#there’s all these little tell tale signs you pick up on over time especially when you get your account recommended to new users

[r0semultiverse]

Hello, I hope you are safe, I have been very ill for the past few weeks and have been bedridden with health problems. I found out that I have a tumor and it was already bad. I have Stage 4A Cervical Cancer and I need help ASAP. Please help me with a small donation I will appreciate it. 🙏Thanks & Be Blessed

Goal >> $1800

Oh right I should answer this for archival purposes before my phone needs to charge more. LOOK AT HOW RECENT THE ACCOUNT WAS MADE, OBVIOUS SCAM!

I will say them mixing up the prompt this time was clever, but still no dice. I know the signs baby, you’re a bot!

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: People Watching

Plot: The Greyhounds take another hit in Amsterdam, and a night out brings about revelation and realization for Y/n.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: language, discussion of child neglect

A/N: AMSTERDAM!! This is the one that really ties the whole thing together and sets up the rest of the series. I think it’s also my favorite so far. Very little of any other characters (sorry to my Jamie girls) but I promise it pays off ☺️

Enjoy!!

(Yes, this chapter is titled after the Conan Grey song. It fit too perfectly)

————————

The Amsterdam match, while not counting for anything, was a tremendous defeat.

The Greyhounds lost to Ajax, 5-0, unable to score a single goal against the Dutch. The boys hung on the field despondent, the home crowd booing and taunting them as loud as they could.

Y/n watched from the suite, seated between Keeley and Higgins, her eyes drifting across the crowd. Rivalry between fans had never bothered her, until Richmond had become her club. Now she was feeling every insult as if it were directed at her.

“Rebecca,” Marjolein, a high-up at AFC Ajax took the chair next to the blonde, “My apologies. Now, you’ve come all the way to Amsterdam and we at Ajax have been such rude hosts.”

The woman gestured to the scoreboard that the foursome couldn’t bear to do more than glance at.

“Marjolein, you’ve been more than gracious,” Rebecca replied, “Especially given the circumstances.”

The cruelty towards the Greyhounds had been particularly hard to handle because it all tied back to the golden boy. Zava. The signs, the banners, the cheers against them…without the prick, apparently AFC Richmond was worthless.

As the whistle blew, the match officially ended and the teams headed off the field. Y/n, Keeley, Higgins and Rebecca stood to their feet.

“Till next time,” Rebecca thanked and shook Marjolein’s hand. Keeley and Y/n followed suit.

“Truly was an honor to play here at the Johan Croyff Arena,” Higgins complimented.

Marjolein touched her hands to her chest, “No. The honor is ours completely. But it is pronounced Johan Cruijff.”

“Oh,” Higgins nodded, “Still.”

Left to themselves, the foursome listened to the stadium chant the words to Three Little Birds as it played over the speakers. Salt in the wound that was still actively bleeding.

“This song’s depressing,” Rebecca muttered before downing the last of her champagne.

Higgins gagged, his tell-tale sign that he was uncomfortable. Y/n put her hand on his shoulder and took it upon herself to lead the group out. When the boys came off the pitch, her job began.

Higgins, Keeley and Y/n went to the locker room, the two women waiting outside as Higgins collected who they needed.

“I hate him,” Y/n complained, leaned against a wall, staring up at the bright florescent lights, “I hope a storm comes through and just wrecks that avocado farm.”

Keeley managed a snort while pacing the hall, she was tense about something other than the match.

Y/n peeked over at her boss, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Keeley said quickly, picking at her nails a little before she stopped in front of Y/n, “I have something I need to tell you.”

Barely opening her mouth to ask what it was, Y/n was stopped by Higgins emerging from the locker room, Jan Maas and Roy in tow.

“Let’s get this over with,” Roy grunted, walking alongside Higgins down the hall.

“If you’re gonna fire me,” Y/n looked back at Keeley, “Do it now.”

“No,” Keeley replied, hurrying to catch up, “It can wait.”

They stood to the side with Higgins as Jan Maas spoke in his native tongue, his tone surpassed the language barrier. The team were hurting.

Eventually, the interviewer turned to the coaching side. “And so, Roy Kent,” he began, “Don’t you think Richmond’s objectively poor performance is due to the fact that you’re nothing without Zava?”

Y/n inhaled, holding her breath after, “Here we go…”

“Who cares?” Roy replied, “It’s a fucking friendly. A friendly is a pretend match. This is a pretend conversation. You’re a pretend person with a pretend job. And I’m having a really hard time pretending to give a shit.”

If Zava didn’t give them enough headlines to clean up, Roy certainly did.

Will passed them in the hallway with armfuls of bags, whispering hellos to Keeley and Y/n, before Rebecca returned.

“Okay, a night out in Amsterdam it is,” she said quietly, “Let’s make the best of it. What’s the plan?”

“Ooh, I’m spoken for, I’m afraid,” Higgins replied, “It’s my first time in Amsterdam and I have a date with someone special in the red-light district.”

Rebecca, Keeley and Y/n watched their co-worker leave, staring in confusion.

“Nah,” they all said in harmony. There was no way.

“Just us, then,” Rebecca smiled at the two women.

Between the loss and her general stance on spending time together outside of work, Y/n already had her excuse prepared. “I’m exhausted,” she said, “I’m just gonna order dinner and turn in early.”

Keeley’s nervous smile returned as Rebecca turned to her expectantly, “I’d love to-“

“That’s a quick cancellation,” Rebecca replied.

“How’d you know I was gonna cancel?” Keeley asked.

“Because there’s a certain note in your vocal range that you only ever hit when you’re being preemptively apologetic,” Rebecca explained, glancing over to Y/n, “Am I right?”

Y/n scrunched her face at both her bosses, landing on Keeley. “Just a…little.”

“Come on,” Rebecca continued, “Out with it.”

“All right,” Keeley sighed, “Apparently, tonight is the best aurora borealis ever. Like it’s the aurora ‘boreal-iest.’ In Norway.”

Rebecca nodded understandingly while Y/n tilted her head. “How are you getting to Norway?”

Keeley ever-so-slightly shifted between feet, “And Jack and her plane are waiting for me at the airport right now,” she looked nervously to her employee, “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Y/n’s mouth opened and closed, her mind trying desperately to find words opposite to what she truly wanted to say. Keeley. Jack. Keeley and Jack. A thing. The boss and the boss-boss. What could go wrong? Everything.

Luckily, Rebecca spoke first. “Subtle,” she smiled at her friend, “And amazing.”

“Yeah, that’s,” Y/n’s total discomfort with the situation cut off the signal to her brain. She awkwardly made a fist and raised it, “Great. So great.”

Keeley was so in her own world, no doubt one that sat on a Dutch runway, she didn’t notice Y/n’s terrible performance.

“Go,” Rebecca nodded toward the end of the hall.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Keeley grabbed Rebecca’s hands.

“Yes, you will,” the older blonde replied.

“Oh,” Keeley caught Jan Maas heading down the hall, interview completed, “Great job, Jan.”

“Yes, seriously,” Y/n added, “Thank you so much.”

The Dutch man smiled at the two and gave a wave.

“And, Roy,” Keeley called to her ex, “Thank you again for doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roy nodded, “Anytime.”

Keeley squeezed Rebecca’s arm, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Rebecca repeated.

“I love you,” Keeley grabbed Y/n’s hands, “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Y/n forced a laugh, nothing was actually funny at the moment, and watched as Keeley ran down the hall, Norway bound.

Rebecca, having spent enough time with Y/n, could sense her unease. “What are you thinking this very moment?”

“I’m watching my career get blown up because of a stupid night sky,” Y/n grinned, her eyes following Keeley’s fluffy pink coat bounce up and down.

Roy left the interviewer, coming to stand between the two women. It gave him a prime spot to watch his ex-girlfriend bound out. “Where’s she going?”

“Somewhere that believes they deserve her,” Rebecca replied, letting the thinly veiled comment smack Roy. She touched Y/n’s arm in goodbye before leaving the same way Keeley had.

Y/n let out a sigh, her and Roy turning to one another in silent resignation over separate matters. Y/n’s eye caught on the poster beside them, her face shifting with disgust.

Zava.

Roy turned and faced it, a small shrine to the legend’s short stint at AFC Ajax, and pounded his fist against it. It fell to the floor where Roy promptly landed a few kicks before casually walking off.

Y/n looked down the hall to where the interviewer was still filming, watching in shock as Roy stalked off.

“We’ll pay for that,” Y/n smiled.

“No, we won’t,” Roy called out.

Sneering once more at Zava’s arrogant grin, Y/n marched off toward the exit, ready for the day to be over.

—————————

Of course, by the time she got back to her hotel, it was barely 6PM. There was a whole evening to kill.

Y/n ordered room service, snacking as she scrolled the social media reactions to the match. When it became fruitless trying to find anything positive, she set her phone down on her nightstand and grabbed the tv remote instead.

She flipped between stations, finding most of the programming to be in Dutch. Eventually, she settled on the hotel’s channel that showcased their amenities and the city’s activities.

Y/n dropped the remote in shock, “Oh my gosh.”

With a Dutch overdub, a very out-of-fashion Keeley described some feature the hotel rooms had.

Y/n laughed, covering her mouth as she watched her boss over-exaggeratedly move around the screen. The sight was bringing her thoughts on Keeley back around to a more positive place.

It was eating at her, though, Keeley and Jack. Both of them were perfectly lovely, and Y/n had been witness to their natural chemistry. But dating the person that financed your company? That could decide at the drop of a hat to pack you up and dissolve everything you’d worked for?

Not that Jack would do that. Y/n reminded herself that the woman was level-headed and genuinely believed in Keeley’s vision. But there was always the great big “…what if?”

Y/n ran a hand through her hair, sitting on the edge of her bed. How could anyone be comfortable taking such risks with their career?

Deciding that she’d spiral if she stayed in her hotel room any longer, Y/n went to her suitcase and grabbed a change of clothes. She threw on her sweater and jeans, collected her wallet, phone and coat, and headed out the door.

She felt a twinge of guilt, telling Rebecca she was staying in and leaving the woman to fend for herself. But it wasn’t enough remorse to get Y/n to send a text.

Once she reached the lobby, she had to pass through the lounge to get to the exit. She quickly stepped back behind a wall when she spotted the entire team seated together, in deep conversation. Y/n couldn’t turn down another invitation, nor did she want to answer any questions, good-natured as they may be. She waited until a bellboy came through with a full luggage cart, hurrying alongside the suitcases that formed a perfect shield.

In the clear, Y/n stepped out into the evening air, inhaling deeply. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was going to enjoy herself. If nothing else, she was going to leave saying that she’d spent a night out in Amsterdam.

She wandered down to a busier part, not so stupid to think that as a single woman she could roam the city freely. In the more touristy section, there were buskers, much like in London. They provided a pleasant soundtrack as Y/n weaved through the crowds, searching for the first place she wanted to stop. Eventually, she spotted a street vendor, selling coffees and pastries, and decided that was as good as anything else.

Y/n walked until she found an empty bench, claiming it for herself. She ate her pastry, sipped her coffee and watched the crowd, listened to the chatter of the people passing by. There was something about being in a new city that electrified her, it was the same feeling she’d had when she’d first arrived in London. Everything was fresh and exciting and full of possibilities, even if she didn’t take any of them.

“And here-“

A familiar voice broke through Y/n’s thoughts. She traced it to find Jamie jogging down the cobblestone street.

“Is the most beautiful girl,” Jamie announced, running in place in front of Y/n and gesturing to her, “In all of Amsterdam!”

Spotting Y/n a grin, Jamie went on his way, leaving her laughing as he left. Ten seconds later, a well-worn Roy stopped to catch his breath.

Y/n smirked, knowing that Jamie was exhausting him. She lifted her leg to show her sneakers, “You want me to-“

“No,” Roy panted, keeping one eye on Jamie, “Don’t give him any more fucking energy.”

Roy took off once more after his protege. Y/n watched the two men disappear into the night, smiling and shaking her head.

With nothing else to do, she decided to call her sister. Her and Caylee had a standing catch-up each Sunday and she wasn’t going to miss it.

The dial rang twice before it picked up, “Hey.”

Y/n smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, “Guess where I am?”

“Where?”

“Sitting along a canal in Amsterdam, sipping a coffee, surrounded by people I don’t know.”

“Look at you,” Caylee cheered, “Being all spontaneous and shit.”

With a full mouth, Y/n laughed. “I mean, I knew I’d have the time. Not sure that counts.”

“Still, it’s good to know you’re out. You with anyone?”

“No,” Y/n said, watching one of the boats float down the canal, “Just me.”

Caylee’s silence was deafening, and predicted. By them both.

“So not your boss, who you said keeps inviting you places?” Caylee asked.

Y/n chuckled, “My boss is in Norway right now.”

“And not your other boss who, quite frankly, sounds fucking amazing?”

Y/n sighed, thinking of Rebecca’s earlier invitation. “She…had plans.”

“Not the coach who home invaded you to deliver fresh baked cookies?”

“No,” Y/n was starting to squirm under Caylee’s interrogation, “And they were biscuits.”

“And not the ridiculously hot footballer who’s basically just dropped himself in your lap?”

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. Jamie had texted her multiple suggestions on how to spend her night in the city. She’d felt bad ignoring them.

“It’s not-“

“Yeah, I know,” Caylee cut her off, “It’s not like that. That’s not the important part of what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve got all these people who are jumping to be around you and you keep pushing them away, and quite frankly, it’s kind of ridiculous.”

Her tongue poking her cheek in frustration, Y/n let her free hand fall to her lap. “Why is it ridiculous?”

“Because you’ve got no reason to be doing it,” Caylee said, no doubt with a shrug. Y/n was inhaling to argue back when she was cut off again. “You’ve got every reason to. I do too. Except these people actually want to be with you. They’re fucking proving it every Sunday night you call me and tell me how you had to dodge another invitation to a birthday party or another drink after a match…”

Y/n felt backed into a metaphorical corner, all too exposed. She kept searching for some comeback, some solid point to make, but couldn’t find one.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Caylee,” she said, trying to steady her voice.

“It’s really not,” her sister replied.

“Yes, it is,” Y/n’s tone jumped, “You make it sound like all I have to do is go out for a coffee with my boss and all my issues are magically solved.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Caylee, to her credit, didn’t drop her even tone.

“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Y/n retorted, her brain and her mouth working at different speeds, “Y-you’re saying that I should— I-I should jus-just let them into my life and-“

“When are you going to stop punishing everybody else for what Mom and Dad did to us?”

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest and her stammers stuck to her throat. The truth could paralyze you like that.

Caylee didn’t speak, letting the question wash over her sister. Eventually, after watching someone self-destruct for long enough, subtlety was useless. Sometimes you had to hurt them to help them heal.

“I love you,” Caylee said softly, “But you deserve a better life than this. The only thing standing in the way…”

The sentence didn’t need to be finished. Y/n knew.

“You can hate me if you want.”

Y/n chortled, looking down at her coffee cup. “I’ve tried. Doesn’t work.”

Caylee hummed, her smile somehow vocalized as well.

“I love you,” Y/n returned, “And I’m…sorry. For everything.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing you need to stop doing,” Caylee pointed out, “Stop apologizing for our shitty childhood. You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re my baby sister,” Y/n sniffled, trying to stop the tears before they’d even formed, “Bit of a habit, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, I turned out fine,” Caylee chuckled, “Boyfriend, job, friends…I’m happy. I just want the same for you.”

Y/n smiled, she was so proud of her sister. She’d built her own life, and had found an inner peace regarding their childhood that Y/n had yet to discover. She wasn’t envious, she longed to understand how Caylee had done it. How she seemed to be able to pack up their parent’s negligence in a box and stick it under her bed. It was all Y/n had wanted since moving to London.

“Well, not that this isn’t fun, getting a verbal finger wagging,” Y/n sighed, “But-“

“Go,” Caylee urged, “You’ll never be in Amsterdam again.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “I might.”

A sisterly silence crackled between them.

“You’ll never be in Amsterdam again,” Caylee grinned, imagining her tightly-wound sister in a city of such debauchery.

Y/n laughed, “Probably not.”

“I love you,” Caylee repeated, “Really.”

“I love you too,” Y/n echoed, “I’ll call you Sunday.”

“I’ll be here.”

Without another word, the siblings hung up, returning to their corners of the world.

Y/n took a breath, looking down at her coffee as if it held all the answers. She couldn’t very well sit on the damn bench all night, not after that conversation. She needed to do something.

Amsterdam. Tulips. That made sense. She needed to see tulips in their native soil.

Y/n searched the map on her phone and found a nearby garden, less than a half mile’s walk away. She could do that no problem.

On the way over, her thoughts managed to leave her alone. The weight of what Caylee’d said hadn’t fully landed. Weaving between tourists and dodging the drunken ones was certainly enough to keep Y/n occupied. She could keep herself in semi-excitement about her destination.

Upon arriving and paying for admission, she found the gardens to be surprisingly quiet. It was close to closing time and a fair share of parties were heading out the way she was coming.

Y/n strolled through the greenhouse. She found the path to the outer section, the pebbles crunching under her sneakers as she followed the signs with floral markers. Her head stayed quiet.

The sprawling tulip patch was stunning. The marketplace ones Y/n had bought and placed in her kitchen window didn’t do the real thing justice. These bloomed with the kind of radiance that only came with being in the place they truly belonged.

Y/n tried to admire them, but had never been more aware of her solitude. There were families strolling past, couples gazing at the flowers, hand in hand. The bustle of the Amsterdam streets had melted away, the peaceful silence of the gardens provided no escape from one’s thoughts.

She’d been at Richmond four months, growing more and more pleased with the job each day. Except it wasn’t the work that made her happy. She didn’t get a pit in her stomach at the thought of exchanging emails with some sneaker company. She didn’t feel jolts of electricity down her fingers from scrolling Twitter to see how a press conference was received.

It was the matches that thrilled her. Sitting in the owner’s box at Nelson Road. Being squished between Keeley and Rebecca and Higgins. Watching the team run up and down the pitch. Cheering and screaming when one of the boys scored a goal. That was what made her happy.

The tears built as a supercut of moments played in Y/n’s mind. The team, inviting her out after nearly every match, genuinely disappointed each time she declined. Keeley, clawing and scratching her way into Y/n’s life, desperately trying to be a friend. Rebecca, as intimidating as she was, constantly praising Y/n on her talents, always encouraging her. Ted, offering time and time again to be there for her, to welcome her into their fold. Jamie, texting her a full fucking itinerary for a night he wouldn’t even be there for. Helping her find an apartment. Listening to her talk about her shitty childhood.

Being there for her.

They all wanted to be there for her.

And she was too fucking scared to let them.

Y/n sniffled, her eyes so blurred that the tulips turned to watercolor blobs.

“Ahem.”

She turned to her right, a grey haired man taking slow steps toward her, pulling something from his jacket.

“Here you go, dear” he said, offering her a handkerchief.

“Oh,” Y/n tried to collect herself, inevitably failing and taking the cloth, “Thank you.”

“No need,” the elderly man held up a hand, he spoke with a thick Dutch accent. “It is easy to recognize a broken heart.”

“Oh, no,” she denied as she dried her eyes. She tried to give a small smile, “I’m just a little lonely. It’ll pass.”

“Ah,” he came to stand beside her, facing the tulips, “I would not say that.”

Y/n stayed silent, sensing the stranger had more to say.

“Loneliness…it is like a warning. A wave lapping at the shores,” he smoothed his hand over the air, “It grows a little bigger, and it starts to hit the shore. And out in the distance, more begin to build. But still,” he shrugged, “No storm, no worries. It is simply a wave. Until the skies darken, and the storm shows up,” he moved his hand to simulate bursts of thunder and lightning, “And everybody is running and asking ‘Ahhh! How? How did this happen? Why did no one tell us this was coming?’”

Y/n smiled slightly as the man clasped his hands together, speaking higher for the imitation.

“And the storm says,” he cleared his throat, “‘I did tell you. The waves grew wilder and wilder, but it was of no concern to you. You laughed and continued on, saying that it was nothing...that it would pass.’”

Y/n clenched the handkerchief tighter in her fist.

“Loneliness is not to be isolated further,” the man mused, smiling grandfatherly at Y/n, “Rather, to be smothered in the company of good friends, a lover. Family.”

Whether he was an angel or a hallucination, the man was telling Y/n everything the part of her mind she didn’t listen to did. She’d hidden away all her life, terrified to let anyone in. The effort had finally beaten her. She was tired of the loneliness, tired of lying, tired of fending off the efforts of those who were already in her heart.

Y/n gave a watery smile, “You might be right.”

He smiled back, “Maybe.”

With a wink, he started back up the path he’d come.

“Wait,” Y/n held up the handkerchief, “You forgot this.”

The man looked back and waved a little, “Keep it. A little reminder not to be alone for too long.”

He went off then, Y/n watched him until he disappeared around a corner, feeling dumbstruck. Terrified. Relieved. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, but her feet set off with such purpose, it didn’t matter if she knew. She was on the right track.

She ended up in the red light district, of all places. There was no one to call, each of the Greyhounds off on their own adventures, but Y/n was determined to be somewhere there was life. To do something. Not stand on the sidelines and pretend she had no desire to be in the middle of it all. A jazz club seemed like the perfect answer.

The establishment she decided on was busy, but not too crowded. She took cautious steps through, hoping she didn’t pick too rowdy of a place. Soft jazz played from the stage at the back of the smoky room. She was about to settle at the bar when she spotted the backs of two heads she knew quite well.

Walking up to the two men, Y/n tapped Higgins on the shoulder.

“Y/n,” he exclaimed, no doubt a little tipsy, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wandered in,” she replied, looking past him and giving a little wave to Will, “You mind if I join you guys?”

“Oh, please,” Will gestured to the table, jumping up from his seat to help Y/n into a chair.

“The more the merrier,” Higgins added before going back to playing the upright air-bass.

Y/n tried not to laugh, she’d never seen him off-the-clock. She suspected Will hadn’t either as the two of them caught each other’s eye, sharing a look of mutual amusement.

“Has he been like this all night?” Y/n asked.

“Uh, little bit, yeah,” Will answered, Higgins scatting in the background.

One of the women that had been playing on stage made her way down to the Richmond table, scrunching down to Higgins’ level. She raised her voice over the music, “Do you play?”

Higgins startled, stumbling over his words due to surprise and liquor. “Uh…um…”

Y/n smiled and turned to the woman, “He does.”

“Yes, he— Yes, he does,” Will was quick to follow, “He plays bass because Chet Baker- Chet Ba- Do you know who Chet Baker is?”

The woman smiled sweetly at Will.

“All right, okay,” he replied, settling back in his chair and looking to Y/n, reminding her of an excitable puppy.

“What do you say, Higgins?” Y/n asked, looking over at her co-worker.

He looked to be wrestling with an already made decision. Will patted him on the shoulder, urging him to accept the unspoken offer. Buoyed by his co-workers, Higgins scooted his chair back and followed the woman up to the stage. Will and Y/n cheered him on.

“We went to see where Chet Baker killed himself,” Will said, his grin didn’t quite match his words.

Y/n raised her brows, still smiling. “Well, that must’ve been fun.”

“It was,” Will replied, “What have you been doing?”

Higgins took hold of the bass, getting a feel for it before playing a complex intro to a song.

Y/n’s eyes never left the stage, “Nothing as fun as this.”

“Let’s get lost now!” Higgins called to the crowd.

Everyone let out a shout of approval, Will and Y/n’s the loudest, and the rest of the band kicked in. Y/n pulled out her phone and opened her camera app, she hit record just as the woman who’d pulled Higgins up began to sing.

As the song played, for the first time in four months, Y/n smiled so broadly, her cheeks hurt. When Higgins went into a solo, she grabbed Will’s arm and the two of them watched ecstatically. She felt like she’d come to an oasis in the middle of a desert, not even realizing how in need of water she was.

When the song ended, she was the first one to her feet.

—————————

The next morning, the Greyhounds were surprisingly sober aboard the Coach. They went about their separate conversations, waiting for the last of them to find their way onto the bus.

An unfamiliar pair of shoes slapped up the steps, drawing a couple of eyes upward.

Y/n stopped at the front of the bus, holding up a beanie.

“This,” she said loud enough to get all the player’s attention, “Is a collection plate. It will be sitting at the back of the bus, where at some point during the eleven hour drive back to our lovely nation, you will each place an unspecified amount of money which, in total, will amount to what we owe the hotel in damages to pillows,” Y/n held up a finger, smiling annoyedly, “And keep in mind, I do know your salaries. Give accordingly.”

There was a mixture of shame and amusement on the Greyhound’s faces, but no real regret. Nor was Y/n actually mad. She had questions, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing when she came down to the lobby and saw Higgins doing damage control at the concierge desk over the feathery mess.

She made her way to the back of the bus where Ted and a very dressed-up Beard sat.

“Hey, stranger,” Ted greeted, looking up from his notebook, “How’d Amsterdam treat ya?”

“Alright,” she replied, looking at the empty spot next to Ted, “Do you…mind if I join you guys?”

Ted smiled, surprised but delighted. He knew if he said too much he might scare Y/n right back off the bus, “You kiddin’? Scoot your boot, c’mon.”

Sliding in beside him, Y/n exhaled against the plush seat. Will had already packed her bags in the luggage compartment and she’d texted Rebecca to let her know she wouldn’t be joining her on the jet back to London.

She finally got a full look at Beard’s ensemble. A big snout and pig ears, a glittery jumpsuit with silver platform boots, and an unmistakable blue and red lightning bolt painted across his face.

“I hate that I know what you’re going for,” Y/n remarked across the table.

“Don’t hate it,” Beard replied, spreading his hands, “Embrace it.”

Y/n chuckled before the cheering from the Greyhounds caught her ear. She glanced down the aisle to spot Rebecca making her way towards them.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey, boss,” Ted added as Rebecca slid in next to Y/n, looking more relaxed than ever. “So, twelve unanswered texts, three un-haha’ed GIFs. We good?”

“I’m sorry, Ted,” Rebecca smiled, speaking slowly, “My phone is at the bottom of a canal.”

Ted pondered the answer, “Is that Keats?”

Rebecca shook her head, “Nope.”

“Well, I guess I didn’t need to send that text,” Y/n commented, “I won’t be on the plane home, by the way.”

Rebecca gave a breathy laugh, reaching over to pat Y/n’s hand. Out of character as all get out, but Y/n was happy to see her boss so…at peace.

“Hey, Will,” Ted called down to the kitman, “How we looking?”

“Uh, we’re two short,” Will answered, “Who’s missing?”

Y/n had clocked the missing presences the second she’d stepped on the bus. Being the closest to the window, she was the first to spot them, but she didn’t quite believe what she saw.

Jamie rode up beside the bus on a bike, Roy sitting behind him and hanging on with one arm slung round Jamie’s hips.

“You lovely people,” Jamie called out as Roy eagerly hopped off.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Y/n remarked.

“Don’t fucking ask,” Roy groaned as he came down the aisle, “Let’s go.”

Just as he’d taken his seat, Jamie jumped aboard, holding his fists in the air. “We saw a windmill!”

The Greyhounds cheered, high-fiving Jamie as he found a seat. He caught Y/n sandwiched between Rebecca and Ted, the two of them sharing a grin.

“You take my advice?”

Y/n shook her head, “Not a bit.”

Jamie clutched his chest, letting himself fall into one of the chairs. “I’m hurt,” he called over the chatter.

Rebecca slid her feet up onto the table, shutting her eyes as if she meant to go to drift off. This was the most relaxed Y/n had ever seen her, and she suspected the same went for Ted.

“Everything okay, boss?” Ted asked.

Waiting a moment, Rebecca responded with a tune that had had a much different meaning the day before.

“Don’t worry,” she sang, “‘Bout a thing. ‘Cause every little thing’s, gonna be all right.”

“Well,” Ted smiled, “I appreciate it.”

“Singin’ don’t worry,” Beard continued, singing back quite nasally, “About a thing.”

Y/n laughed, what else was there to do? She was watching a man in a David Bowie/swine get-up sing Bob Marley, and there was literally no place she’d rather be.

“‘Cause every little thing,” Rebecca sang along with Beard, “Gonna be all right.”

Ted chuckled alongside Y/n, “Ready for eleven hours of this?”

“Definitely,” Y/n nodded.

“Everybody!” Beard called to the bus before continuing the song, “Don’t worry…”

As she sang with the team, Y/n felt the four month old tension she’d been holding melt away. This was where she belonged, this was where she wanted to stay.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove

[occasional-drabbles]

Cardiology Runs on Caffeine

Figured I'd go ahead and contribute some to the Dr. Greyson fandom, inspired by @dawnbreakersgaze ! So enjoy.... this?

Third shifts can suck. Especially third shifts in retail. You have to hope that all of the stores you need are open by the time you get off work, or you have to keep yourself awake even longer to take care of errands, or wake up hours before your shift. Phone calls and appointments interrupting your sleep, killing your social time with non-third-shifters. 

Despite all of that, you wouldn’t trade third shift for the world. Sure, you get some… interesting customers, the occasional drunkard, but you also get the hard workers who are doing their best to keep things going till morning. The medical professionals, the students, the drivers, all of whom are so grateful that you’re still open. Those are your favorite customers. 

Just as you were thinking over that fact while tidying up behind the counter, you lifted your head when hearing the bell at the entrance to the cafe. 

“Welcome!” You greeted, just like always, only to get more genuinely excited when recognizing the familiar wavy brown hair from the doorway. “Ah, Dr. Greyson!” You greet, going to the counter. The poor man looked tired, but that didn’t stop him from offering you a brilliant smile that made your cheeks flush slightly. “Would you like your usual, or something new?”

Grayson hummed as he considered the offer. “Let’s go with a surprise.” He answered, nodding to himself as if to solidify the decision. 

You let out a small laugh as you started to get everything out, listening as he started to absently hum to the music playing on the radio. “Is this the start of your shift, or the end?” You asked curiously. How much caffeine does he need?

“It’s the start, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.” He answered honestly, leaning against the counter to watch you work, even with your back to him at the moment. “But at least I’ll be starting it on the right foot, with some of your amazing handiwork to get me going.” By his tone alone you could picture the adorably confident grin on his face. 

You laughed at his flirtations, glancing over your shoulder at him, hoping your face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. “You flatter me, doctor~” 

You two fell into a comfortable silence as you worked, the radio filling the quiet. You did a few little tricks as you worked since it’s been a slow night and you can’t help it, really. Dr. Greyson is such a kind person, but well respected. The kind of man you can’t not like. Something about him compelled you to impress him, in what little ways that you could. 

It didn’t take long before you were offering him his cup, going through the usual transaction. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try to take care of yourself where you can, okay?” You asked him, glancing up from the register. “This might come as a shock, but I actually enjoy having you come by.” You teased, your smile widening to a more proper grin when seeing the tell-tale signs of a blush on his cheeks. 

Success!

Greyson let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally picked up his drink. “Aww, you flatter me!” He insisted, trying to keep his fluster from being quite so obvious, and failing spectacularly. 

You just grinned, settling your cheek in your hand. “I just speak the truth.” You returned playfully, knowing that you need to send him on his way soon… but you’re enjoying his company so much that you’re hesitant to remind him of the fact. Unfortunately, you know that you can’t be that selfish. 

“As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I should probably let you get going. Let you go be an awesome doctor, saving lives, all that amazing stuff.” You encouraged, even playfully moving your hands to shoo him out. 

Greyson laughed more heartily this time, leaving his usual tip for you as he got ready to leave, holding his free hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving. But you need to take care of yourself too, okay?” He insisted, even pointing at you in playful ‘warning’ as he stood at the door, his grin never faltering. 

You offered him a salute in response, your amused giggles music to Greyson’s ears as he finally left to finish his walk to Akso. He already felt refreshed, and he hadn’t even tried the undoubtedly amazing drink you’d made for him yet. 

You hummed in content as you watched him go, your sorrow that your time with him today was so short gradually getting overshadowed as an idea began to form. 

And oh was this going to be beautiful. 

For the rest of your blissfully quiet shift, you were working on your little plan. Scouring your messages for information and prepping the materials. Perhaps this was some wild overkill, you aren’t even entirely certain if you could get away with it… but there’s only one way to find out! 

So once your shift ended and your coworker was there to take over for you, you gathered the drink carriers you’d just finished preparing, and headed in the same direction that Greyson had gone down just a few hours ago. You knew he worked at Akso Hospital, in the cardiology department, so you didn’t have to look completely foolish trying to figure out where he worked. 

Despite how brief your interactions always end up, you still managed to learn a lot about him and his coworkers, to the point you actually recognized some of them when they came in the first time at his suggestion. It still makes you chuckle, remembering their shocked and mildly concerned faces. Greyson had gotten such a kick out of it when you told him about it, to the point he had accidentally snorted hot coffee up his nose since you hadn’t timed it well enough. You still feel bad for that, no matter how much he insists it’s fine… 

Seeing Akso in front of you, you took a deep breath and walked in. The sun was just barely coming up, and honestly you were tired. But you’re also determined. Besides, if you’re tired, what of the doctors and nurses you’ve gotten to know here? 

Speaking of, you beamed when recognizing a familiar face at the front desk. “Yvonne!” You were quick to get to the front desk, careful not to spill your trays, setting them on the counter to let your wrists rest and to grab one of the cups out. 

“Well fancy seeing you here!” Yvonne returned, genuinely seeming surprised, but eyeing the cups hopefully. “I’m going to hope that you’re here to be an angel of caffeine, and not as a patient?” She asked, glancing up to you again. 

You nodded with a laugh, offering her a cup with her name on it. “I’m not here as a patient, no. I just got off work and thought it’d be fun to surprise everyone I could with a little ‘pick-me-up’. Greyson mentioned he had a feeling it was going to be a long day, so…” You trailed off as your cheeks warmed, offering a sheepish shrug to finish your mini-ramble. It didn’t help that Yvonne was grinning at you in such a cat-like way that if it weren’t a hospital, you’d be inclined to cover her face. 

“Wait here, dear. I’ll get Greyson to come down for you.” She reassured, picking up her work phone to call him up. You couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but you had a feeling you’d find out soon. 

As expected, Greyson didn’t take long to make his appearance. It was a little strange to see him all geared up, white coat and all. But it also seemed fitting. Really cemented the whole doctor thing. He looked downright exhausted now, your expression softening in sympathy. The fatigue didn’t last though, his confusion replaced with excitement when seeing you. It almost reminded you of a puppy, if you were honest. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, though it wasn’t accusatory. A little concerned, but not upset in the slightest. 

Instead of answering him immediately, you pulled out his cup from the drink trays, offering it to him with a smile. “I come bearing gifts.” You teased lightly. 

You may as well have just told him you hung the sun yourself, with the complete and utter joy and gratitude that he was looking at you with. 

He accepted the cup easily and took a sip, letting out a content hum at the taste. His usual, exactly as he likes it. “You are a godsend.” He breathed, noticing the rest of the cups. “Are those for the others?” He asked, looking to Yvonne as she took a pointed sip of her own sweet caffeine concoction. 

Greyson looked to you again as you nodded, more sheepish now. “Who I could remember, at least. I don’t know if I’m allowed to take them back or not, though…” 

Greyson and Yvonne both looked at each other for a moment before sharing a nod. Yvonne took just a moment to provide a visitor badge for you, though she instead passed it to Greyson, who very gently settled it on your shirt. He made sure you had plenty of time to stop him if you wanted, but you were too flustered and surprised by the flurry of movement to actually intervene, not that you found yourself inclined to stop him to begin with. 

“So long as you don’t go far, it should be fine.” He reassured with a grin, grabbing one of the trays. 

You took the cue, picking up the other tray and following him as he led you out of the waiting room. He held the door open for you, leading you down the hallways. As expected, the hospital smelled very… clean. Sharp. But not unpleasant. Though, maybe that’s thanks to having the warmest person next to you, beaming at you. “Now, what prompted the surprise visit?” He asked curiously. 

You flushed, focusing on your tray because you feared you might combust if you looked up at him as you answered. “You mentioned that you had a feeling it was going to be a long shift… I figured you’d have a pretty good sense for when to expect long shifts, and my shift was pretty slow. So… I thought it’d be fun to make drinks for as many people as I could remember.” You shrugged sheepishly, glancing up at him again. 

Greyson’s expression had softened, but his smile never faltered. “That’s real sweet of you, y’know that?” He asked, even if he wasn’t really expecting an answer. 

Not that you were really given an opportunity to answer, one of the interns you’d made a drink for stopping you two in the hall. 

“Oh, hey!” They greeted, surprised as they looked between the two of you, glancing at your visitor’s pass for just a moment before looking to Greyson curiously. 

You let Greyson explain that you had brought drinks for some of the staff, checking the trays to figure out which cup went to the intern. As a result, you were oblivious to the intern realizing just how well you and Greyson were getting along. They didn’t dare comment on it, of course, but… they couldn’t deny it, either!

So instead they just thanked you profusely for the drink before hurrying down the hall again, likely having more stuff to take care of. 

Greyson led you to the nearest break room, setting the tray down to sort through them and figure out who got which cup. You’d even made a cup for Dr. Zayne, even if you aren’t entirely sure if he was going to be here tonight. He’s such a workaholic, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was. 

Greyson hummed softly as he sorted the cups, then turning his attention to you. “You’re an angel.” He told you, leaving no room for argument, but his tone was gentle all the same. There was affection lacing every syllable, and a weight to it that you couldn’t quite place. 

It had your face flushing despite yourself, rubbing the back of your neck as you looked away again. “It’s just… it feels like a little thing I can do to support you guys… you work so hard to take care of everyone.” You tried to explain. 

Greyson chuckled, considering for a moment before wrapping one arm around your shoulders to give you a small hug without overwhelming you, squeezing you into his side carefully. “That’s sweet of you. We do this job because we want to help people, but small acts of kindness like this help us get through it a little easier.” 

Glancing to the clock in the room, he honestly started to pout. “I should go ahead and let you head home, though. I don’t want to keep you up too late, and I can go ahead and distribute these to where they need to go.” He offered, his arm still around you as he led you out of the break room. “This really was an awesome surprise though, angel.” He hummed playfully, running at how flustered you got at the nickname. 

You couldn’t help but elbow him in retaliation, though you were careful not to risk doing actual damage or anything. Clearly you didn’t do any damage, based on the laughter that followed your ‘attack’. 

“Whaaaat?” Greyson whined playfully, still grinning as he looked down at you, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just telling the truth! You’re amazing, and it’s a fact!” He insisted, opening the door to the waiting room for you again. 

You were so distracted by Greyson’s teasing that you didn’t notice Yvonne and the intern watching you two from the front desk as you shoved Greyson again, even as your own laughter started to bubble up. “Oh shut up!” You fussed, trying to calm down at least somewhat. 

Greyson just looked proud of himself, playfully acting as if he were seriously thinking over the instruction before shaking his head. “Naaaah.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and waving him off. “Go back to being a smart handsome doctor.” 

There were a few beats of quiet as everyone registered what you had just said, Greyson finding himself starting to flush almost as much as you had earlier. You, on the other hand, thought you could combust right then and there with how flustered you were. 

“Um… have a good rest of your shifts!” You quickly said before hurrying out of the hospital, mentally kicking yourself for such an embarrassing exit. 

Yvonne was the first of the trio still in the hospital to speak, turning her chair towards Greyson and quirking a brow. “So…. you’re going to ask them out, right?”

[rowdyslove]

𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒.

✸ — just a quick shoutout to all of these amazing writers that have put in the time and work to write these lovely fics. i love them all and these writers have done such an incredible job.

✸ — make sure to check out all of their blogs as well, and LIKE and REBLOG to support them !! :)

✸ — i will be frequently adding to the lists as i keep reading.

(𖤐 = my personal favourites)

different paths | in which there are 5 times you and jack saw differently, and then the one time you both saw things the same.

love’s little miracle | in which jack feels your baby kick for the first time.

𖤐 - when to let go | in which jack struggles with your breakup, especially since you’ve been his best friend for over 4 years.

the mess you leave behind ( part 1 ) | jack’s always there to pick you back up as you struggle with a breakup after catching your boyfriend cheating.

the mess you leave behind ( part 2 ) | jack thinks your still in contact with your ex, and he lets his protective nature over you get the best of him.

the mess you leave behind ( part 3 ) | keeping your new relationship with jack private from your brother, until a waiter at a restaurant starts flirting with you and jack gets protective and jealous in front of trevor.

once more | in which you reunite with your ex-boyfriend when quinn invites you to the hughes’ lake house.

𖤐 afterglow | in which you question your relationship after he lets out his frustrations on you.

𖤐 - pillow talk | in which your friends had warned you about getting involved with him intimately, and you really think you should’ve listened.

𖤐 - a tale of dancing and romancing | in which you think that your love for your best friend is one-sided until he finally confesses.

𖤐 - little one | in which jack’s daughter comforts him after a tough loss.

first game | in which you take your daughter to her first nhl game to watch her father play.

𖤐 - summer sun | in which you bring your daughter to the hughes lake house for the summer.

everybody wants you, but i don’t like a good rush | in which you’ve loved jack for as long as you can remember, but he has always chosen everyone else before you.

touch | in which you take care of jack after a particularly tough game.

with feeling | in which you’re fake dating jack in front of his family.

sweet nothing | in which you comfort luke when he thinks he’s the reason the devil’s lost in the playoffs.

𖤐 - home is with you | in which you struggle to parent on your own while luke is away on a roadie.

can you keep a secret | in which you tell alex turcotte the secret of your relationship with luke.

𖤐 - locker room | in which you use a very affective way of helping luke out after losing a game. ( mature )

you’re seriously a man-child | in which his brothers make fun of him because of how much of a baby he acts when you’re around.

𖤐 - tidal wave | in which you have a secret relationship with luke, despite being mark’s girlfriend. ( mature )

so long | in which he finds out you feel the same way about him when he takes care of your drunk self after a party.

movie day | in which being jack’s best friend, you treat luke as a younger brother. but he has always been hopelessly in love with you.

soothing | in which luke helps you when you’re having trouble sleeping.

surprise | in which you plan a surprise dinner for luke, without telling him that his parents will be there.

fake boyfriend | in which you use luke as an escape to get away from your ex-boyfriend.

𖤐 - make my world go black | in which luke can’t help but think of a certain summer fling when he’s asked what his favourite karaoke song is during an interview.

skin | in which you spend the night with luke after a game.

you bagged her | in which jack and luke can’t believe how quinn got such a beautiful girlfriend.

𖤐 - my palms ran red turning over jagged rocks, thought i'd find some kind of sign; you pressed your mouth to my wound, weren't your bloody lips sign enough? | in which you keep running into quinn after the one time he fixes your car. ( mature )

𖤐 - death by a thousand cuts | in which a few months after breaking up with him, you find yourself so lost without him and wonder if you’ll ever find your way back.

domestic bliss | in which quinn asks you to move in with him.

𖤐 - fearless | in which you deny your relationship with the oldest hughes brothers, and then the one time you finally decide to give into your feelings. ( mature )

game night | in which having the lake house all to yourselves, ends in an interesting game of pool. ( mature )

nap time and baby fever | in which quinn comes home to his wife and children sleeping peacefully and he starts to get an idea.

[jesswritesthat]

Todokoroki Touya: His Hero

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~2.1k, fluff

• Shoto looked up to his big brother, and on your frequent visits you only realised how much when you get roped into multiple Todoroki family shenanigans.

Warnings: Mature language, hero!Touya AU, slight spoilers

>>>>——————————>

The way the young boy looked at him was mesmerising, like he'd hung the stars in the sky and had magic dancing between his fingers - Touya truly was his hero.

Shoto could've picked anyone, he had a world renowned 'role model' as a father, and All Might graced the news almost every night, but he'd adamantly fixated on his big brother.

Over the years you'd bare witness to it, once becoming friends with Touya through school, internships, and matters of coincidence, you’d understood when he said his (annoying) little brother was his biggest fan.

Shoto would always tail his blue-flamed brother, having an innate desire to always be near him and learn from him. It irritated Touya occasionally (or when the inferiority kicked in), being constantly haunted by his baby sibling to a near obsessive degree would irritate anyone, and Natsuo had heard his fair share of rants about it when they went to bed.

That was just sibling behaviour though, and in a way Touya found it endearing that Shoto -the chosen child- was enamoured by him.

You noticed that little signs happened more often when Endeavour was absent and the family had some downtime, Shoto would follow in his brothers footsteps quite literally, even attempting to imitate his mannerisms and the way he walked. Shoto stole pieces of Touyas’ hero costume when he was gone - the long jacket especially oversized as it flowed behind like a cape when sprinting through the corridors. If Touya was ever missing any equipment, he’d head straight for Shotos’ room with a bored and exasperated sigh.

Shoto would often sneak out to watch his brother train, you'd caught him once when you went to grab drinks - the two toned mess of hair peering through the walkway banister that overlooked the training ground you'd just come from. He’d copy his fighting style, often awed by how his brother could mimic a move after seeing it once whilst it took Shoto hours of practice. The youngest Todoroki (8 years old at this point) was so absorbed in watching Touya practicing, he was oblivious to your presence.

"Whatcha doing~?"

Immediately he'd startled at your melodious tone, a slight gasp of surprise escaping as he'd dropped his mimicking stance.

"Watching Touya-nii train! He's so awesome."

Now by all means you could dash his hope by promising to kick his big bros cocky ass, but you offered a soft smile instead.

"Yeah, he is."

"I wanna be just like him when I grow up!"

Okay that you couldn't hold back on, teenage Touya Todoroki was a force to be reckoned with and you’d wrought hell on each other atop Sekoto Peak more often than not.

"Nah, you'll be better Shoto, and less annoying~"

———

Even when he reached the age of 12, Shoto was still fascinated by him and continued to imitate his skills, actually capable of being an opponent now - especially with Touya working as a Pro Hero after reluctantly starting off in Endeavours Agency.

On the days you'd come to visit unannounced to drop something off, it wasn't long before Shoto bombarded past Rei and into your figure with the same questions every time:

"Have you seen Touya today? What's he been up to? Did you see any villains?"

And every time you'd tell a tale of his brothers’ heroics (with a dash of his dumbassery) that’d you’d experienced when working with Touya on missions to an excited Shoto before he was dragged back to training by a scolding Endeavour again.

———

It was rare, but on the odd occasion you'd get roped into playing Heroes vs Villains - disguised as a training regime. At least that's how yourself and the Todoroki siblings had portrayed it to Endeavour and the hired trainers but it was honestly to make it more fun.

Touya could rarely be asked with it either but for some reason he stayed, and entertained the game this time with his characteristic theatrics.

"Alright Shoto, I'm the villain. Always wanted to know what that'd be like anyhow."

"I'll be the hero, (Y/n) will be my partner and—"

"Can't Natsuo or Fuyumi be your partner?" Touya automatically argued, meanwhile Shoto deadpan explained the ‘rules’ of this scenario - still excited for his role as hero.

"No they're the civilians you've taken hostage."

"Fine, then maybe you don't need a partner."

"But you have (Y/n) as a partner on missions sometimes."

"Yeah but what if I want a villain sidekick?" Touya justified, narrowing his sapphire eyes at his little sibling with a flare of his jacket whilst Shoto again replied straightforwardly.

"Natsuo or Fuyumi can be one."

Fuyumi merely chuckled at the masked dispute, yourself turning to her in amused confusion.

"Oh (Y/n)-san, they're both so oblivious that they don't realise they're fighting over you."

"Idiots. Touyas 20, he’s supposed to be mature." Natsuo sighed whilst you could only agree.

Eventually Touya gave in, claiming he's strong enough to take you all on without a sidekick so do your worst.

It began as actual training, teaching Shoto defensive manoeuvres with Touya being one of the very few Shoto was comfortable to use his fire quirk around. You’d assisted in physical combat, often using Touya as a training dummy to demonstrate combinations to the younger siblings who were eager to spar amongst themselves. Natsuo and Fuyumi choosing to observe after a while.

It wasn’t until after the technicalities that the game started properly. Naturally everyone playfully fought each other, Touya allowing Shoto to gain the upper hand. Of course to mess with his little siblings he'd unexpectedly taken you hostage as a twist in the tale.

"What are you gonna do without your partner, will you give up little hero?" He’d teased it charismatically, proudly dancing with you as a form of taunt and it wasn’t until he’d twirled you and pulled you into his chest so that you were face to face with that smug smirk that his siblings went on the offensive.

You didn't miss how Touya grabbed your waist a little tighter when they'd tried to wrestle you from him. How warm and rosy his skin felt when you whispered you would always be his partner in reality, but unfortunately in this game you'd die before betraying Shoto.

With a lacklustre sigh he'd slumped to the ground, Shoto hanging off his shoulders and Natsuo nudging his side whilst Fuyumi wrapped herself around your arm having 'rescued' you.

"Now we live happily ever after!" Shoto exclaimed, bounding over and proudly clasping your hand within both of his own.

"What?!" Came Touyas' puzzled outburst when sitting up just a little bit straighter, yourself ruffling Shotos’ hair and kneeling next to the pouting eldest.

"Aw did the big bad heroes best you? Poor Touya-chan." Begrudgingly he ignored you, vengefully pulling you to the ground beside him before snapping back to the youngest who now deadpan explained his reasoning.

"(Y/n) and I saved the day so now we get married and stay together for the rest of our lives."

"That's only in mums' bedtimes stories! Real life missions don't end like that, you know (Y/n) and I come here for dinner after our missions. We don't live happily ever after, there's always more shit." Touya adamantly reminded him, brushing off his brothers’ ‘childish’ justifications with little remorse.

"That sounds like your problem."

You had to withhold giggles at the unbridled bluntness of the youngest Todoroki as he continued. "In this game—"

Everyone stopped, a calm Shoto cut off with eyes widening in awe and surprise. They'd all watched as their eldest brother tangled his fingers in your hair and instinctively pulled your lips to his. Fiery kiss as brief as it was, still managed to burn their trains of thought to ash with its blazing abruptness.

"Game over."

It was said in a smug tone, like a villain outsmarting a hero, as if he'd successfully proved a point and you'd supposed he would have if his actions hadn't drastically overshadowed that.

"Touya...?"

"Did you just kiss (Y/n)?!"

“…”

"Shit." It was breathed out, piercing analytic gaze befalling you and noting even the most negligible reaction. "I didn't even ask, are—"

"Don't, it's fine. I was just caught off guard."

The two of you stared at each other, as if desperately trying to understand the others thoughts through silent conversation. It was thick with a fluttering tension, Fuyumi carefully guiding away a young Shoto with a knowing smile gracing her features. The same knowing that laced it’s way into Natsuos’ smirk.

"Time for us to start dinner I think Shoto."

"But what about Touya-nii and (Y/n), I'll wait with them." Shoto tried, attempting to swerve out of Fuyumis’ guidance only to bump into Natsuo.

"Nah, they're gonna need a bit of alone time~"

The absence of the siblings didn't register, still sat in a somewhat hesitant and awkward position with Touya and all.

"So you were okay, with me kissing you?"

"Ye- yeah, were you okay with it?"

"I started it, of course I was." Touya chuckled at that, casually resting his forearms on his knees. “I wanted to kiss you idiot."

"To be honest, you're gonna get roasted by your siblings so I think it’s worth it." You’d lightened up too, nudging him back twice as hard.

"I already get shit from Natsuo about us so this is just fuel to the fire."

"What?"

"He says we should 'fess up already, I figured it'd work itself out. If you like me back then I'll know." He nonchalantly shrugged, shaking his head at the thought whilst you contrastingly replied in pure surprise.

"You really feel that way about me?"

"Duh, I’m not one for mushy stuff but haven't you noticed?"

"Haven't you? I've been flirting with you for the past year!" You were quick to stand now, as if gesturing wildly would emphasise your point - Touya equally as instantaneous to follow suit.

"Hah! I would've asked you out if you did."

"Touya I literally brushed hair out of your face and complimented how it was like snow last week - with eye contact!"

"So? You compliment me all the time, I still don't get why you were sorting out my hair, you had debris in yours too."

Furrowing your brows at him, and making a face that could only be translated to 'are you fucking kidding me right now', you waited for the painful realisation to hit him. Hard, hopefully.

That’s when his eyes sparked with something, a beautiful blush of embarrassment or flustering crawling across his skin once breaking his burning gaze with you.

"In my defence you should've been more obvious. I—" That’s when you cut him off with a kiss, he wasn't going to refuse when leaning into you challengingly and you felt a smirk form on his lips prior to pulling away.

"Now we're even."

"Nah." He'd lowly hummed the disagreement into your ear, hot hot breath sending an electric shiver down your spine when he'd placed another searing kiss to the neck area just below your ear.

"Now you're mine, partner."

You'd both broke into satisfied laughter at that, remaining in each others embrace for as long as you could before being summoned for dinner or interrupted by an impatient Shoto.

———

Shoto was unusually restless that night, Rei coming to check on him before he went to sleep out of concern.

"Mother, you were right."

"About what Shoto?"

"All those bedtime stories you used to tell me when I was younger - the hero does fall in love and lives happily ever after at the end."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?" She gave a soft smile of admiration, a sense of puzzlement imbuing her considering she hadn’t told those stories in quite a few years. Also, she’d figured Shoto was too mature to linger on such things now too.

"Touya-nii and (Y/n) fell in love today. Based on the way they act, I think they'll be together forever."

It was an overstatement, to fall in love so fast, the kind of magic wonderment only children could see in the world, but Rei chuckled nonetheless.

"I'm glad they finally worked that out for themselves, before any silly quirk marriages got discussed." She smiled kindly at the boy, him missing the hidden meaning behind her sentiment. "Shoto, you want to be like your brother right?"

Eagerly he nodded, leaning forward in his own excitement and hanging on his mothers words.

"Then choose to be with someone you love like Touya did rather than having them chosen for you, okay?"

"How will I know?" Shoto tilted his head quizzically, blinking adorably blankly.

"You'll feel it, like how (Y/n) makes Touya radiate that warm glow, and how he would do anything in his power to be there for them. Find a love or friendship like that when you're older, promise?" "Promise!"

———

Years had passed since then, Shoto now knew 3 heroes in the top 10 ranks personally - 2 of them being his own flesh and blood - and from frequently visiting yours and Touyas’ shared home, he’d become acquainted with Hawks (since he was his brothers best friend).

Shoto had already decided he wanted to intern at Touyas' agency, but his classmates were still electric with their potential opportunities. Smiling subconsciously at the recent message illuminating his phone, he's pulled back into the warm chatterings of Izuku, Iida and Ochako who comfortably stood beside him and, he thinks this is exactly what his mother had meant.

[ Todoroki (Y/n): Good luck to you and your friends on your exam Shoto!!! Touya says if you fail blame Endeavour! �� ]

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[differenteagletragedy]

baxter finding out the mc he dated owns n runs an ice cream truck now 🥺

Oooof, this one got me lol, thank you!

If there was one thing that Baxter kept to himself -- he kept most everything to himself, but this he held especially close to the vest -- it was his penchant for nostalgia.

It was odd, and he couldn't entirely explain it, but he found joy sometimes in going back to places and things that he'd once loved, in experiencing something that had once meant a great deal to him over and over. If not joy, then a certain sort of comfort.

It showed him that he'd once shared something with other people. That he'd once been happy. That it was possible.

That's why, when he was feeling his most melancholy, he found himself out in the suburbs, on the hunt for the ice cream truck.

There was a whole ritual to it. He had to track it down, then stop it, then look at the old beaten up sign -- the signs on ice cream trucks were always beaten up, he'd noticed -- and pick which treat he'd like to have. All the while, even though he was always alone, thinking back to that one summer five years ago when he'd had friends.

When he'd had you.

One evening he got the urge to treat himself to this particular bit of nostalgia, but when he went down all the normal streets, he couldn't find the truck. He circled back a few times, rolled down his windows to listen for the tell-tale music, but there was nothing.

He almost called it a night when he saw it: a truck. But a new one. Not only new to him, but actually new. The white paint was crisp and fresh, and from what he could see, the sign was pristine.

He parked, then started walking.

The truck slowed, then stopped, and he jogged to close the distance. He moved to the side, ready for the familiar transaction, then stopped.

Because there, high up in the truck, looking down at him with the same amount of surprise, was you.

You looked at each other in silence for what felt like a long time, neither sure what to say or do. Baxter was weighing his options, considering if leaving or staying would hurt less, when you made the first move.

"I don't have any creepy little girl popsicles, but I can probably find something you like," you said with a smile.

He laughed, genuinely, for the first time in a long time. Still smiling, you tuned around to go to your freezer.

"Do you want the usual, or are you over the black and white thing entirely?"

"Not entirely, no," he said, smoothing out the jacket of his maroon suit. "The usual would be wonderful, thank you."

You turned back to him with an ice cream sandwich, moving to grab a fistful of napkins before he could ask. In turn, he moved to hand you a few dollars, but you waved it away.

"My treat," you told him.

"No, I do believe it is mine."

He'd made you so sad when he left like he did after your summer together -- you'd known he was leaving, you were fine that he didn't want a long distance relationship, that wasn't what hurt. What hurt was that he hadn't thought he was worth the trouble of keeping in contact with. That he thought some phone calls or texts, maybe a visit if you ever found yourself in the same area, was too much trouble.

But there he was, not the same monochromatic boy you'd known back then, but it was still him. So instead of bringing up the past, you decided to see if you could start something new. If nothing else, then at least just a nice encounter at an ice cream truck.

Baxter tried for a bit with the money, moving his hand around the window of your truck, but you kept swatting him away. Soon you were both laughing, and he boldly grabbed your wrist with his free hand and slid the money into your palm. He leaned back, smirking like he'd won, then you leaned forward and tucked the bills in the front pocket of his jacket.

It was still easy, being with him.

He finally gave up, at least for the moment, in trying to pay you for the ice cream. He took it from you, along with the napkins, carefully unwrapped it and then took a bite. He stayed put.

There were a million questions you could have asked each other, but he went first.

"So, an ice cream truck?"

You leaned over the counter on your elbows and told him all about it -- about how you'd spent a few years working with a company that paid well enough, but you weren't happy, so you decided to go into business for yourself. You'd done research on your options, trying to figure out what would be the best fit, and Cove, probably hungry at the time, had mentioned that a lot of people were opening food trucks. From there, "ice cream truck" was a pretty easy leap.

"I don't know if I want to do it forever," you admitted, "but it's fun for now."

"I see," he said. He'd finished his treat and carefully folded up the wrapper, then folded that inside a napkin. Before he could ask, you leaned down and took the little bundle from him so you could throw it away.

"Fun for now can be nice," he said with another smirk.

A lot had changed in five years. Both of you had grown, had new experiences, you were both in vastly different places in your lives than you had been back then. But one thing that hadn't changed, you could tell then, was that Baxter was a shameless flirt when he wanted to be.

"It can," you agreed, trying out a smirk of your own.

[duchess-kyuupid]

Hi! Your fic about Idia melted my heart.

Could I request a female reader singing Zero from Vanitas no Carte (it's in English) to Jamil at VDC because she admires and adores him?

Of course! I loved Vanitas no Carte, especially the ed song- like it's so pretty! Once again, for anyone who wants to listen along or has never heard the song, here it is! And sorry it took some time, dearie! I should be working on my college paper rn, but I've kept you waiting for long enough! Hope you enjoy <3

[Fem! Reader (no pronouns used, so it can be read as gn too), Fluff, Set in Book 5] {Uh,, this is a long one guys... About 4,600 words, for reference...Whoops, sorry not sorry I love this man to bits lol}

~Dedicating a Song to Jamil at SDC/VDC~

Okay, well, admittedly, you may have been more relieved than you should have been that you were not accepted into Vil's little group to represent the school. You always thought that your voice wasn't that great, but Grim wanted to tryout with you, and Crowley was offering to improve your living conditions at the Ramshackle dorm, so reluctantly you had agreed. You felt quite fortunate that Grim's off-tune (and frankly horrid) singing drowned out your own at the audition. However, Grim did not share those same sentiments.

"Hmph, they're missing out by not picking me, my singing is clearly superior to those two," Grim pouts as you carry him in your arms back home. He said that it'd make him feel better after basically being forced into a manager role in their group.

"Shouldn't you be proud for Ace and Deuce for making the cut? Besides, we're still helping out by letting them stay at our dorm. You'll get to watch them work themselves to the bone while you'll be getting tuna for doing basically nothing on the sidelines, isn't that a win for you?" You reason in an attempt to cheer him up a little.

"Hmm, I guess you're right! I'll be living in the lap of luxury while those two idiots do all the work!" he chuckles evilly with a mischievous smile. You supposed cheering him up wasn't such a difficult thing to do when you knew what to say.

"But don't you want to participate too?" he asks out of the blue.

"What? Me, participate? Nonono, that sort of thing isn't for me- I'm not that great, honestly. I think I'd just rather just settle with being their manager than going up there with them," you chuckle nervously.

"But you know," he chuckles, a gleam in his eyes that tells you that he's up to no good again, "I think I remember hearing a certain someone's voice singing in the middle of the night sometimes. 'Was so pretty I couldn't go back to sleep."

"I-I, well, are you sure that it wasn't just the ghosts pulling a prank on you?" your face starting to erupt in that tell-tale sign of embarrassment that revealed to Grim that he was exactly on the right track. With a haughty laugh and an evil smile, he replies,

"Nope. Asked them already, and they even said they saw you singing in the courtyard." Busted. You groan loudly and try to look away from Grim's teasing looks, but alas, as you were currently carrying him in your arms, facing yourself away from him would require you to rotate your head around like an owl- that or you'd just have to stop looking where you were walking and risk tripping over something.

"Please don't tell me how many times you heard me..." you say as your ears become redder than Riddle's hair.

"Fufufu, I don't understand why you're so embarrassed about it! You've clearly got some talent in singing- not as much as me of course, but it's still impressive for a human! So why didn't you sing like that at the audition? We could've been part of the team and had all the spotlight together!"

"Well, that's the problem," you half-heartedly laugh, scratching your cheek nervously, "I'm not a big fan of the spotlight. I've actually always wanted to be a singer, but I always got stage fright so I never went through with it."

"OHOHOHO, is my dearest Prefect of Ramshackle in need of my everlasting kindness?" you hear a sudden voice proclaim from above you and you shriek in surprise as Headmaster Crowley, quite literally, drops right in front of you out of nowhere.

"Hey! Stop showing up out of the blue like that! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!" Grim exclaims (who may or may not have accidentally scratched your arms in his own shock). Crowley ignores Grim's complaints as he stares into your eyes with a wide, knowing smile.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you enjoy singing, and!" he emphasizes, "I just so happened to be nearby the area when you were doing your audition. I believe that should be sufficient to grant you a spot for a solo at the SDC."

"Huh?"

"You need not thank me for my generosity! I know that I am just ever so kind to my wonderful students- it is simply a part of my job as the Headmage of this amazing academy! Oh, but, there is the tiny fact that you will not be representing our school in your performance, but I'm sure that you will be more than happy with the arrangements nonetheless!" Crowley proclaims excitedly. Your mind was still reeling in confusion, as is most encounters with this man, so Grim asks in your place,

"Right, so what's the catch?"

To which Crowley gasps dramatically as if he's been hurt by Grim's question, "To think of such a thing! Why, I'm merely extending my gratitude towards one of my favorite students who I only wish to see succeed!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you do," Grim states with a pensive look on his face.

"Buuuut, if said favorite student of mine did want to sing at the SDC competition- the solo competition is considered separate from the group acts, and thus the first place winner of the solo's will also receive a fair compensation of around 25 thousand Thaumarks! Isn't that just enticing?" At the sound of that, Grim immediately hops on board; he looks to you with excited eyes, almost begging you to accept the offer.

"Uhm, why are you asking me for this specifically, headmage?" you ask quietly.

"Why, it's as I've stated earlier, I merely wish to see you succeed! Aren't I so generous?"

"Well, I mean, you probably heard what I was saying earlier. I'm not good with crowds, so I-"

"Hush, hush with that nonsense!" Crowley interrupts you by bringing up a finger to your mouth to stop you from speaking, "I know I already promised you better living arrangements for lending the Ramshackle dorm to Vil's group, however, if you decide to agree to this solo act, then I will also arrange for free personal catering for you at Ramshackle....But only for lunch!" And he steps back from you with his hands on his hips, standing proud at his joke of an offer.

"Isn't that just like lunch at the school cafeteria? And besides, I'm not even at the dorm at lunchtime during the school week."

"Sounds like a great deal, sign me up!" Grim exclaims, despite your words.

"Wonderful, wonderful! I'm so glad that you've agreed! I look forward to your spectacular performance!" And without another word, Crowley flies away to who knows where, almost as if to avoid having to answer to whatever you had to say next.

"Grim, you're grounded from eating any tuna until after the SDC is over."

"What?!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By now it was far, far too late to be changing your mind about this- if you've even had a choice in it to begin with. You wish right now that you could have just turned Crowley down when you had the chance, but now you were stuck with this. Stuck with having to come up with something for this show. Stuck here sitting in the middle of the night with only two weeks before the event, with nothing but a blank page to showcase for your 'routine.'

Half of it's because of your work as the new 'manager' for Vil's group, half of it's because you're also trying to keep up with your normal school work too, but the biggest reason why you've hardly touched it is because you just...don't know what to do.

Most of the time, the songs you'd sing out in the courtyard would be songs your parents wrote and sang to you as a child, so they became your way of connecting back to home. Sure, you've written one or two songs of your own because you really did want to become a singer, but you always felt that those songs could never compare to the ones other people would write. And now, having to watch over Vil's group like this, you can't help yourself from comparing yourself to them.

But you technically made a promise, and you were going to go through with it. So, you decided that you would not go to sleep until you've written at least one (1) verse. Unfortunately, this has resulted in you staring at a blank piece of paper for the past 5 hours, with nothing coming up in your head to write about for your song and the time was nearing almost 5 a.m. Vil was definitely going to reprimand you tomorrow for getting no sleep, but it is technically also your fault for deciding not to tell any of them about your entry.

There's no hard feelings against them, of course, it's just that, you thought that if you did decide to tell them that you were also participating in the event, maybe it wouldn't work out too well for you. Sometimes, they can be a little bit...overbearing, to put it kindly, so you didn't want them to influence the song you're writing with their strong personalities. Vil would probably make you go through his own special skincare routine, both Rook and Kalim would give you so many compliments that you wouldn't be able to find any constructive criticism, and Ace and Deuce would probably give you too much criticism, under the guise of teasing you. And Epel? You honestly don't know how he'd react. He might just be in agreement with you as you both mutually didn't want to do this, but in the end you don't see him being very helpful seeing as how well he's been doing recently.

Jamil was probably the only one you could bring yourself to trust with this. He'd give you his solid, honest opinion without being too harsh or too jokey about it. He knows a lot about a lot of different things, so he could offer some advice on your song- what to change, what might sound better, and the like. Which would be helpful, if you had anything written down to begin with.

And in your tired, sleep-deprived state, you thought it'd be a great idea to go to him and ask for advice at this hour. So you leave your room quietly, knocking upon his door to get his attention. It didn't really take very long to wake him up in this way, and he answers the door in his pajamas with his face looking like he was fully awake and ready for anything.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asks gravely as he sees the look on your face (to be fair, you almost looked like a dead person with your tired eyes and your hunched over posture).

"Not an emergency. Need advice," you mumble.

"Advice for what? Can it wait until the morning? What are you even doing up this early?" he sighs.

You take a second to respond to his questions in your sleepy, delirious state, but when your mind finally processes it, you just give him a tiny shrug and a measly, 'I dunno.'

So with yet another sigh coming from him, he gently escorts you back to your room, assuming that you're just one of those types of people who lucidly sleepwalk sometimes. But when he tries to set you back in your bed, you stubbornly stand in place, crying out, "No! I'm not going to sleep until I write something down."

"You're trying to write something?"

You nod, "Mhm, but I don't know what. My parents would write about each other. They would write about the things they love. I wanna be like them, but..." your words drift away as your mind tries to succumb to sleep.

"So you want advice on what to write?" he asks with yet another sigh, and you manage to nod your head again, stubborn as you are to not sleep until you've gotten something done. "Then my advice for you is to go to sleep. Forcing yourself like this isn't going to get you anywhere. Having a clear mind is essential to writing. And when you've got plenty of rest, go outside and try out some new things. Sometimes all it takes is a change of scenery to get your inspiration going. I'll tell the others not to bother you today, so just rest for as long as you need to," he says quietly. If you were actually lucid enough to pay attention to his body language, you'd have noticed the soft looks he was giving you, or the way that he was being as gentle as possible with you as he led you back to your bed successfully.

In any case, you accepted his advice, falling dead asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, and Jamil is left shaking his head at your (adorable) antics as he walks back to his own room.

When you woke up, it was nearly 2 in the afternoon, and as promised, no one had bothered you at all. In fact, the whole dorm was quiet, with not a single soul to be seen. Which was completely reasonable, seeing as how technically school was still in session right now and the others would have practice for a few more hours in the ballroom of the Pomefiore building after that. In other words, you had the whole place exclusively for yourself for the rest of the day.

And yet, you found something quite peculiar sitting on your bedside table. It was a tea set, with a piping hot cup of tea sitting in the middle and a small note leaning against it. Holding up the note closer to your face, you can see that it reads,

'I've used magic to make sure that the tea stays warm no matter how many hours pass, but it starts to wear off when you touch it. The tea is an herbal remedy, supposed to help you clear your mind and stay focused. I wish you luck with your writing. Signed, Jamil'

Jamil made this? For you? Your face grows red in embarrassment as you recall asking for vague advice last night (or this morning, technically). You take a sip of the tea anyway, and you could feel inspiration coming to you as your thoughts continued to wander to Jamil.

'His smile. His kindness. His determination and his thoughtfulness. There's a million different things I could write about him and yet never reach the end of all the amazing things about him.'

And for the rest of the day, it was as if your pen had a mind of its own as it flew across the paper to retell your experience of you finding something that has always been there, yet you're only just realizing it now.

~~~~~~~~~

And so finally, the day of the event had arrived. It was organized so that the groups would perform first, then the solo performers would come after, and then the results of the competition would follow that, which admittedly made you nervous because it meant that the person you've dedicated this song to will be watching you perform said song. You dreaded the idea of being so vulnerable in front of this many people, however, if it meant that you could release all of these pent-up emotions within you, then perhaps it might do you some good to let it all out...

You dressed as nicely as you could, given the limited amount of clothing you had available to you since you've come to this world, but you thought you did a pretty good job at making yourself look presentable out there.

But now, it was finally go-time. All of that preparation, the secret trips to the woods at night to practice your singing and your dancing, the little glances over to Jamil as he's practicing his own routine- all of it is going to be put to the test here and now. The only barrier between you and first place now is your conviction to sing about your love for a certain Scarabian dorm member.

Your name gets called on the speakers, and you sheepishly walk up on stage with your microphone. Your eyes instinctively begin to search the crowd for your friends, but you stop yourself before you could find them because seeing their faces might make you even more nervous than you already are. You stand in the middle of the stage for a moment as the crowd quietens and the instrumentals of your song begins.

'Jamil, I dedicate this song to you- you who gave me the inspiration to compose, you who has given me the courage to follow my dreams. To you, who I've loved for all this time without realizing it. Please, accept my feelings as I sing just for you,' you think, taking a deep breath, and you start to sing.

'Ahead in the empty distance, Fading away unanswered, I turn off the lights to see all the colors in the shadow, Travels across an instant, Far beyond tomorrow, I'm watching a faint breath send a ripple through the water'

Your voice rings out softly, with a gentleness most wouldn't expect for a song appearing at SDC as it echoes through the stadium. And you smile as you get lost in your thoughts again about Jamil. He has always been the type of person to stay in the shadows, always trying his best to avoid any unnecessary attention being drawn to him, but alas, it was exactly because of this that his presence made such faint ripples in your heart to begin with. As the music kicks up a notch, you begin to start your carefully choreographed dance that accompanied this song.

'When I lose myself, I become you, Ichi kara juu leads me back to, Here inside your veil, Finer than a grand view, We'll take a dive, Not even tides can come between us,'

And you recall clear as day how when you were basically delirious from sleep deprivation, your mind's first thoughts were to go to him. Because you knew that you could trust Jamil with anything (despite his many warnings that you shouldn't trust him as much as you do). Your dance suddenly changes its slow momentum as the song progresses to be a bit faster.

'Was it you who I've been searching for, Spent my life alone and waited for, So tenderly and endlessly, You made me whole, you made me whole'

Coming to Twisted Wonderland has been in equal parts exciting and fun, yet so terribly lonely for you. You were lonely even in your own world, never having many friends who would support your interests, but Jamil always made you feel like you could be yourself around him. He was always just,,, safe.

'And the walls I built they melt away, With every touch in your embrace, Every day, every night, every note I play, You made me whole, you made me whole.'

You've become truly entranced into your thoughts, the lyrics and the dance movements coming to you naturally as your mind focuses on other things. From the crowd (that you've long since forgotten about), the people listening in were stunned to silence, enchanted by your voice and your song. Even your group of friends were staring at you with wide eyes as you continued to sing. Especially Jamil.

'How could I have been so blinded, Running away in circles, I hear my doubts drop, When I see you in the mirror,

Right beneath the surface, Washed away my sorrows, I feel your heartbeat, As it echoes through the hour'

Jamil can only stare at you with his eyes as wide as saucers, just like everyone else. Has he ever heard you sing before? No, he doesn't think he has, but he knows that you auditioned with Grim, Ace, and Deuce in front of Rook and Vil, so with a voice as beautiful as yours, why weren't you picked to represent the school? There must have been some sort of mistake in the auditioning process. You clearly had more talent than Ace and Deuce combined...

'When I lose myself, I become you, You are the moment I belong to, Here without our names,'

'Yes, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet... Jamil is so much more than just a servant to the Al-Asims. Oh, to be rid of the Viper name so that he no longer needs to suffer like he has.'

'We're back to being brand new, There's no need to hide, Just you and I until forever'

And as you repeat the chorus, Jamil can't help but to feel like certain parts of this song are quite familiar to him. Like the lyrics are grabbing hold of his heart and caressing it with the tenderness of a lover.

'Was it you who I heard through the door, When I cried and had no place to go? Every day, every night, every note I play, You made me whole, you made me whole.

Tracing and tracing the sunset, Appearing a zero and finally, Now I remember, Oh I have never lived a day without you

Untie the layer of memories, Louder we spin with the melody You are the only, only one for me'

No no no, this couldn't possibly be what he's thinking. This song is clearly a romantic ballad for someone that you must've fallen in love with at some point in time (either here or in your world). This 'familiarity' is just something his mind is making up. And just as he begins to dismiss his initial thoughts, you happen to finally make eye contact with him. You repeat the chorus again with a look in your eyes that convey everything that you're singing and more as you lose yourself to the music.

'I'll never believe I'm alone, In the end, we begin, 'till we meet again, You made me whole, you made me whole

I know I'm never alone.'

And with that, the song comes to an end, and the instrumentals fade out until the auditorium just sits still in complete silence. About a solid minute passes of silence, and you stare up at the crowd with an awkward look on your face. Thinking that this was something that the crowd has disliked, you were just about to apologize for your performance, but then the entire place erupts in an excited cheer.

"WHAT AN AN AWE-INSPIRING PERFORMANCE FROM A STUDENT AT NRC! WHY I DO BELIEVE THAT THIS MUST'VE BEEN ONE OF THE BEST WE'VE SEEN SO FAR!" you hear the announcer exclaim loudly on the speakers. You stare in shock at the loud crowd, looking at all of the happy faces (some were legitimately crying, namely Rook) cheering for you. In your embarrassment, your face reddens and you try to hide it behind your hands as you let out a meek 'thank you' to the microphone. You bow quickly and move to go backstage, but then you hear someone starting to chant 'Encore!' with many others following suit.

You leave it to the announcers to try to calm the crowd- there was absolutely no way you were going to sing another song up there again. You walk through the halls of the backstage area to get back to... Well, you didn't know where you wanted to go right now. Your face was so red right now and you were so embarrassed that you didn't know if you'd be able to handle the reactions of your friends congratulating you. Even worse, you don't know how you'd handle having Jamil congratulating you, with his stupidly cute smile and his devilishly charming eyes. You'd probably faint.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear, you see Jamil and the rest of your friends in Vil's group walking up to you with various different reactions on their faces. Predictably, Ace was teasing you for hiding away your good singing voice, Deuce and Epel both congratulated you like a normal person would, and Rook and Kalim were both brought to tears at your performance- to the point where Vil and Jamil basically had to rip them away from you (with the condition that you'd give Rook your autograph). Vil stared at you with his normal stern look at first before smiling and patting your head, saying something along the lines of you becoming yet another rival of his.

Jamil, though, he waited until everyone else was done with you before approaching you. Your heart had calmed down tremendously by then, but when you saw him walking up to you, you could feel your heart pounding inside your chest nervously. He gives you his most charming smile with a proud look on his face, and he says gently,

"You were amazing up there. I had no idea you could sing like that."

"Hehe, thanks," you chuckle nervously, looking anywhere but his handsome face, "I-uh... Remember that time I went to your room asking for advice on what to write?" he nods. "Yeah, well, that was for this, so uhm... Thank you, for, you know- giving me inspiration to write that song..."

"I gave you inspiration?" he hums, "I only told you to rest. I don't recall doing anything particularly inspiring." You let out a tiny squeak as you try to explain,

"Well! You know how it goes, one day you've got nothing and then another, you've got everything! You don't need to do anything specific to be inspired, it can just come out of nowhere!" you chuckle awkwardly, and in your nervousness you continued to talk, "And besides, you're plenty inspiration for me without even having to do anything! I wrote it for you, after all!" After the words left your mouth, you gasp and cover your mouth with your hands as your face burns bright red in embarrassment.

Jamil stares at you in shock for a moment after hearing your words. You wrote that...for him? Really? Him?

Well, he did have his suspicions of that at first, with the lyrics sounding as familiar as they did, but he brushed it off earlier, thinking that there would be no way that you would've written something so...so... romantic, for him. Did you really feel that way about him? Did you really reciprocate his feelings for you-- the ones that he's decided long ago to bury beneath the ground because there was absolutely no way you were going to like him that way?

Only one way to find out, he supposes.

Jamil slowly brings his hand to lift your face to look at him. The look in your eyes betrayed many of your emotions- embarrassment, anxiety...and hidden in it's depths, he thought he could see hints of adoration within them. In the past, he has considered using his unique spell to make you fall in love with him, however he has always decided against it, for one reason or another. So he knows that the emotions behind your eyes are real- that the lyrics for your song, which was made for him, was real.

So he takes a small leap of faith, choosing to kiss the side of your cheek, "Thank you, Prefect. It was a very lovely song."

"No," you say breathlessly (you were also in shock because you thought he was going to kiss your lips), "Thank you for being my muse."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OKAY, admittedly, this took me forever, but that's mostly on me for writing so much exposition before getting to the *actual* request part of the story lol Anon I hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too long for this request, and I hope that it was to your liking!

[mrspockify]

First off, I LOVE your Mute Mario AU it's amazing! Especially your recent post of Mario worrying about his girl going through the same things he went through.

I had some questions about Mute Papa Mario and his daughter actually (forgot her name if she has one yet). What do you think Mario's relationship with her daughter would be like? I imagine it would be very wholesome based on Mario's supporting her and she admires and loves him so much! (I also bet Luigi's the awesome uncle she blabs about while Mario looks at her pridefully and signs something like "That's my brother all right" while Luigi is sobbing tears of joy and laughing happily.)

What would be Mario and his daughters' favorite activities to do together? Sports? Drawing? Go-karting? Or something else?

Also, if her daughter gets picked on or attempted to be kidnapped by Bowser (or any villain really), how do you think Mario will react? No doubt he'll save her obviously, but I can imagine the villains feel this chill as they see Mario's face and NO mercy is shown.

Apologies if this is too much. Feel free to limit it to one question if it's too many questions for you. LOVE your AU once again and hope you continue this AU! Hope you're doing well!

Thank you so much!! 💕

Oh, Mario adores his daughter, more than pretty much anything else. She’s his everything! He takes Mia everywhere with him, showing her the world around them and fostering an explorative nature early on (she’s just like him after all—so curious!). He’s insanely attentive to her every need, and definitely has a tendency to spoil her a bit 🤭 (a very common sign in their household is placing a finger to his chin, then moving it away while shaking his head and gesturing to Peach—“don’t tell mom.”)

But she also loves him so much too! Peach and Luigi both make sure to regale her with tales of Mario’s heroic adventures, so she learns pretty quickly just how amazing her dad is. She looks up to him a lot, and wants to be just like him. She definitely takes after him, and they love spending time doing sports and art together (he’ll maybe take her karting someday, but he’s a little worried about her getting hurt from it).

And I think a lot about what would happen if she was kidnapped! I actually have a narrative for it I’ve been turning around a lot. I think it would only ever happen once, because the result was so bad, for everyone from each side. Bowser kidnapped her (maybe when she’s around 5 or so) without thinking much of it, seeing it as a simple political move. But it makes Mario absolutely lose it. That’s his world. That’s his everything. Peach and Luigi have never seen him so violently angry over anything before. He wants Bowser to understand, and to pay. He’s so overcome with grief that he does the unthinkable.

It’s bad, but I think he’d be sent into such a panic that Mario would seek out Bowser Jr. as collateral, maybe luring him into a trap or storming into the Darklands and just bringing him as a hostage into Bowser’s throne room. Peach would tell him not to, Luigi would tell him not to, he would know it’s a bad idea. But he’s furious and terrified and he doesn’t know what else to do, because what if Bowser hurts his baby? He can’t risk it. He has to make the king understand what he’s doing.

It culminates into a standoff between the two fathers, both unbelievably angry and scared and trying to assure their own children while they have another child in their grips. Nothing would happen. Mario knows he would never actually be able to hurt a child, and it even pains him seeing how scared he’s making Bowser Jr. (and his own daughter from across the room). It becomes evident pretty quickly that Bowser feels the same, and seeing his own child in Mario’s hands makes him realize how much he fucked up.

Bowser doesn’t apologize, but they trade the children, and Mia is never kidnapped again. Mario also holds a lot of guilt and regret over the incident, but he doesn’t apologize either (except to Junior).

[vibratingskull]

Mermaid!Thrawn x f!reader part 5

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

"You're searching something in particular, miss?"

You turn to the Librarian, a nice short lady with round glasses that comically enlarge her eyes.

"Well, yes... In fact I'm searching several things : I would like a book on sign language, a book on the legends of the town and the gazette archives around the 50's. I don't know if you would have all that..." you explain. She seems to think for a second. "Wait at this table, I will give you what you need." she says as she walk away among the shelfs. You let your gaze travel on the covers of the books, leafing through some by curiosity, those are illustrated books for children about fairy tales. You realize you've never heard Thrawn sing like in the tales, maybe this is just folklore... You pick up an old illustrated edition of the Little Mermaid and read it again. How long since you last read it? Years, most probably. You sit at the table and let yourself carried by the tragic tale of the adolescent.

You're fully immerged in the story when she came back with the books. "The archives are on microfilms, if you want to see them we will need to take out the machine. Is it urgent?"

"No." you shake your head with a smile "No, I can come back next week.", "It would be preferable, indeed." You thank her and opens the legend book "Legends of our region" and pass everything until the aquatic creatures part. It speaks of a monster toad that haunts the swamps and a little undine that died for a pearl, you skim over the unnecessary text until you find the mermaids, and your thoroughly disapointed : The text is one page long with a childish drawing of a siren. You sigh. You choose a second one, to find out that they don't speak of it at all you take the last one with little hope but you're more lucky.

"The mermaid is an antique sea creature, existing through multiple form in multiple cultures, but the siren of our region is a bit more specific and have capacities her cousins lack." tells you the author. You install yourself comfortably and start reading. Your mermaid specie is especially sociable, helping the fisherman and the shipwrecker victims, they would have guided the fish to the shore with their songs, commanding them. They used to be nomadic tribes, following and hunting among the great whales but became sedentary as humans took the roles of the whales, providers of food. Magical creatures, they can metamorphosis in sea lion, daulphin or walrus, and even human for a brief amount of time. They say they also posess a potion to transform a human in a mermaid. The tales of the shipwrecks by singing mermaid would be a pure invention, the sailors simply choosen to take the potion and disapear into the sea forever and the desesperate partners staying on land shared the tell to mourn their relationships. Once every millenial, the tribe would get on land to enjoy a hunt party and taste what the land as to offer different than the sea and then go back into waters. They would be a second tribes that didn't help humans but eat them, drowning sailors and careless swimmers, they would be hideous creatures screetching in the night, obsess over blood and flesh. They live in the deepest layers of the ocean, where the light can't shine, in contrary of the good mermaid that higher in the layers. Today the mermaid disapeared, never to be seen again, like every mythologic creatures.

Your smartphone rings, you received an sms. It's your mother telling you that your father will sleep at a friend house tonight because they argued again.

You sigh.

You exit the library with your books, saddened. You wish you could come back in time, when you were young and your parents didn't hate each other... When they would laugh and play with you. Today they only scream and break dishes. When was the last meal you ate with them that didn't end in an argument?

What started all of this? Did they fall out of love? Did your mother cheated on your father before or after the first major argument? Before or after your father started drinking? Did he start because of that or because of his work?

You remember one night he came in the dead of night into your room, drunk, and wake you up to cry...

"Why are you crying, child?" a voice rises next to you. You raise your head to an old men in a cassock, on the front steps of the church.

"Huh... Nothing." You wipe your tears, blinking "Just bad memories."

"Would you want to tell me? To alleviate your heart." He proposes. You look at him, he looks stern, uptight, dead serious and cold. "No, i'm not really religious. It would not be-", "I didn't mean in the chapel or anyting of the sort, just have you talk would maybe ease your trouble by putting it into words." He corrects.

"Ho!" you're suprised "That is really nice of you, but I don't like talking of my problems to strangers, that is not really their cross to bearn, y'know." You try some humor, but it doesn't work, his face remains rigid and stoic. His eyes look like they could see your soul, making you feel a bit uneasy. "Then speak to a friend, maybe they would be of good advice.", "Yes sir." you nod, timidely.

"Can I see your book?" he asks politely, but his gaze is hard. You hand him the book in silence. "You try to communicate with your deaf and mute brothers and sisters? That is a good thing." You smile politely "Something of the sort." You observe the church as he leafs through it, you remember loving visiting it. Your familly isn't religious, you just like visiting old buildings, maybe you should try urbex, it could be fun! Him however, you've never seen him before

"You're new here, father...?", "Father Tarkin." he gives you back the book with a nod "In fact I came back, you must have been a infant when I was first here.", "Oh. It was a will of yours?" His hard gaze travels across the streets like he could see sin just by looking at it. "I felt a sensation of unfinished business here." You feel you won't have any more info than that so you politely thay goodbye "Well, welcome back father" and start to walk away

"One moment please." you stop dead in your tracks, turning to him with wondering eyes "Your necklace..." By instinct you grip it "What?", "It reminds me of something, is it a family heirloom?", "Yes" you lie, "Oh... curious." He seems to think, holding his chin and frowning. You feel yourself shivering. What if he knows?

"It looks like the tiara exposed at the museum.", you sigh relieved "Oh? Really?", he nods "Yes. Maybe it was inspired by the same art style?", "Probably"

He looks at it some more and shakes his head "Anyway, the night will soon fall. Go home.", "Yes father!" And you go off, you pedal to the beach and jump off your bike, run to the shore and push a bark into waters.

You paddle towards the setting sun, craddled by the waves. You paddle along the cliffs in search of one particular cavern... When you found it you enter it, when the sea will rise again, the entry will be completely hidden and you'll be stuck.

You get out of the bark and walk inside the large cavern , familiarizing yourself with the place. Then you take your flashlight and study the sign language book, waiting for him

An hour passes by when you feel a claw grazing your tighs, you raise your head from the text to see Thrawn looking at you intently. You can't help but smile. "Hi!" you wave at him surexcited, he imitates your gesture slower, like he wonders what does it mean.

You take out a fish container and he hops on the bank to seat next to you "I hope you like salmon!" you sing. You open it and give him some of the fish and you eat it together, sneakily you robbed your mother of some soy sauce and put some on your piece. He looks interested, "You want to try?" you smile. He takes the bottle and traces the text on the tag with his claw. "I doubt you can make sense of it." you mock gently. He opens the lid and inhale the scent. He frowns severely and you burst out laughing, "You're surely not used to it under water!", he looks at you like he understood you were mocking him. Nevertheless he tries it, lets a drop of it fall on his tongue and taste it. His face is indecipherable and he puts down the bottle without letting an ounce of expression twist it. He eats his salmon silently and with dignity, while you do your own cookery, slicing it and dropping it in the sauce. "Usually I eat it with sesame too." You mundanely explain, you start talking to him about your day, about every little things that happened to you. He lays down on his elbow and listen, letting his codal fin resting in water, you see his ear-fins-things wave at some moment, and his dorsal fin undulate. Once again you vent all you can, he remains still, unmoving as you both can see the sun finishing to set and the water slowly raising. You'll soon need to exit the cavern.

But you feel so good here... with him. You can't speak together, but you feel connected on an intimate level. Like you knew him for years.

You let your eyes wonders on him and you notice he's wearing your old plastic bracelet. "Ah!" you smile, you take out the necklace and show it to him, he nods slowly.

You lay beside him, letting your feet in the water, grazing his fin.

You remain silent, watching the stars through an opening in the stone of the cliff. You point at one star "Ursa minor." you indicate. He points another "Cha'fh." he murmures, "Antares." you say, "Strech" he responds, "Perseus", "Me'ro"...

You redo the wole sky like that, you giggling and him all serious. "I probably shout note everything you say, so I can remember it all my life. Oh wait!" You take out the sign language book and a mini-moodboard with markers out of your bag, " I think about ways to communicate better!" you exclaims. He raises back his torso with a raised eyebrow.

You're about to explain to him when your smartphone rings. He growls at the sudden sound. "It's okay, it's a smartphone, it won't do anything" He relaxes when he see the small machine but looks puzzled when you start speaking to it.

"Where are you?!" bawls your mother. You wince. "I'm out... with a friend.", "You didn't warn me about that! I was worried dead! Come home this instant!", "Mom, I'm an adult, I can do-", "Huh,huh, young lady! As long as you live under my roof you will abide by my rules!" and she hungs up.

You sigh, Thrawn looks at you, curious. "I have to go..." you grumble. You gather your stuff and enter the waters, you'll have to swim the sea rose. Thrawn slides next to you ready to follow you but you hesitate, you got your flashlight to look in the dark but in salted water you won't be able to open your eyes. You wince "Crap." Thrawn seems to notice your hesitation.

He gently takes your hand and pulls you gently. You take a deep breath, close your eyes and go under water. You feel him swim next to you with his powerful tail, pulling you towards the exterior. You let him guide you, swimming with your legs, he pulls you with an assured hand.

Finally you pierce the water with a gasp. Thrawn is next to you, holding your hand, waiting for you to take back your breath. You'll be drenched at home. Great...

"Thank you." You gasp, he nods and you go back to the shore together. You part with him almost reluctantly, but he let go without difficulties. You walk on the sand as he remains in shallow waters, looking at you walking away, you turn to him and wave him goodbye, he imitates you and you look at him swiming away.

Who knows when you'll see him again, he comes and goes as it pleases him

@blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics

[preciousthingsareprecious]

With a Heart of Scars Chapter 11

Strolls in over a year late with Starbucks, new chapter anyone?

Links for those who are new, or need a refresher:

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | AO3

“You really had no idea I was back in town?” Tim asked again as he adjusted his grip on Dick’s wrist.

The two of them were in the middle of climbing the manor’s staircase to the second floor. It was Tim’s way of making sure he rested. Especially since his brother was apparently insistent on still working the case that had landed him under a building.

He’d thought he could leave Dick safely downstairs for a bit while he got situated back in the manor, the man was injured and had promised to rest, but apparently Dick had picked up more Batman habits from Bruce than he cared to admit to. It was baffling, especially since Tim knew for a fact everyone else in the family was hard at work investigating things in some way or another. So here they were with Tim in charge of getting Dick upstairs without tearing stitches, while Alfred was busy making sure the room was presentable, clean, and free of tripping hazards.

“Nope, I can show you my phone when we get upstairs. Last text from you was--” Dick winced as he put his leg down wrong.

Tim hefted him a little closer to his side.

“An update on just how tasty the food really is in Paris.” his brother finished, just as they reached the top.

“I know I sent you a message.” Tim said, his brows furrowing.

His brother waved him off, “It’s not a big deal either way, Timmy.”

Except it was. Dick had been in such straits Damian had needed to go save him. Damian who hadn’t been in the field yet. Damian who as far as Tim knew was still two seconds away from taking off someone’s head instead of knocking them out. Even if Dick promised the kid was leaps and bounds better than that now. Besides, Tim was Robin, he should have been there to back up Batman.

Even not considering the most recent disaster, Tim hadn’t been around nearly as much as he should, and it was showing. Dick was exhausted. One bad night didn’t create the deep purple bags under Dick’s eyes or the exhaustion lacing his voice.

Tim should have known. Should have been on the lookout for those tell tale signs. It didn’t matter who wore the cowl, Batman was going to keep secrets from his Robin. It was Robin’s duty to figure those out and keep him safe, yet Dick had pulled the wool over Tim’s eyes completely because he hadn’t been there. And of course he had, Tim was spending most of his time looking for a different Batman. When he wasn’t doing that, he was keeping himself busy with the Titans. Anything to be out of the house that just kept reminding him of the second dad he’d lost.

Alfred had left the door open for them, and was waiting inside when Tim helped Dick into the room. Together, he and Alfred got Dick in bed and settled in. As his brother leaned back against his pillows he sighed with relief.

“Perfect. Thanks guys.”

Alfred hummed and adjusted Dick’s blankets again, “Would you like some tea?”

Dick shot him a blinding grin, “Please.”

“You know he’s probably going to drug it right?” Tim joked after Alfred had left.

His brother snorted, “He only ever did that to B.”

Mostly when Bruce had been shutting everyone out and overworking himself. In fact, Tim remembered seeing Bruce looking an awful lot like Dick did now. His heart squeezed at the comparison, at the way he missed his dad, at what Dick seemed to be silently pushing himself through.

“Hmm.” Tim said, and pulled his phone from his pocket to check his text history with Dick. “Oh.” he blinked down at the phone.

“Oh?” Dick asked.

“I forgot to hit send.” Tim felt his face heat up.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hand flash, and jerked his head up in surprise. It wasn’t a dismissal, but instead Dick was holding his arm out in invitation.

“Want to join me? I don’t really care to sit here alone all day.”

Tim rolled his eyes but smiled, “That’s the most obvious comfort attempt I’ve seen in a long time.”

“I don’t have to trick you into giving hugs.”

Something about that made Tim think not only of Damian, but of Jason too. He chuckled, and settled on the bed next to Dick, and leaned into his side.

“Glad I can be the agreeable brother.”

He received a tight hug for that as Dick tugged him closer to his side, before leaning over to press a kiss into his hair, “And I thank you so much for that.”

“Now, tell me all about your adventures. Any more leads on strange bat symbols?”

Tim entertained Dick until Cass came in to take over for him, and he headed downstairs for a late lunch. He found Damian in the kitchen, picking his way through a bowl of salad. Tim stood for a moment and watched the kid spear a couple cherry tomatoes with his fork and then stare at them for a few seconds before popping them in his mouth.

“Hey.” Tim said, not wanting to make him think he was spying.

Damian looked up at him and scowled. No surprise there. They weren’t close, but Tim had thought Damian had cooled towards him lately. He’d even apologized for challenging Tim to a duel when he’d first arrived. The apology had been stiff, and most likely initiated by Dick, but honestly the fact that he’d done it at all had been progress.

“Dick’s in his room now.” Tim said, trying to find some common ground as he ducked into the fridge.

Bless Alfred and his legendary meal prepping skills. Neat little tupperware lined the fridge, pre portioned meals that were filling and basic enough to meet any of their pallets for a quick meal. He snagged one at random, lifted one corner of the lid and popped it into the microwave.

“Are you sticking around?” Damian demanded.

“What?” Tim turned to blink at Damian surprised.

The boy crossed his arms, salad forgotten. He looked fierce, not angry, but protective?

“Are you finally going to take your duties as Robin seriously, and watch Grayson’s back?”

Oh. That made sense. Dick had gone on about Damian with such affection earlier it had made Tim a bit jealous, and now he saw that the feelings were mutual. Gone was the Damian who had no time for anyone, now replaced with a tiny protective pit bull of a kid who had latched onto his oldest brother.

Tim frowned, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there last night, I feel terrible.”

Damian opened his mouth to berate him, but Tim held up a hand, “Let me finish. I’m not trying to make an excuse, just explain. If he wants me to stay, I’m staying. I shouldn’t have spent so much time away.”

His heart was torn even saying that. Tim loved Dick. He loved his brother desperately, but he also loved Bruce, and he couldn’t picture up and abandoning his quest. Except he couldn’t be in two places at once, and he just---he didn’t know what to do.

“Good.” Damian gave a sharp nod, “He needs a partner, and if you were not up to the task I was going to insist on taking up your slack.”

“Oh really? And has Dick okayed you for field work yet?”

Damian’s scowl returned, “He will have to eventually. His lessons are growing repetitive with nothing new to test me against.”

Tim doubted that, but did agree that eventually Damian was going to have to go out on patrol. It’s all he wanted, and even with him apparently gaining new interests since Tim had been gone, his goal was still to join Batman on patrol.

The microwave beeped. Tim turned his attention to his food. He opened the door, tugged his sleeves over his hands, and pulled out the tupperware. Quickly, he took it over to the bar and set it down before he returned to the microwave to close it and find a fork.

When he sat down again, Damian had returned to picking tomatoes out of his salad.

“You know, even if I join Dick, I think he’d appreciate having more than one partner. He’s used to working with a team.”

“Like you are?” Damian asked, not looking up, “Grayson tells me you have been splitting your time between the Teen Titans and searching for Father.”

Tim hummed, and gently lifted the lid off the food, letting the steam escape slowly. Inside the tupperware was a mix of rice, diced chicken, and an assortment of vegetables. A warm, spiced, scent came up from the container that made Tim’s mouth water.

“I have.” he nodded, “Most of my time’s been spent looking for Bruce though.”

He gave the food a good stir with his fork, and glanced up at Damian, “Your Grandpa’s even tried to help.”

Damian snorted, “I doubt what Grandfather has been doing is helpful.”

A chuckle escaped Tim’s chest, and he let it turn into a full laugh, “Yeah, he’s the worst.”

Damian gave him a half smile at that and hummed. He turned back down to the salad, now stabbing at cucumber slices, “Do you have any solid leads on Father?”

“Some.” Tim said, “Jay’s been helping too, hunting down locations from here in his spare time. So far it’s been a lot of nothing, but I’m sure we’ll find solid evidence soon.”

“And if you do?” Damian asked.

Tim shrugged, “Use it to start triangulating a location. My running theory is that Bruce is stuck somewhere in time, though there's also the possibility he could be in an alternate universe shifted slightly from our own.”

Damian didn’t ask about Tim’s plans if he didn’t find evidence. Instead he nodded, and stirred his salad, accidentally sending a slice of red onion sliding out of the bowl. He glared at it, before lifting it and dropping it in his mouth. It was actually really cute.

They spent the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. Tim devouring his rice bowl, while Damian continued to pick his salad apart, ingredient by ingredient. Tim remembered Bruce doing that sometimes if he was working out a puzzle. Normally it had nothing to do with a case, but instead was work or relationship related. One time it was over something Dick had snapped at him before storming out. It had taken him the whole meal to sort out Dick was mad that he’d forgotten about a lunch they’d had planned. He wondered what Damian was trying to puzzle out.

He didn’t get another chance to hang out with Dick alone until the next evening. Everyone else had insisted on crowding him to make sure he rested and didn’t do too much. Jason spent time reading silently close by while Cass played games with him on his DS. Tim would watch movies with him while Damian sat with a sketchbook perched on his knees, sitting in the bed just far enough away from Dick that no one would suspect him of trying to be comforting --his little ruse fooling no one.

Dick at last managed to convince Alfred to let him out of bed and move down into Bruce’s office to get some WE work done if he promised to have someone with him. Tim volunteered, eager for some quiet time with his oldest sibling.

They sat together for a while in comfortable silence. Tim worked on some of his own long overdue WE projects, and then wrangled some away from Dick to devote a fresh set of eyes to.

It was nice, just sitting there and working. Tim was settled by the book shelves, a laptop perched on his lap, and Dick was seated at the desk proper, with one of his legs propped up on a stool. Tim had been so busy, so in a rush to go off and do things, he’d missed the quiet. It was odd, thinking of Dick as quiet, and another marked change from the last time they’d sat in this office working together. Dick hadn’t interrupted him for anything but work in almost an hour. He’d settled in, brow furrowed, and just...worked.

Tim didn’t think he liked it.

As little as he wanted to admit it, Tim had begun to realize Dick needed more backup here, and he wasn’t sure he was the one to give it.

They worked for a while longer, Tim’s discomfort growing with each minute that ticked by until he cleared his throat to get Dick’s attention.

“Hm?” his brother glanced up from his computer.

“Can we talk?” Tim asked.

Dick really looked at him this time, studying his face for a few seconds before nodding. Tim dragged his chair over to the desk so Dick didn’t have to get up, and then sat down unsure of what to say, or how to bring up what he wanted to talk about.

For his part, Dick looked nervous too. He was leaning forward in his chair, his good leg raised up to rest on the edge of the seat. One of his hands fiddled with the corner of a notebook, lifting the pages and letting them slide down his thumb making a thwiping noise.

He tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, “I’m sorry.” he said at last, then before Dick could respond charged ahead, “I know I apologized already and we had a whole talk, but I’m talking about more than just the other night.”

“Tim, we talked about that too. I’m happy you’re out looking for Bruce, and being with your friends. I know how much they benefit from having you there.”

“Yes, but I’ve left you without a proper partner.” Tim said, “And it’s obvious you need one.”

Dick scoffed, “You too? Damian told me the same.”

“He’s right. And actually, that’s the other thing.”

This was what he’d been fighting with himself about. Handing over his partnership with Dick to someone else. He could say Damian could pick any name but Robin, but Batman needed a Robin. Tim knew that better than anyone. Gotham needed to see Robin out there as much as they needed Batman.

Tim could pretend that things wouldn’t be any different when he got done with his quest (however that ended), he could pretend he’d be able to slip right back into being Batman’s partner the same way he’d been prior to all this, but that was a lie. Even now he and Dick were more comrades than hero and sidekick, and that gulf would only grow if Dick and Damian started patrolling together. The two were already practically joined at the hip.

“I think you should make Damian Robin.” he said.

He found that it wasn’t as upsetting as he’d thought it would be, to imagine a different Robin. To picture the little gremlin in that role. To just, hand it over like that.

Dick visibly relaxed, his hand flattened on the book, “Really?”

Tim shrugged, “I’ve been thinking about it. More than just being here. I told Damian that I’d stay and be your partner if you wanted. But I honestly think he’d be better taking over, he can be here all the time, and doesn’t have a team or the distractions I do.”

“I’d been thinking about it too.” Dick sounded almost guilty, and he slid the book over, flipping it to a page with a corner folded down.

A few sketches filled the page. There was a full sketch of a new Robin uniform, with pieces doodled around it, a hooded cape, and combat boots instead of Tim’s old style.

The irritation Tim thought he wasn’t going to feel suddenly rose up. Dick had wanted to replace him? He’d told Tim that he wasn’t going to give Robin to Damian, that they’d pick something else.

Dick seemed to read the change in his mood, “I wasn’t going to give it to him until I’d asked you.” he reached out and put a hand on Tim’s, “I wouldn’t take Robin from you, even if I did think you were ready to spread your own wings.”

He flipped the pages back, showing Tim other uniform designs, one with a motorcycle helmet type mask and a fathered cape called Red Bird, another that looked a lot like a Nightwing uniform but with more armor and a scalloped cape. Tim’s irritation settled a bit at that.

“But you did consider Robin too.”

His brother shrugged, and looked a little chagrined, “You can’t really get mad at me for imagining it. You were never going to stay Robin forever.”

Tim sighed, “Yeah. I just, I don’t know. It’s dumb, I shouldn’t be upset when I said the same thing just a minute ago.”

“So, you’re still okay with it?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Tim nodded, “It’ll be good for the Gremlin. He’s already grown leaps and bounds just training with you.”

Dick smiled, “Thank you, Tim. You know I've still got your back no matter what right? Whatever name you pick or outfit, and hey!” the smile turned into a full grin, “I can even help you pick out a new uniform. Maybe break out the old disco wing outfit?”

Tim pulled a face, “No way, Damian might have to suffer through your fashion decisions, but I’ll make my own. Besides, I’ve already picked out a new name and outfit.”

“Oh?” Dick’s eyes lit up, “Do tell.”

So Tim did. He pushed his brother over and pulled up his directory on their shared drive to show him some rendered images. He’d been excited to finalize the idea, and he was even more excited to share it with Dick.

They spent the rest of the evening looking over Red Robin images, with Tim defending the name choice to his brother.

[lec743]

Gramps POV (Solar Lunacy Fanfic)

This is after my fic "Gramps Worries" and before the story "Holliday Time". I was worried about the kitten in the unwritten part of the story and I just wanted to have Moon spend some time with his cat.

(Guys, please check out @bamsara story Solar Lunacy. It's so good. I love it so much.)

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            Ever since the Kid’s work friends moved in with them, I’ve been helping them with keeping an eye on the animatronic. Making sure they don’t go missing or smoothing over people’s nerves about them when the other residences of the apartment complex become known to them. So, I have only ever really interacted with them when it came to my work.

            The only time I broke the work interaction with their animatronic friend, was when I offered to catch a stray kitten that I found wandering around the back allies of the complex. It was such a small thing, and I felt bad that I couldn’t take her in because I already had Screwdriver.

            It was concerning but sweet, at the same time, how overwhelmed the big, sunny animatronic seemed to be with the little kitten in his large hands.

            After handing over the kitten to them, I thought that would be the end of that and I’d go about my interactions with them like before.

            Then I was invited over for a kitten play date.

            I’ve only had a handful of interactions with them, but they’ve always been pleasant. Maybe a bit pushy, and I’ve seen how the Kid squabbles with them like they’re an old married couple. So, the idea of a kitten play date was silly, but I wasn’t opposed to it.

            It was evening and I was standing outside their door with my fat orange cat in my arms. He was sleeping away. Unbothered that I had to remove an arm from him to knock on their front door.

            A minute later, the blue, moon themed animatronic opened the front door.

            “Evening. Did Sun tell you why I’m here?”

            “He did,” he then stepped back with the door and said, “Come in.”

            I nod my thank you at him and step into the dark, but nightlight lit living room.

            As the door closed behind me, I heard the tell-tale sign of little feet running on hardwood floors. Then a little mewl cried out.

            Screwdriver’s head perked up at the sound and his tail swished from side to side. The old fat cat loves other cats, especially kittens, but I wondered how the kitten was going to handle another cat in their presence.

            “Can you see, okay?” Moon asked as he shuffled around me.

            “I’m old, but I’m not that kind of old.”

            “Mmm,” Moon mused, “Hard to tell sometimes, considering you do go by as Gramps.”

            I chuckled at the joke at my expense.

            “It fits me so well, though. Like a big fluffy coat.”

            The kitten mewls again, this time closer, and I see Moon bend down and pick up a fuzzy round shape out of the darkest corner of the room.

            I go further into the living room, and I sit down on the couch. My knees popping as I sit down. They didn’t pop painfully though, so I was fine.

            “Have you seen a doctor about that,” Moon asked as he sat on the floor in front of me. From the faint lighting I could see him petting his kitten.

            “I have, but there’s not much the doctors can do. I take my pain medications and I do exercises. It’s the best thing I can do for myself.”

            Moon hummed, unsatisfied with my answer.

            I lean forward and drop Screwdriver down on the ground.

            “Let’s get this kitty play date started,” I say, changing the subject.

            The fat, orange cat trotted over to Moon. His fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

            The moon themed animatronic sat down his cat. She mewled a few times then attempted to clean her belly, before falling over on her back.

            Me and Moon watched Screwdriver walk up to the kitten and sniff her.

            The baby kitten sniffed back, her nose bumping against his like she was surprised by what was in front of her. Then the hair on her body raised up and she hissed at my cat. Screwdriver didn’t react at all and kept sniffing the kitten as the kitten started bapping him with her little paws.

            I chuckle at the sight.

            “This is okay,” Moon asked.

            I nodded. I wonder briefly if he and Sun already know about cat behavior through their own research but ask questions for the sake of the conversation. It made me wonder for a bit, if they have a hard time conversing with people in general.

            “This is normal. The kitten will feel threatened, but Screwdriver’s an old softy. He knows how to get on any kitten’s good side.”

            Screwdriver, now finished with his sniffing examination, plopped down on the kitten, and started grooming her. She fought him a bit, but after a minute, the kitten was letting Screwdriver clean her up.

            “What did you name your cat,” I asked eventually as we watched our cats interact, “I need to stop calling her “the kitten” in my internal monologue.”

            There was a pause, then Moon made a sound that went, “Pspspsps.”

            The kitten perked up at the sound.

            “… You named her, “Pspspsps?”

            “She always comes to it,” Moon stated.

            I shrug, “Hey, if it works, it works.”

            Screwdriver was finished grooming Pspspsps, and instead of running away, she started attacking his swishing tail. I smile softly at the sight. I’m glad the kitten seems to be taking to living indoors nicely. It’s always a shame to see animals being treated poorly in the world.

            “Would you like some tea,” Moon asked.

            “I would like that, thank you. Can I have the kind that Sun made me that one time. It’s been a while, but I remember liking it a lot.”

            Moon nodded as he stood up, “Mint tea. I won’t be long.”

            When he was done making me my tea, he joined me on the couch as we talked about the Kid, what I’ve done for work, and how him and Sun are enjoying their little fur ball.

            Even though the concept of the cat play date was silly, it was nice visiting with him.

            As I pick up my cat and make my way to the front door, with Moon trailing behind me to show me out, I said, “Hey, you, your brother, and the Kid are free to come over to my apartment whenever, okay? I enjoy your company.”

            Moon nodded. The sharp smile on his face, seeming to soften at my words, “We’ll keep that in mind, Gramps.”

            I nod my thank you at them and I take my leave.

[lookbluesoup]

A little question about Nahte's singing, if I may?

What kind of ballads does Nahte regale his companions with? Are they tales of love? Or tragic ballads? Or even bawdy ones?

Where did he learn the songs he sings? Are they traditional to his culture? Or are some those that he has recorded from cultures he met on his travels? Or has he ever written his own?

Can he improvise a song on a given topic or does he prefer to remember them word for word?

Does he have specific songs for specific audiences? With glamours to match? Such as stories for children with images to go with them? Or beautiful songs to move others, with gentle, intertwining, abstract illusions?

Mind you, if there are glamours to go with any bawdy ballads, we should probably draw a modest veil over those!

Thank you very much for this ask! :3

Nahte has an exceptional memory and a mathematical mind, which is part of what makes him so talented as an Arcanist (and later, Scholar/Summoner). It also makes him very good at music. He knows an awful lot of songs which he's picked up from all over in his travels, and has even composed a few of his own. If you need help figuring out what song is stuck in your head based on a few notes, or remembering the next set of lines, Nahte's definitely the one to ask.

His favorite songs are generally tales of heroism and adventure. Ballads that inspire and uplift, and encourage dancing or singing along around the campfire. But he also chooses sad songs on occasion, to allow the different types of music to compliment one another by contrast, and because he values the catharsis and honesty these kinds of lyrics can evoke.

One in particular is a song about a Gridanian man trying to "tame" a Moonkeeper woman who he fell in love with, forcing her to leave behind her traditional way of life -- and in his arrogance, ultimately causing her death. While it's mournful enough at face value, and his performance has evoked tears from many an audience, the song is also an allegory for Gridania's attempt to erase Moon Keeper culture at large, and Nahte learned it from his own clan growing up deep in the Shroud.

Nahte knows quite a few bawdy ballads as well and has even written a few, but performances of this nature are reserved only for his lovers in private audience. Especially since the lyrics he's written are... specifically... about them.

Music can be quite a personal thing for Nahte. He won't generally perform songs if his heart's not in it. In fact, even if he otherwise seems fine, if he's consistently been refusing to sing, it's a sure sign something's troubling him. Being said, he does tend to gauge his audience when deciding what to play. Picking the right tune for the right people is an engaging challenge.

Of course, he once chose a song about pining for a distant lover whilst traveling with X'rhun Tia and Lyrha, and two stanzas in Lyrha stormed off from the campfire so abruptly that it caused quite a scene. He might have been a little too on-point, that time.

Nahte enjoys spinning glamours to accompany his songs and stories. Animals, people, starshowers, grass, snow, whatever applies to the tale he's telling. It's easier to do this when he's just singing, and not holding an instrument. He's astonishingly good at forming these, aided in large part by how swept up into a song he gets.

As far as instruments go, he grew up learning the panflute (here's a panflute solo, for an idea how it'd sound!), as well as the lute (that 'classic' medieval instrument), and in his travels he eventually picks up a "reed harp", a.k.a. a harmonica (which he is also stupidly good at playing)

He and his sister Tsimh will sing together during their visits, and witnessing the pair of them perform in sync is quite a treat!

[headcanonsandmore]

(Accidentally) In Love, Chapter Two

Summary: Nyssa Traken has just moved in with her best friend Tegan. However, as she grows used to living in such close confines with the Australian, Nyssa begins to notice that maybe her feelings for Tegan aren't as platonic as she initially assumed. And nursing Tegan through a bad cold may just help Nyssa evaluate what exactly these non-platonic feelings are...

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                     Read on FFN.                         Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Nyssa Traken finished her mug of tea, and walked sedately back to her room. She was finding herself more and more at ease with living with another person; she hadn’t had a roommate since she had been at university back in the nineteen-eighties, but she was definitely enjoying it. After all, Tegan was her best friend.

The bathroom happened to be right next to Nyssa’s room, so she could hear the sounds of the shower running as she settled back down into her bed. Tegan wasn’t singing to herself, but Nyssa could just about hear the Australian humming to herself. Chuckling fondly, Nyssa picked up the book from her bedside table and nestled down to read. “Persuasion” by Jane Austen was one of her favourite novels; she had re-read a least two dozen times over the years. Something about it spoke to Nyssa, although she could never quite put her finger on what.

After another ten minutes (although the time seems to pass quickly as Nyssa continued to read), the sound of the shower abruptly stopped, and Nyssa heard the tell-tale signs of Tegan climbing out of the bath and stepping flat-footedly onto the bathroom mat. Very naked and very wet, of course.

Nyssa found her cheeks flush slightly at the thought, but she ignored it. Probably just the novelty of sharing a flat with someone. Tegan was her best friend, after all. Best friends didn’t think about each other that way-

‘Nys?’

Nyssa startled, as there was a knock on her door.

‘Y-yes?’

‘I’ve finished in there,’ Tegan said, through the door. ‘So you can hop in now.’

‘Oh, thank you.’

Tegan’s footsteps worked away along the corridor, and Nyssa climbed out of bed, feeling a little out of sorts. How strange. She supposed this was to be expected, given that she had just moved in with Tegan. After all, the two of them had been close for many years, and now they were living together as well. Obviously, it would take a while to acclimatise to sharing a flat with someone, especially someone you already cared a great deal about. But -Nyssa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up- this didn’t feel like it was her growing adjusted to the sudden change of living with her best friend. It felt… different.

Deciding that she was probably just overthinking, Nyssa left her room and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She looked into the mirror as she began to brush her teeth. A tousle-haired woman stared back at her. Nyssa had always been told (normally by Tegan) that her hair was lovely, but Nyssa knew from experience that it could often be a nightmare to deal with, especially on days when it refused to behave. Hopefully, the summer wouldn’t be too humid this year.

After spitting out the toothpaste and flossing, Nyssa checked that the shower was working the same as it had been when Tegan had showed her how to use it the previous day. You couldn’t be too careful when it came to hot water, after all. After deciding that it seemed to be working fine, Nyssa began to undo her pyjama top. She was just almost finished when-

‘Ooops, sorry.’

Nyssa froze, her hands on the final button, as she turned to the door.

Tegan was stood in the doorway, having pushed the door halfway open. Her hair was done up in a towel, and another towel covered her torso and upper legs. Water droplets glistened on her skin, and Nyssa found herself unable to draw her eyes away from the Australian. If Tegan noticed Nyssa’s reaction, she didn’t say anything.

‘Forgot my hairbrush,’ Tegan said, quickly, darting forward to grab the item from the stand nearby. ‘You look great, by the way; do you moisturise-’

‘Tegan!’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ the Australian, looking at the floor and backing out of the door. ‘Didn’t mean to look, I swear…’

The door closed behind her.

Nyssa stood, stock still, for a moment, her blood pumping in her ears. What? What had just happened? Well, from a scientific perspective, Tegan had simply forgotten her hairbrush and had hurried back in before Nyssa had gotten undressed. But that didn’t explain why Nyssa’s palms were suddenly sweaty, or why she had been so flummoxed by seeing Tegan with just a towel around her.

Turning to the mirror, Nyssa was startled to see that her face had turned bright red. She quickly doused her cheeks in cold water, her breathing heavy. What had she reacted so strongly? It wasn’t as if Tegan was being deliberate about it, so why did she feel so flustered?

Wrestling with this sudden confusion, Nyssa hung her pyjamas on the back of the door, and climbed into the bath. She had a sudden realisation that a cold shower might be a good idea.

                                                           *

Hoff!

Nyssa looked up from her book. It was a couple of hours later, and she had spent the morning reading quietly on the sofa. Tegan had promised that they would go to the local car boot sale after lunch, so Nyssa had made sure not to get started on any plans that would take the whole day. Like reading a scientific paper, which would have evolved into a day of Wikipedia rabbit-holes that would end up with Nyssa knowing more about Peruvian advances in bio-chemistry than was socially acceptable. Again.

Hoff!

Nyssa frowned. There it was again. It sounded like someone coughing. But not just a normal cough; this was a cough that signalled the need for throat lozenges, warm blackcurrant drinks and at least two days spent away from cold weather.

After removing her reading glasses and marking her page with a bookmark, Nyssa stood up, and followed the sounds. Sure enough, they were coming from Tegan’s room.

‘Tegan?’ Nyssa asked, knocking softly on the door. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Fine,’ came a very croaky voice from within.

Nyssa sighed, and opened the door.

Tegan was sat up in bed, having presumably changed back into her pyjamas in the previous few hours. Her eyes were already becoming bloodshot, and her nose was beginning to go red. A pack of tissues were on the bed next to her, with a large pile of already used tissues collected in the bin nearby.

‘’m fine, Nys,’ Tegan mumbled, trying to put a smile on, before descending into another round of coughs. ‘H-honestly, ‘m fine…’

Nyssa put her hands on her hips.

‘Tegan Jovanka, you are ill.’

‘No, ’m fine, Nys,’ Tegan urged, her voice hoarse. ‘I’ve just got a sour throat.’

‘And the constant coughing and sneezing?’

Tegan pouted.

‘But… you wanted to go to the car boot sale…’

‘Oh, Tegan…’ Nyssa said, sighing as she sat down on the bed. ‘I wouldn’t enjoy it if you spent the entire time suffering. We’ll go next week. For the time being, you are going to rest up and relax.’

‘Nyssa-’

‘No excuses, Tegan Jovanka,’ Nyssa said. ‘You are in my care for this weekend, and I won’t have you making yourself feel worse.’

Tegan stared at her for a moment. For a second, she looked like she was going to argue further, but then another coughing fit started off.

Nyssa leaned forward and patted her friend gently on the back.

‘It’s almost lunchtime, so I’ll make you some food, okay?.’

‘I can make my own -koff-’ Tegan managed, before giving up on speaking again.

‘I’m sure you normally can, but not now,’ Nyssa said, gently. ‘I’ll get you some hot blackcurrant while the food is cooking; have you had paracetamol already?’

Tegan nodded.

‘Thanks, Nys,’ she mumbled.

Nyssa smiled.

‘You’re most welcome; now, lean back against your pillows, and I’ll go and cook lunch.’

                                                              *

 ‘Chicken soup,’ Nyssa said, placing the tray on Tegan’s legs. It was just under an hour later. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’

‘Thanks, Nys,’ Tegan mumbled, with only a small amount of self-pity. ‘Really appreciate it.’

Nyssa smiled, sitting down on the bed.

‘You just focus on eating that, and getting better, okay?’

‘Yes’m.’

Tegan picked up the spoon from the tray. The Australian gripped it firmly, but the spoon still wobbled in her hand. Nyssa sighed, as Tegan continued to try unsuccessfully to hold the spoon level.

‘Oh, Tegan, let me…’

Nyssa took the spoon from Tegan, dipped it into the bowl and held it up to Tegan’s mouth.

The Australian glared at the spoon as if it had just spat in her face.

‘I am not saying “ah”.’

‘I believe you just did,’ Nyssa chuckled. ‘Just open your mouth for me, please?’

Tegan sighed, before doing as instructed.

They continued this until the bowl was empty. After finishing, Tegan did look marginally less ill, although her face was still clammy and her nose still red. Nyssa placed the tray on the floor, while Tegan blew her nose noisily. Nyssa would have normally been worried that she herself might catch whatever bug Tegan had picked up, but she was already suspecting that the bug had come from the moving of Nyssa’s things into the flat. It was likely, therefore, that Nyssa already had something of an immunity to it. Especially the dust from her large collection of books.

‘I was hoping I’d be a little more impressive during your first weekend here,’ Tegan mumbled, miserably. ‘And here I am, with you looking after me instead.’

‘Actually, I rather like it,’ Nyssa said, smiling. ‘It’s rare that I get to look after you, instead of vice versa. And you do look adorable.’

‘Oh, shut up…’ Tegan protested. ‘How am I supposed to be the cool lesbian if you’re fussing over me like this?’

‘You’ll have to lump it, then,’ Nyssa said. ‘Speaking of being a cool lesbian, you’d best take your top off.’

Tegan let out a splutter, her knees flying up to her chest under the covers. The Australian’s face seemed to burn scarlet, as if Nyssa had just asked something obscene of her.

‘W-what?’

‘You haven’t had a wash since this morning, have you?’ Nyssa said, putting a hand to Tegan’s forehead. With her other hand, she pulled a dry flannel from her pocket. ‘And… yes, you’re not very cool at all; in fact, you’re quite a bit clammy. Take off your top and I’ll wipe this flannel over your back.’

‘B-but I’m not wearing a-’

‘Tegan, I’m not so innocent that I’ll faint if I see a woman topless,’ Nyssa interjected, primly. Honestly; they were best friends, after all. Surely Tegan couldn’t be that flustered. ‘Stop being awkward and do as I say while I run this flannel under the tap.’

Nyssa climbed to her feet and shot an expectant look at the bed-bound woman. Her face burning red, Tegan removed her pyjama top. Her knees were so wound up against her that it made virtually no difference anyway.

‘Thank you. I’ll be back in just a moment.’

Tegan really was very pretty, Nyssa mused as she soaked the flannel under the cold tap in the bathroom. Under most circumstances, Nyssa would probably be rather flustered to be doing this. But she found that she wasn’t. If anything, she found herself very calm, filled only with an earnest desire to help Tegan as best she could. Even if that did involve seeing Tegan’s bare back. No matter how attractive a back it was.

From a purely aesthetic perspective, of course.

Returning to the room, Nyssa sat back down on the side of the bed next to Tegan, whose blush had reduced slightly and now looked more like a mild pinkening of the cheeks.

‘Okay, this will be a little cold at first…’

The Australian let out a squeak as the cool flannel touched her skin. It sounded very cute. Adorable, even. Who would have thought that Tegan Jovanka had an adorable squeak? Nyssa resisted chuckling; it was rare to hear Tegan so timid and shy. She had to admin, she was rather enjoying the contrast.

‘You know,’ Nyssa said, as she set to work. ‘Many queer women would probably quite enjoy being washed by a -what was the phrase you used?-“glamorous lady” like me.’

‘Not when they’re ill,’ Tegan mumbled, mortified. ‘And certainly not after the lady in question has fed them chicken soup.’

‘I think you mean rather nice chicken soup,’ Nyssa said. ‘Made by the glamorous, gorgeous lady in question.’

Tegan went quiet for a second.

‘True,’ she mumbled. ‘But you don’t need to rub it in. I know I’m not-’

‘Oh, no you don’t!’ Nyssa said, sternly. ‘This isn’t a pity party, Tegan Jovanka; I will not have you say that my wonderful best friend isn’t gorgeous.’

Tegan’s cheeks flushed.

‘Speaking of which, you do have rather lovely skin, Tegan,’ Nyssa continued. ‘Do you moisturise?’

‘Nyssa…’ Tegan moaned, miserably. ���That’s not funny.’

‘Well, it’s true. And now we’re even, aren’t we,’ Nyssa chuckled. ‘You saw me half-dressed, and now I’ve seen you.’

‘What are we; adolescents?’

‘If the people at work are to be believed, we’re an old married couple.’

Tegan went strangely quiet for a moment.

‘Yeah,’ she said, very softly. ‘I guess it looks that way, doesn’t it.’

Nyssa frowned, in confusion. What did Tegan mean by that? It wasn’t like her to be cryptic about these things; the Australian was known for being direct and outspoken with how she felt.

‘Okay, all done.’

‘Thank you,’ Tegan said, slipping her pyjama top back over her head. ‘Er… sorry I’ve been such a pain.’

‘You’re too harsh on yourself,’ Nyssa replied, smiling. ‘Besides, what kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t help you when you were ill.’

‘Do I get another forehead kiss?’

Nyssa rolled her eyes, chuckling as she stood up.

‘Only if you behave.’

Tegan smiled softly at her.

                                                              *

 Tegan settled down for a sleep after that, and Nyssa spent the next few hours making her own lunch, doing the laundry, and finally unpacking the last of her things. She really did have a lot of books, didn’t she. Back in the cottage, there had been barely enough room for all of them, but there was a lot more space in this flat.

She was just heading to Tegan’s room to check on her when, as she reached the door, Tegan’s phone rang from inside.

There was a quick movement of duvet, as Tegan presumably rolled over to reach her phone.

‘Hi, Peri,’ Tegan was saying. ‘Thanks for calling back. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be -koff- coming into work on Tuesday.’

‘I believe you. Yikes; I can practically hear the germs in your voice,’ the American replied, sounding concerned. Presumably, Tegan had hit speakerphone to keep her hands free. ‘Is Nyssa coming in to work, then?’

‘No; Nys is insisting on looking after me. She’s gone all nurse and confined me to bed.’

‘I thought you’d love that.’

‘Oh, ha-ha.’

‘That’s nice of Nyssa to do that for you, though. Yaz told me you’ve moved in together; congrats, I take it that you two finally admitted your feelings?’

Nyssa froze where she stood, her hand hovering in front of the door handle that she had just reached out to grab. The world seemed to shake on its foundations around her. A spinning sensation seemed to occur within Nyssa’s head, as her brain struggled to process the ramifications of what she had just heard.

W-what?

‘Feelings?’-Tegan sounded strangely… unsettled-‘W-what feelings?’

‘Tegan, you know fully well what feelings I mean. Don’t pull that “oblivious lesbian” shtick with me. I’m taking about the feelings of romantic adoration and love between yourself and the lovely Nyssa Traken. Your lovey-dovey feelings. As in, you-love-her-and-she-loves-you. Understood?’

‘What?’-Tegan’s voice quavered as she spoke-‘No, don’t… don’t be silly. Nyssa doesn’t see me that way; this is just something best friends do for each other.’

Peri gave a snort of disbelief on the other end of the line.

‘Pretty sure most platonic friends don’t stay home from work to look after each other. Also, if Nyssa doesn’t see you that way, does that mean that you do see Nyssa that way?’

There was a splutter from the other side of the door. Tegan had clearly taken a large mouthful of water just before Peri had spoken. Nyssa’s other hand flew up and covered her mouth, to stop the gasp that had almost escaped from her own lips.

‘W-what…’ Tegan squeaked. ‘…what are you talking about, Peri? I-I don’t-’

‘Interesting reaction,’ Peri said, and Nyssa was stunned to hear giggling from the American. ‘Well, do you want her to see you that way?’

‘I-I don’t what you mean,’ Tegan stammered. ‘Nyssa’s my best friend; she’s… special.’

‘Yeah, that sounds very platonic,’ Peri retorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. ‘I’ll let the department head know that neither of you will be in for a while; get better soon, ‘kay?’

There was a click as the call ended.

Nyssa found herself unable to move. Her mind was a blur. The world seemed to fade to a dull murmur around her. There was a rustle of duvet on the other side of the door, as Tegan lay back down, but Nyssa did not knock on the door.  

Instead, Nyssa turned, walked back along the corridor, and sank into the living room sofa.

What?

What on earth did Peri mean? Did Tegan and Nyssa really seem like a couple? How long had everyone assumed that the two of them were… together? It sounded ridiculous, it was bizarre, it… it…

It sounded wonderful.

Nyssa felt her face flush and her pulse race.

Yes, she and Tegan had always been close, but they were best friends. It was normal for best friends to be so in-sync with each other. To light up each other’s day. It was! Surely, it was! That was how it had always been for Nyssa, in regards to Tegan. Tegan had always been the best part of Nyssa’s life; the person she could count on throughout everything. Her good friend. Her closest friend in all the world. Her closest friend in all her life. Her best friend.

Only… only…

Nyssa put her face in her hands, and let out a trembled gasp.

The penny had dropped.

She was in love with Tegan. She, Nyssa Traken, was in love with Tegan Jovanka. Her best friend. Her closest friend. The person she cared about above all others. The person she would gladly spend the rest of her life with. The wonderful, amazing, kind, beautiful and funny woman that she lived with. She was in love -achingly, heartachingly in love- with Tegan.

She didn’t know when her feelings had changed. She had been sure that they must have been platonic at some point. But, over time, things had clearly changed. That soft comfort of platonic affection was still there, but now it was closer to the quiet love of a long-term romantic partnership. Tegan was still her best friend, yes, but… something else was there too. A quiet, sedate inner calm that came with knowing that the other person was the one around whom, in some way of another, your entire world revolved.

No wonder she had kissed Tegan on the forehead.

Nyssa’s hand flew up to her mouth, and she gently touched her lips.

Yes… yes, she had done that. At the time, she had assumed it had been a display of platonic affection, the sort of friendly kiss that women did all the time. Only… now she wasn’t sure. It was as if her body had understood her mind better than she had herself.

‘Oh, Tegan…’ Nyssa whispered, barely above a murmur. ‘What do I do?’

There was the sound of a door opening, and Nyssa instantly jumped to her feet, her hands flying away from her lips as if in guilt. Had Tegan heard her speak?

A few moments later, Tegan stumbled softly into the room, her eyes heavy and her skin clammy.

‘Peri says we… we won’t need to come into the office this week,’ the Australian said, her eyes focusing faintly on Nyssa. ‘You okay? Your cheeks are a bit flushed…’

‘O-oh, I must be a little warm,’ Nyssa stammered, quickly. ‘You go back to bed and get some more rest. I’ll bring in your dinner in a few hours.’

‘Thanks, Nys,’ Tegan replied, her smile faint but tender. ‘You’re the best.’

As Tegan slowly made her way back to her room, Nyssa’s mind was filled with the phrase the Australian had said at work the day she had suggested that Nyssa move in with her.

If I’m still single at 70, we can get married...

A small spark of delight appeared in Nyssa’s stomach, giving her a warm, fuzzy feeling that she found herself quite unable to entirely quash. And she needed to quash it. Tegan didn’t see Nyssa like that; it wasn’t right for Nyssa to pine for her best friend. After all, Tegan saw Nyssa as her platonic best friend and roommate; the idea of them marrying had definitely been made in jest.

Nyssa brushed her hair out of her face, and set to work making dinner. Maybe that would take her mind off of things.

                                                           *

 ‘Nys?’

Nyssa looked up from the sofa, where she had been absentmindedly watching television since she had finished her own dinner, and desperately trying to keep her mind off of the revelation she had stumbled upon earlier that afternoon. Tegan was stood at the door, a blanket wrapped around her.

‘You’re up late,’ Nyssa said, sitting up. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ Tegan mumbled, rubbing her eyes before turning to leave. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you; I’ll go back to my room-’

However, before she could take another step, Nyssa had leapt off the sofa, crossed the room and put an arm around Tegan’s shoulders, steering her back towards the sofa.

‘You are going to sit here and watch “The Sound of Music” while I make you some herbal tea,’ Nyssa said, firmly setting Tegan down onto the sofa. ‘And then I’m going to watch the rest of the film with you until you start nodding off.’

‘But… I’ll make you ill-’

‘Tegan!’ Nyssa said, firmly. ‘Sit down or so help me, I will spank your bottom!’

Tegan’s cheeks briefly filled with colour as she goggled at Nyssa, who took the opportunity to drape another blanket around Tegan and then hurry off to the kitchen.

Spank your bottom? Where had that come from?

As Nyssa set the kettle going, she tried not to think too much about that. She had obviously noticed Tegan’s bum in the past, but it wasn’t as if she thought about it that much. Maybe her revelation earlier had scrambled her thoughts, causing the tension to leak into the way she spoke?

Yeah, that was probably -hopefully- it.

Nyssa carried the mug back into the living room. Tegan looked up from the film.

‘So… spanking my bottom?’

Nyssa felt her face burn as she neared the sofa.

‘Er… sorry,’ she said. ‘Maybe that was too harsh.’

‘No,’ Tegan said. ‘Just… well, I didn’t know you were into that, Nys-’

‘Tegan!’

The Australian giggled, as Nyssa gently placed the mug into her hands. Nyssa sat down behind Tegan, trying not to think about how suddenly physical contact with Tegan seemed to be a mental minefield; would sitting too close be untoward? Would Tegan notice if Nyssa sat too close? What even was “too close”, anyway? Would she notice if Nyssa sat too far away? Would she assume Nyssa didn’t like being close with her?

Deciding (with a great force of will) to just not think about it at all and pray that it hopefully wouldn’t matter too much either way, Nyssa leaned back against the sofa, enjoying the soft warmth that came with Tegan being sat barely an inch away from her.

Tegan drank from the mug, and gave a contented sigh.

‘Better?’

Tegan nodded, wrapped in the blankets. Her skin didn’t seem to be quite so clammy, and her nose had stopped running.

‘Oh, you look so cute…’ Nyssa said, putting an arm around Tegan’s shoulders without thinking. ‘A snug as a bug in a rug.’

Tegan made a face.

‘I don’t do cute,’ the Australian muttered. ‘Everyone always says so.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘Thanks. I… I am glad you moved in, Nys,’ Tegan said, softly. ‘Really, I am.’

‘Me too,’ Nyssa replied. ‘I’m just sorry that you probably got ill because of some germs from my books.’

Tegan shrugged.

‘Don’t care. It’s worth it.’

‘It was worth getting ill… so you could help me unpack?’

‘Something like that, yeah.’

Nyssa tried not to overanalyse that. Tegan wasn’t in the practice of hiding what she thought behind layers of subterfuge; if she wanted you to know something, she would tell you.

“The Sound Of Music”, then?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Nyssa said. ‘I used to watch this all the time with my father.’

‘Your father had good taste in musicals,’ Tegan replied. ‘Classic romance and some great songs.’

‘He always loved it,’ Nyssa said, smiling quietly to herself. ‘I think it reminded him of his marriage with my mother.’

Tegan didn’t say anything but cuddled into Nyssa’s side.

‘Tegan,’ Nyssa said, chuckling. ‘My mother died almost half a century ago; I don’t need comfort over it.’

‘Well, you’re getting it.’

The film played out before them, with both Tegan and Nyssa quoting certain scenes word for word. Tegan even hummed a few of the songs.

‘Er…Nys?’

‘Hmmm?’

Tegan had just placed her now-empty mug on the ground, leaning back against Nyssa in the half-light of the room.

‘Why… why did you never get married?’

Nyssa turned her head to look at her.

‘What’s brought this on?’

‘Just… wondering,’ Tegan mumbled, eyes slipping closed. ‘You’re amazing; I’m surprised no-one ever snapped you up.’

Nyssa’s heart beat just a little bit faster, but she didn’t respond at first.

‘I don’t know. I suppose… I never met anyone who wanted to marry me.’

‘Well, it’s their loss,’ Tegan replied, stifling a yawn. ‘I’d marry you in a heartbeat.’

Nyssa’s mind seemed to slow to a crawl. What did Tegan mean by that?

Without warning, Tegan leaned up and pressed her lips pressed against Nyssa’s cheek. Nyssa’s breath hitched in her throat, and her entire body seemed to freeze. What was happening? What was Tegan-

‘You’re the best, Nys,’ the Australian mumbled, not seeming to notice Nyssa’s shock. ‘You’d be an amazing wife… lucky sod, whoever gets to be with you…’

And, with that, Tegan drifted into a doze.

Nyssa sat there, her mind whirling with confusion, bewilderment and (a tiny, miniscule bit) hope. Oh, she wished that Tegan meant what she longed for her to mean. But she knew that it was an impossible hope. A hope like the soft edge of a dream. A dream that would surely never become reality.

She let out a small sigh, wiping a small tear from her eye as she did so.

Slipping an arm around Tegan’s waist, Nyssa half-carried half-dragged the Australian to her room, laying her down in bed and placing the duvet gently across her. Tegan’s face was tranquil and calm in the half-light, her complexion beginning to return to its normal brightness. Her nose was already becoming less red.

Nyssa was just about to leave when a sudden thought struck her. Could she… well, Tegan had asked her…

Without any further deliberation, she leaned down, and pressed a delicate kiss to Tegan’s forehead.

‘You’ve always been good,’ Nyssa breathed, softly. ‘Oh, Tegan, you have no idea how good you have been…’

Nyssa tiptoed across the room, and closed the door gently behind her, leaving Tegan to dream in blissful oblivion.

                                                              *

 Nyssa did not get to dream in blissful oblivion.

She had spent most of the night tossing and turning in bed, unable to stop thinking about the events of the day. How was a woman supposed to sleep after her half-conscious best friend (who she also happened to be in love with) had basically said that they’d love to marry her before kissing her?

Nyssa had discovered the answer to that question: very uncomfortably.

Around seven in the morning, she eventually decided that she was never going to get any decent rest, and might as well get up. Forsaking her usual tea, Nyssa made herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, along with her standard bowl of porridge.

Oh, what a confusing mess, Nyssa thought, sadly. Within one day of moving in with Tegan, she had already discovered that a) she was in love with Tegan and b) she had absolutely no idea if Tegan’s feelings for her were really completely platonic or not.

It was enough to make any woman go mad-

‘Morning, Nys!’

Nyssa startled in her seat, as Tegan walked into the kitchen.

‘F-feeling better?’ she stammered.

‘Oh, absolutely!’ Tegan grinned, putting the kettle on and leaning against the counter. ‘All thanks to you going nurse on me, I expect, and it only cost me most of my dignity.’

‘You were very dignified in sickness,’ Nyssa replied, trying not to think about her stomach currently doing somersaults at the smile Tegan was flashing at her. ‘And very sweet.’

Tegan chuckled, her cheeks turning a little pink.

‘I… I really do appreciate it,’ she said, patting Nyssa on the arm. ‘Thank you, Nyssa.’

Nyssa felt heat rise in her face. Oh, why was she so unable to keep her feelings contained? Most middle-aged women didn’t have this issue with their best friend! It wasn’t fair.

‘You’re most welcome,’ she eventually managed, hoping against hope that Tegan wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Presumably, Tegan didn’t because she then made herself a cup of coffee with water from the just-boiled kettle, and began to make herself a slice of toast, getting the butter and jam out of the fridge.

There was a tap as the letterbox opened, and Nyssa could hear the sounds of various envelopes hitting the floor of the hallway. Glad to avoid her stomach going round the bend when Tegan would inevitably smile at her again, she stood up and headed out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the doorway. Ignoring the slight crick in her neck, she bent down to pick up the various items that had arrived.

She began to skim-read the envelopes as she walked back into the kitchen. Bills, circulars, bills, letter from the bank, bills…

Presumably, her old landlord was forwarding her old post to her. It seemed that most of the letters had her old address printed on the front.

All except for one.

One did have Nyssa’s new address on it. But that wasn’t what shocked her. What made Nyssa’s heart seem to fail was the title and names on the first line of the address.

Dimly, as if in slow motion, Nyssa opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. It was a wedding invitation, with pictures of stars and planets around the text.

Nyssa stared at the invitation in her hands.

 Mrs and Mrs Jovanka-Traken,

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Yasmin Khan and Theta Sigma. The date has been arranged for 26th June; you already know the venue. Please RSVP.

Kind regards,

Yaz and the Doctor (Theta)

 ‘Jovanka-Traken?’

Nyssa looked up. Tegan had been staring over her shoulder at the letter, her own face the picture of shock.

Oh. Oh, dear. This was going to get very complicated, indeed.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you enjoyed it!

[empathetixs]

incissam asked:

00:00:00 for Margy from Dany

In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they'll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.

650:25:41 Days:Hours:Seconds.

Margaery had been born with the highest count on her wrist amongst her entire family. Her parents were at zero obviously. She had watched Garlan's finally hit zero when he met Leonette, and don't remind her of how Loras met Renly. The only one of her siblings who had a vaguely similar number, and that was Willas, but even his was finally in the 500s. Whoever her soulmate was they had to be across the narrow sea. She picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake as her brothers had taught her. It was so unladylike, but who cared at this point. She did it again, a sigh escaping her lips softly. Fine…. Fine… She'd wait.

354:27:34 Days:Hours:Seconds.

It had happened suddenly, her wrist felt as though it was on fire, but the numbers rapidly changed. She'd never seen this happen before, but it was so painful. She had been walking the gardens with Elinor when it had happened. They all thought it was a sign, maybe a king from across the sea was on the way. A king who would take her out of this den of lions. The only whisperings she heard was about Queen Daenerys though. Something within her stirred at the thought of the mother of dragons. She had no idea what she looked like but had been told tales of her beauty from others. She wondered, and wondered, and wondered… Was perhaps this woman who she was looking for? She never voiced her thoughts to others.

It was a week later that she learned that the dragon queen had crossed the sea and was in Dragonstone.

35:34:12 Days:Hours:Seconds

The Queen of Dragonstone, that's what the small folk called her. Margaery had been taken back to Highgarden, back to the safety it provided. It was better for her. especially after the death of Tommen. She couldn't believe what had happened. His mother had turned on them all. Margaery had barely escaped with her life. Her cousin Elinor had not been so lucky. Cursed was the poor girl for looking so much like her.

Her grandmother stood behind her pinning a golden rose into her hair, The King in The North would be arriving today, trying to win them over to the side of the Dragon Queen. Little did he know, they were already on her side. "Mayhaps this northern king will be the one, my dear." Doubt it. But it would be so good to see Sansa again.

When they did meet again, Sansa looked so much older than she had before. She was even taller now and more beautiful than ever. "My lady." They greeted. They did not talk like old friends, as Margaery had hoped, but life had changed both of them. When Willas happened upon them in the gardens, she watched as soon as their hands brushed, the timer on their wrists stopped. The stare of hunger they had for one another was something Margaery longed for. Would she meet her soulmate soon?

05:10:25 Days:Hours:Seconds

Margaery was on a boat to meet the Dragon Queen. She was sent along with her grandmother as an envoy. It would take them five days time from the amount to time it would take for the carriage travel to the sea travel. Margaery was watching as the boat was loaded. She was never a big fan of sea travel, it always made her seasick. She stepped onto the ship finally finding herself in the quarters meant for her. She had just taken off her cloak when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Tyrion Lannister entered her chambers trying to smile at her. "Lady Margaery, are you well?" Margaery tried to smile, "I'm just fine, just trying to not get seasick. Tell me more about the queen, please?"

"Of course, my lady."

00:00:00 Days:Hours:Seconds

"You stand before The Unburnt. Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Margaery stared at the woman before her, her heart was beating so fast. Everything within her told her, this was her soulmate. This beautiful woman was her soulmate. Her grandmother led the conversation, thank goodness, because she felt as though her mouth was dry. She couldn't help it, she wanted her. Did Daanerys feel this too?

When they were relased to go, Margaery practically ran to her rooms. She wasn't even there for five minutes, before the knock on the door startled her. "Come in…" She whispered. Silver hair was the first thing she saw, then violet eyes. "Your Grace…" Margaery whispered staring across the room at the beautiful woman.

"My lady…" The way she said it like she really was hers. Margaery could scarcely breathe. "Please… Did you feel it too?" The queen before her looked as hungry as she felt. "Yes… I felt it."

[isaaccalloway]

[cis man and he/him] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [ISAAC CALLOWAY]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [CHASE STOKES]. You must be the [TWENTY-SIX] year old [ATTENDANT AT SURF’S UP SURF SHOP]. Word is you’re [VENTURESOME] but can also be a bit [DETACHED] and your favorite song is [DIAL TONES BY AS IT IS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER’S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

CHARACTER BASICS

FULL NAME: Isaac Theodore Calloway

NICKNAME(S): Izzy (Not Preferred)

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Chase Stokes

EYE COLOR: Hazel

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 6′1″

DATE OF BIRTH: September 14th

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff

OCCUPATION: Surf Shop Employee / Surfer

CHARACTER HISTORY [tw: pregnancy]

Isaac was born in North Carolina and moved to Aurora Bay at the age of 5 when his father got a call that their grandfather was sick and refused to leave his home in Fisher’s Cove. They packed up Isaac, his brother, and the family dog into the car and have been there ever since.

Being the baby of the family came with its advantages, especially when his brother was tasked with taking over the family business. His grandfather said the business would be left to his older brother and Isaac would get the house, the only condition was needing a college degree.

Isaac’s first love was surfing, shortly followed by the love of women. He was pretty popular in school, but had no serious relationship until he met Sterling. No one had ever made him feel the way she did and he thought he was completely in love. The two started dating in high school and everything was a fairy tale until he was given a choice. Sterling had just found out she was pregnant with his child and Isaac was offered an out of state scholarship to study business. Little did he know his father made an enormous donation to ensure he’d have a “successful future” completely dismissing the fact that his son was in love for the first time in his life. Noah was convinced that Isaac would get over it, he was a teenager after all. Masking his disapproval, Noah told Isaac that doing this would help provide a life that would take care of both Sterling and their unborn child.

Isaac chose to not tell Sterling about this choice, waiting until the last second to take off for college. It wasn’t his best move, it still haunts him to this day, but he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to her.

While at college, California brought out his love for surfing once more though now he’d be gaining a business degree in case things “didn’t work out with his brother” his father’s words. Isaac quickly devoted more of his time to surfing, joining competitors that would lead him to travel all over. Getting scouted put his degree on the back burner, preventing him from returning home as soon as he’d like.

Now he’s been settling back in, slowly doing renovations to the home that was left for him but he’s been terrified of what he’s going to do once he inevitably sees Sterling. He’s never met his child and the thought of not getting the opportunity crushed Isaac’s normal sense of boldness. He’s trying his best now to be someone Sterling can believe in again and picked up a job that will still allow him to connect with his passions.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[capricornlevi]

jean picks the movie

jean kirstein x gn!reader - fluff, v mild nsfw (mdni !), wc ~900

"I hate this fucking movie," you mutter, voice muffled by the fabric of Jean's sweatshirt as you bury your face into the nook of his shoulder. "And I hate you for making me watch it."

Jean laughs, and it makes you even more annoyed despite the fact that you're the one looking to him for a bit of comfort and levity.

"Babe, we agreed-"

"I agreed to a horror movie, not the most psychologically scarring thing I've ever seen in my life."

You draw out the last word for emphasis before lifting your head back up, lolling it back against the couch and keeping your eyes closed.

You hate the cliché of watching a horror movie on date night and clutching at your boyfriend for reassurance. Firstly, it's overdone. Secondly (and thirdly), you don't find horror movies all that scary, and you don't think Jean needs the ego boost of being seen as a 'protector' of any description.

Especially since you're the one who ends up reassuring him that 'based on a true story' pretty much always means a wild exaggeration of some old anecdote.

But this time ... maybe it's the lack of sleep from studying for finals, maybe it's the howling wind and rain pelting against your door, or something else ... this time, the movie is utterly horrifying to you and you only.

"Jesus Christ," you burst out at the abrupt sound of a jumpscare. "How did it survive that?"

"It's a horror-"

"I know it's a horror," you snap back, letting out a shaky whine when you hear the tell-tale music indicating that another fictional death is imminent. "This is just way worse than I imagined."

"I think it only has like forty percent on Rotten Tomatoes," Jean offers, as if that provides you with any comfort whatsoever.

"Not helpful."

Jean laughs again, and you fold your arms in frustration.

"Stop enjoying this," you say without much conviction.

"It's no big deal," he replies with a grin, "it's just nice to not be the coward for once."

"'Coward' is a harsh word."

"Applies here, though," he interrupts pointedly, referring more to himself than you. "Wanna watch something else?"

You smile then, in spite of everything.

Jean has always been open about being a worrier. He might carry himself with self-assuredness, but you know him well enough to know that he is concerned about pretty much every conceivable outcome of every decision he's ever made.

He jokes about it, in his little self-deprecating way. You don't want to add to the teasing because it's something that's so quintessentially Jean, you can't imagine using it as a way to make fun of him.

Jean worries about his choice of degree, and whether it will give him the best possible career opportunities.

Jean worries about the car payment he missed three years ago when he mistakenly withdrew too much from an ATM.

Jean worries about what movie to pick for date night, and so he'll research it online first to weigh up his options.

Jean worries about global warming.

Jean worries about you, too, though he plays it off well - he's not overbearing, but he's concerned for your well-being and happiness.

His offer to change the movie without making a big deal about it ... he knows where to draw the line when it comes to your comfort zone. It's stupidly endearing.

"Turning it off is a sign of quitting," you say light-heartedly. "Plus, I want to see if that guy with the blue hair actually lives."

From the way Jean's eyes slide to look at you, you guess that he doesn't.

"I don't know, it's kinda boring," Jean pipes up with admirable conviction. He wouldn't make the best actor, but he's trying. "Plus I saw a review that kinda spoiled the whole thing, so, y'know, I'm not pushed."

Oh, Jean. He's so very not subtle in his attempts to make you feel better, but you love him for it.

"I don't know, isn't it sort of cliché to chicken out of watching a horror movie?" you inquire, shifting your legs to rest over his so you can look at him. He lifts his hand and rests it on your thigh, stroking the bare skin just under the hem of your shorts. It makes your skin prickle and you feel hot, hot all over.

"Maybe," he muses, aware of the response he's eliciting. "I could say something more cliché though, if that would make you feel better?"

"What is it?"

He bridges the gap between you, capturing your lips with his. You melt underneath him, able to completely ignore the noises of the long-forgotten movie playing in the background. It's so familiar and welcome having been with Jean for as long as you have, but his touch still makes you feel electric. Your head clears of all worries.

Just then, just as the keens are starting to spill from your lips against his, he brings his other hand to your nape while still stroking your thigh, and you're a goner.

You want to complain when he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips as he leaves just an inch or two of distance between you, but he shuts down your objections instantly.

"Wanna head to my room instead?"