves to be forgiven so easily, no, Harrington should have hit him, defended himself, gotten pissed and told Billy to fuck off.

Instead they wound up at Benny’s diner, sharing a giant plate of fries and a milkshake each.

“My treat,” Steve insisted.

And that’s when old issues resurfaced; the same exact issues that meant they had to leave California. The same exact issues that brought Billy’s wrath upon this pretty boy. The same exact issues that led one thing to another, and now Billy knows the route from his house to the Harrington Mansion like the back of his hand; could drive it with his eyes closed now.

But he doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy. Doesn’t want to be what he is - the way he is.

So after dropping Max off at the Wheeler’s house, the fiery redhead even going as far as to offer him a bit of a smile, he didn’t go home. Didn’t drive to Steve’s house either no matter how much he wanted to.

Don’t be needy, don’t be clingy. You’ll see him later.

So for four hours he drove around town, smoked by the quarry, got admired at a gas station when he refilled, passed Steve’s street far too many times, went to the empty pool that’s closed for the year and sat with his feet over the edge and smoked some more, restlessly kicking the tiling. Over the course of this time he checked his watch at least a billion times.

When it was finally 4pm, he drove to pick up his sister and El - the gang having managed to convince both Steve and Billy to take them to the movies to watch the last screening of The Neverending Story, which doesn’t exactly sound like something he wants to watch, but knowing Steve will be there, he agreed all too readily.

And as he pulls back up to the Wheeler’s again, he sees the brown BMW, Steve leaning against the door as he waits for the boys to pile into his car. Billy’s heart is beating like a painful drum in his aching chest, and when Steve sees him sitting and waiting for the girls, he smiles at him and waves.

Billy is as always astounded and breathless by the way Steve smiles, the way Steve looks at him now, like he’s happy to see him. He can’t smile back, he wants to, but his face feels dull and incapacitated. He wants to just kick open his car door, stomp up to Steve and fucking kiss him. Instead he simply waves back.

Then Max breaks the trance as she pulls open the door and crawls in to sit in the back with El.

“What the hell took you guys so long, I’m starving,” Billy complains as he looks over his shoulder at them.

Max is smart and doesn’t answer, and Billy is smart and doesn’t ask again. No he remains quiet as they follow the beemer, Max and El laughing loud and joyous behind him like girls their age do, talking about shit he doesn’t care for, just focuses on the car in front as they drive to Benny’s diner for early dinner before going to wolf down popcorn at the cinema.

The gang is eager and excited, like kids should be, running to the diner as they talk all too frantically about whatever it is kids talk about, Billy is really not paying attention, when Steve is right there.

“Find a booth where we can all sit!” Steve shouts after them, and Billy’s not sure if they heard him at all. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?” his voice kinder and friendly, too friendly, as he addresses Billy.

Steve leans against the hood of the camaro, smiling all too wide. He’s dressed in high waisted jeans and a red crop top that shows just enough of a midriff for it to be too much for Billy.

He takes up a spot next to Steve, just far away enough for it to not be suspicious, but absolutely too far away for it to not be enough, yet even from here he can smell the floral soap and honey shampoo. Can’t help but think of how soft Steve’s skin is, how silky his hair is, all newly washed and clean of him. Wonders if the purple hickeys are still visible across his chest, up his thighs.

Even though Steve is trying his best to meet Billy’s gaze, he refuses to look at him just in case it would be too obvious what he’s thinking about, as he unwraps a fresh pack of Marlboro and offers one up.

When Billy ignites his lighter and reaches forth, Steve touches his hand, holds it steady as he leans in to bring his cigarette to the flame. There’s a burning sensation where his pale, soft hand connects them, and when Steve dares rub Billy’s wrist with his fingers, there’s a pain shooting through his heart, a sharp wanting for more. No, a need for more. He’s caught staring at those pretty, pink lips when Steve pulls away and exhales a cloud.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a wry smile, clearly aware.

“You know damn well ‘what’s wrong’,” Billy snaps a bit harsher than intended as he continues to force himself to look away.

Thankfully Steve takes it well and huffs a laugh filled with smoke.

They end up in silence after that; the comfortable kind that comes from being at peace together, easy and relaxed and pleasant, one where they don’t need words because there’s no longer any doubt between them. Perhaps that’s what love is, as cheesy and gross as that may be, Billy ponders. To be able to just exist together without it being awkward or stilted. Perhaps he’s fallen a bit in love with his ex-rival. Or perhaps he’s just in love with how he feels when he’s with Steve, both physical and not.

It isn’t till Steve finishes his cigarette, drops it on the asphalt and stomps it out, that he speaks,

“Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to tell you something.” He’s smiling like the cat that got the cream, licking his lips a bit too slowly as he goes to whisper in Billy’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Billy’s heart skips several beats at that, before then going too fast - rapidly pumping blood through him, and there’s a certain rush of it going straight to his dick. He stares too long into those deep, dark eyes, mischievous and satisfied with the response as Billy short circuits.

“What?”

Steve shrugs and tips his head to the side a bit, acting all innocent and oblivious, lips drawn tight in a smile that goes from ear to ear. He opens his mouth and takes a long inhale, insinuating that he’s about to say something, then simply turns around, hands in his pockets as he walks towards the diner.

Leaving Billy behind, baffled, astonished, dumbfounded.

The next two hours feels like days.

They sit in the diner, Billy and Steve across from one another.

The kids are still as energetic as before, their voices a jumble of words and phrases and retellings of DnD from today’s session. Steve chews on his straw as he tries to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, laughing when they laugh, nodding on occasions. Whenever he looks over at Billy, blue eyes flee to stare out the window instead, finding great interest in the pattern of how one street light flickers.

Before the movie starts, they go to let out water by the urinals of the cinema, Billy standing right next to Steve, having hoped to catch a glimpse, see if he’s telling the truth, the urge near irresistible to just take a quick look, but the other men around them might not take too kindly to something like that.

And during the movie they sit together at the end of the row.

Steve, Billy, Max, El, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas.

He didn’t care for the movie before, only going along as a sign of friendliness and to have an excuse to not be home, but now. Now he’s almost hating having to sit here, next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching, shoes pressed together on the dark floor, only an armrest between them.

For the first twenty arduous minutes, Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, showing no sign of registering how near they are, just watches the movie in silence with a smile, while Billy is sat next to him, burning up despite his shirt being unbuttoned as always, mind racing with thoughts and images of Steve Steve Steve.

So distracted by all of that, that he nearly jumps when Steve touches his hand. Same softness and tenderness from earlier on the parking lot, the way Steve always touches him with just a hint of hesitance when they’re not completely alone.

But the cinema is dark, the kids are entranced, and there’s barely a handful of people besides them, so maybe it’s safe enough.

Billy raises his fingers into the touch, thinking that Steve wants to hold hands, intertwine them, any of that stupid romantic shit that he loves and Billy pretends to only barely tolerate, but the touch moves past that, a feather across the back of his hand, up to gently and carefully grab him by the wrist.

At that, Billy finally looks down, keeps facing the big screen but pays acute attention to what Steve is doing, where he’s leading his hand, placing it on his knee, Billy’s fingers in between spread legs. He continues to guide the hand further up, towards the heat of where his thighs meet, effectively sending Billy’s heart rate sky high.

When he finally turns his head, he finds Steve staring right back, a small and restrained smile, and in that moment, Billy feels like he can read Steve’s thoughts, knows exactly what’s on his mind, never doubts it for a second, and is proved right when Steve stands up and climbs over the seat to walk along the empty row behind them.

Billy whips around to Max, and hisses out, “We’re going for a smoke, don’t fucking go anywhere.”

“Yeah yeah,” she groans all indifferent and waves him away, eyes big and caught in the movie.

The bathroom at the Hawk is as clean as it ever gets, and perhaps not too shockingly, empty. Movies are running and people are seated.

Steve stands looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, not that it looks any different to Billy now than before.

He takes heavy steps towards the brunette, announcing himself and catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror, watching as Billy approaches and steps behind him. Billy leans in to run his nose up Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and humming out pleasantly, blinking slowly as he keeps pressing his face into the crook there, not quite kissing yet.

Eyes dart back to the mirror where heavenly blue meets chocolate brown, a feverish intensity there as Steve stares back. Gently, but with no hesitation, Billy snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, past the belt and up to touch where skin shows between jeans and the top.

When there’s no ‘stop’, he keeps going, curls his fingers around the red fabric and lifts up, exposing Steve’s chest to the both of them in the mirror. Bitten and marked, purple and red, Billy eyes his masterwork with an appreciative gaze, and with one hand keeping the shirt away, he moves the other up to graze his fingers across each little bruise his lips left just two days ago.

Steve hums a bit, erotic and turned on, and if more were to happen now, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found their way together in public. And perhaps that thought strikes Steve just as it does Billy, for he pushes back into him, rubbing his soft ass against where he finds a slight bulge already.

“Fuck, Stevie…” Billy huffs and breathes against Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he relishes in the slow friction, kissing sloppy and half-minded against pale skin. “You really wanna do this here? Where the kids could just walk in any moment?”

“I would have maybe pushed you into a stall first,” Steve laughs, a slight stutter to it. “But I was thinking your car? The movie is like two hours, we could find an alley, park there, let me ride your cock?”

A growl escapes by the enchantment of those words, and Billy bites into Steve’s neck, earning him an illicit little hiss and smirk.

“How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”

Neither of them feel particularly bad for just abandoning the gang like that, but they’ll be quick, hidden in this alleyway, not too far away from the theatre, a bit of fun while the others gawk and gape at the magic of movies.

But it’s hard to be remorseful, when Steve is moaning like this, Billy two fingers deep in him in the driver's seat of the camaro.

Steve didn't lie about going commando today; told Billy, “When I found out you were tagging along, I hoped I’d get to have you alone like this.”

It took Steve less than two seconds to start getting undressed when Billy turned off the engine, whereafter he crawled right onto his lap, hard and bottomless, knees over Billy’s shoulders, feet locked behind the headrest, back against the steering wheel.

“Ah-h, mmh, fuck, Billy-” he whines, hands placed firm on Billy’s legs for support as he lifts and angles his ass to allow Billy access with lubed up fingers.

His other hand squeezes Steve’s leaking prick, using the precum to slick up the flesh, keeping him hard and crying like that. His own lonesome cock aches where it lies full against his stomach; the button down having been opened completely to avoid staining it, and giving Steve something to admire.

“Billy, please, just- oh- just fuck me already!” Steve’s voice pitched high with lust and impatience, brows drawn together, his arms shaking underneath his own weight.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Billy purrs.

He watches with great interest as he pumps two fingers in and out of Steve’s wet hole, making a scissoring motion to stretch him properly.

“Mmh, we don’t exactly have time for that, and I need you so bad,” Steve says with the sweetest, most alluring tone he can.

And God if that doesn’t go straight to Billy’s twitching dick.

“You sure?” He wants to double check anyways.

“Yes- yes! Just- get a condom, I don’t wanna ruin my favourite pants.”

Billy chuckles lightly at that thought as he leans to reach for the glovebox, absolutely turned on by the idea of Steve walking around brimming with him, his cum dripping out and running down his thighs. Perhaps another time.

The condom rolls on with ease, Billy having become quite the expert with one through time, but he has been getting a lot of practice lately what with Steve and his more adventurous side, and wearing a rubber when fucking in public makes for an easy and quick cleanup. He gives himself a few good strokes to lube up good and nice, ensuring that Steve gets a smooth ride as he aligns himself with the hole that flutters eagerly to suck him in.

Greedy, starved, zealous, Steve sits himself on that veiny dick, ass fully flush with Billy’s hips, breathlessly gasping and cursing around his name, “Fuck Billy…”

“Mmmh,” Billy hums and licks his lips, staring down with adoration at how he’s buried deep inside of Steve’s ass, tight with lack of preparation, but- “You feel so good baby, taking my cock so well.”

He brings his hands to grab Steve by the hips and guide him in a circular motion, muscles clenching around him that can only be described as beautiful, eliciting groans and causing him to dig in his nails.

Steve’s panting, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, the windows fogged up, telling anyone that would walk by exactly what was going on, and when he lifts up to fuck himself on Billy’s fat erection, they shake the entire car with his fervor; each time he sinks down he moans more; moans with less and less self control.

“Take off your shirt, pretty boy,” Billy drawls out and swipes his tongue across shiny and sharp teeth. “Wanna see you.”

It’s a hurried motion that takes less than three seconds for Steve to yank off the crop top and grab on to Billy’s knees again, refusing to wait even one moment in the haze of his neediness.

Billy, however, faced with marks of his own making, takes time to appreciate how perfectly purple suits Steve’s pale skin, blooming across his pecs, his tits, near nipples that strut now, begging to be touched. And who is he not to oblige. Hands travel up from hips, past the waist, to Steve’s chest - the brunette seemingly lost in chasing his own high, that he doesn’t notice where Billy is going till he presses hard against the sensitive buds.

“A-ah! Fuck, Billy!” And he throws his head back.

Steve’s entire body tenses at that, each muscle flexing and twitching, contracting around Billy’s steely cock, and he can’t help himself but to thrust into the clenching hole, the rim taking a chokehold on the base of his prick. Steve has to bring up a hand against the roof of the car to keep himself from hitting his head, while also giving him the ideal leverage to push down hard, bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a lascivious and erotic rhythm.

“God, you’re such a little slut for my cock, huh baby?” Billy growls like a ravenous wolf as he pounds into Steve, forcing out every little cry and moan, telling him that he’s hitting just the right spot.

“Billy- Billy, ah-a, fuck- fuck-” Steve whimpers and looks down to watch one hand on his hip that pulls him down, another rubbing hard against his nipple.

“Yeah, harrh, listen to yourself,” and Billy pauses to listen to how Steve mewls, revelling in the fact that he’s the cause of that. “So loud and lewd, baby, calling out my name like that.”

“Billy.”

He’s a confident guy, Keg King and lady killer, and while shit like emotions and feelings stuns him, this brings him alive, lust coiling in his gut, burning hot and white, ramping up to a fever pitch as he fucks with wild abandon into Steve’s wet cunt.

Billy hasn’t bothered masturbating in a good while, no, he saves all of that pent up energy for Steve, to fill him up; desire blinding him to anyone else but his princess.

“Mmhnn- ahh, fuck, Stevie, can’t wait to get you alone tonight,” he says, voice fucked out and perverted, Steve looking at him as he speaks, “Drop off all the little shits and then fuck you into your mattress till you’re a mess, pump you full of my cum.”

Steve’s eyes screws shut tight, mouth wide open as he moans, “Yes, oh God, Billy-”

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes! Please! Fuck-” He nods the best he can, hair bouncing.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, princess, so needy for my cock.”

“Billy- Billy please,” Steve croons, all pathetic and close.

“Anything,” Billy responds with fast devotion, a promise that he gladly lives up to, knowing well what it is Steve is begging for, wants to hear him say it anyways.

“Touch me, please, ah-h- I’m so so close, fuck…”

Billy grins wide, so self satisfied it’s nearly disgusting, and he closes his fingers firm around Steve’s slick erection; he gets so fucking wet, leaking profusely, swears it only happens when he’s with Billy like this.

“Just like that, yes! Oh fuck, I’m- ah-”

“Yeah, cum for me baby, wanna watch you- show me what I do to you.”

Billy jerks him off quick and crude, knows how Steve likes it, how he needs it; loves being manhandled, talks about that whenever he’s with Billy he feels small and light.

And Steve cums with a loud and unadulterated moan, stilling his entire body in a tense pose as Billy fucks him fast; slamming quickly against his prostate, hand milking him good till he’s emptied out on his own chest.

It is a glorious thing to watch, a masterpiece of performance only for him, a grand show for a one man audience that Billy gets to relive again and again and again. Steve’s jaw drops as he continues to cry out like he’s a goddamn porn star, overstimulated and loving it.

Billy’s own orgasm is far less showy; a few shallow, brutish thrusts, grunting through gritted teeth, he shoves Steve down onto him hard as his hips stutter through completion, waves of impossible heat pouring out and leaving him a puddle of bliss and euphoria.

Time is lost to them, as they sit like that; Steve’s one leg having fallen between the seats as he went limp with exhaustion, still firmly planted in Billy’s lap, who’s soft and complacent and fucking tired, both of them breathing heavy.

“We should… we should go back…” Steve mumbles with closed eyes.

Billy’s watching the way Steve’s cum slowly slips down his chest, running over his abs and nearing his pubic hair.

“Do we have to?” he eventually manages to ask.

And Steve chuckles at that, the vibrations through his body clenching around Billy’s spent cock and he can’t help the sore “ooh”s and “ahh”s as he tries to pull away from it.

“Sadly we do. Can’t have the kids walk home alone in the dark, besides…” Steve grinds his ass onto Billy’s lap, making him wince in not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but definitely too much. “Think you promised to… fuck me into my mattress?”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #Mystery Prompt #500 followers #Babysitterpng #hope it was as good for you as it was for me sweets #😌#Anonymous

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lilith-leigh · 3 years

Text

I did a thing

I wrote a Miley/reader fan fic. I’ve not written one before so erm, be nice maybe? Thanks to @iamnotyourmusebitch for the idea and encouragement/beta read.

Angels Like You

You stood in the queue of your favourite local coffee shop, book in hand and waiting to order your coffee. You’d worked overtime for the last few weeks and this was the first day you’d had to yourself so be damned if you weren’t going to enjoy it. The queue finally moved forward and you ordered your usual favourite, a soy chai latte and a vegan croissant. As you waited for your order, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Turning to face whoever was trying to get your attention, you were shocked to find Miley Cyrus smiling her seemingly trademark glittering smile at you.

She was pointing to the book you were holding, it was Valley of the Dolls by Jaqueline Susanne.

“Is that good? I’ve been meaning to read it for so long.” She asked, her husky voice sending unexpected shivers down your spine.

Composing yourself, you replied, determined not to make a fool of yourself in front of this beautiful woman.

“Really good, one of my favourites.” You told her as the barista handed you your order.

You took the plate as Miley ordered a soy latte. You left to sit down, only to realise that she had followed you, joining you at the table you had chosen by the window.

You always sat in this spot, the soft cushioned sofa and view of the park outside was perfect for reading.

Miley sat directly opposite you and began chatting away, you wondered how she had such confidence and began wishing you weren’t so damn shy.

“Okay so, you gotta tell me, what caught you about this book? Seriously like, the artwork on the cover got me curious enough but I didn’t think that was a reason in itself, better to ask someone who’s read it from cover to cover, right?” She chatted happily, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Um, I don’t know how to explain it. I guess she just has a catchy way of writing.” You stuttered, mentally cursing yourself as your words came out in a jumble. You handed her the book and took a huge sip of your drink, hoping she didn’t notice the redness of embarrassment that was creeping up your face.

She took the book and began reading the blurb on the back out loud.

“Dolls - red or black; capsules or tablets; washed down with vodka or swallowed straight. For Anne, Neely and Jennifer, it doesn't matter, as long as the pill bottle is within easy reach. These three beautiful women become best friends when they are young and in New York, struggling to make their names in the entertainment industry. Only when they reach the peak of their careers do they find there's nowhere left to go but down - to the Valley of the Dolls.”

“Oh man, that sounds kinda dark. I love it.” She said excitedly, nonchalantly pulling off a piece of your croissant and popping it into her mouth.

If there was one thing you had always admired about her, it was her brazen attitude. This was a woman who did what she wanted, and fuck the consequences.

“You can keep that if you want.” You told her. You had the anniversary edition at home anyway, you didn’t need that one.

“Oh, no it’s okay, you came to read, I’ll leave you to it.. Um..”

You told her your name as she tried to hand back the book. Pushing the book back into her hands, you insisted she kept it.

“It’s a great book, you should enjoy it.”

“Well, thank you, y/n.” She replied taking the book and slipping it into her bag.

She stayed a little longer, getting to know you and you were surprised at how easy she was to talk to. She was a mega superstar, yet here she was, chatting casual as can be as though she’d known you for years. You started to relax and soon you were both shooting the shit and laughing.

“Seriously though, I couldn’t go anywhere without being asked about Hannah. It used to annoy me but I laugh about it now, that bitch got me paid.” Miley laughed, talking about her Disney character Hannah Montana. You had to admit, you’d never had any desire to watch the show.

‘That must really suck. Not having any peace to yourself to just do things without being chased up.” You told her sadly.

“Nah. I get it a lot, it kinda comes with the territory. I love them all, fans I mean, but I gotta admit, this has been the nicest day in a long time. Just kicking back with a cute chick in a coffee shop.”

Miley smirked as your face reddened, she knew what she was doing, and it was working. Determined not to let her get the better of you, you composed yourself before shooting some sass back.

“Cute? Please, you ain’t seen nothing yet honey.” You winked.

Miley grinned, taking a big gulp of her coffee, leaving foam on her nose as she drew the mug away. You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she looked.

“What? What’s so funny?” She asked puzzled.

Pointing to her nose, you tried to tell her about the foam but you couldn’t hold back the giggles and instead chose to lean and wipe it from her nose.

“Foam face.” You smiled, wiping the foam onto a napkin.

Laughing with you, she covered her face in mock embarrassment. You both relaxed, talking about everything from her relationship with Dolly to your ridiculous to be read book pile that gets bigger instead of going down.

You were both there so long that they had to kick you out as they were closing. As you grabbed your phone to check the time, she took it from your hands and began typing. Standing, she handed your phone back to you, grabbed her bag and walked towards the door.

Looking at your phone, you realised she’d put her number into it.

Walking out just behind her, you thanked her for the talk, not even bothering to hide the blush anymore.

As if sensing your coyness, she moved towards you and planted a sudden kiss on your lips.

“Call me.” She said smiling with a cheeky wink as she walked to her car, leaving you stunned outside the shop.

You had no idea what had just happened, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. Touching your lips as if to keep the kiss locked in, you smiled to yourself as you walked home, promising yourself that you would call her when you got home…

#miley cyrus #fanfic #first time writer

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

one day i will sit down like a normal person and write things in a semblance of order. until then here’s the part 3 of a thing i havent even started yet, but the other 2 parts are like - associated in theme only and nothing else. but yall know how it is, you cater to the fic that wants to cooperate first and such.

anyways, this idea’s been lurking in the back of my head for a bit now and i like softs and i need softs.

so voilà, softs.

Relationship Status: conjoint

20XX

They’re out and about, enjoying a rather pleasant day, when they stop for an obligatory ice cream at one of Étienne’s favourite places. It’s after they’re both seated and the ice cream half finished, that a stranger approaches them, who turns out to be one of Étienne’s friends.

Étienne is quick to greet them with the usual hug and before he can get lost in playing catch up, he stops to make introductions, so that Edward won’t be excluded from this impromptu meeting.

“Ed, this is my friend, Noah, Noah, lui c’est mon conjoint, Édouard.”

Noah approaches to shake his hand and Edward’s mind stutters to a stop, but luckily, some back up part of it manages to say hello and return the handshake. With that taken care of, Edward’s mind plays the word conjoint over and over on a loop until it’s all he hears. Étienne doesn’t notice, busy chatting with Noah, until the other leaves and Étienne takes back his seat.

Edward remains quiet, lost in his own thoughts, his ice cream slowly melting in its cup. It takes Étienne a while, but eventually he notices that Edward isn’t himself and turns with curious and slightly worried green eyes.

“Everything okay?” He asks and Edward nods even though his mind shouts NO! – but, now is not the time to bring this up and really, he’s not even fully sure there’s anything to bring up anyways.

Étienne doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it slide for now. Once they’re done, they head off to their next destination and Edward tries to go through the paces even though his mind is still reeling.

It’s – unexpected. He had no expected it. Never, in a million years, would he have ever thought that Étienne, of all people, would have referred to him by that. He has no idea how he feels about it either and that’s the real problem. He’s been taken by surprise and – he’s not sure how to react properly.

Eventually, they make it back home and Étienne lets Edward stew for a moment, while he replenishes Mercury’s food bowl and changes her water. Only after, once the laundry is started and the dishwasher is running does he take a seat next to Edward and confront him about whatever it is that’s been bothering it.

“It’s nothing,” Edward says again, because – really, it’s not as if Étienne has insulted him.

“Edward, don’t lie to my face. You’ve been quiet all the way back. Spill, what’s eating you?” He asks again and after so long of knowing him, it’s hard to pretend anymore.

Edward sighs and looks away. He is annoyed that Étienne can’t let it go and annoyed at himself for reacting like this.

“I can’t apologise and stop making you upset if I don’t know what I did wrong to upset you.” Étienne’s voice is small and if it wavers a little at the end, Edward wants to kick himself for it.

He also wants to laugh. Of course, Étienne would assume he’d done something wrong, when he did anything but that. There may come a day when Étienne’s first instinct won’t be to think that he necessarily did something wrong, but clearly, today is not that day.

“It’s not – you didn’t – I mean,” He tries to start but can’t find the words. They jumble and fight and instead, he lets out a frustrated groan. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man. He and Étienne have known each other for lifetimes and have been together for ages. And yet.

“You introduced me as your conjoint.” He finally manages to say, avoiding looking at Étienne, afraid he’s going to break his heart or that Étienne will think he’s ridiculous.

He knows he is. He doesn’t need Étienne to confirm it as well.

“What? When?”

If anything, Étienne looks just as confused.

“With Noah!” He doesn’t mean to get upset, but his tone of voice indicates otherwise. After all that and Étienne hadn’t even realised? Or remembered? Really?

Étienne is silent for a moment and then gasps, apologetic and embarrassed, “Oh! Shit – sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

And that – makes even less sense than any explanation Étienne could have ever given him.

“What��s that supposed to mean?”

This time, it’s Étienne who lets out a frustrated little sigh of his own and passes a hand through his curly locks.

“It was an honest mistake, I swear. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I mean – I was thinking about it and I wanted to like, talk to you about it, but then we never got around to it and it was fine!” He sounds a little shrill and nervous, but Edward supposes it’s to be expected. This is all very new, after all and they’ve never been the model students when it comes to discussing their relationship. They’ve gotten better, sure, but the status quo has been a comfort zone of theirs and anything that could rock the boat has been avoided ad nauseam. “And then I was still thinking about it and Noah showed up and it just – slipped.” He shrugs, apologetic and nervous smile ever present on his face and once more, another situation has created out of – nothing really.

“I’m sorry if it upset you, that wasn’t my goal and I don’t ever have to use the word on you ever again either.”

“No, it’s fine – I don’t mind; it just took me by surprise and I guess I would’ve preferred a heads up, that’s all.” Again, he’s been called worse and he knows, really, that Étienne meant him no harm. After all, it was just a status word, really. There was nothing bad about it. It is just – very official. And – long lasting.

Étienne smiles and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together and the action is familiar enough that it grounds Edward. It’ll still take him a moment to wrap his head around it, but he knows he’ll get there with time.

“Just to make sure – you’re serious about this though?” He’s annoyed that there’s still a small part of him that fears this is all a clever joke, but he supposes that at this point it’s just part of his personality. There’s always some part of him, small as it may be, that doesn’t seem to want to get with the program and makes him worry until he gets clarification.

Étienne, thankfully, knows this and gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “Of course; I mean – we’ve been together for a million years, even in the second edition and the term boyfriend sounds so – early stages. I mean, we don’t need labels and I’m not looking for one either, so I can use literally any other word you’d prefer, but I wanted an upgrade, I guess,” He laughs softly at his own joke and it warms even Edward’s heart.

He’s quiet for a while, weighing the word and any other option he could use instead. It astounds him really, that after all these years they’re at this point. If anyone would have told him that first time he’d gone to bed with Étienne that they’d one day be here, sitting in Étienne’s living room, discussing relationship statuses, he would have never believed it. For starters, it wasn’t something they’d been after and afterwards, it had seemed like the last thing Étienne would ever offer him.

And now they’re here. More than boyfriends. Partners, really, and Edward supposes they’ve been that for a while now. He knows, just like his relationship with Calvin, that this is something he wants. Long term. Even when Étienne drives him mad. But he loves him. Faults and madness alike.

“No, it’s fine – I like it. Just give me a moment to catch my breath and it’ll be fine.”

Étienne beams and leans over to peck his cheek, “Okay then – and, for the record, if you don’t want me to tell all my friends either, it’s fine. It can be just our thing too.”

Edward ponders this as well. He feels as though they’ve spent most of their relationship keeping it on the down low. At first, he’d still been in the closet and had been afraid of being caught, so to say. Then, things had been new and fragile, so they hadn’t really said anything. But now...

“How about this; I’d rather you not put it in all caps on a status update on social media, but if we run into friends of yours and you need to introduce me, I don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry about that – that’s not my style, but got it,” Étienne slides closer and manages to barnacle himself around Edward, pulling him in for a hug, “Glad that’s settled though,” He sighs, content with the world, and let’s himself be held by Edward, who sits back and rubs his partner’s back.

And – isn’t that a lovely thing to think; his partner.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Text

Bucci Gang Headcanons!!!

I’m not really one to usually post this kind of stuff, but these are some lil headcanons my pal @jjadegreen and I have come up with while stuck in the same house during the quarantine!!

These literally range from *probably would happen* to *fucking crack* so y’all have been warned...

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Giorno is one of those people that has a secret sweet-tooth. Like. An insane one where if he actually decides to indulge in it he cannot fucking stop.

When he does go overboard, it’s usually because Bruno got his favourite ice cream flavour from the store and it’s always at some ungodly hour of the night.

He usually blames it on Mista somehow. Accidentally ate the entire tub of ice cream at 3am? No biggie. Just put the spoon on Mista’s bedside table while he’s asleep!

Everyone blames Mista for it EVERY TIME and now he’s not allowed to eat any ice cream when they buy it. Mista thinks it’s the Sex Pistols because he swears he doesn’t remember doing it.

Giorno just sits there like *sweats* “yeah uh no it had to be Mista, right? There’s definitely no one else it could be, right? Right??”

One time Abbacchio caught him in the act at like 4am and they have yet to bring it up.

He would spill Giorno’s big secret, but he really likes to see Mista suffer.

Narancia wears skirts sometimes and it’s not a big deal. He vibes, they all just vibe. No toxic masculinity here.

Narancia is genuinely afraid of those “IF YOU DO NOT SEND TO 10 PEOPLE THIS WILL APPEAR AT THE END OF YOUR BED AT 3AM” emails.

One time he couldn’t do it because Bruno took his phone away and he sat in bed all night fucking trembling in fear of what chain mail monster would eat his face off this time.

Abbacchio hates geese. No one knows why. Not even Bruno.

Narancia’s real stand name IS Aerosmith, but he’s dead set on calling it Lil’ Bomber because “that’s his rapper name.”

Mista is lactose intolerant but he doesn’t know because he just thinks it’s normal to feel excruciating pain when you eat ice cream.

“Like how pineapples hurt your mouth when you eat them.” -Mista probably

Bruno literally had to take him to the hospital one night because he inhaled too much ice cream and would not stop throwing up and Mista was like “wait this doesn’t happen to you??”

Trish hates butterflies because *fun fact!* butterflies often feed on not only nectar and fruit, but DECAYING CORPSES of animals!

When she was a kid, she was walking in some alleyway and ran into a dead animal covered in butterflies. One landed on her arm and she fucking screamed. She will never look at them the same ever again...

Giorno loves to make things into butterflies when they all spend time together, and Trish literally has to suppress a shudder every time one goes near her.

Fugo is one of those people that is basically not afraid of anything, but when a fucking bee comes near him he will LOSE IT. He’s one of those people that will have to get up and run away from a bee when it flies near him.

If you tell him that it will leave him alone if he stops moving, he will punch you.

Giorno likes to make shit into bees sometimes just to fuck with him

Bruno does not like dogs. It probably stems from some childhood experience that went sour, but he does not care. He will be stone-faced during any mission or situation, but if a dog tries to jump up and greet him he will freak. The fuck. Out.

One time Narancia and Mista brought home a dog from the streets and mama Bruno was like “NOPE” and zipped himself out of existence.

Abbacchio found him locked in the closet under the stairs when he got home and made them get rid of it.

Leone was more of a cat person anyway.

Abbacchio eats raw pasta.

Fugo plays chess with himself. When Giorno joins the team he’s like “ugh finally an intellectual” but Giorno has literally never seen a fucking chess board in his life and is too scared to tell Fugo so he just keeps making up excuses as to why he doesn’t “have time” to play chess with him today.

Mista doesn’t shower but he has a BOMB-ass face-care routine. Even Trish is jealous. His face? Baby soft? Ten out of ten. The rest of him? Axe body spray out of ten.

Narancia went through a goth phase pre-canon. Abbacchio was not happy because Bruno kept referring to him as “little Abba” but he let Narancia use his good lipstick anyway.

Mista found his special hat in a street gutter on a rainy day and it matched his sweater so he decided to just keep it. Abbacchio does Trish’s makeup. They go to Sephora together. I don’t make the rules.

Giorno never really told anyone (besides Bruno) that he got his stand naturally so they all assume he got it from Polpo’s lighter and when he mentioned something off-hand about “when I was a kid Gold and I…” everyone’s just like “bitch hold up-”

Abbacchio wears coloured contacts and his ass literally cannot see without them.

Yes they are expensive as fuck. He blows half his pay-check on them every month.

One time he lost them right before a mission so he had to pull out his heavy prescription glasses from like 8th grade. They literally looked like this.

I think you can imagine the outcome

Growing up, Giorno only listened to three songs.

The only reason he had access to these songs was because he found a really old Walkman on the side of the road when he was wandering around once. The tape only had three songs on it; Dancing Queen, It's Raining Men, and some song by Mozart. These were the three songs of Giorno’s childhood.

He still has it and likes to listen to the tape when he gets sad

Narancia doesn’t know what a period is. Neither does Mista.

Bruno forces everyone into the living room after overhearing this and makes them all watch one of those really awkward sex-ed videos from the 90s (you know the ones)

It was one of the worst days of their lives

They still have the tape and Narancia sometimes slips it in the VHS player when they all least expect it just to fuck with everyone

Bruno once held a capo meeting at their house (biggest mistake of his life) and all you could heard blasting through the walls of the other room was “YoUr bOdy MiGht Be gOiNg tHrOuGh sOmE cHaNgEs, fOr eXaMpLe yOuR P-”

On that note, Giorno was definitely that one kid who took notes during Sex-Ed

Abbacchio listens to Avril Lavigne

Giorno shaves his arms. It kind of started by accident but now he literally cannot stop or else his arms will look completely fucked up

Bruno has sensitive teeth. He can’t drink water that’s too cold cause it hurts his mouth. Abbacchio makes him tea :)

Fugo plays piano to help him with his anger. He would say that he plays saxophone too, but it’s more like violently screeching into the mouthpiece instead of actually playing it.

Narancia thinks that lesbian is a nationality

Even though Giorno lived in Japan for just a couple years, he’s still pretty fluent in the language because his mother would only speak Japanese to him growing up

The gang has no idea that Giorno is Japanese and when a foreigner is struggling Giorno just swoops in with perfect Japanese and they’re all just really confused.

Giorno doesn’t cry during movies or TV shows, but he’s one of those people who fucking BAWLS during video game credits

Mista and Narancia beat Ocarina of Time together and Giorno was watching from the sidelines and AS SOON as the credits started rolling there were tears.

When KK Slider starts to sing in Animal Crossing New Horizons and your character is brought into a music void and the credits start rolling he tears up just a little bit

Mista is squeamish around dead bugs. Not live ones. Dead ones and solely dead ones

Mista and Trish go thrifting. Mista goes to check the pockets of clothes for spare cash (cause he’s a broke bitch) and Trish goes to buy clothes

Everyone thinks that Mista doesn’t change his clothes but he actually just buys like 7 of the same outfit

Mista sneezes like a white sports dad. You know the sneeze.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bonus Bruabba shit because Jade and I always go fucking HARD when talking about our local mafia dads:

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bruno ties up the little strings on Abbacchio’s tiddy shirt every morning.

They got promise rings. Leone’s trying to find a nice time to actually propose but the gang keeps fucking it up every time they try to go on a nice date together

Bruno and Leone watch thunderstorms together

-The rest of the bucci gang stay inside and play monopoly or something when’s its stormy but these two bring out blankets and sit on the front porch and just be all soft and shit watching the lightning light up the sky and listening to the rain on the roof above them.

Bucciarati and Abbacchio have been mistaken as the following:

Bruno as a woman and Abbacchio as a man. Abbacchio as a woman and Bruno as a man. Two lesbians. But never an actual gay couple.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Yeah so I have no idea what that was. These were taken from a google doc we have together that’s just all these jumbled, crack-filled headcanons just for fun. I’m sure you can sense the pure chaos in this.

Go give my dude @jjadegreen a hello, sis made most of these!

uhhh let us know if you want any more from any other parts. Cause y’all know we probably got some. <3

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #headcanons #headcanon #crack #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #bucci gang #bruabba

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