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dhwty-writes · 3 years ago

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The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom.

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak.

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?"

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar."

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

302 notes · View notes

miixz · 3 years ago

Note

short prompt: Someone is bringing lwj delicious handmade lunches during the sunshot campaign. LWJ tests them for poison, but he doesn't know who left them....

For the past two weeks, someone has been leaving handmaid lunches in Lan Wangji’s room.

He tests them for poison before eating them, but there has been nothing harmful so far, and something tells him that they are not trying to harm him (though he won’t stop checking). It is also likely that they are not from GusuLan, considering the assortment of spices that is always present in the food. They seem to have taken care to make them mild in consideration of his tastes, but they are still very present.

Lan Wangji is frankly at a loss on what to do. He always eats them, unwilling to let food go to waste, especially during such times, but should he? And why are they doing this at all? Is it someone he knows? They have to be at least somewhat close as this person seems to know his schedule quite well (and skillfully work around it). There are many questions running through his head and he has answers to none of them, since he can’t seem to catch them.

After another week passes by and he's still no closer to figuring out who is doing this, he gives up and decides to ask Xiongzhang for help.

It's as horrible as he expected it would be, as his brother is full of comments about how "It seems like someone has feelings for you, Wangji", though it does bring a lightness to Lan Xichen’s eyes that had been slowly dimming throughout the course of the sunshot campaign, so he can't be too mad, especially since he did have some advice after he got the teasing out of his system.

According to him, they were probably just too shy to confront him outwardly, afraid of having their feelings rejected. It’s a feeling he can understand and relate to, so he won’t judge his apparent admirer for their efforts. Xiongzhang had given him the idea to reach out, and since he can’t seem to meet with them, maybe leave a note for them to find when they come to leave the food.

The thing is: while he may agree that this line of thought makes sense, actually writing something is hard.

He spends more time than he’d like to admit thinking about what to say. He wants to be kind, because he understands the struggle of liking someone and not having the courage to reach out and speak to them, but words have never been one of his strengths and he’s self aware enough to know that most people think he is quite… Aloof.

In the end he leaves a simple and straightforward, thanking them and complimenting the food. He debated asking to meet them in person, but decided that if they truly are shy it might be too much to ask at this point, he would wait to see their reaction first.

The next day he found food waiting for him in his room as had become the norm, and his note on the same place he'd left it in. For a moment he wondered if they'd even found it, but then he noticed an addition right under his words. There, in messy handwriting, was a simple "I'm glad Hanguang-jun likes my food! Do you have any favorites?" along with a doodle of a smiling face.

Something about it bothered him, but he couldn’t place what it was, so he decided to come back to the thought later after writing a quick reply.

Like this, more notes follow.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a favorite food! At least tell me if there’s anything I should avoid then? It wouldn’t do to give Hunguang-jun something unpleasant.”

“I am not fond of strong spices. May I ask why you are so invested in feeding me?”

“Excuse me, spices are the best! But I suppose I can keep myself to the baby amounts I’ve been sending, huh?

Aiya, so direct! Though I sort of expected you to have started with that question actually. The truth is: I just want to, is that enough? I started cooking recently at the insistence of a friend and I wanted to share it with Hanguang-jun.”

By the third note he realizes what has been troubling him. The handwriting is familiar. So familiar in fact that his mind had taken in the writing and the little doodles surrounding it and unconsciously began reading it in that particular person’s voice.

But it can’t be, can it?

If anything this increases his need to figure out who this really is. Now that the idea is in his mind he isn’t sure how he’ll be able to live with the combination of these suspicions and Lan Xichen’s words on the matter.

(Surely he wouldn’t? Not for Lan Wangji)

He writes another note in a daze and tries not to look forward to the reply too much.

“If this is your reason, then I am honored you chose to share it with me, your cooking is truly delicious.”

“You’re too earnest, Hanguang-jun, whatever will I do with you? My heart can’t take compliments like this.”

The notes soon stop being about the food. His correspondent is eager to talk now that the possibility has been presented, apparently content telling Lan Wangji about anything that passes their mind at the moment they sit down to write.

He'd like to say he finds it annoying instead of endearing, but lying is forbidden.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

"I want to get to know you better. You don’t mind questions, do you, Hanguang-jun? First let’s see… Do you have a favorite color? I don’t think I’ve asked this yet. Is it blue? I know it’s a little unimaginative considering your sect colors, but that’s my best guess. If anything it does suit you!”

“I had never thought about this before, but I would say my favorite is red. What about yours? And what should I call you if we are to keep talking to each other?”

“Red is my favorite too! It reminds me of my mother, so I like to have some on me. Are you sad you’re always surrounded by white and blue then?”

“I do not mind. I like my sect’s colors, but red reminds me of someone I admire. Were you and your mother close?”

“Getting personal, aren’t we? I didn’t know her well at all, she died when I was little. The color is one of the few things I do remember actually. As for a name, can't HanGuang-Jun come up with a nickname for me?”

“Forgive me if it was too personal. I do not have many memories of my mother as well, I am aware of how hard that can be. It is commendable that you keep those memories close.”

“What did I tell you about those earnest comments? It’s very rude to attack me like this! We got into such a serious subject too.. Tell me something else about yourself! What do you-”

♡︎

"I had a dream today where I lived a peaceful life as a farmer, it was quite nice. Have you ever thought about what your life would be like if you weren’t a cultivator? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately…

Maybe I'd be some kind of craftsman, that sounds good too. I can see myself building things.“

“I’ll admit that that is not something I have thought about. A peaceful life does sound good. I believe I’d have liked to be a scholar or an artisan.”

♡︎

"How have you been? I hope you haven't been suffering much with only all that bland Lan food in my absence.

Or maybe it's a good thing, we wouldn't want you to get spoiled after all.

I don't have much to say about my trip, since I'd rather not talk about the war, but I happened to have the honor of being invited to play a game with some children on my last travels. They were so cute! I miss spending time around baby disciples, they would always follow me like little ducklings. Do you like kids?"

“I am happy you have returned safely. I have been well, though I will admit I did miss these interactions.

I do like children, though I tend not to interact much with them outside of the Lan sect, as I believe they find me intimidating. It was not one of my main duties, but I have assisted as a teacher to the young disciples before and it was something I enjoyed. I think I’d like to take a more permanent teaching position in the future. Is that something you have thought about doing?”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Wei Ying starts acting differently around him.

It's subtle at first, but he seems less… On edge. Their latest interactions have been full of tension and misunderstandings and Lan Wangji does not know how to communicate his worries when he doesn't even know if he has the right to call Wei Ying a friend for all that he wants to.

He spent so long pushing him away that he can't blame anyone but himself that the moment he decided to try to reach out Wei Ying did not believe him to be on his side.

But lately… He hasn't been less suspicious of his intentions, but the twinkle in his eyes that used to be there when he would tease Lan Wangji at cloud recesses seems to have come back.

In turn he starts acting differently around Wei Ying

It’s slow, but he finds himself relaxing more around him. The overwhelm he used to feel when being around him is still there, but talking to him has become less daunting when it’s something he suspects to have already begun doing. So he calms himself and his words come easier even if they’re still few and far between.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

It is a little reckless, as there's always the chance he is wrong about the identity of his new acquaintance, but he starts telling them things he would like to tell Wei Ying.

Over the course of the month, he confesses he kept the bunnies a certain troublemaking guest disciple gifted him and they have made a home at the hills of cloud recesses and catches Wei Ying staring at him for a whole day. In response to the surprise on the next note he confesses his wish to be friends and how he’d been at conflict with himself at the time.

Some days after that conversation he vaguely mentions his current worry for Wei Ying and asks for advice, as they are clearly someone who is quite good with people. Wei Ying’s gaze stays on him for a while after that too.

Most memorable is the day where Lan Wangji decides to tease them back, since they flirt with him frequently, and Wei Ying actually blushes when they cross paths.

Part of him is worried he's seeing reactions where he wants to see them, but at this point he feels almost certain that he has it right. He won’t think about the implications until he is completely sure, however that seems more and more unlikely to happen. For all that they’re forward in their words, the one sending the notes is dedicated to evading all questions that could reveal their identity and he does not know how to breach the topic himself.

His worrying turns out to be unnecessary a few days later when Wei Ying approaches him first.

He looks nervous as he says he needs to speak with him and Lan Wangji doesn’t have to think much before agreeing. Even if he had other things to do at the time, there aren’t many things he wouldn’t reschedule for Wei Ying’s peace of mind.

They walk in silence until they reach a secluded space away from camp and he’s barely sat down before Wei Ying exclaims, “I owe you an apology.”

He stills in surprise.

“I’m the one who has been giving you lunch recently. I never meant to deceive you, I promise this wasn’t some joke, I’m not even sure what I meant by it at the beginning and then we started passing notes and then, well,” he looks a mix of sheepish and regretful. “I just, I know you probably thought it was some shy maiden and we have been…” Wei Ying grimances, “I never meant to play with your feelings or do anything that could hurt you, I didn’t even realize it was a possibility at first, but I couldn’t just keep this up knowing you wouldn’t ever feel the same way I do if you knew.”

There are… Many things for him to address in that speech, and he will, still there’s one sentence running over his mind on repeat.

you wouldn’t ever feel the same way I do

After what feels like hours, but it’s probably only a few seconds, Lan Wangji blinks, “I am not disappointed, there is no need for Wei Ying to apologize if he never intended this as a joke.”

The confusion is clear in Wei Ying’s face. “You’re not? But...”

“I had suspected it was you.”

“What? How? Lan Zhan!”

“Part of supervising Wei Ying’s punishment was to check if all the rules were written properly and you have… Distinct handwriting.”

“So you knew from the start?”

“Mn.”

“So all of the things you told me..?”

He had decided somewhere during their correspondence to give this a try if it was really Wei Ying, to be honest with his feelings if it was possible in any way that he was reading this correctly, yet words still escape him. He’s afraid that anything he says in reply might get misunderstood in some way, so he reaches out for Wei Ying’s hand before he says. “I had hoped they were reaching you.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widen and his face flushes. He’s beautiful, Lan Wangji doesn’t ever want to look away. Nevertheless when the silence stretches, he moves to take his hand away, thinking he read this wrongly and unwilling to make this uncomfortable, but before he can move Wei Ying’s hand closes around his and he sighs.

“What have I told you about those heartfelt lines? You should be more careful with my heart, Hanguang-jun.”

“Mn.”

“I’m not reading this wrong, am I? I… Lan Zhan, you’re really great. I like you, I want to be with you all the time, I want to kiss you and night hunt with you and I know it's really early for this but I don't think it can be anyone but you."

"Wei Ying…" Lan Wangji swallows. His heart is beating faster than it ever has before, he's so happy it's overwhelming. He repeats back the words in a daze, "I like you, want to be with you always, it can't be anyone else."

The reaction is instant. One moment he is sitting in the grass looking at the man he loves as his face progressively reddens, the next he is laying down, arms full of Wei Ying.

"Lan Zhan!"

He doesn't want to ever let him go.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The notes don't stop, but they change. Now that they're not their primary method of communication, they become a way to show affection, to remind the other that they're loved.

The cooking doesn't stop either, but they begin to take their meals together whenever they can. Sometimes Wei Ying talks enough for the both to make up for Lan Wangji's silence, sometimes he doesn't. To him, it matters little, as any time with Wei Ying is time he cherishes.

There are still many things left unsaid between them. They are in the middle of a war. Things are far from perfect. Still, in spite of it all, they hold onto each other and their love.

#short prompts #wangxian #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my writing #fanfic #mdzs fic #haha “short prompts”#this is like 2.5k #as i said before i am horrible at being brief but send me short prompts and headcanon requests pretty please #I feel the need to explain my wwx so here goes #he isn't insecure really and the food thing started as like…you know in the book when he flirts with lwj and he reacts and he says he's hap #boy is a little oblivious to his own feelings/in denial #but only the canon amount #and then they start talking and he's like wait I like this friendship #but then lwj flirts with him and he realises how this looks like and he feels bad about his actions because he didn't intend to trick him t #this wasn't supposed to be a prank and it wasn't supposed to mess with his feelings in any way he's not that kind of asshole #obviously he also realised he liked lwj and wanted lwj to like him during the whole ordeal

46 notes · View notes

issaxcharlie · 4 years ago

Text

Owen hosts Couple tag

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Artist Fem Reader

Summary: We play pretend world guys✨ (I missed them, I’m SoRryyyy.) So, Charlie wants some reassurance after starting to prepare his proposal to Y/N and makes this “genius” plan with Owen to find her answers without being suspicious. (She totally knows tho) also a lot of friendship fighting between Owen and Y/N because I had to, I made myself laugh a lot so I’ll hope at least makes you smile🤧🤣Anyways, have fun!

This is also my weird and nonsense way of doing sweet @marvel-ousnesss request of the we play pretend couple to do a couple buzzfeed quiz 💖

The blonde takes a deep breath before picking up his phone and heading to the living room, where his couple of friends and roommates are on the couch. Charlie is lying down watching television and Y/N is lying on top of him with her face snuggled into his neck, he hugging her around the waist while gently running his fingers down her skin.

The plan was simple, to help Charlie plan the perfect proposal and give him an idea of what she expects from her wedding, they were doing a “Couple tag” video. That way the questions wouldn’t be as suspicious. Of course, there are easier ways but we are talking about Charlie. They convinced Kenny to call her and tell her that it was to promote the second season that is currently being filmed, and she agreed.

Charlie mentioned many times that someone else had to ask her the questions because she reads her boyfriend like an open book, so his improvisation had to be perfect to keep his best friend’s clever girlfriend out of the hook.

He decided to start the live from his room so as not to give the singer the opportunity to think much about it, so he sits in the living room and focuses the image on his friends who are not affected in the least by their positions. After all, everyone already knows that they are a couple and that they live together.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L! And yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.” He blushes as the memory of their first night back as a couple invades the mind of the Canadian, who had his girlfriend in exactly this position when she was, as she said, 'practicing' her introduction. Sadly, this time it will not end like that night because his best friend and about 500,000 people are watching.

“Welcome to my first edition of the Couple tag everyone! Here's my first guest couple, I know it’s not much, but I promise to find someone worthwhile next time, this is just for practice." Charlie laughs but looks nervous. Instead, his girlfriend sits down and rolls her eyes.

"I can't believe you chose him over a puppy or a hamster." The girl says to her boyfriend while laughing at her friend's offended reaction.

“I'm going to write that down in my long enemies list, but for now I have a live to lead. Okay guys, so basically I will ask them questions and I will also choose who answers them because I’m the only one hot enough to call the shots here."

She laughs and sticks out her tongue. Charlie sits down too and she takes his hand to fiddle with it. She keeps arguing for a few minutes with Owen but shows no signs of not wanting to play the game so he starts before she regrets it.

“Okay, first one is for Charlie. How did you guys met? This is actually a good one because a lot of the fans think you met on set and are like this really intense couple who started to date the very first week without even knowing each other’s last names.”

They both start laughing at the comment. The truth is that they have seen multiple posts and comments online from people judging their relationship and how fast they were going, especially when they did that last interview together and Y/N said that Charlie was taking his sweet time to ask for marriage, since for the fans they only have one year and months of knowing each other.

“We have known each other since forever. Our moms were best friends and we were born only a few weeks apart so we've always been together. We grew up as best friends and were dating before Y/N moved to New York to play Daniela on Stardust." Charlie tries to shake off the memory of the last tearful kiss before Y/N got on the plane. Hopefully he’ll never have to part from her for so long again. Sometimes he can't even understand how he managed to get through those 5 years.

"So no, we don't know each other for just one year, but 22." She adds, kissing his nose.

"Y/N, honey. I didn't ask you, don't be rude and wait for your turn." Owen says teasingly, the girl laughs and throws a pillow at him.

“Okay, rude again. Y/N, What is the first thing that he ever gave you?”

“Oh my, this beautiful valentines card! We were like eight I think. The paper is red, and it is filled with gold and silver glitter stars. Inside is a big star that has written in the middle, “My bright star, happy valentine’s day. I love you. And a lot of doodles of my favorite things, like my guitar, a microphone, chocolate, and a little Charlie. Just adorable, I still have it and to date it is one of my favorite gifts.”

The emotion with which she responds makes Charlie's heart melt. That was the first time he called her bright star, and he kept saying it to her during every audition, every performance, every practice. The exact reason not even she knows, but maybe one of these days he'll tell her.

“Rude and a liar. The 22-year-old Charlie's handwriting is horrible, the 8-year-old Charlie handwriting could only be close to a squiggle, nothing more. Oh, and probably only you had the ability to read it. I very much doubt that was beautiful."

She opens her mouth in surprise and wrinkles her nose, feigning annoyance. “I liked you more when you had a crush on me. You were nicer.”

Owen's eyes widen and he turns to see Charlie looking for help but he just starts laughing. “Wh- What are you talking about, mean girl?”

“Oh c’mon, you totally did, Ohio.” She smiles at the camara while showing a superiority face.

“Really? I already told you a thousand times, I'm from Oklahoma. But hey, how funny, forget about Stardust and audition for Funny Girl!”

“Jokes on you, I would nail Fanny Brice.”

“Man, defend my honor!”

“Bro, I can’t. You totally did, I even got worried for a second there.” It is incredible to think about how their friendship has grown and matured over time. They went from Owen fangirling every time he saw her to being really good friends. All these fights are more of a show than anything else, the truth is that when nobody is recording they tend to be very cool around each other and the three of them have quite a pleasant dynamic now that they are living together for the show.

“I won, Idaho. Now, please continue.”

“Well, my friends embarrassed me on my own live. I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow. Anyways, Charlie, Would you let yourself in danger to save her?”

Charlie starts laughing as he drops his head on the girl's shoulder. "I think she's not going to let me lie, I always have and will continue to do so. For me it's always her safety first."

"Which has given me more than a scare but he's so freakin stubborn." She adds while looking stressed and Owen can't help but imagine all the situations Charlie must have put himself in before.

“I prefer you scared than in danger, beautiful.” He grins and kiss her lips, her facial expresions relaxing at his touch.

“Gross. Y/N, do you prefer a small wedding or a big wedding?” She can feel Charlie tense at the question, so she leans her body back to support it against him and give him a lowkey reassurance.

“I hadn't really thought about it, but I know that my almost mother-in-law has been planning it all her life so you should check with her.”

His mom. Y/N is right, as always. His mom is their biggest shipper and the wedding is probably something she’ll want to be an importart part of, maybe way more than with his brothers since she adores the girl as much as her own kids, and the fact that his girlfriend is even more aware of that fact than him makes him smile.

“Do you love it when someone refers you as ‘her boyfriend’?”

“Always. Especially if it's her. She has that little knack of saying it whenever she can and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.”

“Oh I thought she was just showing it off to me because she was intimidated by our chemistry. I don't feel so special anymore.” Charlie chuckles and sends a secret air kiss to his friend, who just smirks and fakes to blush.

“How would you handle it if you thought another man was hitting on her?” Owen asks the guitarist raising an eyebrow.

“She usually takes care of that situations, her method is to take me by the shirt and kiss me hard on the lips. I’m never going to complain about that.” Charlie says smirking and blushing.

“We are a celebrity couple, for better or for worse. I’m not having him in a fight when I can just kiss that beautiful lips and solve the problem.” Charlie smiles as he wraps his girlfriend in his arms, so she can't see his face with the next question.

“What do you dream of your marriage? Mmm, let’s go with Y/N.”

“Anything will be perfect if I spend it with the man of my life. My Char is my everything and my biggest dream is to live my whole life laughing by his side.” Owen pretends to vomit as Charlie fills her with kisses under the ear, clearly moved by her answer.

“Let’s get to someting less cheesy because I really can’t with you both anymore. Has anyone ever tried to break your relationship?”

Charlie rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment. “Yes. We were like seventeen, and this guy from hockey had this big crush on her, so he tried to flirt with her many times even though everyone knew she was my girlfriend, until one day that he made her too uncomfortable and things escalated between him and me. Luckily my brothers intervened before something else happened because he was much bigger than me. I would have totally lost.” He chuckles while his girlfriend turns to see his face and gives him another sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Yes guys, they are this annoying all the time. How do I survive? A lot of yoga. Next question, If three guys are standing, and you have been blindfolded, then how would you recognize him? Guys we actually did this like three days ago on set.”

“It was awesome! We put my bandana on her eyes and since it had my smell she couldn't be guided by that to choose.” Charlie explains excited.

“We got the three of us, first Jeremy then Charlie and then me in front of her, then she began to lightly touch Jer's hand. Then she went to Charlie's, it didn't take her a minute to recognize him and she took him from the hair and draw him to her lips, it was actually a pretty smooth and risky move, I’ll give you a point for that, prodigy brat.”

“Char's body inadvertently reacts to mine. It was pretty easy to tell the difference, especially after touching Jeremy's hand.” She turns her head to give Charlie a soft kiss on the lips and then Owen starts laughing like crazy and telling her to come see a specific comment.

She gets up and goes to sit next to him, Owen changes the camera so that now they are the ones in the image and she begins to read aloud. “Charlie I could give you my... Oh my god!” Owen continues laughing, resting his head on his friend who simply watches the screen in shock.

“Thank god Charlie doesn’t know how to read.” Owen, who was just recovering from his giggling fit, laughs again as Charlie giggles and sticks his tongue out at his girlfriend.

"Who needs to read when you look this hot with sleeveless shirts." He jokes while winking at his partner, which seems to melt in front of the camera that is still pointing directly at her.

“The man has a point. Okay, Y/N move your ass back there I’m still in charge of this show. Would you prefer a silver or gold ring?”

She makes sure to move off the screen and sticks her middlefinger at Owen before heading back to her place with her boyfriend. “Good and really random question.” She smirks, not making contact with her boyfriend. “I don't have a preference, but I would love Char to design it. Obviously with the correct guidance, but yeah he choosing every detail and then explaining to me why he choose it would be the dream.”

Charlie smiles. He was already imagining something like this after so many years of gifting and has already been visiting the jewelry store several times to make sure he designed the perfect ring for his girl, a slight feeling of pride filling him.

“Which series does she thinks resembles your relationship?”

“She loves Boy Meets World and see a lot of us in Cory and Topanga. I can totally see it too, after all they too have known each other their whole lives and have a bond as strong as ours.”

“Well that explains why she’s always telling me ‘Life is though, get a helmet’ instead of actually help me.” She grins at the memory of Charlie’s last prank on Owen a couple of days ago, it was really good since she secretly helped him plan it.

“Man, It wasn’t personal. I do the same with Char. I’m not going to be known for being the one ruining prank war. Take it to the end of the road, if you need me to take you idiots out of jail I totally will... eventually.”

“My girl, everyone. Isn’t she awesome?” He watches her adoringly and she blushes in response, buring her head on his neck.

“She always has this enormous energy and personality but all it takes is for you to see her for her to melt, that’s... kind of cute actually. Okay next question Stardust, What about If Charlie tells you to marry him tomorrow?”

For the thousandth time that night Y/N can feel Charlie stressing out. The fact that he planned together with Owen and Kenny all of this just to make sure he was on the same page with her is the most adorable thing in the world.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I would always say yes. He could have gotten on a plane when we were 18 and told me ‘I don't want to be without you, let's get married.’ And I would have said yes. He’s my person, I have nothing to think about, I have always known it’s him."

Now it's Charlie's turn to melt, and Owen himself can't help but smile.

Charlie's confidence in what he has planned is higher than ever, and the day when he can finally make it official is near. He has been dreaming of this day with his Y/N for years and he will finally get it.

“Well guys, that was it, give it up to my favorite couple of dumbasses and please stop asking obvious questions. Will I be Y/N’s maid of honor? Of course I will. Oh, and tune in next week to see me becoming Kenny’s new favorite after I challenge Y/N in a dance duel with I got the music. Golden star is GOING DOWN."

Thank you for reading✨

NEXT PART HERE

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13 , @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @blackhood5sos @dpaccione @tuttigunner

#charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp one shot #jatp fanfic #jatp luke #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson fanfiction

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

Nice To Meet You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader somehow gets Spencer’s number and texts him, no idea who he is.

Content warnings: Smut. Dangerous scenario. choking ;)

gif by @toyboxboy

Words: 2,165

MASTERLIST

Glancing at your phone, you were surprised to find that it was already 1:34 AM. How had your friends distracted you enough to have you stay out this late?

You shoved your way to the bar and tried to order a drink over the pulsating music filling the club.

“Aw, come on, mama,” you could hear a man next to you sweet talking one of your friends, “he’s six-foot-one and can tell you more interesting facts than you’d ever learn yourself. Plus he’s got three PhD’s. Tell me that doesn’t get you goin’.”

Your friend scoffed and dropped a napkin onto the bar. Ten neatly scrawled digits written across the bottom. Without thinking, you picked up the napkin, looked it over, and slipped it into your pocket.

“No thanks, honey,” your friend said, “But, I wouldn’t be opposed to you buying me a drink.”

And suddenly, her and the man were on the dance floor, leaving you alone yet again.

You supposed it was about time to turn in, shooting a quick text to your friend and catching a cab back to your apartment.

As you got in bed, not bothering to change out of your club outfit, you felt the lump in your pocket that held the phone number.

As much as you despised technology, you had finally gotten the hang of saving phone numbers into your phone. That and telling the time was the only thing it was good for anyway.

So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when your hands automatically typed in the number and pressed call.

What was a surprise, was the nervous voice on the other end answering on the second ring.

“H-hello?”

It was a man. His voice was scratchy and low, like he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Do you need me to come in?” there was rustling on the other end, like he was getting out of bed.

“What?”

He went silent, seemingly realizing that you weren’t who he thought you were.

“Who is this?”

For some reason, you found yourself smiling at the way he asked.

“Who is this?”

Your answer seemed to have shocked him judging by the noise of him opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“I’m, uh, certainly not going to give my name to a stranger on the phone who won’t tell me theirs.”

You chuckled.

“Fair enough. I got your number at a bar. I thought i’d .. call . . . And I’m just realizing how weird this is.”

In your defense, he did chuckle softly.

“No, no. It’s interesting. I don’t really meet a lot of new people so, um. Wait. Did the number happen to be written on a napkin? Perhaps given to you by a suave asshat named Derek?”

You giggled into the phone, pleased to hear he was enjoying the conversation.

“Napkin yes. Derek? No clue. I don’t really talk to people at bars.”

“Yeah. I don’t really go to bars.”

“Seriously? Then how do I have your number?”

He cleared his throat harshly.

“I, ahem, I was telling my friend Derek about how I don’t really, um . . . get girls and he bet me he could find at least one woman who’d be . . . interested.”

You laughed, charmed by the way he stuttered.

“Ah, that makes sense. I was with my friend and she, uh, dropped the napkin. Although, I will say, you do have adorable handwriting.”

“Oh, right. Yes, thank-thank you. You have a nice voice. It’s calming. I mean, people tend to be about sixteen percent more attracted to nice voices. Not that I’m attracted to you. I mean! Not that you aren’t um. Actually i don’t know what you look like so I can’t really . . . um.”

A surge of boldness ran through you and in that moment, at 2:16 in the morning, you made a decision.

“Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Know what I look like?”

He stuttered on the other end, unsure what you were saying.

Before he could say anything else, you hung up, texted your address to him, and jumped in the shower.

Only when the warm water hit your skin did you realize the weight of what you’d just done. You’d just texted your home address to a complete stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

“Oh god.”

Were you in danger? Jesus. You jumped out of the shower and ran to your phone, suddenly much more awake.

“I should call the cops, right?” you muttered to yourself, throwing on a bathrobe. “I should! Right?”

But the knock at the door snapped you out of your downward spiral.

You had two options. Call the police. Or open the door.

Your hand found the doorknob faster than you’d like to admit, throwing open the front door and being hit by the sight of the man in front of you.

True to what the man at the bar said, he was tall. But that wasn’t what struck you. He was wearing a pale blue set of pajamas and old sneakers on his feet. His fluffy hair was rumpled from sleep but his eyes were wide open.

You suddenly remembered your own state of disarray: hair wet from the shower, no makeup, and only wearing a bathrobe.

“I—“ he started to speak, unsure of what to say. Understandably so; this was a very unlikely situation.

You reached out to him, hand sneaking around the lapel of his pajama top and pulling him into your apartment and leading him towards the bedroom.

His eyes were blown wide, watching you intently, letting you take charge of the situation.

So you did. Pushing him so he sat down on your bed and standing between his legs. He didn’t move. Just stared nervously, maintaining eye contact.

After he didn’t make any move, you gently grasped his hands, leading them up to the tie of your robe, placing them there.

He took the hint, quicker than you expected, and got to work untying the knot. The moment he did, you started to unbutton his pajamas, pushing the top back off his torso, revealing a smooth, tough chest that you could run your hands over for hours.

He’d untied your robe, but his hands were now nervously hovering over the opening.

You climbed into his lap, resting your arms on his shoulders and leaning in to whisper in his ear. You recalled something his friend at the bar had said.

“What are you waiting for? Doctor.”

A soft moan escaped his lips at the name, pulling you closer, hands tight around your hips.

Intrigued, you continued.

“Oh? You like it when I call you that, doctor?”

Suddenly, you were on your back, hands pinned above your head. He had flipped you over, now laying between your legs, you could feel his growing erection pressed up against you.

A dark look flickered across his eyes, quickly replaced by one of worry. He removed his hands from yours and started to sit up, presumably to apologise for getting rough. You weren’t having that.

You quickly flipped the two of you so you were straddling him, gently grinding against his growing bulge.

The look in his eyes did horrible things to you and you couldn’t stand another second without his lips against yours.

The kiss was hot and fueled by the danger of the circumstance, you being at the mercy of this utter stranger that, for some reason, you trusted completely.

You pulled back, panting heavily and running your hands up and down his chest. His hands were placed softly against your back, lightly stroking through your robe.

“Take it off,” you growled into his ear.

That seemed to be the last straw, for he flipped you over again, ripping your robe off and throwing it across the room, pulling his pajama pants down and grinding painfully slowly against you.

“Is this what you want?” his voice was low and scratchy, like it had been on the phone but there was more to it now. There was something you couldn’t place in his eyes. The words sent a chill through you, making you dig your nails into his back, pulling him against you.

“Not quite,” you muttered against his ear, digging through your bedside drawer and pushing him away. He took the lead, shedding his underwear, grabbing the condom and rolling it on.

Now, with him on top of you, cock gently pressing against your entrance, not quite pushing in yet, you realized that what you’d seen in his eyes wasn’t worry. It was care.

When he spoke, it was gentle, light.

“Is this okay?”

A warm surge went through you at the question. He was genuinely concerned about how you felt.

You smiled gently at him, and he smiled back, a hint of worry remaining in his expression.

Rather than answer aloud, you hooked your legs around his back and pulled him into you.

His face lit up, mouth forming an O as he moaned softly, eyebrows furrowing as he plunged into your tight heat.

He was considerably bigger than you’d expected, going off his slight stature. The sensation was very new. You hadn’t been with anyone in a while and you gasped quite loudly as the two of you adjusted to the feeling.

After a moment, he started fidgeting, eager to move.

You released your grip with your legs, allowing more room for movement. The second you did, he began to thrust, slow at first, almost teasingly. He was soon spurred on by the volume and intensity of your moans, probably also from you being so close to his ear.

A wave of pleasure suddenly shocked you as he hit just the right spot, resulting in a strange squeak coming from your mouth.

His eyes went wild and suddenly his hand was at your throat, squeezing the sides every so gently.

You felt your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sensation. His hand snapped away quickly and he froze.

“Shit. . . I’m so sorry . . . I—I didn’t mean—“

But you simply grabbed his hand and placed it back on your neck, softly squeezing his fingers and giving a little nod.

It took him a moment to get the hint, but when he did, he really went for it. Pounding into you, biting down on your clavicle, and making the blood rush to your head — amongst other places.

You had to force yourself to move your hands from where they were clawing at his lower back. You pulled his shoulders forward and bit his earlobe, causing his movements to stutter.

“Oh, fuck. . . . I don’t know how long. . . .”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, slipping a hand down between you and rubbing your clit, increasing the feeling tenfold.

Your moans quickly became louder, only making him pound harder. Surely the headboard was banging against the wall. The neighbors would for sure complain.

Suddenly, the hand on your throat flew to your ankle, gripping it tightly and swinging your leg up over his shoulder. The angle was now just right and he hit the spot inside you each time he thrust in, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh, god. Yes. Ohhhhh . . .” you rubbed furiously, on the verge of your orgasm. “I’m gonna—“

“Me too,” his voice was so sweet and still so dirty.

An unexpected idea washed over you.

“Look at me.”

His eyes snapped open, startling you with the haze over his pupils. Although, you were sure if someone held a mirror to you right now, you’d look pretty much the same.

Almost the instant your eyes met, you felt the knot in your stomach snap, sending waves and waves of pleasure through you as you tightened around your partner.

He could definitely feel you coming, eyebrows furrowing and speeding up his thrusts so they were now shallow and quick, just enough to get him off. Which he did very shortly after you, hand snaking around your throat and pushing you down onto his cock as he came.

He grunted on the last thrust, using every ounce of his strength not to collapse on top of you.

Your voice froze in your throat as he pulled out, discarding the condom and plopping down next to you, breathing heavily.

Somehow, your post-coital brain started to rush with the guilt of what you’d just done. You didn’t know this man in the slightest.

“I don’t even know your name,” you whispered to the ceiling, staring at the little popcorn-like bumps.

He turned on his side, lightly running a finger along your jaw in a way that was far too sweet for a one-night stand.

You turned to look at him. His eyes were much lighter now. You could see small flecks of green behind them.

“My name’s Spencer.”

A smile lit up your face, prompting one from him in turn.

“I’m Y/N.”

He blushed, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You took his hand, shaking it firmly and beaming at him.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer.”

#criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid gifs

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years ago

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I've just found your blog! I'm not sure what kind of requests you do, but something involving a reader who's a short guy, incredibly pure and compassionate, heart of gold, etc etc. and a dabi who doesn't understand how someone with their heart on their sleeve can like him so much? Idk jfkdhdksje

Hiii! Ok so you said guy, so I'm assuming you wanted a male reader. But this turned out a little more gender neutral than I had planned. Hope thats okay!

Dabi x Reader

Words: 718

Fluff/ Angst

****

It was just baffling to him. It didn’t matter how many times he blew up at the you, you just kept coming back for more.

At first, he found you annoying. Always pestering him and asking if he was okay. He hated when people asked him that. They always had this weird look about them. Like they didn’t actually care if he was okay. They just took one look at his ugly mug and thought, ‘well something has to be wrong with that guy’.

But you were different. You looked like you genuinely cared, and Dabi didn’t know if he liked that or hated it. He liked the fact that you weren’t a fake mindless zombie like the idiots who worked with him at the league. But he hated how guilty it made him feel when he yelled at you to leave him the fuck alone.

You worked in the convenience store below his apartment and had seen him come and go in all kinds of conditions. You’d seen him bloody and bruised, drunk and high as a kite. But you never missed an opportunity to ask him how he was doing.

Today was no different than any other day. Dabi was coming back from a mission covered in blood and ash. He had a headache and was exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to see your short form blocking the entrance to his room.

“Out of the way short stuff. I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I-I respect that you can’t tell me what it is that you do. But I still feel compelled to make sure you’re okay.” You handed him a bag from the store you worked in. It had bandages, rubbing alcohol, bottles of water, a sports drink, and… a carton of cigarettes.

Dabi held up the cigarettes, “I thought you didn’t approve of my little habit?”

You shrugged, “When did I ever say that?”

Dabi rolled his eyes at you. “Uh, only every time I’ve ever bought them.”

You sighed, “Well you know I’m never one to judge. It’s your life, your body, you are free to do whatever you want with it but…”

“But…?”

You averted your eyes, “It just makes me sad to know that you don’t take care of yourself.”

Dabi gently pushed you to the side so he could unlock his door. “Why would I need to do that, when I have you to nag me back to health.” His hand froze right before he opened his door. “It’s creepy that you know where I live by the way.”

You blushed as you scurried in after him. “You told me where you lived the last time you came into the shop.” You held out a crumpled receipt that had his room number in his horrible handwriting.”

Now it was his turn to blush. “Oh… sorry about that, I was a little drunk.” He snatched the evidence from your hands and tossed it in the bin.

“Now that I’m here… is there anything I can do… you look a little… bloody.”

Dabi shrugged, “It’s not mine. So…don’t worry.”

You were pretty short and so fragile looking, and it wasn’t hard for Dabi to imagine the torment you must have endured growing up. Kids are cruel, he remembers all too well. The world was so hard on people like you. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were kind, brave, and sincere.

All the more reason he wanted to push you away. He knew the second he embraced you, he would soil your innocence. He seemed to leave everything dirtier then when he found it.

You took Dabi’s silence as interest, so you stepped forward and bravely took his hand in yours. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Dabi shook his head at you, “Why do you even care? I’ve been nothing but cold and rude to you.” He tried to pull his hand away but you held it tight, “I’m not some pet project that you can try and fix. There’s no fixing me. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask me if I’m okay these scars aren’t going to magically heal.”

Your eyes watered with unshed tears, “I can try though… if you’ll let me.”

#dabi x you #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #dabi bnha #dabi my hero academia #mha x y/n #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #my her academia

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allthingskakashi · 4 years ago

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please please please do 10 with kakashi :,)

I'm not very satisfied with this but i hope you like it bb 😩❤️

• Try and Stop me •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

Fluff Prompt : "Try and stop me"

You chug what is probably your third cup of coffee in one quick gulp, before putting down the ceramic mug on your desk with a thud.

You have a long, long night ahead of you, and just the sight of all the papers strewn about in front of you, papers that you are yet to grade, is giving you a ringing headache.

The deadline for submitting the graded papers is in two days, and as usual, you procrastinated till the very last moment, causing you to now find yourself in a grave of your own creation.

A loud, exasperated sigh escapes your lips, as you rub your eyes and try to focus your gaze on the letters written in horrible handwriting in front of you. The severe sleep deprivation is catching up to you, making the little letters look as if they’re dancing around on the sheets, and your bottom feels numb from being glued to the chair for heaven knows how long now. But judging by the fact that it was light outside when you sat down and the current view from your window is a dark black sky, it’s probably been a while.

To top it all off, the knowledge that your boyfriend is in the very next room, home after such a long time is doing nothing to ease your pain. The two of you have had such busy schedules lately, you’ve barely had time for each other. But now you are here, under one roof after ages and you still cannot spend time with him. You berate yourself mentally for the tenth time today, for putting yourself in this position.

Looking away to escape the dancing letters for a minute, your gaze falls on Kakashi, making his way into the living room.

“You okay there?” his voice travels through the distance as he glances at you, and you watch him trudge into the kitchen.

“Yeah, just grading my hundredth paper, questioning my existence, the usual stuff” you yell back, your hand moving in steady scribbles on the paper.

Kakashi reappears in a few seconds, holding a glass of water in his hand as he makes his way up to your desk, before placing the glass softly next to you.

You feel your insides turning to mush immediately, his face a remedy for your sore eyes. “Thank you, Kashi” you mutter as he goes around to stand behind you, gently massaging your shoulders in small circles with his fingers. His touch is like elixir and you fight to prevent yourself from melting into it.

He plants a quick peck on your head, mumbling a “Don’t work too late” into your hair before turning around to walk away.

You watch him go, his lean frame walking across the hardwood floor before disappearing into the next room again. You let out another tired sigh, every fibre in your body screaming to get to him, yearning to just get done with all this already so you can be in bed with Kakashi.

With a heavy heart and an aching hand, you force yourself to get back to the papers. You shuffle through them as fast as you can, hastily working your way through the bunch. No matter what, you HAVE to be done with these by tonight. But the abominable answers on some of these papers aren’t making your job any easier.

Under “State which hand sign is formed at the end of a sparring match between two shinobi”, one of the kids from your class seems to have written a rather… unexpected answer. Striking it out with your pen, you make a mental note to have a word with him tomorrow.

You continue ticking and crossing, your hand moving almost in a blur as the hours tick by. The headache claws at your temples but you have no choice but to ignore it. You think of checking the time but even getting up from the chair would mean losing precious minutes so you remain seated, going against even siren in your body to keep working.

The minutes and seconds blend into each other, making you lose track of time. That is, until you suddenly find yourself being yanked back into the world of the living by the call of a familiar voice.

“Y/n!?”, the abrupt interruption makes you jerk in your chair, and you look up to catch Kakashi standing beside you, his brows creased into a furrow. “It’s 12 a.m.!”

“Oh crap, really!?” you start, shocked yourself at how late it is. “But I still—”

“Y/N” his voice almost comes out in a rebuke, cutting yours off. “Get your ass off that chair right now”

You glance back and forth between him and the papers, a deep ache at the back of your neck making even this little movement seem tiresome. “You don’t understand Kakashi, I still have a lot of work left” you object, panic rising in your chest.

“It can wait” Kakashi replies, making his way closer to you. “Have you even eaten dinner?”

“no, but—”

“No buts.” He says, his tone assertive. “You’re overworking yourself. It’s not good for you”

You look at him, his expression a fusion of exasperation and concern. But as much as you appreciate it, you really must keep working. No matter the cost.

“Look, Kakashi” you coax, “you don’t understand. I appreciate your concern, but I can’t get up right now, okay?” you say, exhaustion evident in your tone as you get back to correcting papers.

You haven’t even taken a bath today and you’re currently running on a packet of cookies and three cups of coffee. You feel filthy, hungry, dizzy and tired out of your bones but that just doesn’t matter right now.

Kakashi doesn’t make any more protests, even though you can still feel him standing there. But as long as he doesn’t try to stop you, you’re fine with him standing there staring at you for as long as he likes.

“Okay then.” You hear Kakashi say, and you figure he’s going to let this go, so you don’t bother looking up.

Within a second, however, you feel his body behind you, one hand snaking around your shoulder and the other moving under your legs.

“Kakashi, what the hell are you doing!?” you yell, trying, in vain, to pat his hands away.

But he’s already gripped under your legs and you can feel yourself being lifted off the chair. “Kakashi, put me down, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” you scream louder this time, squirming and flailing in his hold and patting him on the arm as he plonks you over his shoulder.

“Getting your ass off that stupid chair” he replies flatly as he continues to carry you down the hall.

“And where the hell do you think you’re taking me?” you wail, carrying on with your flails and cries.

“To the bath. I’m drawing you a warm bath and heating you up some dinner and putting you to bed so you can get some rest and wake up tomorrow and finish the rest of your work.” Kakashi replies in the same flat tone, putting his palm at the back of your head and crouching as he enters through the doorway of the bedroom.

“You will do no such thing! I HAVE to finish my work by TONIGHT so Kakashi Hatake, you will put me down right now!” you yell again, trying to scrounge up every last bit of strength in your body, but all that you can manage is a weak, tiny squeak.

You notice the bathroom approaching and stare blankly, helpless in his hold as Kakashi enters through the door, with you still plonked over his shoulder. He shuts the door with one hand, before putting you down on the tiled floor.

Once freed of his grasp, you begin your protests again, “I’m not going to let you abduct me from my own living room Kakashi, I have work, you cannot do this right now. I won't let you.”

Kakashi stands leaning against the closed bathroom door, smirking under his mask as he looks at you. “Well...” he drawls, flipping around to lock the door before taking his time turning around to face you again, his dark eyes piercing into yours.

“Try and stop me.”

#kakashi #kakashi imagine #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi headcanons #hatake kakashi #Naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto headcanons #kakashi x reader fanfiction #kakashi fanfic #naruto fanfic #kakashi x reader fanfic #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #Naruto x reader

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years ago

Text

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 5: i gotta get away from myself, i gotta get help

this is the last part before the epilogue! I hope you enjoyed it! i borrowed a few lines from leigh bardugo, i hope she doesn't mind :)

this is mostly resolution, but there is obviously still discussion of a suicide attempt! i would also say there's a bit of implied ableism that's not supported by the story

happy early birthday to @littlx-songbxrd!!!! the thomastair part is for you

Cordelia took a deep breath and opened the door.

Will, Sophie, the Consul, and the Inquisitor appeared to be in the middle of their discussion. Solemn expressions rested on their faces, with the exception of Maurice Bridgestock, who appeared utterly disinterested.

The Inquisitor glared when she entered. “You cannot be in here, young lady.”

“You can’t send him away. You can’t send him to the Basilias.”

“That decision is not yours to make, Ms. Herondale,” Maurice said.

“I’m not naive. I know that he needs help. I understand that. But he won’t find it in the Basilias; you know that as well as I. He needs to be here. He needs to be with his family. Barely two days after our father died, Belial went to Alastair and threatened his life. He altered his mind and ordered him to do terrible things. That is fact. What he was doing when Belial sought him out is irrelevant. Acquit him and allow us to handle the rest as a personal matter.”

“When it leads to consorting with a Prince of Hell to carry out acts of evil, it can no longer be considered a personal matter. Your brother is a risk to himself and everyone around him.”

She wanted to scream. Why weren’t the rest of them saying anything? Why would they not defend him? “Please. If it were Matthew, what would you do?”

“Ms. Herondale! That is uncalled for,” Bridgestock scolded. “And you are intruding on a private matter of the Nephilim Council.”

Cordelia continued. “You cannot truly tell me that it is unreasonable to imagine Matthew in a similar situation, if he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. You see Alastair as a risk because you do not wish to be responsible for him. It is easier for you to send him away, but it will not be easier for him, nor for our family. If you truly care for my family as you claim to-”

“That is enough,” Inquisitor Bridgestock interrupted.

Cordelia wasn’t finished. There was so much more she wished to say. She wanted to ask Will why he and Tessa were so blind to what was truly happening within her family. Why they never asked questions. Why, even after her father’s arrest, they still refused to see it. Why the most there was to offer was Will’s comment about his own father. She wanted to ask him what she should think now, now that her own father was dead, now that the evidence of his harm was laid out before them. Was he merely human? Was that supposed to make any of the irreparable harm he caused not only Alastair, but her, too, any better? Was it supposed to be placating? She even wanted to ask the Consul how she could raise such a callous son, a son who began a relationship with someone who was a child while he was an adult. A son who made her brother feel undeserving of anything good. As she attempted to collect her thoughts, it no longer became necessary.

“She’s right,” Sophie said. “Alastair made a mistake, but it was made under horrible, bizarre circumstances. Irreplicable circumstances, most likely. Anything he did that is punishable by Nephilim law was done under magical control by Belial. The best place for him to recover is with his family.”

“I find it very irresponsible-” Bridgestock continued, but Sophie interrupted.

“He will be taken off of active duties until he is deemed both physically and mentally ready to return to them. I could meet with him each week, assess how he is doing and how much of a risk he is, as Inquisitor Bridgestock put it. Consider it a recompense for my indiscretion.”

Will was oddly silent, something Cordelia hadn’t known he could be before. Finally, the Consul spoke. “I find those terms to be reasonable. Thank you, Sophie. If he agrees to them, I don’t see any reason to send him anywhere but back home.”

The Inquisitor seemed like he was about to object, but Will spoke up, “I agree.”

Cordelia sighed in relief as the Inquisitor backed down. Perhaps, somehow, this story could have a happy ending after all.

* * *

Alastair looked away the moment Thomas entered the infirmary. His memories of the past two weeks were strange, as if someone else had been controlling his body while he merely watched on, while at the same time not. Regardless, he could remember every moment of it. There was no way he could ever look him in the eyes again after all that he’d revealed back in that warehouse, not after looking into his beautiful hazel eyes with the sole intention of crushing him, not after making him weep. Perhaps he’d not been able to raise his blade against Thomas, but he hurt him all the same, and he could never forgive himself for that.

“You look like you’re doing better,” Thomas offered.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I feel very well-rested after my coma.”

Thomas hesitated, then added, “Well, if that’s all it took, why didn’t you try that ages ago?”

Alastair exhaled, glad that he understood his humor, however bleak. “Are you saying I usually look tired?” He bit the inside of his cheek. This was far too close to flirting for comfort.

“No more than the rest of us. Perhaps I should try it next.”

"I have a feeling your mother wouldn't appreciate that." He thought of the terms he agreed to earlier. “Didn’t you hear? She’s meant to counsel me. I’d prefer her in good spirits.”

“True enough.” Thomas hesitated for a moment. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Alastair allowed himself to look up for one brief moment before looking back down. Thomas’ eyes were worried. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“No one blames you for what happened. I certainly don’t.”

He exhaled. “I don’t need your pity, Thomas. I don’t want it. Yours or anyone else’s. You hated me before this whole ordeal and you should still. I’ve done many terrible things, not just those under Belial’s influence. I deserve your disdain. The only reason you look at me differently now, the only reason any of you have given me a second glance is because you can finally see me for what I am: broken. So don’t come here offering me your pity and your kindness and your support when all you truly see me as is something to fix. I apologize for everything I’ve done, for all the ways I’ve hurt you, directly or not. Let us leave it at that. I know what I said in the warehouse, but-”

“You don’t need saving. You never did,” Thomas finished for him. “I know you feel vulnerable and exposed right now. You clung to this visage of cruelty and unfeeling as protection. Words were your armor, but it's fragile stuff, all show. It’s not what you’re made of. What’s underneath it, that’s adamas. Tougher than diamond, rare and beautiful, brave and resilient, utterly unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing.

“I know we’ve both made mistakes. I know you need time to heal. But I… I care for you, Alastair. I have for a long time, even when I was trying so hard to deny it. I don’t know which parts of the things you said were truthful and which were lies and I don’t need to. All I need to know is whether or not you’ll take me as your friend. Perhaps, one day, if we both so desire it, something more, but for now, I can think of nothing I want more than to be your friend.”

Alastair only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Thomas reached then, slowly, to cup his cheeks in his hands, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to. He did not. For a moment, he thought Thomas was going to lean in to kiss him, despite his insistence a few moments earlier that for the time being they would only be friends. Instead, he gently pulled Alastair’s head towards his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around him, strong and steady. In that moment, Alastair knew only one thing with complete certainty: he never wanted Thomas to let go.

* * *

Alastair didn’t know how long Thomas stayed, but at some point he fell asleep, and when he woke, Thomas was gone. He felt a pang in his chest at the realization. He selfishly, dangerously wanted him back beside him. He noticed a book beside his bed that he was certain was not there before. He opened it and found a short note inside. He recognized the handwriting before reading the signature: it was from Thomas. Alastair despised the warmth in his chest when he realized this, but mainly because he feared it.

I don’t know if you like poetry, but I enjoyed these. They comforted me when I felt alone, and I thought perhaps they could keep you company while you’re in the infirmary. -Tom

Flipping through it, he could see that it was a collection of poems, most in Farsi but a few in Arabic as well. He was certain he’d mocked Cordelia for reading the same poems at some point, back when he believed love to be cold and pointless. Perhaps what he believed was love was never truly love at all. Perhaps now he could attempt to find out.

He shut the book as he heard the door to the infirmary open. Sophie Lightwood appeared.

“Hello, Alastair. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” He shook his head. “Good. I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. That was entirely inappropriate of me.”

“It’s alright. You needed to know. You needed to be sure. I would have done the same thing.”

“I- That doesn’t make it right, but thank you for understanding.” She paused. “I thought it would be helpful to discuss our arrangement, as well as what you plan to tell your mother about what’s happened.”

Alastair had expected the first part, but his mother? “What?”

“I suspect you’ve not told her the truth, have you? Do you plan to?”

“I-” he swallowed anxiously. “Cordelia told her I got sent out of town.”

“Alastair, you’re not in any trouble. What you choose to tell her and not tell her is not mine to judge. I simply believe it would be helpful to be prepared.”

“We’re- we’re not supposed to cause her any extra stress because of the baby.”

“Do you wish to tell her the truth?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t want any more secrets.” He had enough of them to contend with.

“I think that’s wise. Your mother is strong, and so is the baby. If telling her the truth will help you, it will help her. I believe that more than anything, she wishes to know that you’re okay. There is just as much stress in secrecy as there is in truth.”

He thought for a moment. “How am I meant to explain this to her?” His voice broke as he spoke.

She considered it, sat down, and considered it some more. “I don’t know.”

“Why are you helping me? And don’t tell me it’s because you asked a single question during my interrogation.”

There was silence for a moment. “Alastair, Shadowhunters are people of scars. Many of them are sustained in battle, but not all of them are. Perhaps not even most. The way I see it, there are three types of people. There are those who see battle scars as the only true sign of wound, such as the Inquisitor. All else is merely a weakness in constitution. It is that belief that is built into Nephilim society, and it is the view that most hold.

“There are also those who understand that other types of scars exist, ones that are sustained at home, but they do not know that hurt personally, and they do not truly understand it. I see people like Will falling into this category.

“Finally, there are those of us who are not haunted by demons because we know that there is so much more to fear. We know that scars sustained outside of battle, both physical and not, often run much deeper than that of a demon’s claw. Those wounds cannot be healed by runes or magic. You cannot do it alone. I don’t know how much you know about my past, but when Charlotte found me, I was broken and alone. The Silent Brothers healed me physically, but the rest took time and support. It took many people who refused to turn their back on me, and I will not turn my back on you.”

“I… I don’t deserve it,” was all he could think to respond.

“Perhaps it is not something deserved, then, but simply something given.”

“In school, I spread terrible rumors about you, your husband, the Consul… I said-”

“I don’t care. Whatever you said, it doesn’t matter. I am an adult, Alastair. Whatever lies you repeated as a child don’t bother me. Your past doesn’t define you. It merely gives you a chance to be better, to learn.”

Alastair didn’t respond. He’d never thought of it from that perspective.

“I should go. You need time to rest. But consider what I’ve said, alright? I’ll be in touch again and we can arrange times to meet, perhaps over tea.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He hadn’t meant to say it, he wasn’t even entirely certain what he was grateful for, but he knew the words were true.

She gave him a small smile. “Take care, Alastair.”

thanks so much for reading! taglist: @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @shadowrunner2000 @writeforjordelia @jurdan-my-beloved

#alastair carstairs #thomastair week #thomas lightwood #sophie collins #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #therapist!sophie is where it's at #cw suicide #all gone fic

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hayleyb100 · 4 years ago

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The Ribbon, Part 2

Part 1

❗️ Notes

-TRIGGERS INCLUDED: SCHOOL BULLYING AND ANGST WITH FAMILY -This is a dedicated story of the swap version of my OC Richard(Father of Raihan) and his granddaughter, the shipchild of Leon and Raihan called Ari. -The character Ari belongs to @weclownstoday. Huge appreciations for letting me add her to the story!

An uncomfortable silence filled the whole room. Richard saw the girl scanning him from top to bottom, just like how he is doing the same. Without the girl having to explain, Richard could feel in his intuition that she is his granddaughter. She had the purple hair that looks so familiar to him: The unique hair color of the Former Champion of Galar, who got married to his son Raihan. It was on the news headline for years. On top of that, she also had the peculiar turquoise-colored eyes that are passed down in his Pendragon family.

As Richard's face frowned more from trying to investigate who the girl is, she fiddled with her wooden doll nervously. Richard's dragon glare is already scary as it is, so it was far worse for a child who is left alone with a stranger.

"Who are you?" why, that is such a sweet first question for a child.

"......." she only stared back at Richard, grabbing the doll closer.

"......." Richard stared her back, making the atmosphere even more awkward.

The girl finally made a move other than fiddling her doll. She hesitantly put her hand in a pocket, pulled out a slightly crumpled paper, and gave it to Richard.

Richard was pleading his intuition was wrong. A child that resembles him standing in front of a stranger's home in the middle of the night alone with a note to give him? It was obvious but he wished his intuition was wrong and silly for once. But his intuition was written precisely on the paper. Familiar handwriting of his son-in-law, the Champion, he sees as a Gym Leader was there. It claimed they can't care for the child anymore and sending her for his care.

That short message pushed Richard to the whole chaos of emotions. He first got extremely upset for them deciding this without a word of discussion with him. He was also confused on how to explain this situation to the child since it was obvious they didn't explain this to the child. There was no way a child can be so calm and collected when their parents dumped her in front of a stranger's door. Another wave of rage overwhelmed as Richard realized those two irresponsible parents tossed the hard part of the explanation to him. It was even more difficult since, it may sound ridiculous, but he didn't even know about his granddaughter's existence.

'What a beautiful first encounter for sure,' thought Richard.

'Normally, I expect this kind of the first encounter in the maternity ward, right after their birth, or at least right after they are discharged from the hospital.'

He inhaled deeply, asked the girl to stay here while he went to call alone in the room. The number he desperately wanted to call for decades but honestly scared not to.

"Hello?" a familiar woman's voice came.

"...Aliyah."

"Richard..." an awkward silence filled the whole atmosphere.

"Did she arrive there well?"

Richard sneered to suppress rage.

"So, the first thing you ask from getting a call from your ex-husband after decades is how is your abandoned granddaughter?" a clear snap with rage. Richard couldn't help it.

"It would have been nice of you to at least told me of her existence before doing something so reckless. What is all this?"

"Richard, please don't say that... We didn't have a choice."

"Oh? I heard the Chairman, your father, passed away three years ago. So who ordered you to do this now? Are you still the same old woman who can't decide anything on your own?"

"......." after a brief silence, Richard hears someone snatching the phone.

"Hello?"

Richard's heart drops, as the voice pierces into his ears and tears his heart in two.

"...Raihan."

"I'm surprised you remember my name, considering you abandoned me for your career as a Gym Leader."

Richard was lost for words.

"Is that what your mother told you?" even at Richard's shaky voice, Raihan interrupted.

"Doesn't matter who says what now, is it? You abandoned me, and that's the only fact here."

Richard falls into silence since it's true. No matter if it was his shitty father-in-law who threatened him, his wife wasn't cooperative, and the world turning a cold shoulder, he DID leave his son behind.

"Well? You did me wrong, so at least take care of my mistake."

"...Please do not tell me that you just addressed your daughter as a mistake."

"What? It's what you think of me, so can't I say the same? It's what I learned from you."

NO, RAIHAN, NO!! Richard nearly screamed, but something stopped him.

"I don't even know if I'll ever forgive you for caring about my mistake, but eh... Whatever." with that as of last, the long-overdue phone call ends.

Richard couldn't breathe from the pain. He thought he did what was right to protect his son, but he is now engraved in his son's heart as a horrible father and the butterfly effect from that is about to tear his grandchild's life apart. He started to question all his decisions and motives. His life is about to crumble down. But the grimmest thing of all is that he isn't even allowed to do that. He knew that girl needs a caretaker and there is no way he'll send her away somewhere else. Not after what happened to him and his son.

He stroked his face to calm down and went out to the living room where his granddaughter is.

________________________________

She was still fiddling her doll, showing a clear sign of anxiety. Richard took a sharp inhale and called her.

"Umm... Your name is?"

"Ari..." she said shortly, looking down at her tip of the toes.

"I see... Greetings. My name is Richard Pendragon."

He was as anxious as the girl, since judging from Raihan's attitude, it was obvious how Aliyah and his son described him to his daughter.

"...Ari. Please listen to me carefully." another inhale.

"From today onward, I will take care of you. You are staying here with me, your grandfather. Alright?"

Richard thought it would be better for Ari's sake to open everything up before she finds out everything later and gets more pain.

"O... Okay..." Ari said nervously. "For how long?"

Richard's throat got blocked with intense torment. How can he dare to just bluntly answer 'forever' when she has no idea that her parents abandoned her and she is solely believing her parents would get her later?

"For... as long as we have to." Richard ended up giving a vague answer where he didn't lie but wasn't clear either.

Richard had no idea what to do with a little girl, so he started by shopping the stuff for her like clothes and children's books. She came with a suitcase of clothes but that was not enough. He didn't know what's popular among girls these days so he bought a pink ribbon as an accessory.

Ari had no idea why her grandpa was buying so many clothes when she's just going to stay for a couple of days until her dads come to get her. But since she heard all the horrible and scary things about her grandpa from her father, she just listened and followed him around without arguing. Sooner or later, the old storage room next to Richard's room turned into a lovely room for a little girl. Ari still was in wonder, but just watched how things go. She realized her grandpa wasn't too awful like her father described. He cooked some delicious food for all three meals and although clumsy, he tried his best to tie her hair and dress her. He also registered her to the local trainer's school to get appropriate lessons.

But that's when Ari started to feel something's wrong.

If dad is coming to get her soon, why would her grandpa register her to a school?

________________________________

She still was in denial until days turned into months and months turned into years without any contact from her parents.

"Umm, s, sir?" Ari nervously called him.

"Yes, Ari?"

"Can I call my father?"

"............."

Richard hesitated. But in his head, he knew the answer. He can't hoard a secret like this. Look how keeping that secret from his son ruined the relationship between him and his son.

"Ari, umm... Your father will not come for you. Do you remember I said you will have to stay here as long as you have to? It means..." Richard just couldn't continue. The pain came back at his granddaughter's frowning face.

"N- no!" Ari shook her head in denial. But deep within, she already knows what her grandpa is telling her is true. She tumbled on the floor and started wailing.

"Dad! Father! I'm sorry, I won't be naughty again! Please come and get me!"

Ari's helpless tears brought Richard down to his knees too. He was so sorry for her, thinking everything that happened is because of his foolish choice.

#gym leader richard #lady aliyah #pokemon ari #pokemon OC #Pokemon AU #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #ceo raihan

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

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(Accidental 150 Follower Special) IOTA's Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (Part 1)

If you saw one of my earlier posts, an anon asked what my favorite and least favorite episodes of Miraculous Ladybug were. So, I decided to make a little list explaining the best and worst this show has to offer.

A few quick ground rules here. I'm not going to list any episodes I had previously talked about in some of my other posts. This includes “Kung Food”, “Animaestro”, “Syren”, “Reflekdoll”, “Chameleon”, and most of the episodes relating to Chloe's “damnation arc” that Astruc planned since he first created the character (“Despair Bear”, “Queen Wasp”, “Malediktator” and “Battle of the Miraculous”). Also, I'm not counting the specials, mainly because aren't listed as episodes, and because I don't want to talk about them.

Other than that, anything goes, so let's get things started with the worst list.

These are the Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (in my personal opinion because your opinion is also valid)

#10: Stormy Weather 2

“Stormy Weather” was the very first episode of the show, and it really made a good impression on new viewers. So naturally, when it was announced that Stormy Weather would return, fans were excited. Then when the episode aired, Hawkmoth gave her even more powers, including the power to create a volcano big enough to potentially knock the planet out of orbit when it erupts. So Ladybug and Cat Noir have no choice but to stop the villain once again.

What does this plot lead to?

youtube

Yep, this episode is nothing more than a clip show. I understand that clip shows and bottle episodes are a necessary evil, but why would you set up something this awesome with a fan-favorite Akuma like Stormy Weather, and then not even bother to show it?

This episode is yet another attempt at showing that the show totally has character development. The whole reason Aurore is Akumatized into Stormy Weather again is because Chloe says that people can't change because Astruc (who was one of the four people writing this episode) is determined to make you hate this teenage girl more than the main villain of the show.

So of course, everyone spends most of the episode talking about how much they've changed, which is represented through clips of past episodes that do a horrible job at actually conveying any development.

According to Marinette, Adrien has “become a friend she can talk to about anything, except when it comes to her feelings for him”. Ah yes, you can tell they're friends by the fact that they barely hang out together, much less share a conversation because the writers are going to drag out the whole “Marinette stammering in front of Adrien” until they get tired of it. So basically, never.

All Alya and Nino talk about is how Ladybug helped them become a couple, and become superheroes, even though neither of those are actually related to character development. Though that is a fitting metaphor for the way both of their personalities have basically devolved to “the couple”.

Chloe talks about how nicer she's gotten, while footage of her doing awful things is played. I wonder who wrote that part in...

Even Ladybug and Cat Noir talk about how much they've grown and how stronger they've gotten, as opposed to focusing on STOPPING ANOTHER ICE AGE FROM HAPPENING. How can Hawkmoth even think this will get him the Miraculous? Yeah, sure I guess he can get them from the frozen corpses of our heroes, but what then? He still doomed humanity, and I don't think he can reverse the damage like Ladybug.

Towards the end, the clip show becomes slightly interesting, as Adrien mentions an unsigned card he got for Valentine's Day in “Dark Cupid”, and how similar the handwriting looks to Marinette's.

Does this lead to Adrien figuring out Marinette has feelings for him? Is the sky bright red? Both of these questions have the same answer.

Yeah, out of nowhere, Adrien just mentions Luka, who wasn't mentioned at all in this episode, and immediately thinks Marinette is in love with him. And that's how the episode ends.

I put this at the bottom of the list because I don't think it's completely fair to judge clip shows, but even some clip shows at least try to put in some effort and justify the clips, like what The Legend of Korra and some seasons of Power Rangers did. And the fact that the whole point of the episode is a poor excuse to claim that there's character development in the show only makes it even more infuriating.

Oh my God, this is only Number 10...

#9: Oblivio

While I already talked about “Cat Blanc”, this episode shares a similar theme as that episode: Giving viewers what they've wanted for three seasons, Marinette and Adrien finally learning each other's identity and starting a romantic relationship... only for the reset button to be once again slammed, making the entire episode pointless.

The only difference is that unlike in “Cat Blanc”, where there was an actual love confession that made sense, here, Marinette and Adrien find out the other's identity when they get their memories wiped by the Akuma of the week, Oblivio.

From then on, it's just fanservice. Instead of actually developing the relationship between Marinette and Adrien, the writers just decide to cram an entire episode worth of Adrienette content into a single episode just to tide fans over. Marinette and Adrien seriously fall in love despite only knowing each other for like, an hour at most. And the fact that the writers undo all the romantic progress of the episode makes it come across as pointless.

But the ending is what really cements this episode's spot on the list. As soon as Oblivio is defeated, Alya takes a picture of Ladybug and Cat Noir kissing without their consent and then rubs it in Ladybug's face.

Even though Ladybug doesn't know the circumstances (she has no memory of the events of the episode), this was still an invasion of her privacy, and she looks horrified by the picture that Alya is obviously going to post on her blog.

And of course, Cat Noir is more than happy to see it, ignoring how Ladybug feels and claims that they'd make a great couple. Because everyone knows good couples are formed by someone gaslighting the other into going out with them.

But wait, it gets better! In the next scene, we learn that Alya and Nino were akumatized into Oblivio... because they were caught in an embarrassing situation by their peers.

Alya: Remember when we visited Montparnasse Tower? Well, we went and hid to play Super Penguino, but Ms. Bustier caught us, and...

Nino: And you guys made fun of us for playing that game, saying it wasn't our age and all.

Alya: We were totally embarrassed at getting caught.

This was my thought process when I first heard Alya and Nino's explanation.

youtube

How can Alya claim to take a compromising picture of Ladybug, ignore how she feels, and not realize the similarity from when she and Nino were akumatized? This is what completely killed Alya for me in canon. This was the point where I couldn't care less if Marinette was friends with her or not. Sure, there are still fanfics, but those actually portray her with some kind of conscious. So to summarize, Fanon Alya is awesome, but I hope Canon Alya's 4G plan runs out.

This episode is just forgettable, but the ending made things worse. Apart from, I guess the action scenes and some funny jokes, this episode has no redeeming qualities. Like, literally the best thing to come from this episode was @miraculouscontent‘s LadyBugOut AU, as it actually addressed the hypocrisy of Alya's character, among other problematic aspects of the show.

#8: Oni-Chan

Just a heads up, most of the episodes on this list are from Season 3. Just want to give you an idea of what to expect.

This episode is about Lila tricking Adrien into helping with her homework, when she is only doing it to get closer to Adrien. Marinette tries to spy on the two and stop Lila from hurting Adrien... even though she knows Adrien is aware that Lila is a liar, and is visibly uncomfortable around her.

And because the episode spends so much time on Marinette following Adrien and Lila, the buildup to Kagami getting akumatized is incredibly rushed. Seriously, she gets a single line of dialogue before she gets akumatized, and the motive is ridiculous too. Lila sends a picture of her forcing a kiss on Adrien, and Kagami immediately bursts into tears at the sight of it.

But wait, it gets better! When Kagami is akumatized into Oni-Chan (the writers know that's a term used for males in Japan, right?), she turns into a psycho hellbent on killing Lila because “Adrien doesn't deserve her”. Most of her dialogue is her saying how much she loves Adrien, making her come across as, for lack of a better word, a yandere.

This episode just destroys Kagami's character, making her as unlikable as Katie Killjoy in the process. If it wasn't for “Ikari Gozen” actually treating her like a human being (obviously Astruc's planned character development from the beginning), I'd completely hate her.

It also shows how much of an evil genius Lila is, as she has the brilliant idea to convince Oni-Chan to kill the only person capable of saving her from the Akuma's wrath. And this somehow gives Hawkmoth the idea to forge an alliance with Lila. It's also another reason why I believe in Darwinism.

This episode is low on the list because it does have a few redeeming qualities, like Lila facing consequences for lying, however brief they may be, and it has a great character moment with Adrien realizing on his own how terrible Lila really is, a far cry from what he was like in “Chameleon”.

Other than that, it's pretty bad, and still deserves a spot on this list.

#7: Antibug

HA! I said MOST of the episodes involving Chloe's “Damnation Arc” wouldn't be on this list, but not ALL OF THEM, so this one counts! Take that, convoluted rules I made up for some reason!

What was I talking about again? Oh right, “Antibug”. Oh crap, “Antibug”...

This is one of of several episodes in Miraculous Ladybug that really should have been a two-parter. It tries to be daring and includes two Akumas in one episode, but both of them are poorly executed.

An invisibly entity starts harassing Chloe, so Ladybug and Cat Noir start an investigation. It turns out to be Chloe's lackey Sabrina, who was akumatized after a falling out between the two. Well, I say “falling out” lightly, because what actually happened was that Chloe and Sabrina were cosplaying as Ladybug and Cat Noir, Chloe pretended to be the real deal while crashing an interview with Jagged Stone before Sabrina accidentally blew her cover, causing Chloe to be humiliated on TV and end her “friendship” with Sabrina.

Ladybug learns this from Chloe's butler, while Chloe never mentions the incident. So when Ladybug and Cat Noir engage the Akuma, Ladybug ignores Chloe's advice on where the corrupted object, naturally not trusting her judgment. And this is portrayed as a bad thing.

This episode is the start of a long-running trend in Miraculous Ladybug: Marinette needing to learn a lesson, while Adrien/Cat Noir is the one to help teach that lesson.

Chloe did nothing to help, only made things worse, and lied about why Sabrina got akumatized. It's kind of obvious why Ladybug wouldn't trust her word. The whole point of The Boy Who Cried Wolf wasn't to trust the liar after all.

But if that was all the episode did, it wouldn't be on the list, because now, the narrative wants to make the audience feel bad for Chloe before she gets akumatized into Antibug... who is just a lazy palette swap because new character models are expensive.

This part of the episode isn't nearly as bad as the first half, but like “Oni-Chan”, Chloe's akumatization is incredibly rushed, and we don't really get a chance to sympathize with her before she goes full Antibug.

Even Antibug herself isn't that interesting of a villain. The whole idea of an evil doppelganger is that they're a perfect match for the hero, but we only see Ladybug and Antibug fight for a few seconds, while Cat Noir does most of the fighting with her while Marinette's Kwami recharges. I like that Ladybug and Cat Noir show their teamwork to defeat Antibug, but I feel it would have been more interesting to see Ladybug and Antibug duke it out before Cat Noir helps turn the tide.

Again, this episode really needed to be a two-parter to better expand on the story presented here, because it had a really interesting premise. I'd personally read the version of “Antibug” in @justanotherpersonsuniverse‘s “The Adventures of Panthera Noire” (an AU fanfic where shy girl Juleka gets the Cat Miraculous instead of Adrien). Not only does it have two separate chapters for Vanisher and Antibug, it also does a good job of setting Chloe on an actual redemption arc, unlike Astruc's “damnation arc”.

#6: The Puppeteer 2

As much as I've ragged on Adrien/Cat Noir in some of my other posts (and will continue to do so in this list), that doesn't mean I think Marinette has problems too, and this episode is a prime example.

Marinette and Adrien go to a wax statue museum with their friends (and Manon), but because of a poor choice of words by Nino, Adrien thinks that Marinette hates him. So he does something that everyone loves, practical jokes.

Adrien seriously thinks that pranking Marinette will improve her opinion of him. Even the prank is ridiculous, pretending to be a wax statue to make her laugh. And it leads to... Oh God... This is easily the contender for one of the worst moments in the entire show. Marinette goes up to the statue and... gets close to it. Yes, we, the audience know that this isn't a statue, but putting that aside, just look at what Marinette does to the “statue” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I made a gif from the episode, but it wouldn’t go through, so I recommend you check out the episode and watch the statue scene for yourself if you don’t value your sanity). Even Adrien, as dense as he can be, is a little unsettled by what Marinette does.

If the scene was about Marinette talking about her feelings for Adrien, I'd be more lenient on it, but this? This is just uncomfortable to watch.

Even the dialogue makes Marinette sound incredibly creepy.

Marinette: Wow... it looks so... real. The wax is nearly as hot as skin. It even smells exactly like him...! Oh, beautiful statue of Adrien, your wax is so soft! Your yak hair is silky. Your eyes are so green. Oh, shall I be a statue, too! Everything would be so much easier. Why haven't we been molded together in the plaster of destiny? Marble to marble, wax lips against wax lips, entwined for eternity...

I think Gilbert Gottfried said it best.

youtube

This scene alone put this episode on the list, and the Akuma doesn't make it better. I really liked “The Puppeteer”, and I thought her ability to control past Akuma victims was incredibly fun to watch. And when she returns to take control of the wax statues of past Akumas they... don't use their powers (with the exception), and serve as cannon fodder for Ladybug and Cat Noir to plow through, making the return of the villain very underwhelming.

Even the end where Adrien tells Marinette that he is in love with someone and only sees her as a friend. This should devastate Marinette, but in the next scene, thanks to some fortune cookie nonsense from Tikki, she's still unsure about her relationship with Adrien, and that's how the episode ends. Seriously. Because just need to keep the status quo consistent, right? It's not like Marinette doubting her crush on Adrien and worrying that she's just wasted her time would have been interesting to see, right? Play that happy ending theme already!

Of all the episodes on this list, this is the one I was dreading talking about the most because of some of the moments here. And yet, there are still episodes that are worse than this one...

Here’s Part 2

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randomingoftherandomness · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart

A/N: Modern!AU, Soulmate!AU, Soul Mark!AU, Angst, OT3.

This is quite honestly one of the longest things I’ve ever done in one sitting. I am exhausted. My prose and tenses are probably everywhere and I am so sorry for it. Enjoy x

(Edit 20/1/2021) It has recently come to my attention that lies and slander have been spread about my character amongst persons in this OT3 community. They are malicious lies made with the intent to cast a shadow over my credibility and my good standing in this community. I only ask that you come talk to me first before you believe the horrible things that have been levelled about me.

Please take care of yourselves x

Booker smiles placidly when he catches Joe's eye from across the room and let's the pretenses drop the moment he ducks out into hallway, finding a spot of quiet from all the music and chatter of celebration in the living room. He really should be happy but as it is with heartbreaks, happiness is something you can only fake until it feels real.

He opens the door when the doorbell rings and kisses the cheeks of the latecomers in greeting. They awkwardly avoid his eye with shifty smiles as they shuffle past him. Booker doesn't blame them. It's an awkward fucking situation all around.

Joe's warm and happy laughter carries through the air, and Booker just feels his heart twist in his chest. The sight of his head of curls bobbing along in the joy of whatever joke one of their friends was making while his arm was slung intimately low around Nicky's waist was unbearable. Booker has enough self-respect in him to recognise it as jealousy.

He has been in love with his best friend for almost as long as he has known him. It had been ridiculously easy for them; Joe had no soul marks and neither had Booker, so it was the most natural thing to move in together after they'd both hit 33 and when Booker decided to offer his fine art restorer skills up to go freelance, they make plans to spend the rest of their lives together. It made sense and they were happy. Booker had had no intentions of ever letting Joe know how he had truly felt and that was the mistake.

It isn't that he dislikes Nicky.

The man was beyond perfect and Booker could have never hoped to compare. From the briefest of familiarities, he knows that Nicky was a former theology student who left the seminary and is now deep in his work with a local NGO, well on his way to maybe working for the UN some day. He volunteers at a local shelter, helps at his church's soup kitchen, is handsome and funny, is a fucking Saint personified and looks great next to Joe when Booker looks like a twice drowned rat on his best day. It isn't that he hates the man. It's just that, well, Nicky isn't him.

Booker knew something had changed then. Joe had never looked at him the way he had when his and Nicky's eyes first met. And he knows Joe like he knows his own mind and there won't be any one as trusting or as kind. If he tells him he loves him, Joe would stay and he'd be Booker's, but that's not how love works and so he waits until the day they're both on the sofa watching a game and Joe turns to him to say, "Nicky's my soulmate."

Just like that. And because he could never hurt Joe, he smiles, nodding. "I figured he was. Congratulations man. That's amazing!"

There had been an indescribable look that crossed Joe's face when he said that but he hadn't lingered on it for too long. Joe's soul mark was on his left forearm set in stark, bold lines; a scimitar and a longsword threaded together with roses and thorns. Pretty cool and Booker made sure to tell him so.

That had been three months ago. Three months of waiting for the other shoe to drop, the inevitable moment when Joe says he's gonna move out and into Nicky's unit. For the second it hits his best friend that there really wasn't a place for someone like him in this equation. Two months of sitting around until he wraps up his current contract with the museum in the city and the curator takes him aside to ask him if he would be interested in working for a private collector in Turkey. Two years to work on a team of freelancers. Two years on the other side of the continent. Booker said yes with no hesitation.

"Hey, you good?"

Booker knocks his bottle of beer to Copley's. He is one of the newer persons to join their friend group but it feels like they've know each other for a very long time. His warm smile anchors Booker to the here and now and he is stupidly grateful for his presence. The man was steadfast and calm, and it made sense to Booker that he'd be the only one he told about his leaving. "Yeah. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

He'd snuck a duffle bag of his things out to Copley's house the day before and then two suitcases when Joe was over at Nicky's last night. Right before the party to celebrate Joe's birthday, he had brought his carry on out to Copley's car. His name was still on the lease and he has left instructions to help pay for his part of the rent until the end of the year if Joe would like to continue staying here. Copley will help ship the rest of his things after a month. All that's left to do is leave.

Joe had been looking forward to introducing Nicky to his family and friends, and this party was perfect for it. Booker feels bereft at the thought that this could be the last time he sees him in a long while and he cranes his neck to spy him in the center of the room, accepting a kiss from Nicky as the birthday cake is brought out from the kitchen. He holds that image of Joe, smiling from ear to ear and hopes he won't hate him too much for leaving without saying goodbye.

"Let's go."

His Turkish is passable at best but he gets by well enough. The rest of the restoration team were up and coming names mixed with pioneers in the field and despite the lingering heart ache, Booker finds himself pleasantly settled and happy with the work he gets to do. Everyone seems to be equally as excited as he is to be working on their employer's personal collection of paintings and sculptures, in addition to the rare books that Booker has never seen outside of museums and archives.

It's good work and it keeps him busy. It stops him from thinking about Joe too much.

Booker had found thirteen missed calls and twenty texts and ten voicemails when he lands. He hesitates only for a moment before deleting everything that wasn't from Copley or his work.

As if sensing he was being summoned by thought, his phone rings as he basks in the afternoon sunshine whilst reading a book on his off day, Copley's name flashes on his screen.

"You still alive, then?"

"Alive and kicking," Copley says over the line with a laugh. "I swear, Joe is going to eviscerate me one of these days."

Booker shakes his head, marking his page and setting his book aside. The sunlight feels good on his skin and he takes a deep lungful of air. "He won't. He's way too nice."

"You didn't see him glare when I packed the last of your things into the boxes. They're shipped, by the way. Should reach you in a week tops."

"Thanks. I owe you big time."

"Oh, you owe me more than big time. When I come over to visit, I want you pulling out all the stops for me. I want the five star experience, Mr Booker. No expense spared," Copley chuckles.

"Alright, alright," Booker laughs. "I'm sure I can rustle something up. Just let me know when, alright?"

Copley hums and they fall into a comfortable pause. "How are you? Really. Don't lie."

He tightens his grip on his phone, swallowing tightly. "I miss him every day but that's not new. I think I'll keep missing him for a while yet."

"That's normal. I'm not surprised. I think he misses you too, you know?"

"He has Nicky now. He doesn't need me. I'm... I'm just his best friend with a stupid crush that had made plans to spend the rest of my life with him. I don't fit in it any more and he deserves more than I could ever give him," He swallow tightly, licking his lips. "Copley, he'll be okay."

"But will you?"

Booker doesn't have an answer to that. When his things arrive a week and a half later, he accepts it and begins to unpack his books. He's grateful to have his familiar favourites and is eager to fill his shelves when he spots the edges of an envelope peeking out of a battered copy of Neruda. It was a letter and it was addressed to him, though the handwriting is unfamiliar to him.

Dear Sebastien, it starts and this clues him in that this person isn't someone who knows him well. No one outside of his employers and colleagues call him Sebastien.

I hope you don't mind. I'll be slipping this along with the books. I really do hope it finds you well. I don't have your number and judging by the way Joe seems to not receive a reply from you, you might have changed it. I would ask it from Copley but I do not know him well enough and you deserve someone you can speak to without any awkwardness. I write this letter because I want to know you better. It occurred to me that we have never exchanged more than a handful of words whenever we meet and it was always about Joe. I found myself curious about you even if it feels like I know you from all that Joe talks about you. He still talks about you. Even if it is in confusion as to why you left us. I don't write to judge you. I just want to be your friend. If you are amenable, please send your reply to me care of the address on the back of this paper. I hope that you do. I won't tell Joe if you don't want me to.

Sincerely, Nicky.

Booker flips the paper and sees that it's for the church he'd half-remembered being the one that Joe had mentioned off-handedly once. He rereads the words, thrown by the whole thing. He tucks it into his pocket, pushing it to the back of his mind as he focuses on unpacking his life. But the shape of it digs against his skin and he cannot help unfolding it every few minutes to read it all over again.

Each word was carefully pressed and written with intent. He finds his thumb brushing over the looping Joe, but it is the careful He still talks about you that decides things for him.

Scratching his chest absently, he tears out an empty page from his notebook as writes, If we're going to be friends, you'd better call me Booker.

The seasons change and his correspondence with Nicky grows from a weekly letter to every few days, to Booker posting a letter only to receive a reply for the one he sent two days ago when he arrives back in his flat. Booker takes to sending a box of baklava over an overnight service and Nicky sends him a handwritten recipe for his Nonna's tomato soup when Booker off-handedly mentions a sniffle.

Eventually it gets easier to talk about Joe and Booker tells Nicky on what he likes and what he doesn't, how to best care for him; he's allergic to a certain brand of detergent, he always forgets his scarf in the depths of winter so always stuff one in his coat pocket, he loves it when you caress his hair, he doesn't support any team in football but he loves watching a game and he always chooses the team that starts on the right side of the pitch, ask his mother for her recipe for lamb stew and make that for him when he's having a busy week.

Nicky never seems to be bothered by him telling him all these things and in turn, Booker learns that Nicky cannot function before his first cup of coffee, that he misses the quiet of his life in the seminary but he is glad he can do more as he is, that he has a few kids that he works with that he is hoping will get into gifted programmes that can help them excel in academia, that if he hadn't done the almost priest route, he would have been a doctor or a medic.

It was ridiculously effortless to be friends with Nicky and he finds himself actually looking forward to his letters and random bits and bobs in the mail. Sometimes Nicky sends Booker Joe’s sketches and he keeps them up on his bedside, keeping them in sight as he falls asleep at night. Other times there’s a picture or two, taken by Nicky, of Joe. Joe on the corner of the sofa, curled up and dozing, Joe eyes crinkling as he laughs at something. Joe with those ridiculous sunglasses they bought on a whim over a very wet Welsh afternoon.

As the first chill of the season sets in, Booker asks about Joe.

He's fine. Missing you. We're heading to his family's beach house. He said you both used to go together?

Booker finds that he can smile a little easier when the memories come or when it is brought up that Joe misses him. It still tastes a little bittersweet but he can be happy about how he had the chance to experience these things with Joe. Even if he hadn't been the one to keep having them.

Yes. He writes, But you both can do this together now. Make sure you pack extra blankets for yourself. I'm sure you know that he hogs them.

Nicky replies with a box of Marks and Spencer Welsh Cakes which Booker thanks with an assortment of Turkish Delights.

Their correspondence slows as the weather cools further. Copley, when he tells him about what’s happening over Skype, merely asks him if it i a good idea to be even putting himself in the same sphere as Joe and Nicky when he had moved across the continent just to get away from the heartbreak.

“I don’t see how it couldn’t be,” Booker says over the sizzling of the butter as he makes the cheese toasties that Joe used to love for breakfasts. He scratches at his chest, eyes watching the way the cheese oozes off its side.

“Mate, I don’t think you’re far removed enough to actually know how catastrophic this could be.”

“O ye, of little faith,” Booker huffs, flipping the toastie. “At some point I would like to be able to exist in the same city as him without melting into a puddle of heartbreak. If being friends with his soulmate helps get me there, I’m all for it.”

“You are a masochist, Mr Booker.”

Booker laughs even as he burns his finger on the pan.

He works harder than ever, learning and improving his own techniques under the tutelage of his colleagues and can appreciate the opportunity. There's already talks of him going to New York after the New Year's to accompany some of the artifacts that are being lent out for display. Booker is climbing the stairs up to his building, head down, free hand rubbing at his chest and reading through the latest methods of restoration on his phone when he bumps into a person rushing down.

“Oh, sorry--”

“Booker.”

Joe’s eyes are big and wide when their gazes meet. Booker blinks, breathes in deep before looking behind him to see Nicky watching them from his landing, exhaling shakily as he whispers, deep and with feeling, “What the fuck are you guys doing here?”

Nicky nurses his cup of tea from his lean against the window and deftly avoids the inquiring glare Booker keeps sending his way from the safety of the kitchen. Joe, on the other hand, is carefully prowling the space of his studio flat he has made home, obviously cataloguing the way his books sit on the shelf and the way he has kept the space marginally clean-ish, how there are pictures and sketches tacked to the wall behind the dining table, the clear signs of a life he has built here.

“Let me get this straight, you picked up Nicky’s mail from the church, saw my handwriting, and decided to come all the way to Turkey. Just to see me,” Booker says, gesturing at their backpacks leaning against his door. “Again, let me ask, why?”

“Why?” Joe laughs, throat clicking when the sound comes out rough and raw. “You ask me why I would fly out to Turkey in the middle of the holiday season just to see my best friend who left me without telling me he got a job in Turkey and was going to leave without even so much as a goodbye, and you are asking me why I would come all the way out here just to chase you down? Are you perhaps short of a marble!”

“And what was I supposed to do! Linger around you when I was dying every single time I looked at you and knew I wasn’t your soulmate? We were going to spend our lives together, Joe! I loved you!”

Booker slaps his hand over his mouth and turns away, focusing on his breathing. “You love me?” Joe says softly in the stillness of the flat.

“I did. I do and I’m sorry,” He sighs, feeling his chest shake with his trembling breath. He presses the heel of his hand to his sternum. “I do. And it’s okay, Joe. I know you don’t love me in that way. It’s okay. I just need some time away to figure out how to love you like you need me to.”

“And what do you know about what I need from you?”

Booker feels Joe come close and allows himself to be turned around to be face to face with him. “Do you know I love you too?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back a hand. “I’m your best friend.”

Nicky choose this moment to speak. “Booker, look at him and listen. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you in our letters. “

There’s an insistence in Nicky’s gaze that galvanises Booker to turn to Joe and meet his eyes head on. “I love you, Book. I always did. I still do. Even after the bullshit you’ve put me through.”

“But Nicky--” “Nicky’s my soulmate and I love him too.” Joe smiles, eyes gone liquor soft when Nicky returns his fond look. “But I’ve loved you for the longest time, Book. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The itch on his chest starts to burn.

“And you’re alright with this?” Booker breathlessly asks Nicky, taking a step back. “This- This whole Love, Actually thing is a situation you’re okay with?”

“Yes,” Nicky says, standing to cross the distance between them. Joe reaches for him then, tenderly touching him by the elbow while Nicky slides a hand to his cheeks and Booker feels immediately overwhelmed. He parts his mouth to speak when he doubles over dropping to his knees when the fire spreading over the skin on his chest sends him to his knees gasping for air.

Joe keeps a hold on him while Nicky looks him over with clear worry. “Fuck!” Booker groans, trying to arch away. Clawing at his shirt, he tears at it until the buttons plink on the floor as they fall. For a moment, he does not register the dark lines that spread over his sternum. Running shaking fingers over his raw skin, Booker barely holds back the awed gasp at the scimitar and longsword twined together with thorns and roses.

“Well,” Nicky laughs softly, cupping him by the side of the head, sweeping him into a gentle kiss. In that second that their lips touch, Booker feels his heartbeat skip a notch. “I guess this answers things, doesn’t it?”

-- Epilogue --

“That’s the last of the boxes.”

Joe kicks the door shut behind him, dropping the bags in his hands to the floor, ignoring the evil eye sent his way by Nicky who had warned them against scuffing up the hardwood floors. Booker throws himself onto the sofa with a sigh and Joe, grinning like a maniac, does a running start before launching himself onto Booker.

“Oof!” And then after a beat and a wiggle. “Joe, you’re suffocating me and I can feel your dick against my ass.”

They’ve finally moved into their first home together. It had taken a bit more effort after Turkey to keep their fledgling relationship going but all’s well, ends well and Booker is back with them after finishing up his contract with glowing recommendations and growing his contact list. Joe was ridiculously proud and he knows Nicky feels the same too.

They’ll need to work hard over the next two days to spruce the place up in time for their housewarming. Their friends and families will be here and Joe cannot wait to show off his loves. Wrapping his arms around Nicky and pulling him along back to the sofa where Booker is, he basks in the happy warmth of feeling whole with his heart in one piece.

#joe x booker x nicky #booker x joe x nicky #joe x nicky x booker #the old guard fic #gab writes stuff #please dear god give me wisdom to never do this again #this was too long and i am FUCKING EXHAUSTED #I am going to bed

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justjessame · 4 years ago

Text

Starting Over Chapter 20

While I waited for more pineapples, which came here and there, I got refamiliarized with the feel of a camera in my hand. Not a cellphone, but a real camera. Connie had been right, there was a list of names, in Mom’s handwriting because clearly Dad had asked her to write them out so I wouldn’t have to decipher his chicken scratch, with notes and contact information.

I didn’t watch the news. Call me a coward, but honestly, I was afraid I’d see Bucky’s face - marked as a terrorist or worse - and my anxiety would ratchet beyond anything a tiny pineapple would ever hope to diffuse.

I read the notes Mom had made next to each contact Dad had made - what each person had wanted from me before I called or emailed, the likelihood they would be helpful in the path my Dad seemed more certain of than me. Some wanted a portfolio to grade, or judge, before they would speak to me by phone - digital would be fine. Others wanted actual prints, and a list of the sizes, finishes, and subjects they expected were included along with how they expected those prints to be presented. There were a few that wanted to speak to me first, an appointment and a face to face meeting to see if I was a good fit to apprentice with them or if I would even work well with the image the gallery they worked with expected.

It was overwhelming, but I felt excited by it. More excited than I had felt during the resume padding and the multiple visits to the similar, yet slightly different job search sites online where I was ONLY that resume among thousands of other resumes.

I decided that I would contact the names that wanted nothing more than a call or an appointment first, since those required nothing more than my person and my voice. The options that required portfolios and prints I could work on while I waited for the face to face appointment times. I started making a list of all the places and subjects that I wanted to shoot. Wishing that Bucky was home, because those sharp angles of his face would look amazing in any light.

I guess I got caught up in pineapples and picture taking. I had Bryn at the park - she was chasing bubbles that were being blown by a machine I found in my closet and I was snapping pictures when I heard the first gasp. At first I assumed that one of the other little kids had fallen off a swing or took a nose dive into the sandbox, but then more followed and I called Bryn to me and looked up to see adults holding their cell phones up with their hands over their mouths.

I looked up, checking the sky to be sure that we weren’t about to have a giant purple asshole situation again, but the blue sky was ringed with fluffy white clouds and nothing else. Smiling down at Bryn I told her that we should gather our stuff and go see if her mommy wanted to have lunch. She was in a giggly mood, and since my car was parked close by, the top up and the doors locked - just in case - we gathered up our things, alright I gathered the and she ‘helped’, and she was strapped into her seat while I was trying very hard to NOT look at my cell phone.

The salon was silent when we walked in, and Bryn seemed to pick up on it, running to Connie with a loud, “MOMMY!”

I felt more self conscious than I had since the first time, since no one seemed to be willing to meet my gaze, not even Connie. By the time I got to her station, my arm weighed down with Bryn’s bag full of stuff, I was terrified. “What’s going on?” My lips were numb and I still hadn’t looked at my phone.

“Let’s go to the breakroom and get something to drink!” Connie’s voice was strained, too perky, too upbeat. “You two look like you had fun at the park.” I followed her, my feet like lead, but I had to know, and she wanted us to be alone.

“Connie?” It wasn’t loud, but we were finally alone, so it didn’t have to be. Not that the salon was exactly hopping.

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news?” She was getting a juice box for Bryn out of the fridge, but she didn’t wait to hear me answer. “The new Captain America?” My stomach was knotting the longer she took to spit whatever horrible news it was out. “He murdered someone with the shield in full view of God and everyone -” I waited, there had to be more. “Including Bucky and Sam.” Shit.

I sat down in the chair closest to me, but I don’t know how I managed it. Every part of me felt numb. Captain America murdered someone - with the shield - in public.

“Here,” Connie put a soda in front of me. “Drink. You look like a sheet.” I sipped at the can, but couldn’t taste anything. “Check your phone, it’s ringing.” Was it?

I pulled it out, almost dropping it, but she took it from me and swiped it so it answered the ringing and then hit the speaker button. “Hello?” Was that my voice? Shit. “Hello.”

“Brooke?” I let out a breath. Bucky. “Brooke, are you ok?” I nearly laughed, was I ok?

“Are you?” I shook my head. “I’m alright, Bucky.” I could almost feel my lips again. “ Where are you?”

He sighed and I knew he wasn’t in Brooklyn. “Not home. Not yet.” He told me that he had a few more things to do before he could come back to New York, but that he wasn’t ‘off the grid’ anymore. “No more pineapples,” I could hear the smile on his lips.

“Good, I hate pineapples.” I exhaled. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.” And I wondered how we could miss one another already, but we did. So strange. “I have to go -”

“I really hate those four words,” I murmured. “Come home soon, would you?”

“Gold star, right?” Bucky reminded me, and I smiled.

“Damn straight, Bucky.” And then Connie’s mini me reminded me that little pitchers have big ears.

“Damn trait, Buck!” Bryn yelled and my eyes went wide and Connie slapped her hand over her own mouth.

“Um, Brooke?” Bucky sounded confused and I bit my lip as a chuckle hit me hard and fast. “Do you have an echo?”

“Yeah, her name is Bryn.” I managed. “Say bye, Bryn!” She did and then I echoed her. “Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Brooke and Bryn.” He offered, chuckling.

I looked at Connie when the call ended with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry -” but her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

“That was TOTALLY worth it.” She got out. “But you owe the swear jar fifty cents.”

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #fluff #eventual smut #slow burn

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honney-boy · 4 years ago

Text

Wonder (Part 1)

Rudy Pankow x Oc!Reader

gif by → @riobeth

Wonder Series Masterlist | Wonder Playlist

Chapter summary: Rudy and Nevaeh meet in person for the first time and things aren’t awkward. Yougurt cups, bananas and ice blended in a cup and maple syrup.

Full Summary and Story Concept

Warning(s): language, shenanigans, jet laggness, social media zombies, teenage girls

Words: 5k+

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Rudy fic. My first series too! But if this flops, let's pretend it never happened, okay? :) But If you guys want to read more, please do let me know. Your love and support is the encouragement I need. I got the concept from tik tok haha. Fair warning, I am handwriting out chapters with a pen and paper before converting it digitally, so updates with be spread out. THERE WILL BE GRAMMAR MISTAKES! I'm human, and Tumblr is my test run for this series. Anywho, hope you enjoy :)

taglist

One | “Social Zombies”

In Nevaeh's opinion, airports were the worst. It wasn't due to the 38,000 feet in the air flying ride or the nothingness in the sky you see your whole flight; it was the people, the airports themselves, and the limited space.

Airports were much worse than flying - especially the San Francisco International Airport. Also known as SFO Airport. The few times, literally very few times, Nevaeh has been to the airport, she had poor experiences. Now, SFO Airport is definitely smaller than LAX and not as busy - it's a nightmare. You would think with a much smaller airport, there would be fewer crowds, but no, it's like a family reunion every day but with strangers. If you bump into the wrong person, your day on the off chance will get ruined.

Along with the busy crowds, there are many places to eat. From pizza to Italian to pie, your choices are endless. That's until half or more restaurants are closed or have long lines. Nevaeh never ate airport food, so she couldn't give her opinion on it. She'll leave that to the professional reviews. She wasn't at SFO Airport to judge the food or traffic flow, not even the staff's attitude - except she already gave a flight attendant a glare. The flight attendant took a bathroom break before their next flight and griped at Nevaeh because she used the last paper towel so they couldn't dry their hands. Air drying is a thing, and it works well, she thought to herself while leaving the restroom. She was not going to let one grumpy flight attendant ruin her great mood. She was going to meet someone who she hopes is special today.

Over the past two months, Nevaeh and this person had gotten to know each other well, virtually, that is. They met online, and Nevaeh lived in San Francisco while they lived in Alaska. Countless messages, facetime calls, photos, and videos were exchanged, and a bond was formed. Who would have thought that two people could meet through a video sharing social media app and hit it off? Most people start with dating apps, meet and get to know different people, but Nevaeh met them all because a video of hers popped up on their for you page.

Nevaeh created and shared a variety of things on the app. From cooking to creating and her little hobby of disco skating. She wanted to keep her followers and supporters entertained and herself; she didn’t want to be stuck, making the same content, so she did many things. Nevaeh thought maybe one of her disco skating, videography, or cooking videos drew them in, but it was one of her mini vlogs. In the video, she showed how she would scout places before spending the day getting footage for a short montage film or scenes for a movie she is working on. Not long after the discovery, they - he sent her a message asking about a more in-depth explanation of her process, and it went up from there.

Now, after all this time of them chatting back and forth, they get to meet. Nevaeh gets to meet him.

Standing by the arrival gate, her eyes bouncing around the room at different things just to keep her mind centered and not all over the place. She wanted to pick at her nails, or hold her hands to her chest but she couldn’t hold them in place for long; she opted for playing with the white beaded bracelet he bought and sent to her in a box full of other things. It was so sweet of him; just thinking about the box she received makes her smile and her heart swell. Just last week she received a box full of thoughtful gifts. Inside were some of her favorite snacks, a movie she loved, one of his hoodies - it was the hoodie he wore the first time they facetimed. The hoodie was one of his favorites, but he had the urge to send it to her, he just wanted her to have it. And finally was the white beaded bracelet with a single aqua blue bead on it - he had the matching one with all aqua beads and one single black bead. She was having an uncreative and pretty shitty day until that box arrived on the front door step of her shared apartment.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I messaged Birdie asking her for your favorite snacks, I added the hoodie and got the two of us distance bracelets. You know, because we are long distance.” He told her later that day when they talked on the phone.

“Until you come here, or I go there,” she replied. She hasn’t stopped wearing the hoodies since and she has had the bracelet on since the moment she got it.

Nevaeh watched different people walk past her; none of them were him yet. The dirty blond mess he sported for hair shouldn't be that hard to miss, but the longer she searched, the more she doubted her assumption.

It was another couple of minutes that went by, and she didn't see him, so she pulled her phone out to see if he had sent something. Maybe he has to catch a different flight, and he forgot to tell her, or perhaps he didn't want to meet after all. Her fingers type out a message to send, but a figure stands in front of her before she hits the send button. Nevaeh could see the shadow of their body from her peripheral vision, but she did not look up, hoping they would go away - but they didn't. Sending her message, the woman was preparing to turn away until she heard the stranger's phone go off. It's just a coincidence that their phone went off a couple of seconds after I sent a message. She said to herself, then she looked up and there he was. Dirty blond hair - a little long all over, but instead of it being in his face like it always is, it was pushed back and tucked underneath a red cap. His eyes were more lovely in person. The pair ranged from a light blue to gray, depending on the day. Today they were light blue. He sported stubble across his chin and cheeks with a blond mustache above his top lip. He wore nothing flashy, just a simple red ACDC sweatshirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of vans. He looked tired, but that didn't throw off the good vibes and smile he had going on. She couldn't help but smile back. He's here in the flesh. Rudy.

"Hi," he said light-heartedly, breaking the silence.

"Hi," she echoed; the smile on her face grew some more. "Wow, you're really here in the flesh."

He chuckled, and the sound woke up the butterflies in her stomach. "Yeah, I am. And you...the pictures and videos don't do enough justice for the actual thing." His eyes scan over her, noticing the navy blue Hilfiger sweatshirt he sent to her. Nevaeh couldn't help the dust of blush that appeared on her cheek.

“Talk about me, what about you? Who knew those Snapchat filters were hiding such a god-like person.”

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush,” he joked while bashful. No matter online or in person, Nevaeh was still able to get him flushed; it was something he didn’t want to admit, not while he was flying blind with this.

Nevaeh smiled and had a tiny giggle; the full laugh was muffled by the hand she brought up to her mouth in an attempt to hold the sound back. He could watch her smile for a while. Is that weird? “How was your flight? I hope it wasn’t too horrible.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he admitted. “Definitely long, but nothing a pair of earbuds, music, and a couple of movies couldn’t fix.” The two quickly began walking toward the direction of baggage claim. More of Rudy just following whichever direction Nevaeh was going. She did know the airport better anyway.

“Which movies did you watch?” she asked.

“Since I had six hours to waste - Joker, 1917 and Pride & Prejudice.”

“Oh, I see you listened to my suggestions; not surprised you watched Joker again,” Rudy shrugged his shoulders with a hum. “I’m surprised you didn’t watch the Harry Potter movies.”

Rudy rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Actually, I already watched them a couple of days ago,” Nevaeh hummed as if she were to say, ‘of course’ “You can judge me all you want. I won’t pay you any mind. Just the same as I did with the guy that had the aisle seat in my row. I guess other guys find it weird that a guy decided to watch a period drama on a flight.”

“He was just jealous he didn’t think of it first. Mr. Darcy’s pinning for Miss. Bennett and the film’s overarching theme is too good not to watch.”

“That it is, who would want to miss the warnings heeded against trusting one’s first impression or prejudices?”

“Or the character arcs that grow throughout the storyline. I pity that aisle sitting man.”

“I do too,” Rudy agreed. “He missed out on a classic and had to get up to let the other person and me out to take a tinkle.” He did it again. He made her laugh genuinely. The conversation between them flowed. The small worry Nevaeh had earlier about the two of them not being able to continue the light-hearted and enjoyable nature they had over text had diminished. He seemed just the same - goofy, charismatic, charming, and caring - as he was over the phone the past month and a half. She, too, was still kind, compassionate, and sarcastic as before. Yet both of them had their own doubts about the thing they were doing; they didn’t know what it was or where it was headed, but they were willing to find out.

In the car, Nevaeh drove the route she knew from the airport to her shared apartment. Rudy sat in the passenger seat; his gaze focused out the window, watching the San Francisco scenery appear, disappear and morph as they passed by the window. The radio played while they sat in a comfortable silence - it impressed her how easily they fell into it. Wasn't it common for an uncomfortable silence? Two people who just met for the first time should struggle in an attempt to make a conversation, but not them.

To Rudy, the comfortable silence was almost expected. Granted, he did expect one of them to talk the other's ear off - he's glad neither of them was. The six-hour flight took its effect on the man, but he wasn't going to let his fatigue ruin the time they had together. He'll rest later. Spend time with her now, sleep later.

The car rolled to a stop, a red light shined on the traffic light hanging in front of them. Rudy's eyes watch a girl across the street riding down the sidewalk on a skateboard. Her stance relaxed, feet planted in a way that helped her ride easily; she was experienced, probably skated regularly. Watching her skate triggered a longing in Rudy for his board back at home. He rides on concrete and in the snow, but he was missing snowboarding the most. It was beginning to be summer, so the temperatures in Alaska were warmer. To warm for snow but warm enough for the evergreen to take over. Now he was in California, the state that was sunny all the time. The state that thrived in the summer and its soil hardly ever to never had the chilled touch of snow. His longing grew more for the chilly weather and white flakes.

The woman sitting next to him took the next couple of seconds between the light change to look at him. Catching the moment of his gaze out the window of her jeep. "I know you're probably tired from your flight. I had some ideas about the things we could do, but we don't have to do anything today." She spoke and after, glanced at the traffic light only to see it was still red.

Rudy tore his gaze from the distant image of the skater and met Nevaeh's. "I am, but if you want to do something, we can. I'm more than happy to hang out." He said.

Trying to reason, she said, "I know, but you just got off a six-hour flight."

"Nevaeh, it's fine. I'm not that burned out. Time zones are an hour apart, and seven am isn't that bad." she begins to give him a skeptical look. She heard his words but feels as if he was only saying that to make her happy. He sat by her, leaned back, and relaxed. His head sat lazily against the headrest, and the smile he was giving her was light but tiresome. She switched her gaze from him to the traffic light, which turned green, and she didn't know when. Nevaeh eased her foot off the brake and to the gas pedal. "Seriously, we can do something."

“Fine,” She says after a moment. “I won’t wear you out too much more.” Flicking her left turn signal on after checking her mirror, she merges into the lane beside her. “There’s somewhere I wanna take you - well, maybe two places, but we’re going to the apartment first.”

“Alright, sounds good to me.” Nevaeh drove them to the apartment she shared with her long term friend. Rudy followed behind her as she led the way; they only spent a few minutes there. After a short tour, a bathroom break, and dropping off a couple of suitcases later, Rudy and Nevaeh left the place. They began a walk along the San Francisco hills to the mysterious place Nevaeh had in mind.

“This place is somewhere I walk to every other day. It’s Birdie’s and my favorite place.” It was a short six to eight-minute walk. Nevaeh reassured him before briefly going into a conversation about the impressive things you see in the city. Just like Nevaeh told him, they both come up upon a corner shop with a couple of large windows to see inside and out, a brown exterior with outside tables with green umbrellas and foldable outdoor chairs. The corner shop was known as the Nasik Cafe. For a small cafe, the place was doing well. There were a handful of people inside sitting, chatting, or ordering and quite a few sitting outside.

“This place is pretty health-oriented, and like Starbucks, it has things you could make at home for free, but their stuff is great,” Nevaeh explained to the man.

"So you spend way too much on yogurt cups, fruit drinks, toast, and other food you can make at home?" She nods her head like it was evident at what he said. Rudy shook his head. "Couldn't you just spend ten dollars on a yogurt cup?"

"Oh my goodness, they don't have yogurt cups, Rudy." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Okay, so ten dollars for a banana blended with ice in a cup - still sounds ridiculous to me."

"I can't with you," She tilted her head back, but she wasn't annoyed. She found his witticism amusing. At this rate, Nevaeh should prepare to always smile all the time around him. "You should find a table out here, and I can grab us something - wait, do you want to sit out here?"

Rudy nodded, then began to scan the area but only briefly seeing a couple of empty tables. "Yeah, it's nice out, let's enjoy it. Out here is great."

"Great," she says, pleased. "I'll grab something; I wanna surprise you. I'll be back." Nevaeh turns to walk inside. The smell of strawberries, oranges, and granola invaded her nose. It wasn't a new smell to her, but a new one for the day. She would always smell fruit and granola wherever she would walk into Basik. Some days it smelt like bananas and chocolate, or honey, peanut butter, and coconut. The smells varied, but the most prominent one was the tropical smell. To her left at a table was a couple enjoying smoothies. Both cops were a little under half full. A person sat at another table, invested in their laptop. To her right, more people sat. Art adorns the walls as realism paintings along with abstract images. There was a line at the counter; no more than four people stood waiting. She took the time to look up at the big and wide wood board hanging from the ceiling. When Nevaeh told Rudy she wanted to surprise him with something, she knew what she was getting for the both of them. The colorful and fruitful acai bowls.

Nevaeh and her roommate Birdie loved acai bowls. Birdie was the one to introduce her friend to the fantastic bowls she grew to love. Now it was her turn to turn another friend onto them.

The line moved along smoothly and grew smaller by the minutes. Once Nevaeh got closer, her lips stretched into a grin as her eyes caught sight of the barista.

"Hi, what can I get you? Could I interest you in our new fall to-Vae! Hey." the blonde barista's mood brightened significantly when she realized she was taking Nevaeh's order. She leaned across the counter and grabbed hold of Nevaeh's hand, and laced their fingers together. "What are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up your friend." She said, then making finger quotations. The barista was her roommate, Birdie. Birdie was a full-time college student and full-time barista to get by. She was more than happy to talk to her friend now that she wasn't as busy - Nevaeh was the only person in line for now.

"I was - I did pick up my friend. No air quotes, we're friends."

"For now."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes at the blonde. "He's here with me, just outside." Birdie looked past Nevaeh and out the window in search of this guy. Nevaeh looked around for him, too; she didn't get to see where he chose to sit. "He's...the one with the red cap, right there." She pointed out once she spotted him. Birdie hummed and squinted her eyes to get a better look, which was difficult with the angle he sat at.

"He looks nice...from here," Birdie leaned back, so her fingers could let go of Nevaeh's and tap the terminal screen as she put her friend's usual order in. While Birdie did that, Nevaeh nodded in agreement but kept her gaze on him. "Lemme guess, the usual?"

"Kilauea; everything but-"

"No pollen and extra honey." Birdie finished with assuredness and not a drop of doubt in her answer. Her friend smiled, her eyes looking to Birdie with amazement.

"You know me too well."

"Well, you order the same thing almost every time."

"Touche," she couldn't argue with that. When it came to her acai bowl, she liked the Kilauea - made with mango juice, granola, berries, papaya, honey, and acai - the best. "And water, of course - make that two." She stepped back to look over the menu. Rudy wasn't familiar with the place, and he didn't know what they served, so Nevaeh wanted to get him something he hopefully liked. She decided to go with something not too fancy - directing her attention back to her barista friend. She went ahead and finished her order. "And...let me get the Islander acai bowl." That one was made with hemp mylk, granola, banana, berries, cocoa shavings, and honey.

Birdie rang up the rest of the order for Nevaeh. After catching a glimpse at the total, Nevaeh reached in the little card pocket of her wallet and grabbed her card. Unbeknownst to her, while she was getting her card, Birdie took her name tag and gave her friend her employee discount - she got it for half the price.

“I know you’re an independent woman and paying for the first date, the least I could do is give you a discount. Just don’t tell Daniel.” She winked, and Nevaeh gave her a thumbs up with one hand, and with the other, she made a zipping and locking motion over her mouth before throwing the key.

Outside, Rudy sat at the table he picked out for the two of them while waiting. While Nevaeh ran inside to get their order, he observed the small San Francisco scenery around him. California weather was sunshine with fluffy clouds. Just about everyone was either in shorts, a tank, and a cut-off shirt or any other summer clothing that provided them some comfort in the blazing sun. He dressed just right for the weather, though in Alaska, it was more on the chill side, causing him to wear a sweatshirt while he left. Now that he was basking in the California weather, he took off the warm sweatshirt and left it at Nevaeh’s apartment.

There were other people outside along with him. A group of girls sat a few feet away at a table in front of him, trying not to giggle as they attempted to make a video. At another table, there were two guys, perhaps brothers. They were eating something colorful from a bowl - it looked like yogurt to Rudy - and having a conversation with one another.

Rudy shook his head at the drastic difference between the two tables. Maybe it was just him, but it was amazing how much the world - more specifically America- was wrapped up in technology and social media. Sure the brothers at the one table had digital watches that told them the time and lit up, catching their attention with a vibrate when a text or notification went to their phone. But at least they could carry on a conversation without having their phone in their hands. On the other hand, those girls haven’t put their phones down longer than a few seconds. After those seconds, they tap away or show the other something they thought was worthy enough to gauge a reaction out of them.

Rudy wasn't one to judge. He didn't have much right to because while watching them and waiting for Nevaeh, he had the urge to pull out his phone. It was almost like a habit, but he chooses not to feed the temptation. He wanted to enjoy the day with Nevaeh; notice the burn on his skin from the sun, get to know her, have fun, pick up on little cues she has, and find out what he likes the most about her. And though it was kind of ironic that the two of them met through social media, he hopes Nevaeh is not one of those social zombies. Then this trip would be a waste of time and effort.

Ruby pulled his sunglasses down due to the sun starting to bother his eyes. Then he also wanted to cover his eyes and focus on something else while he waited. A minute later, Nevaeh walked out of the cafe's door backward with her back pushing the door open. In her hands, she had what she ordered; he wondered what she got. Rudy briskly stood up out of his seat to help her out.

"Hey, let me help you out," he walks around the table towards her, but she only nods him off.

"I got it, you sit."

"You have all the food and drinks in your hands; it's the least I can do." he stood off to the side, not interfering but reading despite what she said. He watches her struggle a bit and almost drops the stuff. Rudy immediately reached out, but Nevaeh had already saved herself and looked at him with a smile.

"I got it, Rudy. I was just pulling your leg." He picked up on the playfulness in her eyes, which made him pull his lips into a smile matching hers; her smile is definitely contagious.

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands, backing away and then taking his seat. Nevaeh took her seat across from him, sat everything down before passing him the items she got him. “What’d you get us?”

“Well, I don’t know if you have had this before, but it’s my go-to thing to get here. It’s an acai bowl,” Nevaeh’s eyes caught his confused expression before he tried to cover it up with an understanding. She laughed softly and explained further. “It’s like a smoothie bowl with other things in it.”

“Smoothie bowl…” he murmured more to himself, but she still heard it.

Shaking her head, she continued. “Acai palm is the main ingredient along with bananas and granola, but you can add other fruits or peanut butter and syrups. Or take things off.”

“Like maple syrup?” he asked, looking at the acai bowl she got him.

Her face begins to twist in disgust until she covers it with a shrug and looks down at her bowl, ready to dig in. “Uh, I guess if that’s what you want, then yeah.” She answered, and Rudy nodded his head and grabbed his spoon to take a taste. Before Nevaeh tasted her own, she watched Rudy, waiting for his reaction. He took a bite, letting the flavor invade his taste buds.

“Wow, this is good,” He says after swallowing. He glanced up, catching Nevaeh already looking at him. She quickly looked away and stirred her bowl.

“I’m glad you like it; it’s my second favorite one,” she peeked back up, and Rudy was still looking at her. Laughing softly to herself, then shaking her head, she takes a bite of her own, almost moaning at the taste. “I’m surprised you haven’t had one before.”

“ I have wanted to try one, but never really went with actually going out to get one.”

“Well, maybe now you will get them more often,” She says but stops herself before taking another bite. “Wait...you aren’t allergic to any fruit, are you? Or granola?”

He lifted a brow while getting another scoop. “Oh, only bananas,” He replies. Nevaeh watches him as he lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes another bite that includes bananas before she could reach across the table and stop him in time. “What?” he looked at her. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, her mouth opening to say something but closed when nothing came out. “Is there something wrong?”

Nodding her head slowly, she sat down her spoon and reached for her phone in her pocket just in case. "You ate a banana, and you just told me you were allergic to them." Nevaeh wanted to yell at him for being so careless, but that would mean she was too for not asking before ordering something random for him. She pretended to remain calm but was internally panicking.

"I actually eat them all the time," he held back the smile easing its way into his features. "I eat them quite often. They're a great source of potassium and vitamin C."

"So you aren't allergic to bananas?" she noted, and Rudy shook his head. His mouth broke out into the smile he managed to hold back for a few seconds. Nevaeh relaxed a bit, her shoulders dropping as she was no longer tense. "You're an asshole, you know that, right?" Rudy gasped softly, a hand placed on his chest as he looked at her, offended at her comment.

"What, me, an asshole? That can't be right, I'm really nice," he said and made Nevaeh huffed. "What do you not believe me?"

The woman shrugged, the smile still on her face when she looked down at her food. "Well, you did play a mean joke just now; I thought I almost killed you." She reminded him and picked at her bowl.

"I wanted to see how caring you were, and you passed the test. Now you love me, don't you?"

"You wish," she said, taking a bite then pointing at him with her spoon. "We're going on a road trip together, let's see if I survive that, then I'll let you know if I like you enough to be your friend or jump out of a moving car because you're an annoying little shit."

Rudy raised his eyebrows, smirking at her now. "Me being an annoying little...alright. Let's make a deal," he starts; Nevaeh gestures for him to continue. "If you survive this road trip, meaning - if you have a great time - I get to take you to my home town in Alaska. Ah, ah. I'm not finished." he held his finger up to stop her from making a comment. She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, attempting to hide a simple, but you could see the amusement on her face. "If you don't have a great time, I'll do whatever you want."

"So, If I understand right, If you win, you get to take me to Alaska - assuming I haven't been there already,"

“Wait, you’ve been to Alaska?” Nevaeh held her finger up, echoing his movements moments before.

“If you win, you take me to Alaska, and if I win, you do whatever I want, correct?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not too inappropriate or impossible,” He says, already finished with his acai bowl, which Nevaeh didn’t remember seeing him eat the rest. It didn’t matter when he ate it, she didn’t care, but that was quick. Looking down at her own, she wasn’t more than halfway done. “So, so we have a deal?”

Nevaeh looked up from her food, meeting his ocean-like eyes. The pair were becoming more familiar over the past few weeks from countless photos and videos the two have shared over Snapchat. Messages over text and facetime calls. They got to know each other digitally, and now they have to learn more in person.

“We have a deal.” She says, and Rudy sticks his hand out, which she gladly took. They shook hands. While doing so, Rudy thought of a million possibilities to get the woman across from him to a great time and not just so he could take her to Alaska, his home. He found her intriguing, and he wants to take the time to get to know her better and maybe have a solid standing friendship at the end of it all. If the cosmos had a say, perhaps something more would blossom.

➣ End Note:

So, I honestly don’t know how the next few or future chapters will go but hopefully they turn out well. Here are the Revaeh interactions we all needed and plenty more to come so just you wait. ;)

AGAIN IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THE SERIES I WILL, JUST LET ME KNOW.

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#rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow x oc #rudy pankow series #rudy pankow fanfiction #wonder series #rudy pankow au #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #roadtrip story #tik tok dating

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gyll-yee-haw · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7

Professor!Jake x reader

Series information

Series masterlist

—

Every breath that I’ve been takin’

Since you left feels like a waste on me

(Bruises - Lewis Capaldi)

—

One month had passed.

After Wes went to your house that day, you decided to stop skipping class. Now you wouldn’t have to see Jake anyway… but that didn’t help much. Everything on that campus reminded you of him. And whenever you got close to that damn lab, your heart broke like the first time.

You were moving on. He left you with no other choice.

But all the progress you were making seemed to be destroyed that morning.

For an entire week you felt sick. Threw up every morning and felt weird for the rest of the day. You couldn’t stand that anymore, so you decided to see a doctor.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. But didn’t seem too serious. You expected to get out of the doctor’s office relieved. But what you heard in there made the world stop for you.

—

You had no idea how you were able to drive home. You weren’t hearing or seeing anything straight. Your body was numb. And your mind raced. Wes. You needed to tell him.

The first thing you did when you walked into your apartment was call Wes.

15 minutes after you told him, he was already at your door.

—

“Pregnant, Y/N?” He sighed. He was in so much pain, but he knew he needed to be strong. You needed him to be strong. “Are you sure?”

“I just came home from the doctor…” You told him. “Fuck, Wes… what am I gonna do now?”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He brought you for a tight hug. “You’re gonna be a great mom. I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You sighed. “But… don’t you think Jake has the right to know?”

“Y/N…” He rolled his eyes. Just when you were about to forget about Jake, he always came back. “Jake didn’t want you around. Do you think he will want your kid? I’m not gonna let you look for him just to break your heart again.”

You nodded. It was a horrible thing to say, but you knew it was true.

“What am I gonna tell people, though?” You sighed. “That my professor got me pregnant and then quit his job, and now God only knows where he is? That could ruin his career. Who would hire him knowing that?”

“I can’t believe you’re worried about him…” Wes muttered angrily.

“About me too!” You explained. “People are gonna judge me… my baby… what am I gonna tell them when they ask about their father?”

Wes hesitated for a second, but deep down he had been wanting to suggest that from the moment you told him you were pregnant.

“Tell them I am the father.”

“What? No… Wes, we already talked about this and…”

“No, listen” He interrupted you. “I’m not asking you to marry me or be more than my friend. We can say it happened by accident one day, I don’t know… but I’m gonna be here for you. Help you with the baby… maybe it would be better like this.”

“I don’t know if I want to lie to my child, Wes.”

“Well, you don’t have to answer it yet, okay? Just think about it.”

And you did. You thought about it from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to bed.

As your belly started to grow, you realized you wouldn’t be able to hide this from people anymore. So you decided to accept Wes as the fake father.

You should be feeling relieved and very thankful to Wes for solving that problem. But the truth was that you couldn’t help but feeling like that baby was a little piece of Jake that you would have forever, even though you would never have him. Sometimes that felt good and made you smile, sometimes that made everything worse.

—

Four more months passed.

Jake liked to believe that he did everything he could to forget about you. But the truth is that he did nothing. He thought about you every single day. It is true that when he caught himself doing it, he tried to think of something else. But he never really succeeded.

One particular night, he rested his head on his pillow and realized that the semester was almost over. He wondered if you liked the Botany professor who replaced him. He was worried about your education, of course. But he was worried about you. Just you. He wondered how you were.

He kept tossing and turning in bed, wishing you were there. He was pretty sure that being able to hold you would make sleep easier.

Then he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you that night. That’s when he had an idea. A really stupid idea… but he just needed to make sure you were okay. And then maybe he would be able to sleep.

He looked up your name on Instagram.

And he found you.

But his discovery only made it harder to sleep.

He threw his phone on the floor. He didn’t even know what he was feeling. Angry. Sad. Helpless.

You had moved on so fast.

And Wes?! So that was his plan? Separate the two of you so he could have you?

But he couldn’t really blame Wes. No, it was no one’s fault. He was right, he should protect you. Now look at you. Happy. Carrying a baby. How beautiful was that?

Jake just wished everything was different. That he was your classmate, not your professor. So maybe now you’d be carrying his child, not someone else’s.

The mere thought of you carrying his child was enough to make him cry.

It was so unfair.

He gave up on sleeping. He gave up on his dignity. He was ready to end that story right there, and there was only one way to do it.

—

You woke up, walked towards the kitchen and found a letter under your door. Weird, cause the bills weren’t supposed to come that week. You picked it up curiously and found your name in a familiar handwriting. No, it couldn’t be…

Well, it was.

“My dear Y/N…

I’m writing this letter complety lost at 3am. I hope future me decides to burn it. I hope you never get to read this.

Fuck. Who am I trying to fool? Why would I be writing this if I didn’t want you to read it? If I didn’t want you to know that I fucking lied to you? I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for hurting you.

When I told you I adored you I meant it. I meant every single word I said and yes, I remember them all, because I can’t stop thinking about that day. About how it felt to be loved by you. But then I ruined everything. Why? I keep asking myself the same thing.

But deep down I know the answer. It’s because you deserve something better. You deserve someone easy to love. Not a coward like me.

And I’m happy to know you found that. I was surprised to find out that you’re gonna be a mom. But I know you’re gonna be a wonderful one. I wish you only the best things in this world, even though I won’t be the one to give you that.

I’m not writing this to make you feel bad for me. I’m writing this because I won’t be able to sleep until you know one thing: I love you. I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I love you. I did everything that I did simply because of that. I. Love. You.

I really hope you forgive me someday.

Jake.”

—

Taglist:

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