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#i’ll probs write a few of these for next week then take a break from writing for a day or two and clear my finished drafts
garoujo · 2 years
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imma sign off for a bit to catch up on some anime ‘n manga cause my head hurts from writing all morning ^^ so i gotta refuel for a bit — be back later tho <3
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cillmequick · 2 years
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Alex Breaks 100 - Celebration! 🥳
Well it’s official kids, over 100 of you have poor decision making skills and have chosen to follow me and this little blog. What the fuck?!
By which, clearly, I mean THANK YOU! ♥️♥️
To mark the occasion I have decided to have a little celebration (thanks to @zablife for helping me figure out something to do! She’s so smart).
In honour of my main series, The Lockdown Sessions, I’ve gone with a lockdown theme. Slightly random but it feels fitting given it’s a big part of why I suddenly have so many of you!
How to get involved:
All the ways you can get involved under the cut:
💻 Zoom Call - Ask me a question about me, my blog, my stories, the characters, whatever!
👨🏻‍🍳 Banana Bread - Be a better baker than Cillian (bless him 😂) and get creative. Make me a little something - blurb, story, moodboard, whatever - inspired by Lockdown or your own lockdown related adventure. You can choose any characters you like - e.g. what might lockdown have been like for a modern!Tommy or modern!Alfie?? 🤔 Make sure to tag me with #alex breaks 100.
📚 Homeschool - Send me an ask using the prompt lists below and I’ll write you a little Lockdown series related blurb, headcannon or (if I’m very inspired) one shot.
Prompt lists:
Because Lockdown is so domestic, I’ve picked some new prompt lists from the talented @creativepromptsforwriting to help you with your own stories or making your requests:
Domestic fluff
Casual Affection (you’re welcome to use the two ‘love language’ lists in that one too)
I’m due to go on holiday next weekend for a couple of weeks, so I’ll prob be taking a short break from writing when I’m away (we’ll see how disciplined I am! 😂).
So, I will keep my requests open until 23 Sept when I’m due back and then I’ll start working through them from there.
Thanks again everyone. You have no idea how much this makes my whole year 😘 😘♥️♥️
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Tagging my normal TLS gang plus a few others I see in my notes all the time 😘: @runnning-outof-time, @zablife, @look-at-the-soul, @gypsy-girl-08, @pintofsweets, @christinasyellowflowers, @buttercup32sstuff, @shelbydelrey, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @notyour-valentine, @valentinabloom, @theoshelbyjones, @heidimoreton, @midnightmagpiemama, @kittycatcait219, @lyarr24, @alessioayla, @lespendy, @cillianmxrphy, @theshelbyclanc @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @peakypoet, @flyingjosephine-blog, @dragons-are-my-favorite, @l1-l4, @allie131313, @lovemissyhoneybee, @mandeethepandaeater, @margaret-morriss-secrethideout, @conversationpits
Want to join my tag list? Sign up here.
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locallyloathed · 9 months
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I just need to bitch and I don’t have pen and paper to angrily scratch my grievances on and then burn so I’m just gonna scream it into the void. Please disregard.
Where to start, where to start. We’ll run it through a standard day.
Wake up at 4:00 AM - not a problem, I’m an early morning person and wake up naturally around then anyway.
Have to deal with 7 fucking cats in the house. I love cats, favorite animal, but I only signed up to deal with 3.
I live in my older sisters house. When I first moved in, it was agreed that my rent would be dirt cheap if I would just take care of 3 of the cats, with her taking care of the one on her side. I agreed.
I later brought my mom’s elderly cat to save him from being given up. Not a prob, it’s my cat, I’ll deal with it.
Sister moves out to live with her boyfriend half an hour away, and doesn’t bother checking on her other cat. 5 cats. I take care of 5 cats.
Friend moves in “temporarily,” loves my cats, gets their own. Sweet, we get food and water and a litter box in their room for her. So they take care of her? No! They never refill the food/water or clean the litter box and just lock her out of their room, so I get to take care of her. 6 cats.
My fucking sister decides to adopt a special needs cats that she knows damn well I’m gonna have to take care of until she moves back in. 7 cats, one with a whole list of complications I have to watch out for.
I now take care of more than twice the number I agreed to do with no compensation.
I go to open in a fast food restaurant. Ordinarily, fine. Prep work comes naturally to me, and my coworkers leave me alone most of the time. It’s AB opening.
How the hell she hasn’t been fired is beyond anyone’s understanding. Worse manager we’ve ever had, and one used to sell weed through the window.
Once spent an understaffed 3 hour lunch rush in the managers office on her damn phone, got real pissy with me for telling her we needed help. I got pissy right back. Tried to write me up for insubordination, was shot down when the GM looked at the camera footage.
She knows I work hard to make everything run on time in the mornings and will take 6 smoke breaks an hour and has to be strong armed into doing basic tasks.
If another manager is there, they have to babysit her to make sure she does her fucking job. Exception is the GM and AM, who she acts buddy-buddy with in hopes of making them forget how horrible she is at being a manager. This always works.
The only reason she became a manager was because I refused the promotion due to the mistreatment of all of my favorite managers, who were equally if not more hardworking than me and got taken advantage of frequently as a result.
Stand over a fryer for 3 hours, then over a hotwell full of food for 3 more. I have one 15 minute break in the middle, with only the first hour and fifth hour being a break from the heat. Did I mention the AC in our store is fully broken?
I go home. It’s a mess. My roommate has left food on the table and crumbs all over the couch. At least it’s not the full bowls of food they leave in their bedroom knowing full well that I’m terrified of ants (which they find funny.) Rather than clean up after themself, they are yelling at their friends over the discord call they leave running at all times. I start to understand why their parents kicked them out.
Broaching the subject of chores just results in a woe-is-me speech about how hard they work and how I said I’d be willing to clean up the house (I specified a few minor messes when they moved in). I can’t respond, because I get pissed off quickly and have a fucking personality disorder that makes me shut down when I’m upset.
I don’t speak to them unless necessary and usually lock myself away in my room to get space due to always being upset. They attempt to guilt trip me over my behavior, give me the silent treatment when that doesn’t work, and then clean up one (1) mess and apologize. We do this again next week.
I just needed to get this whole situation off my chest. I don’t want to make them move out, they’re still my friend, and my job isn’t that bad, I love all my sisters cats, but just. I need a break. I need to go far away. I need to stop being perceived by any of these people. I need to be dead for a year or two.
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lacheri · 3 years
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Okay so... you might not even take requests but I’ll give this a shot anyway bc I love everything you write. I fucked up at work big time today and I feel tremendously anxious and guilty. Which made me think... Levi scenario with gf reader messing up on the field? I know he’d prob be harsh af at first but maybe... some fluff in the end? ): only if you want ofc.
hi nonnie! sorry for taking a few days to write this! but I hope u like it <3 (sorry to hear about your bad day btw ):)
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accidents and apologies
pairing: dom!Levi x sub!fem bodied reader
content: canonverse, impact play, mild choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, oral (f receiving), some humiliation/degrading, reader is clumsy and Levi is mean, minors DNI
wc: 3.2k
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Fat tears sat in thick clusters on the brim of your lash line, a hiccupping sob racking your body. You were as good as dead, having possibly made the biggest fuck up of your military career thus far. Titans seemed like ants in comparison, the fly that buzzes by your ear that irritates you to no end. Levi’s odm gear sat in pieces on the floor, and somehow this loomed over you like the Colossal titan, maybe even larger.
The polish container sat forgotten on your captain’s desk, the wipe slipping from your trembling hands. Your bottom lip quivered, your lungs filling with air quickly as you slumped to the floor next to the shattered metal. Your off duty position of being Levi’s assistant was practically over, it had barely even begun. You had begged for this job for weeks now, only a few days into being his helping hand, you reflected on how poorly of a job you’d done.
It wasn’t enough you had gotten Levi’s tea wrong this morning, adding sugar to the steaming mug, thinking he’d like a change in taste. He didn’t, immediately spitting the liquid out, cursing you into guilt on the spot. To try to make it up to the ravenette, while he was on his lunch, you sat at his desk and began to organize his paperwork by date of importance. You felt pride as you finished with the three piles of stacks, putting fresh ink in his pot for his quill. However, Levi was horribly furious to see what your regret had manifested into. How were you supposed to know he liked his documents organized by date of assignment, not what was most important?
This was the cherry on top, Levi leaving for dinner, mentioning that his gear did need some polishing. Surely, you wouldn’t fuck this up, he thought as he closed the door to his office behind him. How wrong the man had been though. Within minutes, your fingers became slippery, losing your grip on the cold metal as watched in horror as it clattered to the floor, breaking on impact. It didn’t make much sense, how could it have broken? Wasn’t the gear meant to outlast a titan’s grip? Especially Levi’s trusty gear, you couldn’t fathom how his gear was now laying in pieces on the floor.
You sucked back your sob as you heard the creek of the door, your heart falling straight down to the pit of your stomach. Of course Levi would be back before you recite your apology a thousand times over in your head. You heard the thud of his boots hit the floor as he walked over, seemingly calm.
“Oi, what are you doing on the floor?” he barked out, you could feel his presence looming from behind you.
You turned your head up, his face blurry from the rush of tears in your eyes, “Sir, I am so sorry.”
His grey eyes flickered in front of you, finally taking notice of his broken gear. His lips twitched in a deep frown as he sucked in air through his nostrils harshly.
“Get up, cadet,” Levi spoked venomously, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
You hurried to your feet clumsily, trying your hardest to quell your cries from your throat. You faced him, head downturned, attempting to steady your racing heart rate and the tremors in your bones. Whatever control you thought you had slipped from your grasp the second your captain’s lips parted.
“Never in my life have I met someone as insolent as you,” the harshness of his words kept your eyes on his boots, fresh teardrops rolling down your cheeks. Levi was not going to speak to the crown of your head though, and his hand gripped your chin to force your eyes up, looking directly into his own. “You’re going to look at me while I talk to you, understood?”
You nodded, but this was not what Levi was searching for, “Your words, cadet.”
“Yes, sir,” it came out of your mouth as a squeak.
“You want to explain to me why my odm gear is broken?”
“It slipped,” you hiccupped, violently shaking under his fierce glare. “I couldn’t catch it in time. Captain, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he bemused darkly in disbelief. “This is the third time today you’ve fucked something up, and you’re just sorry?”
“I don’t know what else to say,” you were on the verge of hyperventilating as you stuttered your words out.
“Well, now you owe me new gear, and you’re going to personally pay for the expense,” Levi’s hand left your face as he backed away from you, sitting down at his desk.
You looked on in confusion, “Sir, I don’t have any money?”
“Then I guess you’re fired,” Levi tilted his head back as if bored now with the conversation. “You’re relieved of your military duties as well. We can’t afford to have someone as brainless as you in the Scouts.”
“Captain, please,” you raised your voice, arms wrapping around yourself to contain your shaking.
Levi’s eyes darkened, leaning forward to press his elbows on his desk as he leaned his head onto his intertwined fists, “Leave my office, now.”
This couldn’t be happening. You had no home to return to, having left it behind long before you joined the Training Corps. This was your life, your purpose, your friends were here. You finally felt like you had a place in the world here in the Scouts.
“I’ll do whatever I have to!” you begged, not moving a muscle. “Whatever I can do to stay!”
“Are you deaf or just an idiot?” Levi pushed onto his feet, striding over to stand right in your face as he spat. “Leave my fucking office, that’s an order!”
Your bottom lip trembled, and you felt so fucking pathetic but couldn’t stop yourself from one last attempt, “Please, sir. Don’t kick me out, please let me make it up somehow.”
Your brain took a moment to catch up with what had just happened as you were suddenly staring down at the wooden notches of Levi’s desk. He had grabbed your wrists in a fierce swiftness, pushing you face down, his hands now positioned against your spine to keep you in place. His right hand reached around to fumble with your belt, and your heart began to race for other reasons.
“Captain?” you stuttered, feeling him begin to pull off the belts stationed on your thighs.
“You think you can just beg me in that voice, looking like that, and expect me not to lose control?” his voice was thick with anger, but instead of fear, it tickled bouts of arousal in your lower stomach. “Answer me.”
“No?” it came out as a question, you pushed your thighs together as you felt a pulse run through your core as his fingers tickled the exposed skin of your lower stomach. “Sir, I’m confused, what’re doing?”
“Like you have no idea what you do to me,” Levi chuckled without humor. “You begged me to be my assistant even though you knew you weren’t going to be a good one. You think I wouldn’t notice, your little crush on me?”
It was true, so entirely true. Levi had been the object of your affection for such a long time now, taking every opportunity to get as close to the man as possible. If you were being honest with yourself, this fantasy of being bent over his desk was a constant distraction in your mind. He was right, you were shit at cleaning, you were probably the most clumsy person you knew, you really had no qualifications to be Levi’s aide, yet you still asked for the position.
“Then why’d you hire me, Captain?” the bratty words left your lips as it dawned on you, Levi had found you appealing regardless of your lack of qualities.
With a quick motion, your pants and panties were bunched around your knees, Levi’s palm meeting the now exposed skin of your cheek in a caress, “The same reason you’re fucking soaked right now, cadet.”
You stayed in position as Levi brought his other hand to your opposite ass cheek, fingers kneading the fat as he spread you open to his hungry view. He was right, you were dripping. His pointer finger ran down the seam of your ass, laying a soft touch to your hole, watching it flutter in excitement. He couldn’t hold back the smirk on his face, removing his touch entirely.
You whined, pushing your bottom closer to Levi’s hands, desperate for his touch. Your hips were slammed against the edge of his desk, his fingers digging firmly into the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back together. You felt a jarring sting on your backside, yelping in response as you could make out the distinct imprint of each of his fingers.
“You want to show me you’re really sorry?” Levi’s voice was low and raspy as he soothed his palm over the reddened mark he had made. “Tell me after every slap.”
You were able to brace yourself this time as you felt the strike of his hand once more on your opposite cheek, unable to contain your moans at the contact. You squirmed as you felt removal of Levi’s touch leave you, only to bite down on your tongue harshly as he swatted the back of your thighs much harder than he had on your ass.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he spoke ruthlessly as another slap hit your thighs.
“I’m sorry!” you cried, gasping for air from the impact.
“Again,” his hand smacked the fat of your ass again, his other hand smoothing over the harsh red blotches against your thighs in an attempt to soothe the pain.
“‘M sorry!” you were whining, knuckles white from gripping the opposite edge of the desk as you arched your ass up into his hold. Part of you was genuinely shocked over how much you were enjoying this, thoroughly aroused mentally and physically.
Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front him. The handprints scattered across your lower half had his cock springing to life, hard and painfully erect. His hands traveled down to your pussy lips, using his thumbs to spread you open. Your hole was drooling, Levi let out a deep groan at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to have a taste.
You let out a sputtered moan as you felt the tip of your captain’s tongue lick a stripe from your hole to your clit. You pushed your hips further into his touch, thankful he resisted in shoving you back into the edge of the desk this time. His fingers held you open and apart, his taste buds rolling circles into your clit before returning back to your flitting opening, shoving his tongue in your walls. You could feel it fold in half, almost in a cupping motion as he bobbed his head, lapping as much as he could.
“Oh my God,” you whined, thrusting a hand behind you to grasp at his hair. His palms circled to the fronts of your thighs, digging his fingers into the fat as he pulled you somehow closer as he buried his face further into your dripping heat.
You were seeing stars, in between the mix of the pain and pleasure, your brain was completely empty. Levi’s right hand left your left thigh for a moment, coming back with a softer slap, inching his fingers to your center. His pointer finger swirled your clit relentlessly, and your breathing hitched as you were brought to even higher heights than before. His thumb joined not long after, pinching and pulling at your bud as you yelped.
You could feel the beginnings of your impending orgasm as Levi twisted and lapped your walls. The burning churn in your lower stomach became almost unbearable as Levi’s fingers worked faster at your bundle of nerves, full of purpose and intentions. Levi could feel the sudden change, your pussy clenching tighter and tight around his wet muscle. Your arousal was thicker, almost muskier as he inhaled through his nose, and Levi could swear he could drink from your core as if you were the finest of wines.
At the first blinding rush of pleasure, your body preparing itself for the intense promise of release, the ravenette removed all touch. You were gasping for air, your entire body’s nerves tingling uncomfortably. You were aching, desperate for anything.
“Look at you,” the return of Levi’s palm slapping your ass was welcomed with a smile on your face, thankful for any form of touch. “Falling apart that easy?”
You mumbled out a 'sorry', remembering his earlier warning. Apparently this was the word Levi was searching for, spinning you around and attaching his grip to your hips, slamming your sore ass on his desk, shoving his paperwork to the floor. Your eyes widened dramatically, seeing Levi’s cock fully exposed out of the zipper of his trousers. He was thick, his tip red and angry as he moved his fist over his length, a quiet groan leaving his parted lips as he relieved some of his own pent up arousal.
“Open,” he demanded, removing his hand from his dick, extending his palm to your pouty lips. You complied, letting your mouth loll open as Levi’s fingers pressed against your tongue, rolling them around to coat his digits.
He pulled them out with a pop from your lips, returning his now dripping hand to his erection, covering the entire member in your saliva. He gripped the backs of your knees after he deemed himself properly lubed up, dragging you right to edge as he positioned himself.
His grey eyes flickered up, fiery and full of lust, his voice hoarse, “You ready?”
“Yes,” you mewled, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the wood to steady yourself.
Without a moment of hesitation, Levi held your legs up as he slid his fat tip along the slick of your folds. It was so wet, so sloppy, you couldn’t contain the whimper leaving your lips as he pressed into your sopping hole. You could’ve sworn you felt your soul attempt to leave your body as he slid in, resting his tip right against your sweet spot once he was fully sheathed, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the mind blowing pleasure. He hadn’t completed a full thrust before you were begging for more.
“Please, please, more,” you managed out in between gasps, Levi rolling his hips backwards.
“You want more?” he chided, ramming himself so hard, the two of you bounced from the impact. You nodded, unable to voice a single word, drool threatening to escape your lips. His fist left the comfort of your bent knees, coming up to squish your cheeks together, a dribble of spit glistening against your pout, “You’ll answer me when I ask you a question, brat.”
“Yes! More!” you strangled out, muffled from his grip on your face. He let go, placing a very soft pat to your cheekbone, almost as a reward.
“Atta’ girl,” Levi’s gaze turned dark as his eyes traveled from your eyes to the column of your neck. How pretty would you look with his fist wrapped around your throat?
The thought was threateningly persuasive as Levi found himself doing just that, squeezing the sides of your neck as he began to piston his cock between your folds. The sounds of slapping skin and your pussy squelching had you panting loudly, Levi’s fingers pressing harder into the sides of your throat. It felt so good, good wasn’t even the word to describe it. In fact, there weren’t any words in your brain at all, too consumed by the visuals of the ravenette plowing hard into you.
His hand left your throat upon seeing your eyes begin to flutter, his concern for your ability to breathe over taking his lust. Instead, he circled both his arms under your back, bringing you up into a folder position against his chest. He placed open mouth kisses along the curve of your shoulder, licking and sucking at any skin he could reach. Your ankles hooked around his waist, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from slipping a hand to your aching clit.
“Kiss me,” you pleaded into Levi’s neck as your middle finger rubbed hard at your clit, your thick slick coating the pad. You got curious, letting your hand trail further down, exploring the motion of his cock pummeling into you.
“Put your hands on my back, and maybe I will,” he growled out, displeased that he wasn’t the one bringing you total and complete pleasure.
You followed his orders with speed, his head navigated out of the crook of your neck, capturing your lips with a hasty passion. He tasted sweetly sour, the lingerings of your essence resting in the crevices of his lips, but still, you couldn’t get enough of his kiss. When his hand finally left the middle of your spine, and began to travel down to your center, you could feel the bubbles of climax igniting back in your stomach.
“Levi,” you moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved at lightning speed against your nerves, timed nearly perfectly with the pattern of his thunderous thrusts. The desk was squeaking loudly against the floor as he continued to pound into animalistically, moving it slightly with every move.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna’ cum,” you swallowed his words as he somehow sped up his movements, driving you straight to your climax.
You couldn’t even warn him, you barely had time to realize you were cumming yourself. It almost hurt how tightly you had clenched his cock as the pleasure nearly blinded you, unable to hold back swears and moans. Levi kissed you harder, and upon feeling your contractions swallowing him whole, your plush walls pulling his tip right up against your cervix, his hips staggered and his knees buckled.
Levi’s brain went blank as his orgasm was ripped from him, “Fuck, fuck!”
Levi should’ve felt embarrassed at the noises that left his mouth, whimpers and soft moans exiting his throat as he came hard. It was almost too much, the feeling of your wet heat wrapping around his most intimate part, the closeness of your bodies, although still fairly clothed, had his heart hammering in his ears.
When you came down from your highs, all you could was stare at each other in astonishment, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. He rested his sweaty forehead against yours, fluttering his eyelashes shut as he kissed you gently. You let out a sleepy giggle, your body entirely spent. His hand finally left the sensitive skin of your clit, wrapping your fingers around the back of your head as his kiss deepened.
When he finally slid his softened length out of the depths of your pussy, you were hissing at the fluttering of soreness intruding your pelvis. Levi shot you an apologetic look, kissing your forehead.
“Does this mean I can still be your assistant?” you mumbled, a small smile on your face as Levi reached down to pull his pants up.
His head tilted back as an uncharacteristic laugh bubbled out, flashing you a mischievous smile, “Get yourself cleaned up, and meet me back in my office. I still don’t believe you’re actually sorry.”
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LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.
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mcyt-imagines · 3 years
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hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3
Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D
(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)
General Ranboo Fluff
- Dreamsmp Ranboo -
The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.
Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.
Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.
One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.
Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.
Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.
Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.
- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo - 
Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.
Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.
Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.
Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.
Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.
Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.
Ranboo Confession Headcanons
- Realising he likes you - 
Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.
This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.
He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.
Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.
Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.  
He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.
- Confessing to you - 
This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.
Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.
You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.
You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.” 
He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.
The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!” 
You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.
You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.” 
You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.
Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.
Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.
You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche.  Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.
“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“ 
He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.
“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.
“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while. 
“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. “My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”
Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.
~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~
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space-lynn · 3 years
Note
Hey I just wanted to say I love the unintentional gods au! Will you be posting more by any chance?
Yup! Here's Sasha's POV! But if you mean more after this... probably. The original character Dawn Kaen belongs to a friend of mine, while Nash Viseriox belongs to me. Enjoy reading!
~~~~~
Being a god wasn’t easy. It wouldn’t be if you still had a few things from your mortal life to fix. And even if Sasha no longer had any of those, being a god still wasn’t easy. Sure, she’s free from school, free from political jobs (she might as well do something nice for her girlfriends for juggling mortal and cosmic duties), but she wasn’t free from her godly duties. Never will be, she supposed, but there were small instances that she enjoyed. Such as laying on a random rock in the middle of space, watching the ever changing multiverse around her.
A little much needed break from her cosmic duties. Peaceful, relaxing, and quiet--
“Hey, Sasha~”
“Waybright! There you are!”
--if it weren’t for her companions.
A soft groan escaped her lips and she cracked one eye open, tiredly glaring at the owners of those voices.
“Nash. Dawn,” she greeted.
If anyone thought that the Calamity Trio were the only deities around, they were wrong. There were others like them, modern gods born from unfortunate mortals who fully tapped into their prophesied power and became celestial beings. The two standing over her were examples of those mortals.
“Awwww. Don’t sound like that,” Dawn Kaen said, a bipedal fox, from a planet that worshipped her, and a goddess of death. Sasha had met her during an unsavory trip to another planet.
“Something on your mind, Waybright?” Nash Viseriox asked, sharp teeth bared into a grin she’s come to know as worried. She didn’t know what species he was or where he’s from, just that he reminded her of a dragonborn Marcy excitedly explained in a DnD session when they were ten. He was a space god much like her and they’d met when two kingdoms fought one another to prove which space god was best: him or her.
A dumb thing to fight over if you asked her.
“Was just trying to relax,” she muttered, stretching. She looked over at Dawn and asked, “What are you doing here, Dawn? Haven’t you got work to do?”
“Too many deaths,” the fox grumbled, then shrugged. “It’s gotten… meh.”
“Seriously?” Nash asked.
“Hey!” Dawn snarled, whirling to glare at him. “You try your hand at being a god of death!”
“Sure thing! I’ll be better at it than you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? If I were a god of the cosmos, I’d be doing a better job than--”
A deep rumbling noise echoed from somewhere to her left, interrupting her. Dawn’s ears stood up at that, her tail going in between her legs.
“Well,” she squeaked, “nevermind about that. I’ll go do my job and I’ll let you guys do your work! See you soon!”
She disappeared not a second after, leaving her and Nash alone.
The sound echoed once more and the two space gods turned towards it.
Devourers, shapeless creatures of the void who reincarnated after countless deaths and who loved to eat everything. It was the fucking reason why Sasha was gone for week or months, the reason why she couldn’t come home to her girlfriends everyday because she had to fight months-long battles against these things. Devourers weren’t the only celestial problems in the multiverse, and it was a space god’s calling to deal with those problems.
A loud whooshing sound came from beside her, and she glanced over to see Nash compress a hand-made black hole into a battle axe.
He smirked, “You ready?”
She stood up slowly and lazily smiled, star-forged swords appearing in her hands. “Always.”
-----
She came home late at night a week after that, the eldritch beast a foe she’d already met in battle. A foe she’d already know the weakness of. She slipped through the front door, locked it and padded into her and her girlfriends’ bedroom. Marcy and Anne were already asleep, so she carefully tiptoed around to snatch a few things for a quick shower, to ease her aching muscles, and a comfy change of clothes.
She silently made her way to their bed, slowly settled herself behind Marcy but the soft creak of the bed woke her partners’ up.
“Sash?”
“Sasha?”
Two groggy voices asked.
Fuck-
Two pairs of brown eyes slid to her.
“Hi,” she smiled softly. “Go back to sleep, I’m just… tucking myself in.”
“Hrmmm,” Anne grumbled, breathing almost even. “Welcrm hrm.”
“Thanks.”
Marcy rolled over, one hand out to grab at Sasha’s shirt. She tugged and the resulting pained hiss that escaped Sasha snapped the two in bed awake.
Damn her traitorous mouth!
Anne sat up immediately, brows furrowed. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” Sasha lied, trying her best to hide the pained expression on her face.
Marcy narrowed her eyes, the hand still touching Sasha’s shirt skimming across the fabric until it softly pressed into Sasha’s side. The blonde flinched, hand flying to her side.
She heard Anne curse under her breath, and Sasha felt the area around her flicker. She found herself on the bed soon after, in between Anne and Marcy. Anne had an arm wrapped around her, her free hand underneath Sasha’s shirt putting pressure on one of the very deep wounds as her powers helped it heal.
Sasha whimpered, eyes shutting tight and pushing herself deeper into Anne embrace.
“Sorry,” the brunette kissed her head.
“I didn’t know Devourers could do this,” Marcy frowned, arms coming around the blonde to comfort her.
“Bane,” Sasha gasped and Marcy winced.
“Makes sense.”
Anne and Marcy held onto Sasha as she bucked, whined or yelped, whispering sweet nothings into her ear to ease her. The blonde slumped afterwards, barely able to keep herself awake, energy drained from Anne using it to heal her grievous wounds.
“You okay?” the brunette asked.
“Yeah,” she muttered, “thanks.”
“No prob, Sashimi.”
Marcy held her hand and squeezed, “You should sleep.”
“You, too,” a mumble.
Anne and Marcy shared a smile, then took turns to press a kiss to Sasha’s lips. The blonde smiled sleepily.
“We will,” Marcy assured her.
“Good night, Sash,” the gods of life and knowledge said.
“G’night.”
~~~~~
Will I make more for this AU? Probably... If I'm uninspired to write other snippets or continue my fics (I really need to focus on those XD). Always giving my thanks to @fermented-writers-block for this wonderful idea. I'll be taking a break from this AU to answer other requests and work on my fics.
I hope y'all enjoyed reading this! Have a nice morning, afternoon or evening! Until the next snippet!
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nugnthopkns · 3 years
Text
take the sadness out of saturday night
word count: 2.8k 
warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy 
recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen
a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care
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All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both. 
Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.
Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying. 
How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing. 
The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.
Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring. 
“Hello?”
A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall. 
“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”
You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego. 
“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”
Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”
You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”
The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens. 
A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”
“Okay sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner. 
“Nolan?” 
To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell. 
His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point. 
“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food. 
Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”
“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk. 
“Well I’ll let you –”
“Would you like some company?”
The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation. 
Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink. 
“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”
He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?” 
You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup. 
“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”
At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”
The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.
“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.
“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”
Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”
☀☀☀☀
One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.
“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups. 
You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”
He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”
At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his. 
In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks. 
Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”
Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”
He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics. 
“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident. 
“You can if you want.”
You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen. 
You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 
“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep. 
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it. 
You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”
Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”
As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place. 
☀☀☀☀
taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)
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marimopeace · 3 years
Text
d. gray-man still fucks me up...
in the best of ways, even after all these years plus breaks on my end as a fan and hoshino's circumstances.
loved all things gothic and fantasy in middle school to escape my life via power-wielding teens (i.e. 07-ghost, pandora hearts, soul eater, karneval, hakkenden, etc.) and d.gray-man was huge for me since i was still in a phase where i was binging all the long anime series i could since it gave my attn span something to latch onto and be immersed in for a good amount of time. tbh i can't tell if my attn span has gotten even shorter considering i usually substitute streaming social media videos over tv nowadays or better since i'm able to better sustain interests in specific niche things?
i switched to consuming content on a more seasonal basis in high school but i became more of a manga reader so at the time i was still on the nose for the rare new d.gray-man chapter. i was so excited for when hallow was announced! i think the hallow promo visuals + posters were some of the last things i shared on my old tumblr blog actually lmao. didn't love hallow as a show but i loved it for what it brought back to me in terms of bringing hoshino's drawings to life via sound + color and seeing ppl turn into fans via gifs in comment sections. that's part of the reason why the furuba reboot meant a lot to me too tbh! always so nice when you can see new and old fans come together to show artists the love they deserve <3
took a break from d.gray-man specifically since the searching for a.w. arc was just a lot for me to take in chapter by chapter since it was hard to keep track of intricate plot details without needing to re-read some chapters for every release and that's not how i enjoy content personally. and i guess from there life just kind of ? came and went? college + growing up in general with new life obligations have changed the way i pursue entertainment aha.
i don't know what switched it on but i ended up spending this past weekend going through everything from scratch! i haven't sat down to marathon 100+ chapters/episodes of anything in a long time since i either keep up with shorter serials now or keep up with things on a monthly basis and wowwww the immersion hit different this time fr XD i swear i felt like a kid again!
but wow going through the entire manga + anime bit by bit from my new position in life really made me appreciate hoshino's storytelling a lot more; it's not so much that the plot of d.gray-man aged well, but that the whole series works together to tell one of the most cohesive stories i've seen for a fantasy shonen (esp with such a young protagonist--allen is the age of a high school sophomore!!!!!! a literal child!!!! someone be on his side kthxJohnny).
when i say i went through bit by bit i MEAN IT i fully had a list of episodes via wikipedia out and i was going through chapter arcs as they were recreated in the old anime series i went in completely XD god i'm crazy.
but it felt so sweet and so wonderful to dive into the adventure head-on.
i'm trying to do the same with the hallow sequel but reading/watching d.gray-man like this is really making me see how rushed it was ^^; it's taking more chapters to get to where each episode of hallow ends and i get why hoshino was so peeved with both shows now to be honest for the out of order details or skipping of content.
i'm also really resonating with hoshino's anger towards TMS for the hallow promo materials and i get why she went as far as to shoot their bank accounts in the foot bc the way i started tearing up during hallow episode 6 with talk of the lotus, flashbacks, and the hand reaching up to the sky....ㅠㅠ #bigoop
kanda shouldn't have been shoved into a yaoi narrative for the sake of money (nor allen esp considering his age) since it completely goes against his character arc and everything he is with alma. i'm getting so fucked up by their past lives' love story and their current again like when i say the tears i'm shedding come from something so old and deep inside of me ㅠㅠ (oh lorde it's so sad!!)
i had to pause my marathon since i spent my monday without wifi bc of a storm in my area and it'll prob be a while until i can finish re-reading/watching until the end of hallow. i'm excited to read new saying goodbye to a.w chapters though! i know it'll definitely be worth waiting these past few years <3 seeing allen's character growth as he matured as a "destroyer who saves" and how he grapples w mana's influence is fascinating and exploring the nitty-gritty of the morality that pervades the Black Order is just! ugh love this kind of worldbuilding with strong characters sm
planning this next content binge will be tricky though since i meant to catch up on the furuba reboot before it ends next week...welp i'll see how this goes ^^;
// time to get to writing this thesis marimo! //
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bumbleberrysky · 3 years
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alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01
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pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore
You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...
Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.
next.
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“Honeys, I’m home!”
The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.
One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.
Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.
One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.
“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”
It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.  
“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.
“… Gabriel?”
The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.
x     x     x
The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.
Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.
…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.
That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.  
It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.
Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.
And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.
You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.
Put it on the backburner, baby.
You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”
“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”
“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”
The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.
“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.
“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”
You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”
Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.
Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…
You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.
You have no idea why you’re here!
This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.
This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.
“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”
You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.
“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”
“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.
“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”
“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”
An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.
“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”
On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.
“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”
“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow  or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”
“No! Goodnight!”
His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,
“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”
“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”
Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.
“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”
You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”
You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”
“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.
“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.
“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”
“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”
“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”
Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.
“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”
For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.
Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.
“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”
Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.
You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.
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spagbol99 · 3 years
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Heyy happy FFWF! You’re amazing and I love your fics! So, my brain just decided to remind me of one of your posts from a while ago where you gave us a snippet of a fic you’re currently writing (it was the seven-sentence challenge I think) and I got curious about it again. Is it something you’re still working on? If it is, would it be possible to get another sneak peek to satisfy our irondad cravings? I’m sending some sunshine your way, hope you have an awesome day!☀️
Hiya!  Happy FFWF!
I am indeed still working on my BioDad fic.  I am about 90K written but I won't lie, I’m struggling a bit.  I think a lot of it has to do with wanting it to be good enough- it doesn't feel like it has the same flow like I had with A Peter Parker Problem.  I mean, I think what I have is ok but I want it to be as better (- sorry couldn't resist a Homecoming pun..!).  So I prob need to get out of my own head about it.  Anyway, that really isn't what you asked me, is it?!  Can you have another sneak peek?  Yes you can!  Ok, you know how long winded I am so it’s more of a half a chapter rather than a snippet - oh well!
----
                                                  Peter
“Peter, Boss would like to see you in his workshop.” FRIDAY’s voice filtered down from above.
Peter looked up towards where it had emanated from, worrying his lips between his teeth.
Why did Mr Stark want him to go down there?
Peter had retreated back to his room after they had said their goodbyes to Harley.  The weekend had turned out much better than he had expected.  He’d actually enjoyed himself and not felt like he was taking up space in the Penthouse.  They’d tinkered about with tech and watched movies.  Mr Stark was so much more relaxed in the workshop.  He couldn’t deny that it’d been fascinating to see the man in his element.  He’d left the two teenagers to do their own thing at one point, but Peter’s eyes had been drawn to the man as he worked: watching him work with holographic schematics with singular focus.
Peter put down his pen on top of the homework packet that he was working on and headed towards the workshop.
Sweat started to pool under his armpits as the doors to the room swished open as soon as he was in front of them; no need to knock or announce his arrival.  
He tentatively followed the sound of metal on metal and as he turned the corner, he could see Mr Stark was working a sheet of a thin alloy into – well he wasn’t sure what, but something else.  There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, and his hands were oily.
The banging stopped for a moment, and Peter cleared his throat.
Mr Stark twisted towards the noise, pulling his safety visor up when he saw who it was and sending Peter a warm smile.
“You, um, wanted to see me, sir?”
Tony took the visor off completely now and headed towards him, picking up and rag and wiping his hands as he did.
“Yeah kid, I did.  It’s about borrowing the tools.”
Peter straightened up.  Shit, he was in trouble.  He looked at the floor and put his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry.  FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind, but I should have asked you directly.  It won’t happen again, sir.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant…” Mr Stark’s face crumpled.  “My tools are your tools.  It’s just, I figured it’s safer if you use them in here.  So, I set you up with your own workstation in here, you know, so you can have a proper area to create.”
Peter stared at him.  He’d never had his own place before.  A million possibilities went through his mind.
“It’s just over here…”
He followed Mr Stark a few steps to where there was indeed a cleared off desk.
“I figured you might like a holo projector too.”
Peter’s eyes widened as Mr Stark opened it up.  
“I set you up your own server so you can save your work easily.  You can talk to FRIDAY just as you’ve seen me do and she’ll help with any calculations or, well, anything you require.”
Peter continued gaping, as Tony jotted something into the holo and a rotating gauntlet came into view.  “I took the liberty of putting this on here for you to practice getting used to working with the system.”
Peter stepped forward straight away.  This was the coolest thing ever.  He pushed his fingers forward and grabbed a piece of the floating gauntlet in his hands, pulling it apart in a motion that he’d seen Mr Stark doing yesterday.  The image separated out into the component parts.  He moved the pieces around with no more than a flick of his wrist.  God, the whole system was so intuitive, it was incredible.
Peter spent a few moments engrossed before he realised that Mr Stark was standing there watching him.
“Oh, thank you, this is awesome.  Th-thanks.”
He saw Mr Stark moving slowly, no doubt on purpose, to place his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.   It felt warm and secure.  It had been a while since he’d felt such a gentle, warm gesture from an adult.  He turned his attention back to the hologram; trying to keep his cheeks from burning but knowing he probably wouldn’t succeed.
Mr Stark’s hand retreated and he did too.
“Um, Mr Stark?”
The man turned around with a hopeful expression.
“I, uh, don’t suppose you have time to show me how it all works.”  Peter chewed the inside of his mouth.  He didn’t need help, not really.
Mr Stark let out the biggest smile that Peter had seen since he arrived, and he came and stood next to him.
“Yeah, sure bud.  All the time in the world.”
                                                   Tony
Tony’s heart had taken a while to calm down.  He’d been in a lot of high pressure situations in his lifetime.  Literal life and death situations; Afghanistan, the wormhole and yet here his heart had been hammering just as much as it had then.  At least that is what it felt like to him.  Hell, the kid could probably hear it from where he was stood next to him.
He was stood shoulder to shoulder with his son.  Just that thought alone was enough to make his stomach flip – though this time in a good way.  His heart rate gradually began to decline, and he tried really hard to keep the ridiculous smile off of his face.
Being so close to him, hearing him talk.  And God, he was so fucking smart.  He seemed to want to hide it, but then he’d start to get excited, and Tony could see the inquisitiveness and joy in him.  It was there, had been all along, there just hadn’t been the chance to push it out from behind the sheer fear the kid must be feeling about this whole new situation, this whole new identity that he had.
Tony knew that they should have talked about it all directly by now.  But the kid was so on edge, he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.  
Social Services had reminded him that one of the major conditions of their breaking protocol was Tony’s agreement that Peter would attend Counselling sessions – both individual and family sessions.  They were set up to start next week – it was just down to Tony to tell him.  Tony looked over at him, as Peter studied some calculations, his dark eyes intent on the numbers in front of him, knocking a pencil against his lips as he did.  Not today.
This whole weekend had been incredible – he’d be sure to send Harley a fat gift for his part in that.  He’d made it all so effortless.  So Keener would be getting a gift and an extra bump in his college fund too.  But if the weekend had been good, then this afternoon had been perfect.  
Tony hadn’t been too sure how the offering of the worktable would go down.  It could quite possibly have been met with the same polite distance Peter had shown him since he got here.  He was sure he was being totally transparent.  Having the worktable in here meant spending time with him.  He wasn’t sure that was what Peter wanted.  But then, he’d just been about to leave him to it, not wanting to hang around applying pressure and Peter had reached out to him.  Peter didn’t need guidance on the system – not really, that much was obvious in the first five minutes - so Tony could only surmise that Peter wanted to spend time with him.  He’d asked about Tony’s old projects and tentatively asked Tony to show him them.  Which was how they came to be elbow deep in giving DUM-E a proper tune up.  Self-admittedly, Peter wasn’t as up with mechanical engineering, so it gave Tony the opportunity to teach him – something that he had always imagined that he’d have the opportunity to do with his son.
Peter’s head lifted and a moment later Tony heard the tell-tale click of Pepper’s heels.
“Tony!”  Pepper’s voice called.  And oh yes, that was her pissed off tone.
“Over here,” he called back cheerfully.
“So you are here!”  Her voice was starting to grow louder as she got closer.  “You can’t just mute FRIDAY and include me in that; we had a meeting, what was so…”
Pepper had made it to where they were and stopped still, her eyes training from him to Peter and back again.
“Sorry Pep, forgot about that meeting.”  Tony couldn’t help but smile at her with what he hoped was a ‘look at this, don’t mess this up’ vibe.
Pepper’s mouth was open but before she could say anything, Peter did.
“Sorry Miss Potts, I asked Mr Stark to show me how DUM-E worked…” Peter seemed to hunch in on himself.
“That’s no problem.  Tony appointed me as CEO specifically so he didn’t have to deal with meetings, if I remember correctly,”  Pepper said, sending him a warm smile.
“That was one reason.”
“I suppose it is pointless of me to ask if either of you have stopped to eat whilst you have been down here?”
Tony looked at Peter, who looked back.
“Erm…”
Pepper rolled her eyes.  “Tony, it’s 8pm and he hasn’t eaten!”
“Oh, sorry kid…”
“I didn’t even notice the time, I was so focussed,” Peter said sheepishly.  
“Oh no, now there are two of you.” Pepper put a hand to her forehead.  “I’ll go and order something in whilst you finish up and wash up.  Pizza ok, Peter?”
“Yes, Miss Potts.  Thank you.”
With that she turned on her heel and was off.
Tony looked to Peter who looked a little chastised.
“You did good, kid.  If you hadn’t been here, she’d have had my head.”  Tony grinned and Peter seemed to push a little smile out.  “Shall we get cleaned up?”
Peter looked down at the robot in front of them as he twisted his hands together.  “We are about ready to close him up, right?  I don’t like to leave him all hanging out.  Can we just finish it off, sir?”  
Tony shifted his weight back.
“How about we make a deal?  You stop calling me ‘sir’, and we can finish DUM-E off.”
Peter looked up at him, a look of uncertainty in his face.  Was it so hard to not call your own father ‘sir’?  Had his parents or uncle been so formal?  Or was it something else?  The words emotional distance floated into his mind – huh- maybe he had paid some attention during his past therapy sessions.
“Ok,” he said softly.  
“Great,” Tony gently knocked his shoulder into Peter’s without thinking too much about it and was rewarded with a smile.  “Let’s get this guy back on the road.”
----
Thanks for the ask!  
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bittybattybunny · 3 years
Note
A novel?! That's so cool!! Can't wait to see!! Life is kicking my ass right now so I haven't been able to read any fics :'( I'm a slow reader a d I like to take my time...but! Next week I'll be able to relax and one of my favorite ways of doing it is by reading fics!! I kind of got behind TLC but I'll be able to have a full marathon then :D
That’s the idea!
Tbh I’ve actually debated it for a while cuz like TLC is already so fucking canon divergent and I’ve basically written my own lore so extensive I’d need to make a powerpoint somedays.
Like really I’d just need to change a few names (Subcon Snatcher, Nyakuza, Moonjumper, DJ Grooves) and do a lil redesigning (Like Hattie probs will get more curly hair like Ru has, Ru’s leviathan form will be the Natural Leviathan form with a couple tweaks, Redesigning the cryptic, redesigning the Moonjumper design (tho Ive actually already redone Sena’s Twilight demon form so I’ll need to futz with Morgan and Marcus)
And I think it could be good to swap over!!
Plus if I do this once I finish the fanfiction I can rewrite and reorganize the plot because it’s changed soooo much. like rn I’m pretty on course for the rest of the fic and Know what i’m doing but earlier on I can changed a lot of details during the course of writing that I wanna kinda retailor. Plus I can go into more details in the earlier bits when I was getting back into the swing of writing!
Like it’ll be a lot of work I mean it’s a god damn monster
but I think I’d break it up and change it up to fit more in volumes---
so like volume one would be Hattie meeting snatcher and Snatcher’s adapting to life on land and would end when he’s in the swing/his feelings tart forming (so around sun festival/moon festival)
Volume two would be the section I’m currently in progress of posting with Him swapping from the “im a lonely grouchy eel” to “I’m a dad and I think Im in love” and his relationship with eclipse and would end probs around a big angst event coming up :3 (yeah look forward to that)
Volume 3 would be what I normally call “climax” whenever i bring it up in regards to TLC and it’s the part I’ve hinted a lot of what’s going to happen but I’ve been kinda tight lipped on other wise and would be the final volume with a potential epilogue for the story (and this is the part I’m currently typing for tlc and it’s had mouse screaming when she realized what was happening and that its finally happening cuz she and gin know what i have planned but not how it goes down)
Other things I’ve considered is a few ‘spin off’ books to go with the main 3 (also notice i kept it in 3s? I like 3.) Like the actual story of Hattie’s parents (probs expand it to be a solo novel), probs a like ‘lore’ book (think the gravity falls journals0 that explains the demons, religions and stuff I’ve created
And of course there’s a few other things I’d plan >u> but I’ll keep a lil hush (but a hint is it may involve ‘alternate realities’ tied to tlc) because this is all still a huge ‘maybe’ and will happen when the main fic is done and I have a lil more time on my hands/health improves (tho tbh past week I’ve been dealing with the fact one reason my hip was so fucked for like all of 2021 may have been MY FUCKING SHOES and I’m so mad at how much pain I was in for such a stupid thing)
if you can’t tell this isn’t like a sudden thought thing I’ve actually been thinking about this since... I want to say I’ve considered this since when I was posting the sun festival chapters!
ahhh I hope you enjoy!!! tbh I’m unsure if I’ll update this week and next or not. I have the chapters done and covers sketched but I’m so nervous posting these chapters blah (nothing bad in them. I think i’ve mentioned just. mental barriers and stuff I deal with. the next like 4 chapters are all kinda angst heavy but also plot heavy and mean a lot to me personally lol aka--- Eclipse’s werewolf reveal as well as the in canon reveal of her scar origins)
but i feel you on life kicking the ass, hope you can rest up!
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raksh-writes · 3 years
Text
As much as it kills me, I might need to step away from writing fics and posting/updating. Maybe for a month, maybe a few until Im done with my uni/thesis, I don't know. It seems Im straining my wrists too much even when I try to be careful 😔
More on this below the cut, because I wont hide Im kinda in a very deep depressive slump rn and it's definitely gonna come through. So, keep your own mental health in mind and skip reading this post if it might end up upseting for you. Take care ❤
For those that want to know more, here goes:
My left wrist is still bothering me. The numb-staticy feeling has weakened a bit and its mostly just my thumb now, but my wrist feels very weak overall atm. And thats definitely not a good sign 😔 I dont think its the inflammation acting up again? Its only my left wrists, when the last few times it got both, and usually it manifested with my fingers hurting in a very particular way, but who knows ;/ Maybe its just strained a lot? Its prob from typing on my phone a lot too, because the staticy feeling seems concentrated around the thumb.
I dont have my usual meds at home now but I kinda dont want to take them when Im so unsure if its actually inflammation again, so for now Im using the anti-inflammatory ointment. I started yesterday and today its the slightest bit better, so maybe its working? I hope so, at least. I'm thinking of taking another week, maybe even two, completely off from writing or anything that can strain my wrists, so my left one can heal. And I'll see how it goes.
It'll make me extremely stressed about my thesis and whatnot, but I think I'll try to talk it out with my promotor, how to proceed now. He's a great guy, so I hope he'll be understanding and help me through this. I think I might ask what would happen in cae I wouldnt be able to finish this year - would I just repeat it or how it would go. I DO want to finish it now, have this three years count and even if I wouldnt go to get a degree in next few years, at least I would hogher education, y'know. That has to count for something...
So, taking all this in consideration, fics are unfortunately what falls down the list of priorities, as much as it breaks my heart ;_; If I want to focus on finishing this and my thesis and getting it all done while my wrists are so fragile, I need to cut on other straining things. I prob wont stop writing wholly, only because it would prob make me go insane, I need the comfort my fics give me, but it'll be far less and the updates or posting would happen rare ;_;
So the next LitA update will prob happen in a month, cause 20th of April is its posting anniversary and chap 25 is mostly post-ready too, but then I have no idea. Depends on everything mentioned above.
I might switch to more of hand writing in my notebooks, maybe start on my Beauty and the Beast AU this way since its comfort fic and Im not in rush with it in any way. Maybe I'll dictate some from time to time, if I have the mental strength and fortitude for it xd But my focus needs to go into my uni and all. After all, the sooner I have big progress with it or finish it, the sooner Im "free".
It might also turn out this is just my depressive slump talking and it'll turn out to not be so bad in some time xd Who knows, for now I wanted to give y'all a heads up.
Some of y'aal will prob move on, which I totally get, thats how fandom works and I've been there;p But I hope some of y'all will still get some joy out of my fics, whenever they might come in future.
Hope y'all are weel and healthy out there, all the love 💗
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Peace | Damian Wayne
Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Female!Plus Size Reader
Characters: Damian Wayne, Reader, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned)
Word Count: 7k
Request: i have this idea but im not a good writer so i want to request for you to do it: ps reader is dating tim and lately sex isnt great so he invites one of his brothers (the closest in age so probs damian) to have sex with her but she doesnt know and damian doesnt know she doesnt know and when he finds out hes embarrassed and all of that? fluffy ending with damian.
Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, suggestive themes, lying, mentions of hypothermia, brief talk about consent, self-doubt, fluff.
A/N: I got a little carried away with this... I hope you all like it, Damian is one of my favorite characters in general so it was great being able to write for him.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Cursing under your breath, you fixed your scarf as you waited to be received. The snow under your boots too out of ordinarily dense— Alfred always demanded the entrance to be free of snow. Upon making that observation you grew worried, the only occasions Alfred didn’t pay mind to those details where when an emergency was occurring and by the tone of the call you got minutes earlier, you couldn’t assume things were going.
They pulled the door open and left it that way so you’d walk yourself inside. Never a positive indication. You recognized the steps walking away from you like Jason’s, his presence in the manor so rare that you hurried in. Catching up with Jason was always hard, his strides were big and the fact that you were freezing didn’t help your situation at all.
Jason held the door to a sitting room open for you, looking at you with sympathy, bordering in pity; Tim had obviously told him you weren’t dating anymore. You thanked him, scanning the place to try to asses why had you been summoned. Swallowing your spit at the sight of Stephanie just beside Tim, you cleared your throat to not interrupt whatever they were doing.
You weren’t stupid, there was something between them. Although it hurt, you had nothing against either of them— it relieved you to know Tim had been honest and loyal throughout your relationship and if his happiness was with Steph, so be it.
Your ex-boyfriend pointed to one of the unoccupied cushioned armchairs, next to the one Jason had just sat on. You took your seat, your eyes dancing from Tim to Steph, to Jason. Tim sighed, “we need your help.” He sounded tired, more than usual, worried.
Nodding, you moved a hand to prompt him to explain what was going on. Tim looked down, Jason shifted beside you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your nerves spiking up.
“Damian disappeared,” Tim explained. You turned to Jason, hoping he’d give you more telling, but he avoided looking at you.
“And how can I help? Is Bruce informed? And Dick?”
“Yes, he’s fine, but he doesn’t want to talk to us— not even with Alfred. He will talk to you.” Tim removed his hair from his forehead, sighing again— a sign you knew well, one of nervousness— “at least I hope.”
“So you know where he is?”
Tim nodded. Jason’s exasperated sigh didn’t go unnoticed by you. Before you could ask, the oldest of the two brothers spoke, “tell her, Tim.”
Tim picked his mug, mumbling something inaudible on the lip of it and taking a long gulp. You felt yourself starting to tense up, many occasions you had seen your ex-boyfriend do that and it always led to a clash.
He put the drink down on the table, “Remember the last time we had sex?”
How could you forget? You had assumed your relationship was getting better after a bad month. He had been so attentive that night, so passionate— his lips hadn’t left an inch of your body untouched, he had shown to have listened to what you had suggested weeks prior and blindfolded you, Tim had shown you a side of him you didn’t think to exist. He hadn’t been too extreme but he had definitely been rougher than ever, tying your hands and eating you out quite harshly even though he usually avoided giving you oral sex. Now you saw it as a passionate goodbye, it saddened you because it had been the best sexual experience you ever had but it was what it was.
“Yeah,” you rasped, uncomfortable by speaking about it in front of other people. “Why?”
“I– promise me you won’t get mad.”
Stephanie shook her head which made you realize you would definitely get mad. Scenarios crossed your mind, had he recorded you without your consent? Did he have an STD and didn’t tell you at the time? Did you have an STD you didn’t know about and passed it to him?
“What did you do?”
Tim licked his lips. “It wasn’t me. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t know how... it was Damian, I t—“
“You did what?!” you blurted a yell.
He lifted a hand to prevent you from interrupting so he could finish justifying himself. You shook your head, standing up. Your nerves were eating you alive, Damian Wayne had seen you naked and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it!
“Why the fuck did you do that, Timothy?”
He watched you, trying to find the words that would make you less mad. “I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset and... look, I knew Damian liked you so I told him you wanted to try new stuff.”
“You didn’t ask me...” you trailed off, feeling everyone staring at you. Embarrassment was an understatement, your ex-boyfriend was telling you he made his brother have sex with you without your consent and from what you gathered the entire family knew. Snatching your purse, you stormed off the room. You ignored their calls for you to get back in the same way Tim had ignored your opinions and wishes.
On the way to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what else had he lied about, which things hadn’t been real. It was a nightmare, now doubting the best romantic memories you had to even be real. Everything reminded you about your relationship with Tim, the elevator where you had shared your first passionate kiss, that centerpiece on the coffee table he bought for you when he went out of the country for a business trip, the couch and how many times you cuddled there...
You didn’t wish to enter your bedroom even though it hadn’t been difficult to do it when he moved out. You had been so understanding, somewhat naive, you didn’t question him further on when he said the relationship wasn’t working. It hurt, but your consolation had been his honesty, one you now knew to have been false.
You laid down on the couch, facing the ceiling. What a way to spend a Friday evening, in anguish for an ex. Letting it affect you pissed you off, but you were human after all and he had betrayed your trust. As you continued to think about it, the situation turned worse.
From Tim’s family, you were the closest to Damian and Cass. Everyone was nice and kind, even Bruce whom you had found intimidating the first few times you interacted with, but Cass and Damian were special in their own peculiar ways. You had been told you were lucky to have met Damian as a grownup, he had even agreed although you were never given a proper explanation, and it had taken you a few tries to find things to have in common with Cassandra but when you got there your friendship with her became one of the highlights of your life.
Now you wouldn’t be able to look at your friends in the face. Maybe Cass wouldn’t judge you, but Damian had every right to do it. He had seen every inch of your body, touched it with both his hands and mouth, he had been inside you— and it had been the best night of your life.
Buzzing startled you, the vibration of your cellphone against the wooden table annoying you to no end. Extending your arm, you declined the call without looking at the screen. The device buzzed again, now in your hand; reading the caller’s name, you pondered on your options— you could turn the cellphone off and risk Dick breaking into your apartment or pick up. A hard decision, you didn’t want to talk about anything with anyone.
Deciding to get it over with, you picked up at the last ringing. “Hey, Dick.”
“(N/N)!” you could hear the relief in his voice, “Jay told me you left the manor very upset.”
“Yeah... what do you need?”
Dick exhaled very loudly, making you wince, “it’s Dami... he doesn’t want to talk with anyone. Jon tried, Alfred tried, Cass tried, I tried...”
“I can’t help you.” You didn’t feel ready to face him, you weren’t even sure you were ready to process what had happened. “Give him space, Dick, he needs it.”
“I’m worried. He never shuts himself off so drastically...”
Yeah, you knew. “I’ll text him.”
“He didn’t take his phone. But you know in which safe house he is.”
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Crazy, you were fucking crazy for going out in the middle of the night. It was freezing outside, the fog from the cold and sleet making it harder for you to see in the dark. The Wayne family would be responsible for your death, you were sure, good thing Bruce was rich so he could at least pay for your funeral.
You fixed the hood of your jacket, sleet tapping against the material as you continued your walk. Your hands were numb, the gloves not really warming them up. Driving hadn’t been an option, it was too dangerous and your eyes were too tired from crying.
The streets got darker as you approached your destination, your harsh breathing getting louder. The smoke coming out of your mouth because of the cold was the only indicator of life around you, your steps having to be slower in order for you to not trip only another reminder that you could’ve been under your warm covers. You continued complaining, inwardly, with your nerves about to burst until you recognized the front of the property.
Punching the code at the gates had been harder than you anticipated, with your fingers nearly rigid. The front lawn was in perfect condition as it always did, but the lights were off. You walked up the front steps out of memory like Cass had taught you to do. Lifting your fist, you let it linger on the air for a few seconds, unsure.
It was the right thing to do, you were freezing and going back would mean definitely dying from hypothermia, and yet you weren’t ready. It terrified you more than being kidnapped which had always been so plausible in a city as dangerous as Gotham and with the acquaintances you had. Facing it meant closing a cycle, and closing the cycle would mean having to start again...
Resigned, you knocked twice, made a pause, then knocked twice again. You couldn’t hear any sound coming from inside, but that didn’t mean much. The door cracked open, an annoyed sigh greeting you as a green eye peeked from inside. Damian swung the door open and took you by the wrist, pulling you in with ease.
The entrance was locked as soon as you were inside, his fingers still around your wrist as with his other hand he made sure every lock was on.
“What were you thinking?” Damian snapped. “It’s freezing outside!”
You snatched your wrist off his grip, dying to get your backpack off your shoulders. “I was worried about you.”
“You could’ve died.”
“I couldn’t sleep! I was worried, Damian.” He hated when you repeated things, you shouldn’t have done it at that moment when he was so annoyed but you were annoyed too, and tired, and cold, and worried, and confused, and scared.
“I heard you the first time. Why didn’t you at least drive here?”
“You would’ve scolded me for driving under this weather.”
He took a proper look at you. Damian was good at reading you, your body language, the tone of your voice. There were four persons he knew like the back of his hand: Bruce, Talia, Dick, and you. “You’ve been crying...” it wasn’t a question, nor a prompt to explain yourself. He made the observation, tore his eyes away from you and stepped back.
You were sure he knew by now Tim had told you. There wasn’t any other reason why Damian would suddenly be so tense, not with you. You knew him very well yourself, not to the point he did with you but that came with the training you had never even imagined could exist. There were things, however, Damian didn’t pay attention to about himself that you did— his inclination toward sweet and savory desserts, for example, or the way he hid behind his clothes when anxious, the changes in his voice when in presence of an animal, how his eyes sparkled when he spoke about medicine.
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who.”
Damian didn’t like losing time, you should’ve also remembered that. “Just what happened that night,” you mumbled, his jaw setting when you didn’t elaborate on it.
“Did you appear here to tell me you hate me?” he surprised you by asking.
You couldn’t help but frown, no matter how frustrating it could be to him. Damian would always tell you frowning didn’t suit you. “Why would I hate you? You didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know either,” he refuted. “That’s not how consent works.”
“I’m aware that’s not how consent works!”
“Then?” Damian pressed, standing perfectly straight. “Why don’t you hate me?”
“Why do you want me to hate you?!” you squealed. You could only imagine that it would be better for him if you hated him so the topic wasn’t touched upon ever again, but you could never hate Damian.
He lifted his arms in exasperation, “because I should’ve asked you at that moment! I shouldn’t have listened to Drake! I shouldn’t have let m—“ he stopped himself abruptly, right hand flying toward his forehead. He rubbed his face, huffing through his nose.
“What? You shouldn’t have let what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” you encouraged him, “it can’t be worse than my ex-boyfriend implying to me in front of his new girlfriend that instead of straight-up telling me he didn’t want me anymore he convinced my close friend to fuck me.” Oh, wow. It sounded worse when you said it out loud— it didn’t even sound real, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t.
Damian stood there, silently avoiding you. His eyes were solely focused on the wall in front of him, face neutral. How much time passed wasn’t relevant, you were too lost in thought to realize or care. He wouldn’t say anything, and you wouldn’t press on the subject anymore when you had been humiliated so badly. Going there was a mistake, worrying was a mistake, telling him anything had been a mistake. Just like he thought he should’ve done things differently, you were sure you shouldn’t have risked confrontation. Perhaps what annoyed you the most was that he seemed to want you away from him as you had predicted he would, and it hurt way more than what Tim had done.
You hunched down to pick up your backpack, dropping it again when he cleared his throat. “I didn’t require convincing.”
Believing to have understood his words wrong, you stared up at him through your lashes. Tim’s words came to you, ”I knew Damian liked you.” When he said it you had assumed he meant Damian liked you as a friend but not that Damian Wayne liked you. It didn’t sound bad, just highly unrealistic.
He didn’t repeat himself nor furthered his comment, he just stared back. The yellow tones in his green eyes got more prominent the longer you stared, looking like sunlight warming the prettiest forest you’d ever seen. You straightened your back as you shifted on your feet, not sure of what to say.
“Why didn’t you—“
“Say anything?” he interrupted you. You nodded. Damian shrugged, eyes again diverting from your face, “Drake always gets what I want, I wasn’t even surprised.”
You hated the way he said it, so upset his amalgamated accent turned thicker. You were at loss of words, you had never seen him that way— not because you didn’t think he was handsome but because he was Damian Wayne, your close friend, a guy way out of your league.
“I wish you had said something, but I understand.”
Damian lifted both eyebrows. “Would it have changed anything?”
“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. It was so easy to be truthful with him, so freeing.
“You looked happy.”
Tim understood many things without needing an explanation. His body was different from his friend’s and family’s so he never judged yours, he’d remind you there was nothing wrong with being the way you were so often that you had started to believe it. You could put up with the nights of worry and the fights that came with his carelessness because you felt loved and accepted and wanted to give him just that. Tim had been great up until that early afternoon.
And Tim wasn’t Damian. Tim didn’t have time to put up with your rants, he was a detective by day and vigilante by night. Tim couldn’t be there every time you needed company after a bad day, Tim in his sleep-deprived state forgot important dates and details. You had always admired the way Damian’s brain worked, how efficient he was, but you had never stopped to ask him how was he able to do that; it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he could be doing a sacrifice because he cared about you.
“I was.”
Silence filled the living room. Damian had his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, your fingers brushed the strap of your backpack as you wiggled them to keep them from cramping. He had the ability to bend everything over his will, his mood could change yours in seconds, his stance stirred rooms. You felt the temperature dropping, not sure if it was physical or metaphorical, and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave.
You didn’t want to leave. Everyone would call you crazy, but Damian’s presence had always been comforting. His silence, his bluntness— you were scared of losing that, how clearer he made things when you were confused, how much you learned from him. Things would never go back to normal, your friend liked you for some reason and you didn’t know what to think about it, he had seen you naked without you even being aware, and it seemed like he hadn’t hated what he saw. But leaving was the best option. You were confused, overall scared, and Damian couldn’t be of comfort at that moment— he shouldn’t.
Zipping up your jacket, you let out a sigh. “Just go home, man. Your family is worried.”
His low hum caught your attention. Expecting him to say something else would’ve been losing your time, Damian wasn’t a fan of being told what to do. However, he snatched his coat from the hanger and slid it on. Damian took his car keys and wiggled them, wordlessly telling you he’d drive you.
You tried to protest, using the fact that it was past 7:00 AM already. Damian wasn’t having it, it was still cold outside. You were desperate to get home already, you needed time with yourself and the sooner you got it the better.
The silence between you two not being uncomfortable throughout the ride was astounding. It felt colder in the car than back at the safe house, probably because the sleet hadn’t ceased but mostly because you were on edge. He didn’t attempt to talk nor to do anything else then drive really, he looked calm as always, so collected it unnerved you. You considered for a moment that he had simply told you what he did out of pity then discarded the thought because Damian wasn’t like that.
In any other situation, you would’ve found curious how deeply you knew him, but it was starting to scare you. One thing was being aware of what your friend liked or disliked but not even self-sabotaging your thoughts because you knew them that well was in the highest level of knowledge about someone. It meant you thought about him more often than you had ever cared to admit, more than you had ever realized.
You had so much to ponder on, to worry about. How long would it take to close the cycle of your relationship with Tim when now you weren’t sure if it had been honest or not? Would your friendship with Damian be ruined by what happened plus his attraction toward you? Were you attracted to him?
In the apartment, the silence was different, deafening. The place felt bigger than it was, bigger than it had felt when you left in the middle of the night. Unfolding the blanket you always kept on the couch, you wrapped it around your body and curled up with your head on the arm of the furniture. You also turned the tv on, hoping the noise would help you get some sleep.
Nothing helped, your mind wasn’t letting you rest. It insisted on replaying Damian’s unwavering tone when he said he hadn’t needed convincing. You probably wouldn’t have needed convincing either if Tim had asked you to fuck his brother, but it felt... wrong. Saying you had internalized your attraction toward Damian to protect yourself was an understatement, the potential rejection was scary but it wasn’t in the top five of the things you feared in relation to him— and that only proved you actually liked him back.
Conflicted was putting it lightly. If someone would’ve asked you the morning before if you had feelings for Damian Wayne you would’ve laughed, now you couldn’t take the idea off your mind. Processing it all would require time, the comfort he gave you, the confidence, seemingly the pleasure— you were seeing him in another light, and the worst part of it was that you weren’t startled by it.
Finding natural to be attracted to someone you had never seen that way before wasn’t how you expected your week to start.
You assumed Damian had eventually gotten back to the manor, your phone hadn’t buzzed too much throughout the weekend apart from a few messages in your friend’s group text. A nice contrast with your mind which was reeling from Friday and your newfound passion.
Was it just passion? You didn’t know, you weren’t sure of wanting to. Damian had started to consume all your thoughts and feelings, your dreams too— the anger you had felt from finding out Tim hadn’t been the one to pleasure you that night had dissipated by the second morning you woke up soaking wet due to a dream. It obviously had more to do with your libido than with anything else, but the new perspective was better.
Seeing it that way made you feel dirty. If you closed your eyes and let your mind wander back to that night you now could see Damian hovering over you, the greenest eyes you had ever seen staring into your soul with dilated pupils— you could picture the smirk you had felt against your skin as he nipped on your thigh. He was driving you crazy without knowing it, but him knowing terrified you.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Taking alone time for yourself was the best decision you could’ve taken. You didn’t find all the answers nor closure regarding Tim and you felt really lonely, but you decided to focus on what you could— it gave you perspective, about Damian, about your interpersonal relationships in general, what you wanted, what you enjoyed.
Damian hadn’t contacted you. It would’ve bothered you if you weren’t so familiar with him. He wouldn’t call until you showed signs of wanting to talk, he was too busy to beg— and even if he wasn’t, Damian Wayne never begged.
When ready, you texted your group chat with Damian and Cass as nothing had happened. Both texted you individually about very different topics as they always did, it was something you thoroughly enjoyed about them.
Damian’s answers were quicker than usual, yours shorter. You didn’t want things to be awkward between you two, but you didn’t really know what to say; or if you should say anything about what had happened.
What if not speaking about it was for the best? You liked him, the realization of it scared you to no end, and he liked you back. He fucking liked you back, why or how only he knew, but the fact that he did felt good yet it mingled with guilt. He was Tim’s brother, and although your ex-boyfriend hadn’t had consideration toward you, you felt bad.
Damian took over your thoughts, as you did house chores, as you worked, as you went out with your other friends... now you missed him in a way you had never missed anyone. His annoyed sighs, his tutting, his interesting topics of conversation, how funny he could get to be, his handsome face, his silky voice...
And so you texted him, asking if he was busy. He didn’t reply, at least not in the next five minutes. You turned the device off, not wanting to continue hopefully staring at it. Some would say it was childish, but you genuinely weren’t in the headspace to be rejected.
Pounding on the front door took you out of the tv show you were watching. Untangling yourself from the fuzzy blanket, you dragged your feet against the floor.
Damian slid past you as soon as you swung the door open, his steps more silent than ever as he analyzed the living room. His eyes stopped on the pile of folded clothes next to the couch for a prolonged moment before he continued what he had been doing.
You locked the door, estranged by his actions. “Are you looking for something?” you asked, the crack of your voice caused by how little you had used it that day making you wince, he’d surely realize.
He glared at you from behind the arch of the kitchen. “I thought you were in danger.” Before you could say something, he spoke again, “what happened to your phone?”
“Nothing.” You picked the cellphone from the center table and turned it on to show him.
Damian inhaled deeply, clearly keeping himself from snapping at you. He walked back to the living room, shaking his head once or twice while mumbling something in Arabic, and leaning against the wall just next to the window from where he could take a peek of the mostly white snowy street.
You went through your phone to avoid the tension between you two. The second worst idea you had that day, the first being texting him. You had multiple texts from him, a few from Dick, missing calls from the entire family. In your attempts to not get your heart broken you didn’t stop to think how it would seem to Damian if you suddenly stopped responding after asking if he was busy.
“Why are your clothes in the living room?” his inquiry bounced against the window glass.
You stayed quiet, he’d surely get the hint you didn’t want to talk about that.
He did get the hint, he also ignored it. The least you could do, in his mind, was answer his questions after worrying so bad. “(Y/N)?”
Lying to Damian was so hard you didn’t even try it. “I’m not using my closet anymore,” you explained, looking for the remote to turn the TV off in order to have an excuse to not look at him.
In contrast, he focused on you. You were now folding the blanket to keep your hands busy, fixing the pillows on the couch so it would look in the same fashion it always did.
“You’re not sleeping in your room.” Damian wasn’t sure if it came off as a question or an observation but it was the latter.
You shook your head, inwardly, and uselessly, begging he’d drop the topic at that. You were ashamed to accept what happened was affecting you, and even more ashamed by the fact that it was affecting you in ways you never expected. His silence was worse than being alone, there he was with his arms crossed once again, jaw clenched, and attention out of the window. You considered turning the TV back on just to feel less uncomfortable, less exposed.
Connecting the dots wouldn’t be hard for anyone aware of the situation. You should’ve said something, explain it didn’t have to do with him— not negatively at least— but you were too nervous, almost on edge which was getting too frequent for your liking.
Willing him to say something, you focused on him as if the intensity of your gaze would make a difference. He was already watching you like a hawk, analyzing every twitch. Damian uncrossed his arms, his palms slapping against his thighs as he pushed himself off the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. Masking how surprised you were by his apology had been hard, probably pointless when he knew you so well.
“It’s no excuse.”
“Damian, please.” Your voice got smaller, the last word coming as a mere whisper. Speaking about it terrified you, he was right and you wished it wasn’t the case— you had tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t given you his consent either and you didn’t have a way to know if he had enjoyed himself. The longer you thought about it, the dirtier you felt.
You were angry at yourself for not having known better, at Tim for not being honest... but you weren’t mad at Damian. Should you have been when he was almost as unaware as you? Wanting to be sure, to at least have some closure, you asked, “when did he tell you the truth?”
“The night before he told you.”
“Why do you feel so bad about it, then?”
He sighed shakily, dropping his head forward. He hoped that if he stared long enough the floor would open and swallow him, it would be way better than having you hear the truth. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, eyes on the same spot they had been for the past couple of minutes. He heard your breath hitching, the swallow of your spit. Damian braced himself to be slapped when he heard the thud of the blanket being dropped on the cushioned arm of the couch.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“What?” Damian’s gaze snapped upward, completely lost as to why you could be apologizing.
You clarified what you meant, “I’m sorry you had to see... me.”
“You idiot! I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Damian hated how insecure you could be, he knew it to be natural in an environment where people believe their personal standards to be the norm but it was horrible to see. He had tried his best to make you understand there was nothing shameful about your body but it seemed like he had failed. “It’s not...” he groaned, straightening his posture. There went nothing. “I feel guilty because I get turned on thinking about it.”
Oh. Well, at least you weren’t the only one who thought about it constantly. The days consequent to that night hadn’t been easy, the break up had come too soon and the only thing you had as consolation was that night. The fact that you had touched yourself while thinking about Damian without knowing was weird, it felt intrusive and at the same time thrilling— adding it to the fact that then you had wet dreams about it wasn’t a good look. Or yes, who knew at that point? Surely not you.
“For what it’s worth, me too.” Your face was burning up as the words left your lips. Your sex life wasn’t something you talked about with Damian, and when you did it with Cass you spared her the details because she didn’t like hearing about Tim in that way.
“But you didn’t know it was me,” he reminded you, and himself.
You made a face, “I don’t really care that much... it sounds bad but I don’t. It was my first orgasm in months.”
Damian stepped closer, naturally towering over you. You gazed up, trying to make sense as to what he was doing. “Am I reading this wrong?” he inquired in a whisper, fingers flexing to stop himself from touching you.
“No.”
He cupped your face with a hand, his freezing cold fingers making you shudder. He leaned in slowly, leisurely, his breath hit your skin and his nose brushed yours but he still didn’t kiss you— not yet. Arm snaking around your waist, he licked his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore and closed the gap, moving your lips against his as your hands rested firmly on his shoulders to not lose balance.
Kissing Damian was an experience, there wasn’t any other way to call it. He wasn’t in a hurry, his tongue had just tickled your mouth open but he hadn’t made a move to deepen the kiss. The heat from his body didn’t feel human, it transferred to your insides— it made butterflies swarm around in your stomach. For someone who hadn’t known they were attracted to their closest friend, your body was reacting as if you had been longing for that moment your entire life. You felt like floating, with his arms around your waist and neck respectively and his tongue tickling yours.
You didn’t want to part from him, oxygen was getting scarce and you found yourself thinking you’d rather die than stop kissing him. He found a good middle ground, recovering his breath with his right cheek against your left one. Inhaling your perfume in the process, he tightened his arms to have your body completely flush on his.
You moved your head to face him, finding the most peaceful semblance you had ever seen on him. Damian waited for your move, or your words, his eyes dancing all over your face. He had never had you so close, not properly, he hadn’t thought it would be possible to find more details to like about you but there he was, in awe of your beauty.
Tentatively, you kissed him again. He kissed back immediately, this once around not taking his time at all. You whined on his mouth, making him grunt. You caressed his thick hair, fingers burying between the dark locks as you pulled him impossibly closer. Damian pushed your body backward, your calves hitting the edge of the couch as he sucked your bottom lip between his.
You brought him down with you, his first reaction being to place his open palm on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself as you tried not to giggle. He huffed a laugh himself, pecking your lips before dragging his own down to your jaw.
As he kissed your neck, he asked, “what do you want, Amira?”
Your attempts of getting out of bed failed the next morning, Damian pulled you closer as soon as he felt you move. You didn’t have any other option than placing your head on his hard chest, your index finger mindlessly tracing patterns against his dark olive skin. The tips of his fingers ghosted your back up and down, his steady breathing threatening to lull you back to sleep.
“I have to go to work.”
He hummed in answer yet gave no signal of wanting to let you go. If it was up to you, you would stay there with him for the entire day, in the little bubble you two had created the night before and would probably burst once you had to talk about it.
It didn’t feel like a mistake which should have surprised you, actually, you couldn’t think about a better decision you had taken in your life. Dramatic, sure, but no less true.
“Just call in sick,” he grumbled, properly tucking both your bodies into the covers. You could feel the ripple of his muscles as he did it, with just one hand as with his other arm he kept you in place.
You huffed a laugh, “I’ve only called in sick once.”
“An even stronger reason to do it now.”
“Don’t you have to go to work too?”
Damian snorted, moving his head to stare at you. You did the same when you heard and felt him shuffle. “Will you stay if I say no?”
As much as you dreaded the idea of leaving for work and not seeing his handsome face, you also dreaded the idea of having to see him go.
Damian seemed to have read your mind and interpret your silence, he brushed your cold cheek with his knuckles. His steady breathing quickened a little bit, you wouldn’t have been aware of it if your head hadn’t been resting on him. “Will you avoid me again if I let you get up?”
You shuffled just enough to face him, both your hands flat on his chest. “It wasn’t personal against you.”
“It felt like it.”
“I needed time, that’s all.”
“For what?”
You took a sharp intake of air, swallowing your excess of saliva as you exhaled. “Think, meditate... however you want to call it.”
“Is that why you don’t want to use your bedroom?”
“We’re literally in my bedroom.”
He rolled his eyes, “that doesn’t mean you want to use it.”
You stared down at your hands, the natural light of the morning making Damian’s skin glow under them. “It’s strange.”
“Why?”
“I think—“ you stopped for a moment to consider your phrasing, there wasn’t any other way of saying it and getting the point across than being direct. “At first it was because of what happened that night.” You felt him tense up, your fingers immediately rubbing circles over his skin in attempts of soothing him. “But then, after I tried to convince you to go back to the manor... it just doesn’t feel the same knowing things between us won’t be like they were before because it something that happened here.” You could’ve had articulated it better, but you didn’t want to mention Tim.
“Do you want that?” Upon seeing the confusion in your face he reformulated the question, “do you want us to be like we were before?”
”You don’t?”
He shook his head in answer. “Why would I?”
“Because I’m your best friend?”
“That’s Jon.”
You lifted your fingers to playfully slap them against his chest, “don’t be sassy with me.”
“I don’t like you the way I tolerate him.”
”isn’t it weird?” you mumbled the question.
Damian pursed his lips, looking up in thought. You took your time to stare at him some more, your fingers itching to trace his facial structure. “Because of Drake?”
“Your entire family,” you clarified, wishing you could avoid the topic altogether.
“I honestly don’t care.” You only hummed. His eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze, his hand back to caressing your face. “What do you think?”
“I think,” you said through a sigh, “that I’m calling in sick.”
He smirked, withdrawing his arms to allow you movement. You shivered due to the change of temperature as soon as your legs swung from the bed, a pair of panties and a t-shirt were the only clothing covering you; you hadn’t really needed more than that and the duvet to sleep warmly, Damian’s body was extremely hot— literally, in both aesthetics and temperature.
Damian granted himself the pleasure of staring at your body as you stood just in front of him while making the phone call, the bouncing of your left leg, the slight tilt of your head, your shifty eyes while listening to whatever your interlocutor was saying. The longer he stared the stronger the urge of pulling you back into bed got. The phone call hadn’t even been lengthy, he was being a brat, but it wasn’t as if he cared.
He sat up near the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor without any effort thanks to his height. You thanked your boss, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized Damian had changed positions. Your eyes diverted down to his torso at the same time the line clicked.
Putting your cellphone down on the bedside table, you asked, “do you want something for breakfast?”
He opened his legs for you to stand between them, hands ready to be placed on your sides the second you complied. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hot breath giving you goosebumps as it hit your neck.
Lightly brushing your face as he ever so slightly turned his, he spoke with his lips against your jaw, “Are you on the menu?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, then.”
Damian ignored the way you rolled your eyes and continued trailing kisses over your jaw and chin. You gripped his hair so he’d face you, leaning down to kiss him when he did so. His arms snaked your hips as he kissed back, opening his mouth a little bit more than you which gave you some type of advantage.
“I really like you,” you finally said out loud, mouth still hovering over his.
You felt him smile. It prompted you to put some distance between your faces in order to take the sight in. He didn’t smile often, you weren’t sure as to why but you had theories— that didn’t matter, what did was that he had gifted you an honest smile, one that showed his dimples and brightened his eyes.
The urge to cup his face overcame you, your hands slowly slid toward his jaw and as they abandoned his hair— Damian nuzzled against your left one. Your thumbs caressed his cheek softly, his inhaling and exhaling making the small hairs on your arms stand up and fall down at the rhythm of his breathing.
You hadn’t felt so much peace in a long time, it might have been the pride flowing through you at the fact that he wasn’t very open with people— much less when it came to emotions— but you let yourself entertain the idea that the real reason behind it was how easy it had always been to be yourself around him.
It only hit you when he locked his eyes with yours that you were making him feel the same way. No amount of self-sabotaging or teasing from his family could take that away from you.
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smallsnzplz · 3 years
Note
hey babe what about some colin content if you're not busy? :P maybe him sick & interacting w/ eloise or daphne or violet like we've talked abt or maybe just good old anthony being mean to him? i really do think he gravitates towards the women in the house when he's ill lol. he is baby :)
anything 4 u bby! prob not my best writing but it’s not my fault they didn’t give colin a personality! anyway enjoy!
It was no secret that whenever one Colin Bridgerton was sick he drifted toward the sweeter persons of the family. Namely Daphne and Violet and occasionally Benedict. He made sure to steer clear of Anthony, Eloise, and both Hyacinth and Gregory who required entirely too much energy to interact with. Daphne nearly always petted Colin’s hair whilst ordering the servants to fetch him every little thing he required, even the ones he did not know he needed. Hot towels, tea, water, handkerchiefs, blankets, all other things of the sort. 
Daphne was always quite protective of the second youngest Bridgerton son even though he was still older than her. Colin always seemed much younger than he was, always playing with the young ones and joking around. He seemed fragile to Daphne and it hurt her heart to see him hurt. 
“Daph, would you come here?” Colin asked shyly as he entered the drawing room. 
Daphne was playing the piano while the rest of the family lounged about the room. Colin had had a late start that morning and was only just getting around to seeing the family. 
He had spent the entire morning awake thus far scrubbing at his nose and trying to soothe his throat that had become infinitely more irritated overnight. Colin had felt fatigued and vaguely run down after dinner the night before but this morning he woke up feeling like his nose, ears and throat had been stuffed to the brim with cotton.
“There you are, have you been lounging about all day?” Anthony made his way around the furniture and over to his brother. 
Colin stuttered, “I-well-I-”
Anthony snapped, “Go on, then!”
“I-I’ve not been…feeling…well.” Colin looked down at the ground. 
He heard Anthony sigh and could only picture him rolling his eyes. “Here we go again. Is this because we have the Trowbridge ball to attend tonight? Have you got cold feet?”
“No! In fact I am deeply saddened that I do not…” Colin stopped as he saw Anthony harden his look. “I am not sure if I feel up to…going.”
Anthony said, “You must be joking. Are you aware of all we have to prepare for tonight? With the season coming to a close in a few weeks the last thing we need is for you to be out for the count!”
“Surely he must take it easy,” Daphne interjected. “Colin, I’ll fetch you a glass of water and a blanket and then I’ll play you the new song I’m learning on the pianoforte!”
Colin smiled. “Thank you, Daphne.” “How adorable! If only we had the time!” Anthony butted back in. Colin’s nose wriggled and he rubbed at it harshly. “Would you keep your dirty hands away from your dirty face, Colin? You might find a handkerchief more effective, like say, I do not know, nearly every other man in the ton?”
Colin did not know what to say. He did not say anything as he was focusing all his energy on holding back a set of sneezes that he knew would drive Anthony bonkers.
Anthony rolled his eyes. “You really have nothing to say for yourself?”
“Anthony, give him a break-” Daphne tried.
“We’ve not time for a break!” Anthony fretted. No one spoke for a moment and Anthony took that as an invitation to continue. “
“Colin, walk with me.”
Colin cursed under his breath as soon as the words left Anthony’s lips. With Colin’s asthma and his cold that was now well past the budding stage, he knew he would not be able to keep up with Anthony’s quick pace as he ran around the house getting things in order. 
“I-”
Anthony cut him off, “No excuses. Let us walk.”
Anthony looped his arm through that of his younger brother’s and started walking. Colin had assumed correctly, Anthony’s mood and stress were making him pace around the house even faster than usual. Colin quickly lost his breath and was soon unable to even try to listen to all the orders Anthony was throwing at him. 
The pair stopped for a moment just outside the kitchen and Colin found himself staring at the wall while his brother spoke. 
“-lin? Colin? Christ, are you even listening to me?” Colin snapped his head back over to Anthony who looked more than furious. “I…sorry, I got distracted.”
Anthony sighed in annoyance and started speaking again. Colin tried to listen this time, he really did, but it did not work for  long. Before Colin knew it Anthony was whisking him off to run about who knows where this time. 
“Hh’ixhgtshieh!” Colin sneezed downward and hoped Anthony would not notice. 
The sneeze left him out of breath and waiting for more to follow. Suddenly, Anthony yanked him around a corner and Colin could feel his breath leave his lungs. 
“Ahhhnthony! Please! Just wait for a moment!” Colin forcefully untangled Anthony’s arm from his own and put his hands on his knees to breathe. “Ihh’ischt!-ihh’ntch!-ih’gnktchew!”
He sneezed toward the ground.
Anthony groaned in disgust. “Colin, if you truly are feeling ill you must cover your mouth. The least you could do is care for the others around you! Come on!”
“You’re-” Colin cut himself off with his own wheezing breaths. “You’re one to…to talk about…God…hhhhh…caringforothers-ihhnxtch-ishh-ish-nxkt’chew!”
“Jesus Christ, Colin did you not hear a word I just said? At least use…your hand or your sleeve or something!” Anthony said. 
It took a few more moments of Colin’s labored breaths and him leaning up against the wall for Anthony to finally realize something was wrong. 
Anthony asked, “Colin…are you alright?” “No!” Colin said with all the breath he could. There was none left to fuel any other words. His breathing was starting to become louder and heavier. 
“Well…what’s happening? What is this? This better not be some kind of ruse!” 
Colin tried not to pay attention to his brother. He tried to tell himself that Anthony did not know better and that he was just stressed and he did not mean to take it directly out on Colin. 
“Colin? Colin!” 
“Shut up!” Colin wheezed. 
Anthony was starting to panic. This was not his intention, to cause Colin’s asthma to flare up, but in his defense he thought Colin was faking ill and he also happened to forget the young Bridgerton was asthmatic in the first place. 
“DAPHNE! MOTHER!” Anthony yelled. 
Daphne and Violet came running—elegantly—down the hall and Daphne’s hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock when she saw the state of her older brother. 
“What did you do?” Violet turned to Anthony in anger. 
Anthony lied, “I did nothing! I do not know how this happened!” Well, it was not exactly a lie, but he certainly did not mean to do anything. 
“Colin, sit tight just a moment! MRS. WILSON! GET THE CERAMIC POT INHALER READY, WILL YOU?” Violet shouted, hoping she would hear. 
The group helped Colin to the dining room where they awaited the inhaler. 
Anthony was pacing back and forth as Colin inhaled the steam. He was able to breathe better after a few minutes. Violet and Daphne both did not believe that Anthony had done nothing and they were waiting for Colin’s side of the story once he gained the ability to speak again. Daphne sat next to Colin rubbing his back as he coughed. 
“Anthony, tell us the truth son, what have you done?” Violet interrogated the eldest Bridgerton. 
Anthony hesitated. “Well I…I pushed him too hard.”
All of the other Bridgertons looked up after this admission. 
“I am so sorry, Colin. This was never my intention,” Anthony said. 
Colin moved his head away from the ceramic pot and looked at Anthony. “I know, brother. Do you understand now, that I-” Colin’s words were cut off by a rough cough and Anthony winced hard. 
“Is there anything else I can get you, Colin?” Anthony asked. Colin shook his head. “There must be something! Some handkerchiefs! I will fetch some handkerchiefs! I will return in a mere moment!”
Anthony ran off, trying ever so hard to be useful. 
Violet sighed, “I do apologize, Colin.”
“It is not your fault,” Colin rasped. “It is Anthony’s but do not make a fuss of this, I beg you.”
This time it was Daphne who sighed. “Colin, look at you! Anthony must know what he did, whatever it was, was wrong!”
“He does,” Colin insisted. “I assure you he does.”
His words proved to be true when Anthony raced back in with a blanket and a pile of handkerchiefs. Anthony wrapped the blanket around Colin’s shoulders and placed the handkerchiefs on a spot on the table that was easily accessible for Colin. 
“Is there anything else, brother? Do not hesitate,” Anthony pressed. 
Colin looked up at Anthony whose eyebrows were furrowed with worry. “No, thank you.” He picked up a handkerchief and coughed into it. 
Anthony teased, “My boy, you are finally learning!”
“Can it, Anthony!” Violet stepped in. 
Colin pulled his face away from the steam and held a handkerchief a few centimeters in front of his face. “Ehhh…ehh’escht! h’ishht-ishhew-isshheww!” 
“Careful!” Daphne gasped. 
Colin rasped, “I can not help it!”
“Save your breath, darling.” Violet rubbed Colin’s shoulder. “Anthony, Colin is to miss tonight’s ball and you are not to make a fuss about it!”
Anthony looked shock. “I would not dream of making a fuss about this mother, I…I understand now.”
“You better,” Daphne said. “You drove our poor brother into an attack of asthma!”
“Daph-”
Daphne cut him off, “Do not defend him, Colin! You are not well and our idiot brother pushed your limits too far and he should feel guilty.”
“I do!” Anthony said. “I swear, the guilt sits on my chest with the weight of an elephant! I should never like to see any of my siblings in this much pain. Much less a pain that I have directly caused. Do you understand how that must feel?”
“No,” Daphne said, “I do not because I would never cause such a pain in the first place!”
The two started bickering and soon enough, Violet got involved. 
Finally, Colin raised his voice as loud as he could, “ENOUGH!” He dissolved into a fit of coughs after and all three of the other Bridgertons were at his side in less than a moment. 
“Colin, dear, do not strain yourself so!” Violet cried. 
Colin cleared his throat and spoke, “The two of you are as bad as Anthony now!” Anthony rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “If you wish to lessen my pain you might consider ceasing your senseless bickering!”
It was quiet for a moment. 
“Colin is right,” Daphne spoke. “I apologize, Anthony.”
Daphne lightly jabbed Violet in the arm. 
Violet groaned, “I suppose I am sorry as well, Anthony.” Still, she spoke with disgust. 
“Mama!” Daphne scolded her very own mother. 
“I shall not apologize to the man who has caused such harm to my poor son,” Violet said. 
Anthony snapped, “You might forget that I am your son as well.”
Colin interjected, “Stop!” The room quieted again. “Anthony, mother, please leave. Daph, please stay with me?”
“Of course,” Daphne smiled. 
Violet gave Colin a kiss on the cheek and she left the room. 
“Again, I am sorry, Colin,” Anthony said, his eyes widening when Colin started coughing again. “Are you sure you should like me to leave? I do not feel right leaving you be.”
“He is not alone, he has me,” Daphne said. 
Colin nodded up at Anthony. He then snapped forward with a rally of uncovered sneezes aimed towards his chest. 
Anthony tried not to grimace. “Please Colin, I love you, but cover your damn mouth!”
“Is this not what this entire situation started with?” Colin joked. 
Anthony picked up a handkerchief and pressed it into Colin’s hand. “I shall leave if you promise me that you will use these.”
“I promise,” Colin said. He lifted his handkerchief-covered hand to his mouth and smothered another set of sneezes into it. 
Anthony ruffled Colin’s hair approvingly and left the room. 
“Now that the two vultures have left, how are you truly feeling?” Daphne asked. 
Colin cleared his throat. “Not very well, I am afraid. Now that I have regained my breath I am most aware of a searing pain across my head. Not to mention-hhh-ish’uh-inxtsch-itsch’eh-ietsch’ew! Bugger! Not to mention the sneezing.”
“We shall get you feeling better quickly, then,” Daphne said. 
She stood behind Colin massaged her fingers through his hair until his breathing treatment had finished, then she laced her arms through his and aided him back to his bedroom. 
“You will be attending no ball this evening,” Daphne decided. “I am afraid I must attend but I am sure Eloise might come sit with you?” “No no, I will be okay with the help,” Colin said. “Eloise is much too observant for anyone to be around while ill. She notices and comments on everything.”
Daphne chuckled. She tried to listen to see if Colin was still wheezing. He did not appear to be. “Your breathing sounds much better. I do not feel as terrible for leaving you this evening.”
“Do not worry, Daph. I shall be fine. Have a good time at the ball and I shall make sure I have Mrs. Wilson prepare me another ceramic pot inhaler if I should need it,” Colin said. He sniffled thickly. “You should go get ready for the ball. I am afraid that if you spend any more time near me you should be sure to catch whatever is ailing me.”
Daphne kissed Colin’s forehead and parted.
She and Anthony returned just before they were to leave for the ball, but Colin was fast asleep. He was snoring loudly and Daphne jabbed Anthony’s ribcage before he could make a comment. 
“I swear, if I fall ill I will have his head!”
“Or maybe his lungs?”
“Not funny!”
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r0s3mm · 4 years
Text
The Weather || Dylan O’Brien
Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x ofc!Alice
Author’s note/Warning: break up? Swearing? Reader and Dylan talking about their relationship, a series of voicemail reader sends Dylan at different moments after their relationship ends.
Based off of the song: Lawrence - "The Weather"
Word count: 5129 (wow) 
Masterlist
_____________________________________
“Hey D’, it’s me, leaving you a message on your voicemail... again. Listen, I know we agreed to give each other space but I just wanted to let you know that your change of address probs didn’t go through because I got your new script at home- hum, at my place. I’ll just send it to Liz’s office... Oh, also I wanted to know if you wanted me to box up and send you the rest of the stuff you have here, there’s a few sweatshirts and other clothing items, as your mom would say. Okay, so you don’t have to call me back, you can text me, maybe even email me. I can leave your stuff at your mom’s house, I’m seeing Jules on the 23rd, so yeah ... whatever you feel good with. Ok, bye.”
“I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we're not together 'Cause even when the sky is grey, I'm feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”
I hung up the phone and placed it in my jeans’ back pocket and turned up the volume from the TV.
“A heatwave this week turned the city of Anaheim, home to Disneyland, into the hottest place in the United States. The Tick fire forced 50,000 people to flee their homes, many in the mid...” The weather man on the tv announced as I picked up the package with Liz’s name on it from a tv or movie set in LA, taking back my cell phone, I texted Liz, Dylan’s manager telling her I’d be sending her the script in the next few days, putting the block of pages on the bench next to the front door, I sat down next to it as the news kept playing as a background noise accompanied by the rain falling down harshly on the large windows.
It had been a little bit over 5 months and I still hadn’t tidy up from his big move, a lot of empty and piled up boxes were on the floor next to the sliding door, there were empty spaces on the wall and people who would be coming in the apartment could easily guess that the large white wall used to be full, filled with baseball jersey’s, many pictures, music record, stickers of liquor brand, some posters and a few music instruments.
“Hi Jules, it’s me, are we still on for the 23rd? Ok great then, I’ll pick you up. You got any news from your brother? Yeah, I know, I asked you to refuse if I asked but I just wanna make sure that with his new place he’s good and away from the fires and that he’s ... that he’s safe y’know? Ok great then, just maybe tell him to- actually you know what? Never mind. I gotta go, but I’ll text you this week... alright bye!”
“There's a fire in LA Since you moved there back in May I wonder, should I call to see if you're alright? Yeah, you're a million miles away But I still think of you each day And hope the weather doesn't keep you cold tonight”
After picking up what was on the floor and actually tidying up the apartment, I put on my rain boots with my coat and an umbrella before going out the door with the trash and some things that I wanted to get rid of. I walked the streets of the city, listening to the chaotic sounds, the loud voices and the fast steps of those who wanted to escape the rain. Walking to the Blue Ribbon Brasserie, I turned left to get to Sullivan St and passed the convenience store and got myself a few stamps and envelopes for the thank you notes I still had to write after the home warming gifts I received a while back. I put my earphones in my ear as I gave the cashier the money and put everything in my purse. As I entered the restaurant, I took off my coat and held it tightly against me, my eyes falling on a couple sitting at the bar, both a drink in hand and completely enamored with each other.
“Table for one miss?” The host asks taking a menu.
“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at the young man.
I followed him to a table near the windows. He pulled my chair for me to sit. I smiled at him and thanked him.
“What would you like to start with?”
“Glass of white wine, if you have it. Actually no, I’ll get a G&T, please”
“Right away, ma’am” The waiter’s New Yorker accent came through and I smiled at him as I picked up the menu and swiftly looked through it, already knowing what I wanted to eat as soon as I had left my apartment.
The rain was still pattering against the window and it gave a nice ambient sound to the restaurant that for once was almost empty on a Monday afternoon. A few minutes later, the waiter came back with my drink, putting a squared napkin underneath.
“Would you like to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?”
“I’ll order now, thank you. So, I’ll get the chicken barley soup with the steak, please.”
He smiled, took the menu from my hands and left to another table. I watched the other waiters walk around with platters of food as people started to come in. Usually the restaurant would be busy from opening to the time it closed but today felt different. I held the glass in my hands as I sipped it slowly taking the wedge of lime off of it and biting into it and letting it drop on the piece of paper after draining it of its juice.
As the waiter approached my table and put my soup down my phone’s screen lit up with Dylan’s name and contact photo. I had taken the picture when we were out one day and waiting to cross the street. My finger swiped the screen to answer.
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“Ali? Hey, it’s Dylan...” His voice rang through my ear, it was hoarse and dry. He had been smoking.
“Yeah, I know. Your contact info popped up.” I said, silently slurping my soup.
“Oh, wasn’t sure if you had gotten rid of it. Hum, I- I thought it’d be better to call you rather than text you and I don’t even know the last time I sent an email that wasn’t for work.” He chuckled quietly but didn’t hear a sound from the other side. “So, for my stuff you can keep it, I won’t really need it, but if you really wanna get rid of it, I can transfer you the money for the delivery and stuff. It-It’s however you want it.”
“Yeah, no. I’ll send it to you or Liz, I wanna start over with a clean slate. I also found a few caps of yours earlier when I was cleaning up, so I’ll send those over as well.” I said finishing the rest of my soup. It was silent on the other side of the line for a few seconds before I heard him sigh.
“A, maybe we should talk? Y’know, actually have a conversation. The only times we’ve talked in the past few months were through voicemail and-”
“Sounds good Dylan, just right now isn’t the right moment. I’m out at a restaurant and I don’t think I can actually do this right now and in public.” I said dryly my voice full of emotion. A waiter came to pick up the now empty bowl and I smiled up at him.
“Yeah okay. Is everything good up there? Are you feeling good?”
“Yep, I’m fine, we’re all fine.”
“That’s good. I feel a bit far away from everyone, y’know ?!”
“Yeah, are- are you okay? I’ve seen the news on the TV about the fires. I was worried.” I said the last part quietly.
“I’m fine too, yeah, you don’t have to worry. Pretty sure Jules or my mom would have rung you up if something had happened.”
“Yeah probably...” I whispered. “Did you start smoking again? Your voice sounded funny when I answered.” I said catching the eye of the waiter that was bringing me my steak. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, miss. Hope you’ll enjoy” The small exchange between the waiter and I was soon over, and I picked up a fry.
“Yeah, a little. It was weird being in LA, felt nervous at first and I couldn’t shake it after. Are you at Blue Ribbon?”
“You were nervous? Dyl’ you’ve been to LA a hundred times for filming and shit and yeah I am.” I said, picking at the veggies in my plate.
“I never actually lived there for more than four or five months, and usually I’m not alone.”
“Don’t.” I said loudly, I lifted my head and looked at other costumers. “Listen I gotta go.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to-”
I hung up and went to eat my dinner and finishing my drink quickly. After paying my bill, I put my coat back on, the weather would be a little chillier than earlier. Halloween was approaching and carved in pumpkins were starting to make an appearance on people’s doorstep and balconies. The rain from earlier had stopped and had been replaced by clouds and sun light.
“So, I won't talk about the weather No, I won't talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we're not together 'Cause even when the sky is grey, I'm feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”
Music was playing loudly in the apartment, the vacuum loud over it and it felt as if the sun had disappeared from the sky. Halloween was even closer now, only 8 days away. I checked the time, 10:37, Jules would be here in just under two hours. There were two boxes full of clothes, pictures, sports’ games tickets and damaged drumsticks, that I will have to leave in Jules’ car at the end of the day. The two of us had planned to get lunch and then hang out. She told me that some of our friends and her were planning a Halloween party and that they insisted that I come “You gotta get out of your hiding place, Alice!” They had screamed at me through the phone almost a month ago. Even if the weather wasn’t really great, Julia insisted we leave her car at my place and walk.
I had gotten ready slowly, music still blasting through the small speaker when it suddenly stopped. Thinking it was Julia texting me she had arrived I jogged to get to my phone in the other room, it was the other O’Brien child.
“Hello?” I answered the phone, putting it on speaker while I walked back to the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. “Ali, are you busy? I tried calling you a couple times.” I looked at the screen where I had missed a few phone calls. “M’getting ready to spend the day with your sister actually. Can you make it quick?” I said spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth. “I just wanted to know if right now would be a good time to have that conversation I talked about last week...?” I stopped and looked at my phone and sighed. “Your sister’s supposed to pick me up in ten minutes, think you can finish in ten minutes?” A silence was heard before light chuckling and I swear I could picture in my mind how he looked in that exact moment. “What?” “‘Nothing. Look, why don’t we try to set up a date and time for us to talk? I think it’d be good. Maybe clarify things up a bit.” “Yeah sure.” The doorbell buzzed, I sighed, picked up the phone putting it against my ear and taking it off speaker mode. “Listen Jules here and I’ve- wait a sec” I told him before shooting Julia a one letter text to tell her I was on my way and putting on my shoes and coat. “Ok, so your sister’s here. I gotta go but if you call me back tonight at around 5, your time I should be back home and mentally prepared to have that conversation you want us to have.” I locked my door and ran down the steps to stop in front of the blue car with my friend resting against it, excitedly waving at me, I walked to the car. “So, I really gotta leave now, but don’t think I’m excited about this. I’m doing this for you.” “I don’t want to make you do this if you’re not ready A’.” He says, guilt overflowing the other emotion in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tonight.” I hung up and put my head in my hand, scratching my hairline and walking the rest of the distance to Jules.
“So, I won't talk about the weather No, I won't talk about the weather I won't talk about the weather Not with you, we're not together And it's hard to say if we will ever be But I'll admit my greatest fear is that The air will never clear So I just wish we could talk like you and me”
“Who was that?” Jules asked me as we started walking towards the larger and busier streets. “Damn you, O’Brien’s.” I mumbled as I pulled her into a greeting side hug. “Oh my god, was it Dylan? Are y’all talking again?” She was too excited for her own good. “Not really, I just wanted to know what he wanted me to do with the stuff of his left at the apartment and he started saying how we should talk about what happened.” “Yeah, I’m not still a hundred percent clear on that, by the way. I don’t think any of us expected you guys to break up after 4 years.” “Don’t remind me, please” I begged as I opened the door to the small café.
When we entered, I looked around for either an empty table or counter seats. I nudged Jules and pointed to a small table at the very back near the window and looked at her, watching for an answer.
“Sure.” She shrugged and took a newspaper off the stand we were standing next to.
We sat down and she opened the menu, looking through it as a woman brought us glasses of water.
“Hello ladies, how are you today?” “We’re good, Jane, thanks.” I asked sipping the iced water. “What about you?” Jules asked putting the cardboard menu down. “Oh, I am very good thank you” She said a huge grin on her face as she extended her left hand, on it a very beautiful diamond engagement ring. “You are fucking kidding me! Oh, my fuck!” Jules exclaimed jumping up and down. She and Jane were college friends, I had met her through Jules at a party a few years back. “Congratulations Jane!” I said leaning in for a hug and sitting back down.
Jane and Jules were standing up and talking in loud whispers as to not fully disturb the other customers. I picked up my cell phone and opened the messages app and clicked on Dylan’s conversation as a reflex before making the screen turn black and setting it back on the table.
“Hey Alice, I haven’t seen much of you in the past two months, but you and Dylan are so invited! Maybe you’ll be in my situation in a few months!” She said cheery, my head snapped up at the mention of my ex-boyfriend and I looked at Jules.
“What? What did I say?” Jane looked back and forth between us. “Y’know when I told you that my brother went to L.A to film a new project?” Jane nods, “Well it wasn’t fully true, yes he is filming something, but he also moved to L.A” Jane’s eyes go from Jules to me. “Dyl and I broke up 5 months ago ...” I said picking my phone up again to play with something. Anxiety filling my body and making my fingers shake at the mention of the break-up.
The waitress just sits down next to me and pulls me to her and squeezes me telling me encouraging words before she is called back to the counter.
“The usual?” She asks and Jules and I nod with a smile. “I think we’ll take it to go, if you don’t mind.” Jules says as she finishes her glass of water, Jane’s eyes go over one last time before going to the kitchen.
When we leave the little café/diner we decide to walk through a park that’s nearby, eating our paninis and drinking our mango and strawberry smoothies.
“Hey,” Jules nudges me. “They added something to your bag...” I look at her a put my hand in the bag. “It’s a muffin?” Jules says unsure. “What?” My word stays stuck in my throat. “Pretty fucking sure Janey didn’t tell Henry that Dylan and I were broken up” “Henry? The cook?” I nod and put the muffin back in the paper bag. “Yeah, hum, when Henry started working there Dyl and I went there to get you a smoothie and Henry was there and he just started hitting on him and like he knew that we were together but I guess it was a running gag between them and whenever I went Henry would put a muffin in the bag for your brother with a note” I laugh remembering the memory. “Once,” I laugh stopping us from walking further. “Dylan went to pick up our order to bring back to his apartment, before we moved in, and he actually gave Henry his number ... Anyway, yeah.”
Jules looks at me and pulls me to her side as I hold the bag tightly. “You miss him, huh?”. I put my head on her shoulder, “you’ve got no fucking idea”
We keep walking and talking, and I can see that she is trying really hard to change my ideas. We go into stores and try on stuff without buying anything, we just spend an afternoon hanging out and it feels so good.
At around seven thirty we part, and we walk back to my apartment, I put the boxes that I left in the lobby in her car and wave her off. Clutching the paper bag, I grab my keys from my coat’s pocket, unlock the main door before going to the building’s mailboxes, gathering my mail and going through the lobby’s door to wave to Sam, the receptionist, before going up the stairs since the elevator hasn’t been fixed in 4 months. As I get onto my floor, I wave at my neighbor who exits his apartment as he looks at my door. I turn the corner and see that my door is opened, fearing the worst I grab a baseball bat sitting near the door that my father forgot last weekend when he came over. I hear soft music coming from the record player sitting in the living room, the smell of ham and cheese stuffed chicken filled the place and for a moment I thought my mother had come to New York ... I entered the kitchen with the bat lowered down knowing who was in my apartment from the humming they made.
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“I made dinner” Dylan says turning around and leaning his back on the counter, he pushes himself off of the counter.
“I can see that.” I huff out not looking at him. “What are you doing here?” I ask him, putting my coat on the back of the chair and my purse on the table.
“I- I wanted to talk.” He says taking a step towards me.
“Yeah, I know I was about to call you ... We said we would talk tonight, on the phone” He nods slowly and turns around to put food in two plates. He hands me one and gesture for me to sit.
“I’m not a fan of phones.”
“Yeah I know that, we could’ve facetimed or something.” I pick at my Brussel sprouts, usually loving the way he made them, but seeing here tonight caught me off guard.
I actually look at him for the first time tonight, he hasn’t changed that much, his hair is a little bit longer though, he is hungrily eating the food and nervously keeps his head down.
“What happened?” He suddenly says, his head lifting and eyes connecting with mine. I take in a short breath and can’t look away.
“What?” I shake my head and look down. I stand up and put as much distance between him and I as physically can while still being in the same room.
“What happened between us?”
“I can’t say that I honestly know. We weren’t on the same path; we didn’t want the same things ... I don’t know” I mumble picking and my chewed-up nails, a habit I had taken up from him.
“Ok so why didn’t work, it’s not distance because god knows we’ve done that before, none of us were unfaithful” I grimace at the thought of him with another woman and look at him, he notices, and pain quickly passes behind his hazel eyes. “I- I don’t think, hope not, we’ve fallen out of love... So, what happened Al’?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say right now, showing up at my apartment at fucking 8 ...” I say my voice low and full of emotions.
“We agreed to talk” He says standing up and talking another step closer.
“I agreed to talk to you on the phone because even if it’s been five months, I can’t look at you right now!” I say looking at the shirt he’s wearing
“Did you send my stuff yet?” He asks changing the subject and taking another step, now only at an arm’s length from me.
“I actually gave the boxes to Jules earlier. Left em’ in the lobby and gave them to her when she left.” He nods silently, turns around before starting to put away the food, knowing we probably would not be eating tonight. The domestic choreography started as we moved around each other with ease and habit, but I still tried to keep a distance between us. Without having to consult each other I bent down to a cupboard to grab a few Tupperware’s and set them on the counter as he passed me the now empty pots and pans ready to be rinsed off. While we were quietly washing the dishes, the music in the back changed, but still fit the ambiance perfectly. He walked to the furthest and lowest cupboard where the large serving plates used to be and opened it to now find the spices.
“You changed the plates?” He asks over his shoulder.
“Hum, yeah didn’t have much of a choice, I couldn’t reach the spices from where they were, and I don’t use the serving plates all that much.” I shrug as he picks up the utensils and dries them off. He walks around me to the drawer where they’ve always been and opens it slowly, his hand supporting underneath.
“Oh no, I got fixed, it’s fine”
“Oh okay... Did your dad came all the way from Oregon or did hum...?” He asks and I smile at what he’s really asking me.
“No, I actually asked Pat to come over a month ago, he repaired a few things here and there” I smile warmly at him and his expression that went from sad to relieved.
“You- you called my dad?” He asks as he turns around to look at me and rests against the counter.
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“I mean, yeah, is that okay?” I ask him, giving him a pot to dry off.
“Of course, yeah, no- no worries, heh.” He chuckles. “I’m just happy you guys stayed in contact. They adore you, y’know, my parents. Almost like a second daughter.”
“Well that’s just wrong” I mumble quickly my eyes large, falling back into the familiarity that is Dylan.
“What why?” He asks
“That would make us “brother and sister”” I finish washing the last dish and hand it to him.
“Oh yeah, so wrong. So, fucking wrong” He says under his breath and I laugh a little as I help him put away the plates. I open a cupboard and look up to see that it is far beyond my reach and I make a noise that attracts his attention. “Oh wait, I’ll get it” He says before taking large strides towards me. I quickly move to the side and put the plate on the counter so that he can pick it up.
We finish putting everything away in silence and I go sit on the couch as he washes his hands. A few seconds later he joins me and sit on the other side of the couch. Tears pool at my eyes and I sniffle, I can feel his eyes on me, I hear him shift on the couch, so his front was towards me.
“No, I won't talk about the weather Not with you, we're not together But I wonder if we're ever really through 'Cause if we're talking about whether You and I shouldn't be together Oh, I know I'll always be in love with you Oh yes, I know I'll always be in love with you”
“It hurts so much” I whimper as I wipe away a tear that’s fallen on my cheek. “I don’t know what fucking happened. We didn’t get to talk, we-“
I freeze when I feel him starting to get closer to wipe away more tears that are now falling down my neck. I nuzzle my head into his large hand.
“I’m so sorry, for everything” He says his face in my hair.
“Don’t. It is not your fault. No, the situation was not ideal you having to leave for filming after the initial event, but it is not your fault. I think we just thought we were untouchable.” I say never facing him, my eyes fixed on the stickers stuck on the wooden table.
“But still, if I hadn’t talked about me moving back to L.A we could’ve talked and work things out.”
“Stop it.” I lick my lips attracting his eyes to the area as I turn to really look at him for the first time in months. “Dylan, it is not your fault, we had a weakness, we miscommunicated something got lost in what we told each other. I feel like I might’ve thought I was ready to leave the city to go to L.A but I wasn’t and maybe-“
“Say it again.” He suddenly says, cutting me off in my version of the events.
“What? Say what?”
“Say my name again, please.” His ton is full of hope and desperate at the same time.
I lock eyes with him and chuckle.
“Dylan” I enunciate each syllable.
“God. I missed you” He says, tears filling his eyes.
He grabs me by my waist and pulls me on his lap.
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His face nuzzles itself in my neck and I feel a single tear rolling down my neck followed by a few soft kisses.
“I just got used to you not being there and knowing you wouldn’t come back. I didn’t like that.” I mumble against his temple. “Don’t say that. You know I’ll always come back to you.” He takes my hand in his and kiss the silver band around my pointer finger.
We part and I just stare at him, his eyes fall on me with the softest look I have ever seen.
“You almost didn't come back once” I say softly thinking back on probably the hardest year of my life. My finger tracing the soft and ragged scar on his forehead and nose area, his eyes close at the sensation of my finger going around his face.
“I know. But baby I swear to you, you are stuck with me until the day I die, even then.” “Yeah okay, I’d be cool with that. But I want to take things slow. You have to go back to L.A for a few months.” “As soon as I’m finished over there I’m coming home.” He smiles at me and I stand up quickly from his lap and walk over where I put my stuff when I came in. “Oh my god I forgot.” I say quickly grabbing the object and walking back to him and plopping myself hard on his lap. “What’s that?” He looks at me with a smile. “It’s an impromptu welcome home gift, it might have gone stale a little though.” I give it to him and pull his face to kiss his moles that I missed oh so badly.
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He opens the brown bag and puts his hand in and gets out a blueberry muffin.
“Oh Henry! My man” He says as he splits it in two and share half with me.
___________________________________
The morning after, I wake up at 9:45 in my bed, alone. I squeeze my eyes shut, not believing that I actually dreamt this whole thing. I check my phone to see if I have any messages and only one from Julia saying that she would be at my place around 11.As I text her to bring the boxes back I hear my bedroom door open and a smile stretches on my lips as I turn around to see Dylan walking in with freshly made hot cocoa and buttered toast.
“Oh, you’re too good to me, O’Brien” I smile and lean against him as he sits on the bed. “What makes you think that’s yours? You’ve got the good homemade bread and I fucking missed it” He says taking a bite.
Seeing him bite into the grilled piece of bread I only think of his lips.
“Dylan?” I say grabbing his face in my hand. “Hmm?” He swallows his piece of toast. “What’s up.” “You haven’t kissed me yet. I didn’t get to kiss you welcome back. Please, do it” I say in the most desperate tone I’ve ever heard myself talk. “Anything for you my love” He leans in and kiss me.
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50 notes · View notes
livinginsunnyhell · 3 years
Note
Ask game for fanfic writers! ⌨️🖊📓📝
1. What fandoms do you write for?
2. What pairings do you write for?
3. What is your most popular fanfic?
4. Do you write original stories as well?
5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?
6. What is a fandom you will never write for?
7. What is a ship you will never write for?
8. Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, etc. which platform do you prefer?
9. What are your favorite fanfics?
10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?
11. What’s your longest fanfic?
12. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?
13. What is your planning process?
14. What have others criticized about your fanfic?
15. OCs or no OCs?
16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?
17. Do you use/follow advice from writing blogs/posts?
18. What is your favorite writing prompt?
19. Dead or overused tropes?
20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?
21. What’s your shortest fanfic?
22. Do you listen to music during your writing process? What music do you listen to while you’re writing?
23. Long chapters or short chapters?
24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?
25. How many WIPs will you finish?
26. First-person-narrative or third-person-narrative?
27. Do you take requests?
28. I will name you three things (drunk Ian — shared bachelor party — Gallavich): write a paragraph or two!
29. What’s more difficult? Fanfics or original work?
30. What writing software do you use?
31. Do you use beta/sensitivity readers?
32. Past or present tense?
33. Do friends and family know that you write fanfics?
34. How did you find the magical world of fanfics?
35. What is your favorite review?
36. Did you ever delete a work of yours?
37. Did your work ever get plagiarized?
38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)
39. Collaborations or working solo?
40. Do you have any rituals before uploading a fic?
41. What is something you don’t like about your writing?
42. Rudest review?
43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?
44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?
45. Do fanfics of your fanfic exist?
46. Few long essay reviews or many short reviews?
47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?
48. What is your favorite sentence that you’ve used in a fanfic?
49. Where do you draw inspiration from?
50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?
(Don't feel obligated to answer. Thought if you're into these kinda things, that'd be a nice ask. ;))
Oh this is so nice!! Thanks for sending this @annansmith
I chose a few of them to do. 
1. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently, I’m writing for Shameless (Gallavich) but I’ve written for:
Veronica Mars (LoVe), Veep (Amy/Dan), Arrow (Oliver/Felicity), Once Upon A Time (Hook/Emma), The Old Guard (Joe/Nicky), That 70′s show (Hyde/Jackie), Sons of Anarchy (Tara/Jax), Vampire Diaries (Klaroline), Hart of Dixie (Zoe/Wade), Gilmore Girls (Rory/Jess), X-men (Rogue/Pyro), One Tree Hill (Haley/Nathan), and a few others.
2. What pairings do you write for?
Now I write Gallavich. 
But I’d say my top ones I love writing for now (my fanfiction writing has spanned about 14 years) are Dan/Amy, Veronica/Logan, Klaus/Caroline, Mickey/Ian.
3. What is your most popular fanfic?
My most popular fic on Ao3 is The Course of True Love (Arrow) and on FF Of Bloodshed, Babies, and Epic LoVe (Veronica Mars)
4. Do you write original stories as well?
Yes, I do. I’m working on a book, well, two books. But it’s going very slowly. The first is a memoir of my travels from around the world and the second is a vampire urban fantasy one. We’ll see how it goes, but I’d like to finish them by next year and see if I can get them published, but it’s hard so who knows. 
10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?
Well, recently I’ve really been trying to finish everything I write. I have a lot of WIPs from years and years ago and even within the the last year, so this answer is pretty new. Basically, I focus on one fic at a time and write a little every day to stay motivated. Now, I try to update once a week on a certain day. I think comments/reviews and kudos and people being genuinely encouraging helps though. It’s also what’s gotten me considering finishing my older fics.
11. What’s your longest fanfic?
Of Bloodshed, Babies, and Epic Love (over 165k)
13. What is your planning process?
Now, it’s different. I have a doc of ideas and I wait to see which one I can’t seem to shake. Then I plan out each chapter with a few sentences and I have a list of things I want to focus on in the story. Usually, each story now has a kind of theme to it and a main focus. I sometimes will just want to write a certain situation/scene/focus and the story is born from there. But what really helps is writing down chapter 1, 2, etc. and having a sentence or two for what I want to happen. It doesn’t always go according to plan, but I never get writers block or forget what happened in previous chapters now.
16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?
Probably a mixture of fandom (or my personal) headcanons. I don’t start with prompts unless it’s a challenge or sentence starters. Usually, I have a scene I already want to write in my head and then I sit down and write it.
17. Do you use/follow advice from writing blogs/posts?
Yes, I’ve read several books on writing. My undergrad was creative writing too, so I learned a lot there. I also follow writing instagram accounts which are helpful. I take everything I learn with a grain of salt and I see what is best for me. The best advice I heard recently was short sentences and so now I’m experimenting with that.
20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?
There’s a lot from many different fandoms. I used to be on FF.net as Psyc0gurl0 and now I’m ProstheticLoVe on a03. I like writing on ao3 better cause it’s easier and I love the tagging process. Plus the gallavich fandom on there is unreal. So to think about going back to ff.net to finish my WIPs seems like such a process now. 
Currently though, I’m writing an Ian’s POV 5 chapter fic called Chocolate. It’s not out yet, but it’ll focus on Ian from 1x06 to 1x09 or so and how his feelings for Mickey change and evolve. It’s the second part to a series called Chocolate and Cigarettes. Mickey’s POV was Cigarettes.
22. Do you listen to music during your writing process? What music do you listen to while you’re writing?
Yes, I listen while writing but I need silence while editing. I have a Love (lol) playlist. It’s basically all the love songs that remind me of couples I ship. So for example, The Acid is in there a lot because their music is great, but also Basic Instinct is so haunting. Overall, I like all music except country, so sometimes I’ll listen to my larger playlists while writing. 
23. Long chapters or short chapters?
So this has changed over the years. Initially, I wrote short chapters, then when I got back into fanfiction while writing klaroline they got a lot longer and now it’s just basically where the chapter has a natural ending. So the chapters are between 4 - 10k words depending. I try to get over 4k though. Right now, once I’m done with my current fic, I really want to write something over 100k.
24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?
A lot...none in Shameless though. Well, I guess my current one, but I haven’t posted that yet. I’d say I probs have about 10 WIPs spanning different fandoms. I know. But my goal for 2021 is to pick two and finish them. 
25. How many WIPs will you finish?
Not all of them. Some of them are from years and years ago. But I’d like to finish the ones that I still get reviews on. So there’s a SOAs fic I want to finish cause that fandom is so lovely. I also want to finish a klaroline one cause that was fun to write. And my Amy/Dan ones I’d like to finish. I would like to finish my Veronica Mars ones (I have two) but they need a lot more attention, so when people message me about them I tell them the planned ending.
28. I will name you three things (drunk Ian — shared bachelor party — Gallavich): write a paragraph or two!
“Fuck, Mickey, I probably shouldn’t have had the third Hot Toddy,” Ian grimaced as the world around him spun. 
Mickey laughed at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Ian wanted to think his future husband just wanted to pull him closer, but he had a feeling it was to steady him.
“Probably should’ve cut you off earlier,” Mickey said tugging Ian closer. 
Ian wobbled and plopped down on the back steps of the porch. Mickey followed suit a moment letter and they both looked out toward the backyard where the Gallaghers, Balls, and a few of the Milkovich cousins were alternatively huddling around a fire, drinking, and dancing.
“I blame Lip for making us have this stupid shared bachelor party in the first place,” Ian grumbled.
Mickey kissed him on the forehead as Ian lay his head on his shoulder. “It’s Sandy’s fault too.”
Ian hmmed in response and Mickey knew he was going to fall asleep any moment. He ran his hand up and down Ian’s arm and watched as Debbie bounced over to them.
“Jesus, you aren’t even married yet and you two are like an old married couple. Are you going to come dance or what?” she whined.
Mickey looked down at Ian, whose eyes were already closed, and then back up to Debbie. She was watching them with knowing eyes.
“We’ll dance at the wedding. Go grab Lip, I need his help to get Sleeping Beauty upstairs.”
Debbie turned to go get her eldest brother and Mickey looked back down at Ian. In his sleep, he nuzzled Mickey’s shoulder, breathed deeply, and a gentle smile appeared there. 
3 more days and they’d officially be husbands. 
34. How did you find the magical world of fanfics?
I was about 10 and my cousin used to write a buffy the vampire slayer zine. There was a link to a site called buffyworld.com or something like that. And I found fanfic that way. There was a link on the site to ff.net and that’s how I stumbled across that. I stayed there for many many years until my second time in the veronica mars fandom around 2014 when I was lead to a03 and then I’ve been there ever since. On and off, my writing has fluctuated through the years based on my personal life.
49. Where do you draw inspiration from?
Everywhere! omg. It’s insane. Gallavich I love writing for. There’s so many different facets to them, but truly everywhere I find inspiration. I have a whole doc of gallavich ideas that have stemmed from other fanfics, headcanons from me and other people, rewatching episodes, what’s going to happen in s11, cute moments i’d like to see happen, holidays, and just general life. I saw a pic of WW2 vets who were in a long term relationship and i was like mickey and ian! another idea is born.  
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