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everythingne-orig · 2 years ago

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All Grown Up [ch. 11]

roos says ! holy SHIT college is kicking my ass, and fuck u tumblr for breaking on me so i couldn't post this on time >:(! luckily I only have two (TWO??) weeks until I'm home (thank u ten week semesters), and you can expect a lot more soon (and, the stardust rb challenge will be updated then too!)

desc ! you prep for the party, learn a bit more about bob, fight with asher, and finally greet your dad when he returns from a trip. It's the calm before the storm, a huge storm.

notable characters: robert "bob" floyd, natasha "phoenix" trace, bradley "rooster" bradshaw

tws !! MANNNYYY implications of past sex, hickeys, arguments, cursing, mentions of past drinking/underage drinking !

ao3 link ! last chapter ! next chapter !

Waking up the next day, you felt the bed lift as someone stood, and peeked over to see Bob tugging on a t-shirt. He must've pulled it out of the suitcase he had resting against your wall, and you slowly lifted your head and half-heartedly turned it as you checked the time on your alarm clock. Subconsciously, you groan at the realization you should probably be getting up. If you weren't up soon, your mom would wonder where you'd ended up. You really didn't need her finding you half-naked in bed.

Christ, where were your pajama bottoms? And when did you put Bob's shirt on? What had even happened between the barn and your bed?

"Fuck." You curse when you roll over to stand. For no clearly discernable reason, your lower half is genuinely aching and you can't tell exactly which event from the day before was causing it. Bob turns at your soft exclamation, wiping what you think is some of your lipstick off his jaw. Oh christ, you think to yourself, because the action had no reason to be as hot as it was.

"Sorry." He jokes and you sit up just enough to chuck a pillow at him from where you lay. Slyly grinning, he pretends the pillow was thrown a lot harder than you had actually thrown it and stumbles back to 'fall' against your closed bathroom door. Snorting, you eventually get off the bed and find your pajamas not far away. While you get dressed, you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on, so you take a moment to attempt to stretch out your legs. It feels a bit better, but you'll probably pop a Tylenol just to make sure you can help out today.

When you get into the bathroom behind Bob, he's spitting out his toothpaste into your sink, so you grab your essentials for getting ready in the morning. You hip-bump him aside to brush your teeth, and one hand reaches to your collar as grab your perfume to spritz a bit on your neck, and shit-- those marks were dark.

"Got a bit carried away, huh?" You tease, knowing you luckily have a decently full-coverage bathing suit you can throw on for the party that will cover most of them. Bob wraps his arms lazily around you and hides his face in the warmth of your neck.

"Sorry not sorry." he pecks kisses on your neck, grinning against you. He soaks it in, deep breaths against your skin. You can't find it in yourself to be angry, especially when you see a red line down his arm from your nails, most likely. An eye for an eye, or whatever.

"Is this going to become a constant?" You murmur as you run the toothbrush under water for the second time before lifting it to your lips, "I could get used to this."

"Don't get too comfy." Bob sighs, and though he doesn't say it you know what he means. He's leaving for the Navy soon. Regardless of if you wanted him to or not. It stings to know.

“Let’s not think of that.” you muse to him, leaning back into his skin as you keep brushing your teeth. He gently kisses your jawline, innocently wrapping you tighter in his arms. But you know it's a subconscious hope of keeping you close to him. You try not to think about it.

“Okay,” he whispers. And you both end up standing there for a while, silent breathing, staring at yourselves and each other in the mirror while he smiles contently.

"I also probably marked up your thighs." Bob says and you groan, making him snort as he finally detaches from you to grab his toiletries bag and shuffle through it, "Hey! You're equally at fault here!"

"I'm gonna steal your breakfast as revenge." You chime, spitting out your toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth as Bob rolls his eyes and grabs deodorant.

"Sure you will, Rhinestone." He smiles at you and you chuckle, grabbing a hair tie from your drawer.

You rock back and forth, tossing your hair into a low ponytail. You're gonna end up with your hat on at some point today, so doing a cute updo would be pointless, you chime after a lightbulb flicks on above your head-- metaphorically, "Do I have a callsign now?"

"Kinda." Bob shrugs, "I'm tryna figure out what I wanna call you."

"Call me anything but sugar." Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you mean, it's got a bite to it that makes Bob blink. The last time you'd bit words at him was in the barn his first day here, so you shake it off and sigh, "It's just what Mike used to call me, is all."

"I'll make something better, then." He gently wraps an arm around you, pressing your forehead to his lips as he sighs, "Fuck that guy, right?"

"Yeah," You laugh, "fuck that guy."

You lean up to plant a soft kiss on his lips, the different mints of your kinds of toothpaste colliding. Spearmint versus wintergreen. He smiles, taking you fully into his embrace and tucking your head under his. You don't question the random hug, lord knows you need it, so you relax into the scent of pine and... oil, you think, that drifts off his shirt. But then,

"Hey! Are y'all awake or do I need to shield my eyes comin' in here?" Rooster shouts, knocking on your door, "I don't really wanna see any nudity!"

"We're dressed, Bradshaw!" Bob shouts, stepping back and rolling his eyes. The door slides open and in walks, none other than Bradley Bradshaw with his classic little strut and smile as Bob pops out of your bathroom. You turn to make sure you look decent. You'll probably just throw on your jeans and a pair of boots after breakfast.

"Got back a little late last night, hm?" he teases and Bob shoves him, the two fake arguing for a bit while you snicker to yourself in the bathroom as you slide open the mirror and pop a Tylenol on your mouth. Once you get the mirror to shut, you pop out, holding the Tylenol between your teeth.

"None of your business, Bradshaw." You sing-song. Smiling, you find yourself laughing softly as you adjust Bob's shirt on your frame. amake your way around the bed to a water bottle, which you happily open and down half of to swallow the pill in your mouth.

"Savannah made us breakfast, apparently today we're cleaning out one of the garages and the closest barn to the house for the party. Get ready for some heavy lifting, Bob." Rooster grins, lips curled into a somewhat sly grin as he crosses his arms and leans against the base of your sliding door.

"Why're you smiling at me like that?" You grin, crossing your arms, knowing Rooster's doing nothing but teasing for the sake of it. Honestly, it reminds you of how Asher had been when he was in high school. It makes you miss those days

"Nothing. Just didn't know you went to Topgun at some point, Rhinestone." He shrugs as he walks out the door and you laugh. when your eyes meet Bob, he shrugs.

"It looks better on you. Now c'mon, I miss your mom's cooking."

Breakfast couldn't have gone worse, in your opinion. Your mom is stressing the whole time, asking everyone various questions you can't even keep track of as she tries to decide where everything's going to go as if she won't decide on the same exact setup from the past five years.

Once everyone's shoveled about a days worth of food into their mouths, the pilots are sent down to the basement with Jenny and Tom (Bob's mom and step-dad) to organize and move boxes, the Kazansky's and the Bradshaw's help in the kitchen while Maverick and Penny help Avalon with setting up the outdoor bar, and you trail behind Giselle and Robyn with a broom as you go to the barn that housed garden equipment to sweep it out and relocate the equipment for your mother's small garden to a barn a bit further in on the property.

You're about halfway done when Phoenix and Rooster appear, telling you that'd been sent away by Asher since he didn't need that many people in the basement. You nod and decide then that you're going take a short break while Giselle and Robyn are reorganizing the other barn to fit the tractor you sit upon. The old John Deere has been in your family since you were in elementary school, you had no idea how the old green thing still ran.

"So, while we were cleaning the basement out we found a photo album from when you were in high school," Rooster says, "You had a bunch of pictures of you and Bob doin' things and we realized, well, we know basically nothing about him."

"Really?" You ask, and both pilots in front of you nod, "he's said nothing?"

"All we really know is that he missed you like hell, you were super important to him, his dad was out of the picture, and he had a younger sister." Phoenix says, "I know a bit more, but he swore me to secrecy, so, no telling."

"So, how'd he tell you about all you guys know?"

"Well, the first two were because he'd never shut the hell up about you once we got him on the topic of friends back home." Rooster laughs softly, shaking his head, "It's still the most I've seen him talk at once. And we found out about his dad on father's day, and his sister on her birthday because apparently, she thinks Phoenix is super cool, and wanted to FaceTime her for her birthday."

"I keep hearing that he'd never shut up about me, was it that bad?" You swirl the water bottle in your hand, kicking some dirt off your boot like you were an idling character.

"For me, yes," Phoenix deadpans, but the small smile that quirks up on her lips tells you otherwise, "but honestly, it wasn't awful, he just spewed about how much he missed you and wanted to talk to you. He originally said he couldn't because of the time zone difference, but he confessed to me a lot when we crashed."

"How are you after that crash, Phoenix? I know it shook him up a lot." You ask and she shrugs.

"Well, we didn't die, so I'm grateful for that. But I don't think I'll be able to get the image of him up in that tree, literally begging me to come and find you if he died, out of my head." She sighs, "It's part of the job, you sign up knowing it could happen to you, or anyone you know, but it sucks regardless."

"I can't imagine it." You sigh. but before the conversation can lull into an awkward silence, Phoenix switches the topic back.

"But, what was Bob like in high school? any crazy stories?"

"Not really." You laugh, "he was in the marching band, and he played the saxophone. He was drum major the same year I was cheer captain. He used to bull ride, often, but not competitively. He drank quite often, sometimes we snuck it into football games for the hell of it. No one found out, and if they did, I doubt they cared. We didn't share it, half the time we didn't even drink it."

"So... and forgive me if this is kinda rude," Rooster takes a swig of his water, "if you guys were so close... why didn't you stay in touch?"

"It's really my fault." You lean on your legs, elbows pressing red marks into your skin, "I was mad at him for something he did right before he left. I didn't want to reach out because I felt... used, I guess? I became bitter, and then he became bitter in response, and we never communicated why. Plus, it wasn't like I could've called him after he left. He didn't have a cellphone in basic."

"He said something similar. He said he fucked up something right before he left, paraphrasing." Phoenix hums, adjusting the baseball cap on her head, "He told me, and Bradshaw, you do not repeat this to anyone--"

"-- Yes, Ma'am." He mocks a salute, but you could tell he was being genuine.

"He told me that he was afraid that if you talked again, he'd quit the Navy to be with you."

Your heart stops, your brain short-circuiting as you struggle to comprehend the fact that Robby would've dropped everything he loved just to be with you. Just to be with you.

"I--" You go to say something, but Giselle coming back with a declaration of a clean barn to start moving things into takes you off guard. And the conversation is lost like a flame blown out by an open window.

You end up with Asher in the basement later that day, after lunch. You've changed into a high-collar tank top of your own, with jean shorts. One outlier hickey pokes out on your thigh from under the shorts. Luckily most down there were lighter and would probably fade within a few days if you used a few tricks from your college days to help out.

Asher has been eyeing it the whole time you've been helping him dust and vacuum the room. You're getting sick of his peeking eyes, so you use the one way to shut him up that pops into your head. It's also the dumbest way for you to do this.

"It's a hickey." You turn to your brother, pausing the vacuum, "Happy?"

"Where'd you get it?"

"Where do you think?" you bite back and Asher scoffs, when you go to turn the vacuum back on, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. The feeling of your past injury being roughhoused makes you panic, tearing yourself back from your brother when he starts to fade into Mike in your mind.

"Are you serious? Y/n, are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's literally none of your business!" You groan, "I'm a grown adult!"

"We just talked about you doing the opposite of this!" Asher slams down the duster he's holding on the desk, and it takes everything in you to swallow the jump.

"Okay?" You say, knowing it's childish for you to have completely turned on the plan you'd made, but also, why did it matter?

"No! Not okay! You're being fucking stupid! Just like how you were with Mike! Naive, and weak!" Asher pinches his nose, and you grip the vacuum with two hands, trying to hide your trembling grip.

"What the hell are you implying here?" you snip, voice soft.

Asher turns on his heel to fully face you and narrows his eyes, "Aren't men in the military known for cheating? Do you wanna go through all this again? If you do, fine, be stupid, but don't come crying to me."

"Robby's not like that, Asher, you know that." You whisper and your brother narrows his eyes,

"They're all like that, and they take advantage of stupid people like you!" he shouts, and the dishes clinking in the kitchen stopped, but the water still runs.

"fuck you." You whisper, and Asher scoffs again, storming out of the basement before you can even find the words to try and defend yourself. You turn to the vacuum and turn it on, forcing it forward with a harsh shove as you bite back tears.

You end up skipping dinner, saying you can't sit across from Asher when your mother asks why. She brings you down a plate and you sit on the couch in the basement, shoveling mashed potatoes and whatever chicken dish she'd made into your mouth as you try and block out your brother's biting words.

You crawl into your bed, laying face first on the pillows, still in your jeans. You'd excused yourself much earlier than usual, slipping away from the bonfire Carole had helped Sarah and your mom set up. A few seconds later, you hear the sliding door to your room squeak open and shut, and Bob sits down on your bed.

"What's the matter?" He murmurs and you glance up at him.

"Got in an argument with Asher." You sigh, "and it's fuckin' eatin' at me."

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." Bob lays down, bringing a hand to push your hair back from your face, "do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." You sigh, "though, Phoenix and I talked today about uh, about how the two of us were in high school. You and I. I told her and Rooster some stories."

"She told me she talked to you." He smiles, "didn't know you felt the same way I did when I left."

"Didn't know that 'bout you either, Robby." You sigh, scooting a bit closer so he can comfortably wrap you into his arms. The two of you lay there for a while in silence, breaths sharing the oxygen you pull from your cracked window.

"I think we were both mad about losing... this, after the kiss." he speaks softly, his eyes staring up at your poster-covered ceiling, "and that's my fault."

"Hey, don't completely blame yourself. I also didn't reach out after." You blink up at him, "we both kinda fumbled the ball there."

"Restart on that regard then?" he says, "because I don't think I can love someone more than I love you if I'm honest."

"I'm gonna agree with you there," you giggle and he smiles, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Almost like sealing the agreement. You don't mind kissing back if it means you sign your name on the agreement too.

The next day, luckily, is a lot easier. If you ignore the fact you aren't talking to Asher at all. And, luckily, it's easy to ignore, because your Dad is finally home, with your cousins, aunts, and uncles from New Jersey in tow. But even after greeting them, you find you only really care about pulling your dad into a tight hug.

"Hey, princess." He whispers, squeezing you back, "how's it been here?"

"Good. Everything's been good." You smile, and it's not exactly a lie. As the two of you talk, Bob is sitting with Phoenix at the table, when your dad finally spots him.

"Floyd!" He shouts and Bob smiles, pushing out his chair and standing to greet your father with a hug and a handshake.

"How're you, Liam?" he asks your dad and he shrugs.

"Better than I was a year ago now that I've got my stint." He smacks Bob's shoulder before leaning in, "Don't think I'm missin' the way you're looking at her. You finally grew some balls to flirt with her, eh Floyd?”

Phoenix nearly spits out her drink after that and you're smacking your Dad's arms to get him to go away as you laugh. Your father means no harm, Bob knows this, but the pilots are just gaining more and more ammo against him the longer he's here. Though it's a little funny, you'd rather not have all of the teases traced back to this party.

"Alright, alright!" Your dad laughs, walking over to his backpack that he'd set on the chair by the door. He grabs it and shuffles through it, before proudly presenting you with a box of blueberries, labeled Ocean Spray.

"You found them!" you smile, "Oh thank god!"

"Oh, are those the blueberries you got ages ago you haven't been able to find?" Bob asks and you nod excitedly.

"I'm not even huge on blueberries, but these are so fricken good and they don't sell this brand down here!" You complain, "Thank you!"

your dad happily accepts your hug, squeezing you tight, and when you step back and smile at him, you can tell he wants to ask more but your mother coming into the room takes his attention away. You share your stash of blueberries with the pilots, and when you eventually make your way outside to help set up some more decorations, you've convinced them all that Jersey blueberries are the best.

After dinner that night, you can Bob climb in your truck, tomorrow your mom's making some things that she hasn't already started, and finishing up the decorations. So, you've been tasked with getting some groceries and then going to a dollar store to hopefully find some cheap balloons for your mom. As the music plays, you let the wind blow your hair around, and Bob's hand rests on your thigh. When you turn to look at him at a red light, you realize he's already been staring at you and you chuckle as he leans across the bench seat to plant a slow, deep kiss on your lips.

you blush when you sit back and say, "If you keep kissing me like that, I'm never letting you leave."

"I wish it was that easy." He teases, squeezing your thigh, "but even with it not bein' that easy, I'll still kiss you like that every time."

"And I'll fall more and more in love with you." You smile, and he grins sloppily, bringing you into another kiss.

"God," He whispers, "please, make her fall irreversibly in love with me."

You laugh softly as he leans back when the light turns green, and as you pass through the intersection towards the closest Buc-ee's to your house, you whisper.

"I think he already heard that prayer."

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bob top gun #top gun bob #robert floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #lt. robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #all grown up twosroos

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sojutrait · 2 years ago

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( @itsmariejanel ) THE WAY ITS BEEN SO LONG IDEK WHAT THIS IS ABOUT but whatever it is IM INNOCENT I SWEAR

no literally, the thought of random ppl having my babies send me in a cold shiver, thats why all my sim dump sims are randos that im not attached to jdkdfjk

( @lake-lunvik ) SHE HAS A GIANT GASH ON HER FACE AND THE EARTH’S ATMOSPHERE IS TOXIC, SHE’S ON HER LAST LEGS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY I FEAR-

i think its a bit diff than my og style (mostly the sims are actually good looking now djfhdjkf) but yeah! reject modernity embrace tradition kdfjd

( @aomi-nabi ) AAAAAAAAA i swear ur asks make my whole day I HOPE YOURE DOING AMAZING TOO MWAHHHH 😭😭💓💓💓💓

KDJKDDKFJ dw i accept that compliment alot bc its a STRUGGLE making this game look playable sometimes i swear-

after the stds and fights i dont think thats a viable solution at the moment KJDFK 😭😭😭

its just a tag that i use to redirect to on my actual blog so u can see my posts and not shit posts, asks, or rbs

yeah she is!!

yup! his roomie is dove

STOPDFKJDJFKFKD both are taking upwards to a year-

( @aurore95 @hadesdyke ) I LOVE HOW U BOTH SENT THIS IM CRYINDHGFJD thank u sm, now im gonna make it my life mission to find this shirt and buy it

autumn is het so i dont think thats a possibility 💔but they should def pull a john tucker must die

thank u sm!!!

thank u sm for asking!! im doing great just ungodly levels of busy 😭😭

TYYYY literally all my sims have rue hairs atp, she cant keep getting away with it

DKJCKD ive never seen bobs burgers but this tempts me-

maybeeeeeeee, but it wouldnt have links bc i did that Once and i nearly fell over and died

( @aomi-nabi ) NO TYYYY going down memory lane was so much fun omg

tbh i forget its even a thing half the time so by the time i remember my sims have like 10k points so i blow them on anything. also lots of mods use the reward trait system so it makes it look like theres more

( @lake-lunvik ) just for this, im going on hiatus again and never coming back.

( @pixelpeephole ) i dont really have a system tbh, i just kinda periodically go around and check if anyones gotten married or had any babies lmao. also checking recent neighborhood stories helps out bc theyll tell me

IKK every couple weeks i get a large influx of rbs of it and i just Know it mustve gotten around again 😭😭

NO LITERALLY, hes in the deep abyss of the halabi lore iceberg

hmmmm probably never on here bc theres a subset of simblr obsessed with me and want my head on a platter who will probably print the pic out and cover it in the blood of a lamb or smthn (but ive face revealed in the among us server dkfjdk)

SEE ive been hearing about it but i havent started it yet omg, def gonna tune in after house of the dragon wraps up and i need something else to watch djfdk

#asks #anon #itsmariejanel #lake-lunvik #aomi-nabi #aurore95 #hadesdyke #pixelpeephole #anon who wanted natia lore dw ill come back to u i have to consult her pa (seph)

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mountaingoatsfirstlineaday · 3 years ago

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hey guys!! got my redbubble shop set up, so head on over and check it out! i'll rb this with a link and also add it to my pinned post.

i would like to underscore how flexible i'm going to be with this! more than anything, i want you all to be able to have access to artwork of mine that you like. it'd be nice if i could make some money too, to contribute to the shirt project fund and general "i need to survive in a capitalist-centered society" expenses, but mostly i want people to get art. so if there's something you want but can't afford, just send me a dm and i'll pull my margin down so the price is in your budget. i'll keep the price like that for three business days. if you want the placing of the piece adjusted (say, covering a shirt instead of set dead center), or any of the other settings changed on the product, feel free to lmk and i'll change it. if you want an art of mine that isn't up on my shop, lmk and i'll add it!

right now i just have the minimum of 5 artworks uploaded but as i get time and energy i'll slowly be uploading more.

#redbubble #not a first line #tmg #the mountain goats #john darnielle #I'm really excited about this!! i hope you guys are too!!

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kyotarou · 4 years ago

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WHEN THEY REALIZED THEY WERE IN LOVE

characters: miya atsumu, hinata shoyo, ushijima wakatoshi

warnings: gn!reader, fluff

word count: 1.1k+ total

a/n: likes and rbs are appreciated!! <3

MIYA ATSUMU

he was the type of person who sought out relationships but said love was for “losers” if it didn’t work out

when he got with you, it felt like his whole world had changed

he was waiting for the moment that it’d all end, but it never came

even through all the bad moments, you stuck by his side

“’Tsumu!”

Your cheery voice echoed in the empty courtyard. School had let out for a while now—it was Friday, and Atsumu ached to go home, but he stayed for volleyball practice. To see you still on campus as the sun had begun to set was surprising to say the least. He was about to run into your arms when he remembered how he had treated you all day. Atsumu was dismissive and flat-out rude. He wasn’t upset with you or anything; he was simply feeling down and irritated and didn’t express it properly.

You greeted him with a smile before kissing him on the cheek. He felt something drop in his hand; looking down, it was a wrapped onigiri, similar to the one you had packed for lunch.

“Are you hungry? I saved one for you- You should eat after practice, it helps build muscle.”

“What are you doing here?” He ignored your questioned. “Do you have a club meeting?”

You shook your head. “No, it was yesterday. I was waiting for you, ‘Tsumu! I wanted to walk home with you if you don’t mind.”

It hit him so hard he nearly cried. The warmth in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach; it was overwhelming, but he loved it. With a jolt that he covered with a cough, he realized, with great certainty, he loved you as well. Atsumu wanted to say it, but he bit his tongue and smiled at you instead. He didn’t expect this day to come, the day where he found the love of his life, but here you were. There was no way in hell he was going to lose you.

HINATA SHŌYŌ

hinata’s love was unconditional

he was always told it was puppy love and that it would fade soon

but whenever he was around you, his affection only grew stronger

it wasn’t until later on that he realized powerful his feelings truly were

On the last day of school before summer break, Hinata wasted no time leaving. He mounted his bike and raced home with the excitement of the upcoming training camp and the fact that he no longer had to attend classes. More than anything, he was excited to spend time with you, the person who held a special place in his heart. With the sun beating down on him, he stopped by Ukai’s store to pick up ice cream and drinks.

Outside the store, he let his bike rest against the wall and dug through his pockets for his wallet. He came up empty-handed and frowned. Hinata rifled through his school bag (which was a mess to begin with), but nothing turned up except for a pen he thought he had lost weeks ago. With an irritated groan, he remembered he left his wallet at school. As Hinata mounted his bike again, he heard footsteps coming down the hill.

“Shoyo!”

Turning his head towards the source of the noise, he saw you running with sweat gliding down your cheeks. You were waving something small. When you came closer, he realized it was his wallet. His shock was quashed by worry when he saw how tired you were, bent over with your hands on your knees, gasping for air.

“You- left- this- at- school.”

You could’ve texted him and returned it the next day, but instead, you ran to him in the scorching heat. It was a small sacrifice, but it made his heart swell with happiness, and another feeling he couldn’t place his finger on. Whatever it was made him cup your face in his hands and press an eager kiss to your lips that grew deeper when you kissed him back. Your hand rested on the back of his neck to keep him close, but he pulled away, knowing Ukai would yell at him for making out in front of his store.

“Thank you,” he mumbled against your lips. His words, though seemingly mundane and out of basic respect, came from a deeper place in his heart:

Love.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

ushijima planned on settling for someone when he was older

you came into his life during his last year at shiratorizawa

he was scared your relationship would change his plans for the worse

over time, he learned that it made his life far from terrible

Ushijima’s stomach dropped when he checked his phone and saw several missed calls from you. In your most recent message, you told him you had missed your reservation at the restaurant and the table went to someone else. Ushijima packed his things hurriedly and raced out of the school gym. He cursed himself for being so forgetful; it wasn’t a habit of his, but for some reason, your date completely slipped his mind that day.

At home, he took a quick shower then got dressed. He would’ve put more thought into how he looked, but knowing how late he was, Ushijima paid no mind to his disheveled hair or wrinkled shirt. All he cared about was making it in time to see you.

He picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way. By the time he was at your front door, he was shaking in fear. The nervous thumping of his heart did little to calm him down no matter how many deep breaths he took. When you opened the door, he expected to be met with a scowl or yelling. Instead, you had a relieved smile and gave him a bone-crushing embrace.

“Wakatoshi,” you sighed. “I’m glad you made it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he babbled as he stepped inside. “I really am. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I completely ruined our date tonight and-”

A mesh of sweet, savory scents filled his nose. Ushijima glanced into the kitchen and saw two plates of hayashi rice laid out on the table. With a grin, you gestured for him to sit down and gently pried the bouquet from his hands.

“I made your favorite,” you said. “Hope it’s not too bad.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I know ordering takeout would’ve been easier, but I wanted to do something special for you. It’s date night, after all.”

“So... you’re not upset?”

From behind his seat, you laughed and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Of course not, Toshi. Life happens and things don’t always go our way. Don’t worry about it.”

Ushijima turned his head to give you a proper kiss on the lips before letting you settle in your seat. As you ate dinner across from one another, laughing and sharing conversation, he came to a new discovery, one that made his stomach flutter and cheeks warm.

He could do this forever.

taglist: @elianetsantana @diorzumi

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insertpoetryhere · 4 years ago

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Hey guys! If you like my art and want to support me, please consider checking out my Redbubble account

Link here if you’re interested:

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#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #banana fish #mha fanart #bnha fanart #banana fish fanart #redbubble

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eury--dice · 4 years ago

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history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did.

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts.

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations.

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen.

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything.

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile.

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin.

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream.

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen.

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?”

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan.

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air.

Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal.

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved.

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply.

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up.

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off. He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall.

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet.

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her.

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right.

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course.

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.”

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.”

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent.

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.”

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

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sloggervlogger · 3 months ago

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Silverbck Mulch Mayhem - Blackbacks Tonda and Kajari Test His Patience! by SloggerVlogger *The blackbacks, Tonda and Kajari, really push Silverback Awali's buttons with mulch throwing and teasing* The two blackbacks really have it in for Awali. Throwing Mulch, Teasing him several times in this compilation of different days. He charges and lets the frustration out on the visitors, punching the glass. He charges around the room. Awali charges on the top ledge to the other site, but he still doesn't' get any peace from the blackbacks. He moves his hand and moves further away out of view. Backdown on the ground the blackback gets ready to throw some more mulch at the silverback. Awali just wants a lie down in peace. Litchee quickly comes into the picture to see what going n. grooming the big man. Kajari is sitting on the rock. Don't miss a thing—hit Subscribe and Turn on all Notifications to be part of our Great Ape escapades every week. 🦍Check out rawshutterbug Redbubble for a variety of T-shirts, stickers, apparel, homeware, and much more: 🛍️ https://rb-ambassador.pxf.io/Gorillas #AD #redbubbleambassador 🦍Express yourself with customisable T-shirts, stickers, apparel, homeware, and more from rawshutterbug Zazzle: https://www.zazzle.com/collections/gorilla_gallery-119832843969795462?rf=238978496872225031 🦍Amazon USA 🇺🇲 Store: https://www.amazon.com/shop/sloggervlogger #Ad #AmazonAssociate 🦍 Amazon UK 🇬🇧 Store: https://amzn.to/47mDmbA 📷Join the adventure on my travel channel, exploring zoo hyperlapses, walkthroughs, and animal habitats and more. https://youtube.com/@MSVRVisualTravel?sub_confirmation=1 🌐My website: https://msvrvisual.weebly.com/sloggervlogger.html Some of the links above and in the video are affiliate links! When you make a purchase, I earn a commission without any extra cost to you. Your support means the world to me – thanks for dropping by and watching and commenting. Due to background noise from human activity, the original audio has been mixed with natural bird songs for a more peaceful viewing experience. Where possible, I will keep the natural sound intact. Don't miss a thing—hit Subscribe and Turn on all Notifications to be part of our Great Ape Ventures every week. via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKDQEkweEN4

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ohthatsviolet · 5 years ago

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A Mibraltar Fic

The Gun Show (1,094 words) - A03 link will be in the RBs as usual. If you like it, reblog it <3

Makoa swings by the Apex gym and gets roped into watching a weight lifting competition...or...he simply admires Elliott while he works out.

It was hard not to notice him. Elliott Witt just had one of those attention grabbing personalities, and a presence that could light up the dullest of rooms. He always turned heads, whether it was because of his dashing good looks, or because he tripped over his own feet on the way in; it was part of his charm. The only problem was, as soon as your attention was on him, it was extremely hard to look away - which was exactly the problem Makoa Gibraltar was having right now.

He didn't swing by the Apex compound's gym very often. He preferred to do his workouts outside, loving the feeling of the fresh air in his lungs and the sun on his back. Today, however, he had decided to swing by the Legend's workout space, hoping to find someone who might join him for his routine. He wasn't expecting to stay here as long as he had, but he also wasn't expecting to become a spectator to some competition of strength between Anita and Elliott.

"You might be the expert when it comes to light shows but, stand back and watch how the king of the gun shows does it."

Anita shook her head, while the trickster shot her some cheesy finger guns and a grin, that Makoa couldn't help but wish was directed at him.

"Hurry up, amigo!" Octavio complained, who in typical Octavio fashion, was filming the whole thing on his phone. "I could lift that thing with my hands behind my back!"

Elliott directed his attention to the younger Legend now, and Gibraltar couldn't help but notice how his curls bounced as his head swivelled, coming to fall in a perfect mess that framed his face again.

"Keep it down, short stuff, or I'll lift you up and throw you out the window."

"Aw, is that a promise?" the speedster quipped back.

Elliott laughed at that, and the sound was like music to Makoa's ears, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked harshly, as if coming back to reality, a realisation dawning on him. Did...did he have a thing for Mirage? He sighed to himself. It didn't really matter how he felt. Someone as desirable as Elliott would never go for someone like him.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Elliott said, getting himself in position, surveying the barbell on the ground in front of him. "Remember our deal, Bangs? If I can lift this, you're buying the drinks later. So, you will be buying the drinks. I can do this, no sweat."

"Yeah. If you ever quit stalling with all that yapping," she replied, with a laugh. "Now remember; don't strain your back and watch your feet. You don't want that thing coming down on your toes."

"Yes, ma'am."

Makoa observed him as he got into an almost squat like position, and curled his fingers around the bar. He gave it an experimental tug, before readjusting his hands. Doubt began to swirl in Gibraltar's mind; there was no way Elliott was going to be able to lift that thing. He quickly found himself distracted from the thought, as soon as the trickster budged the weight from the ground, and he saw the way his biceps tensed under the strain.

"Come on, dude! Put your back into it!" the runner called out, hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation.

"No! Lift with your knees!" Anita corrected, swatting Octavio's shoulder. "We've been over this!"

"Can...both...of you...just...shut...up?!" the trickster said, balancing the weight in front of his chest, breathing deeply.

"Home stretch, compadre! Let's go!" Octavio continued to cheer, but Gibraltar wasn't sure if it was because he wanted the trickster to feel accomplished or because he wanted something entertaining for his followers to watch.

Trickles of sweat were beginning to form on Elliott's forehead, as he continued to fight against the crying of his muscles. Makoa followed a rogue bead that made its way down the side of his face, along his sculpted cheekbone, getting lost somewhere in his perfectly maintained beard. How someone could still remain so undoubtedly attractive with their cheeks flushed red and their face and shirt almost soaking in sweat, but somehow Elliott could pull it off. The trickster let out what could only be described as a strangled roar, as he hoisted the barbell over his head, sending it crashing to the ground a few seconds later. He placed his hands on his knees, doubling over in an attempt to catch his breath, while Octavio and Anita clapped politely, prompting Makoa to join in.

"Well, I'll be damned, Witt," the soldier began, giving him a respectful nod. "Nice work. Guess I'm buying the drinks."

"Would it...be...too much to ask for...a drink now?" the trickster asked, with a small laugh, still trying to get his breath back.

The speedster tossed him a bottle of water and a towel to mop himself up. A deep blush rushed to Gibraltar's cheeks, when the trickster scooped his now damn hair into a small pile on top of his head, securing it with a hairband before peeling his workout top off, exposing his glistening skin underneath. His eyes followed him, as he made his way towards Octavio to watch the video he'd made, draping the towel over his shoulders. It was hard not to appreciate Elliott's fit build, and the trail of hair along his stomach that was littered with small scars and marks he'd picked up over the years.

Elliott's eyes flicked up from the speedster's phone screen, unable to ignore the feeling that he was being watched. He caught Makoa's eye and before he could stop himself, shot a wink in his direction. Had he been here the entire time? Had he been watching him workout? The trickster felt his own cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment; he wouldn't have agreed to this challenge if he knew Gibraltar was going to be here, watching him struggle. The taller man appeared to straighten himself up, quickly masking the sheepish expression on his face. Elliott was beginning to regret winking at him now, as he began to walk away. He sighed and took a long gulp of his water, his brown, disappointed eyes following Makoa as he left the gym. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. There was no way he had been checking him out just now. Elliott sighed again, before deciding to hit the showers. Someone like Makoa Gibraltar would never be interested in someone like him.

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #apex legends mirage #apex legends gibraltar #mibraltar #miraltar

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