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hamofjustice · 2 years ago

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So, Tera Raids, huh? Those 4v1 big boss fights in Pokemon Scarlet/Violet against various mons Tera'd into other types? Hitting the random button on those, getting dropped into random lobbies, and getting three minutes to figure out what to counter whatever combination of opponent and new typing I rolled while fitting in with the teamcomp I found myself in… has somehow the main thing I'm hooked on doing in the game now. They're supposed to just be for resource farming, but I'm more interested in them than actually battling against people. Whoops! There's a lot of nuances about them that you are just straight up not told about because, y'know, game was forced out a year before it should've been, etc etc. Thankfully, most of those nuances are now documented on Bulbapedia, unlike the wild west days of months past:

I'm gonna skip pointing out the most useful information that's already on there, I don't really need to reinvent the wheel here. Instead, I'm gonna focus on how this mode encourages a different way of analyzing, choosing, and building your Pokemon, and recontextualized a bunch of stuff that was once irrelevant, and I'm gonna talk about it here on Tumblr, because Pokemon forums scare me! Here we go:

You choose your opponent (more or less), so you can specialize your builds as hard as you want. You're free to run a moveset of only Grass moves if you're up against something weak to Grass, just like being a character in Pokemon Masters. Having broad coverage doesn't really matter, unless you're on a budget and using the same Pokemon to take on a wide variety of stuff. You can also totally max out one defensive stat and ignore the other one if you only go up against physical or special attackers with that particular Pokemon. Overspecialized builds especially tend to come out for dealing with the 7-star raids, and it's fun to see the community eventually figure out and share a "solution" to the particularly hard ones. You could also just use Rage Fist Annihilape against everything, but that's not as fun.

Because the boss can't switch out, debuffs are better than buffs. When you lower the boss's stats, everyone benefits from it, including yourself (as long as you're not against something with Defiant or Competitive, oops). One Screech doubles EVERYONE's physical damage, providing far more value to your team than Swords Dance only doing that for yourself… IF the shield isn't up. Screech and Metal Sound can even be used for phase-skipping OHKO builds if your team all understands not to attack. Still, that big "if" leads into the next point:

Attacks with added effects can inflict them through shields, use them. You'll arguably get more mileage overall out of, say, Chilling Water instead of Charm, or Thunderous Kick instead of Screech, because even though it's only -1 instead of -2, you can keep doing it through the shield, and easily reapply it after the boss cleanses its debuffs rather than a tool being removed from your kit for most of the battle. Added effect attacks even count toward the attacks you need to hit the boss with before you can Terastallize, so you can deal big damage WHILE supporting your team, instead of having to choose between supporting OR Tera-ing like you do if you're just using Cheers or status moves to do everything.

Specific moves are really, really good. Or at least it's cute how much better they are than usual. Combining points 2 and 3, I basically decide what Pokemon I'm going to make a raid build for next based on if it learns the following:

Belly Drum, almost everybody has a Drain Punch Iron Hands or Shell Bell Azumarill as their first "raid mon," turns out quadrupling your Attack and using it to sustain yourself forever is pretty good actually

Attack moves guaranteed to lower a relevant stat or do something else useful (ACID SPRAY, Chilling Water, Snarl, Mud Slap, Nuzzle, etc, even Throat Chop sometimes) (bosses can't flinch though)

Life Dew, 25% heal for everyone and not limited to 3 times like the green healing Cheer, lets you save that for curing status, or use the red and blue Cheers more often, or just stick it out through a reallllly long one

Howl, +1 Attack for everyone, is mostly better than Helping Hand for physical attackers. Belly Drum users would rather have Helping Hand, defense drops, or a red offensive Cheer though, since their Attack is already maxed

Reflect and Light Screen halve damage for the whole team, they don't get cleansed when the boss removes your buffs either

Heal Pulse and Pollen Puff, unlimited single target 50% heal if someone's dying or needs to Belly Drum again. Can't self target though. Pollen Puff can heal through Good as Gold's status move immunity because it's technically an attack

Taunt, even though it's a bit hard to time and doesn't go through shield, can prevent a ton of big impact scripted moves from going off, like weather or stat buffs, or help with Yawn spammers

And then, y'know, other field effects like Safeguard, terrains, weather, etc can be good situationally

Abilities that protect the whole team like Sweet Veil can be strong counterpicks here also

In my next post, because this one's long enough already, I'm going to actually list some of the sets I run or would like to run soon.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #tera raid battles #pokemon #tera raids #smogon #not really but someone in that tag might be interested idk #original content #some edits got lost between this post and the self reblog but eh #pokemon sv

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cinoman · 2 months ago

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everytime you recall a memory you alter it

heard about this from tiktok and i recently started crafting a huge boygroup playlist to accompany my girlgroup playlist (proud kpop stan since 2015) i originally stanned BTS, when they started coming up on the news (probably a year or so(?) after i got into them) i completely lost interest, didnt really listen to their music anymore... though the new stuff i was hearing really disagreed with me (every 3rd gen kpop stan knows the difference between old bts and new bts, theyre worlds apart T_T)

anyways, i actually went back and listened to some of the old bts songs i loved. im talking about classics like one more day and older bsides like tomorrow and hold me. all of a sudden i felt transported back to those days when i was walking to middle school and tracing hangeul characters in my jacket pocket so i could remember them this is why i always roll my eyes whenever ppl want to argue that kpop is "just a genre" (besides the fact its an entire industry). kpop is a time belt, it's a centralized way to keeping track of the growth in your life. suddenly you're old, realizing that songs you loved came out 10 years out, and you reminisce on the stupid concept back then and the fact that the people you were such a big fan of were also young at that time. and now, you're both older and different from when you both existed at that time. anyways, back to the song stuff, i really dont want to overwrite the memories ive made with those songs, they bring me back to a place i have barely any documentation of besides some old journals i used to learn korean i feel super disconnected to BTS now, i have other groups that have marked my transition from a small middle schooler to a grown ass college student and honestly i feel like my relationship with 4th gen groups kind of symbolizes how much ive grown up. no matter what, when i listen to older kpop songs, i feel like a little girl again going crazy over some 93-97년생 오빠들 and feeling excited to see what they did next. in a way ill always look at the idols during that period with fresh eyes(?) because i was so ignorant to what being an idol entailed and my heart only remembers the magic of that period. feeling real jealousy and excitement to tears over them was fun while it lasted ive been getting into TXT recently just so i can have some fresh content since the groups i do keep close to my heart are ofc either slowly being inactive/members doing solo stuff/etc. TXT feels more my style compared to a lot of the other boygroups that 4th gen has given us. anyways, yeah, i can never be that little girl again LOL. the maknae is only a year and some months older than me, no matter what, it feels more like im watching my friends fuck around and live their adult life. i hated 4th gen so much when the transition started happening because it marked a time where i felt like i was "forced" to grow up, there was no longer unlimited groups for me to find where i could shamlessly fangirl because people were either 1-2 years older than me, my exact age, or younger. but, i didnt realize that the people i had grown up beside were still gonna be relevant lol anyways, im much more content now.

#kpop #thought dump #got7 comeback made me think of this #wdym theyre back??? the kid in me is going nuts #kpop used to be such a tucked away part of the western internet #maybe expansion is ok but i miss that small community feeling where we werent all just casual stans

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drac-onion · 6 months ago

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Back at it again. A year since I posted Beneath Her Mask. Same thing as last time. Fun facts or just looking back at something I done did write once upon a time exactly a year ago.

This is going to be very "stream of consciousness" and probably hard to read, but here goes.

First off, wow that title sucks. I came up with it like right before posting and then rolled with it. Nowadays I would put off uploading something for MONTHS if I couldn't figure out an original and interesting title. Oops.

Anyway, this one is a lot better than the last one. Promise. The whole thing is a little bit iffy still, but I was very new. The formatting is the main issue I have with. The concept is...fine, although I think I could have gone a little bit further with and then lead into where this one starts. Ya know, inform the reader as to the situation that lead to Makoto's desire to keep everything to herself? But I kinda made it ambiguous on purpose. Good thing I didn't have to follow up on this a few months later... Oh wait. The stakes were just: awkward. No gay panic (like the tags say, oops), no internalized anything, no worries over team cohesion with members of the PTs dating, none of that. If I would ever go back and rewrite this (don't fucking tempt me) I would definitely expand on things a lot more. But hey, I probably shouldn't try and go back and fix all my old stuff. I'd never get anything done otherwise.

Oh yeah, Makoto's "113 decibel alarm clock" is a real thing. I actually have one. I sleep through every other alarm clock out there. The thing is so good, it will actually scare you awake. Pretty nice. (If probably a little too loud for apartment living in Japan where the walls are very thin.)

Oh yeah, and the tense a few times. Annoying.

I dunno why I made it three chapters. It's just over 3.5k words. That would have been fine to keep as a single chapter one-shot, but I think I just had a hard time with having scenes switch mid-chapter. Chapters are a good way to signal a scene switch, but nowadays I'll just use a line break and go with it. I've just improved as a writer, I think, and so now my old mistakes bug the shit out of me.

If I named all the issues I had, I'd be here all day. So, what did I get right with this? I think the concept is alright. The dialogue is good at points. The scene in Leblanc is pretty good. Good guy Sojiro being cool with lesbians (very cool of him). And the text convos at the end are also pretty okay. The "out of your league" comment still gets me for some reason. It's kinda funny.

Also I made a custom dialogue option for Akira, referencing the very first thing he says at the beginning of the story. I think it turned out okay. (I'd like to do more art/edits relevant to my writing. I've thought about making cover/chapter art for my current project. I guess we'll see how I'm feeling. A little wattpad-y of me, but it'd be interesting.)

I'm just now realizing that I should've made the "third option" a little cheeky. Maybe something like "Come here often?" or whatever. Ah well. Next time.

So, overall? It's an improvement. It's not perfect, but it was the second thing I'd ever written. (Once again, I don't count the RE one. I should probably anon it tbh.)

Anyway, that was something. The next "retrospective" (I guess that's what these are now) will be on Beneath Their Masks.

That one is a doozy, and I think I'm going to have a decent amount to say about it. It's also really long, so that's also a thing I'm gonna have to worry about. I'll probably do that on 10/1 because that's when I posted the first chapter. Maybe I'll have enough time to write up mini retrospectives for each chapter? And then post those throughout October? That could be interesting. And tiring. But still, interesting. I could pull the original upload dates since I made a tumblr in between ACIFT and BHM. Although those are going to be VERY spaced out, especially near the end. So much for doing a month's worth of prompts WITHIN the month. But I'll save all my whining for when those go up.

Also, shoutouts again to my beta at the time, @makomaki5. I hope you're doing well.

Anyway, I think that's about it. See ya.

#drac.txt #drac_retrospective #writing #ao3

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arrowflier · 3 years ago

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clingy ian? <3

Relevant to your interests: clingy!sick!Ian

Mickey had been watching Ian all morning, and there was not better way to put it--Ian was being clingy.

And not, like, normal husband-type clingy, either, where he whined when Mickey got out of bed or reached for him when they passed each other in the kitchen.

No, this was obsessed-teenage-girl level clingy, and it was starting to get a little annoying.

When Mickey first got up, Ian hadn’t just let his hand trail over Mickey’s chest and down his arm like he usually did. He had tugged Mickey down so hard he fell back onto the mattress, then clambered on top of him like an over-eager puppy and stayed there until Mickey finally threatened to “pee on you if you don’t let me get to the fucking bathroom in the next five minutes, Christ Ian”.

Then he had followed Mickey into the bathroom, clung like a limpet to his back as he tried to brush his teeth. Mickey almost got toothpaste and spit in Ian’s hair when he tucked his head into Mickey’s neck and got it between Mickey’s face and the sink.

The shower was no different, and while Mickey was never one to complain about sharing the water, it was a little hard to soap up when half his skin was covered by another man’s body. He finally had to kick Ian out when he tried to wash Mickey’s hair and almost blinded him with the shampoo.

Mickey could only assume that Ian had been pouting the entire time he was alone, because when he left the bathroom a few minutes later he was just leaning against the wall outside the door, looking sad.

When Ian grabbed onto the back of his shirt to follow him closely into the kitchen, Mickey just rolled his eyes and let him. When he sat too close at the table, their thighs touching, Mickey rested a foot over one of Ian’s instead of pushing him away.

It was all fine. Mickey liked being close to Ian, too.

But when he got up to take their plates to the sink, and Ian grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down into his lap with enough force to send the dishes--thankfully plastic and not porcelain--to the floor, Mickey had had just about enough of his over-the-top affection for the day.

“Fuck, Ian,” he hissed, trying to stand and failing thanks to the arms around his waist. “What is up with you today?”

“What do you mean?” Ian asked, face the picture of innocence. “I just like you.”

“If you really liked me,” Mickey countered, “you’d let me get up right now.”

He raised his eyebrows, and waited, but Ian didn’t let go.

“Like touching you,” he amended instead, with a little squeeze of his arms. “Like being close to you.”

Mickey let himself relax. Leaned closer, until their noses brushed, and looked into Ian’s eyes. They were wide and green and beautiful as always.

“Guess I like you too,” he murmured, freeing one arm from Ian’s grasp to bring up to his husband’s face. He placed his hand on Ian’s cheek, ran his thumb across the center of Ian’s bottom lip.

“But you know what I really like?” he asked softly, tilting his head and breathing out against Ian’s mouth.

Ian gave a minute shake of his head, enraptured.

“What?” he asked breathily. “What do you like, Mick?”

Mickey smirked against Ian’s lips.

“I like it,” he started slowly, “when my husband doesn’t try to distract me from the fact that he lost his fucking ring again.”

A beat.

Then Mickey pulled back, and had to laugh at the look of pure shock and horror on Ian’s face.

“Fuck, man,” he giggled, “you should see your fucking face right now, you’d think I just told you I killed a kid or somethin’.”

Ian had let go of Mickey’s waist with the revelation, but Mickey stayed put anyway, comfy enough ensconced on Ian’s lap.

“How did you--when did you--” Ian sputtered, and Mickey leaned back in to kiss him lightly, quickly, with a smirk.

“Ian,” he said with mock seriousness, “I was layin’ right next to you when you noticed it wasn’t on your finger.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Ian whined, and Mickey laughed again.

“Even if I slept through you freaking out and tearing apart the damn nightstand lookin’ for it, you really think I could have slept through you callin’ Lip to ask if he’d seen it? Then Debbie? Then Fiona?”

Ian was looking rather embarrassed at that point, but Mickey had to rub it in a little more.

“Fiona hasn’t even lived in this city for years, man,” he chortled. “What the fuck?”

“I was upset, okay?” Ian said with a pout. “And you hate it when I don’t have it on, I didn’t want you to notice before I found it.”

“So you stuck to me like glue all morning?” Mickey asked, incredulous. “The plan was to keep me from seein’ your bare-ass finger by literally keeping it on me at all times?”

Ian shrugged. “I might have panicked a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “But...you’re not mad?”

Mickey shook his head. “No, Ian, I’m not mad,” he reassured him. “Just amazed at my husband’s stupidity.”

“Oh shut up, Mick,” Ian said, even as he got arms around him again. “Forgive me for being a little scared of what your reaction was gonna be and not thinking clearly.”

“Oh, I’m used to you not thinking clearly,” Mickey responded. “What I’m not used to is you being so fucking dumb.”

“Hey, what’d I just say?”

“Not about the plan, Ocean’s Eleven,” Mickey said. “About you forgettin’ where you ring is.”

Ian stilled beneath him.

“At the cleaners?” Mickey prompted. “Like it is every six months?”

“Oh.”

Mickey snorted. “Oh is right, you moron. I took ‘em yesterday, while you were out with your brothers. Pickin’ ‘em up tomorrow.”

“So...you’re not mad?” Ian asked.

Mickey shook his head.

“And I don’t need to distract you?” Ian clarified.

Mickey shook his head again.

“Well, in that case...”

Then Ian was hoisting himself up with Mickey still in his lap, holding tight as Mickey flailed to get his legs around Ian’s hips for stability.

“I think you need to distract me,” Ian said as he steered them toward the bedroom. “From being mad you let me sweat for so long.”

Yeah, Mickey could do that.

And if Ian stayed a little too close after, held him a little too tight, whined in that way he had when Mickey tried to get up for a wet cloth...well, that was perfectly acceptable husband-type stuff, and Mickey didn’t mind that at all.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fanfic #silly and random

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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stoneworldsimp · 4 years ago

Text

what’s mine is not yours —a request

platonic senku x reader

warnings: swearing, anxiety, talk of insecurities and worries, gender dysphoria

your name!

YOUR NAME!

your hands slapped to your ears, eyes shut tight. i can’t take this so early in the morning.

the voices from your dream had lingered longer than you would have liked. it reminded you it was time to face another day, to endure another long long day and night of hearing the wrong things.

maybe if i went and lived on my own again…i wouldn’t have to deal with it—no. senku needs me. he needs me…what does he need me for again? you rolled onto your stomach; your pillow rustled as you flopped it on top of your head. he doesn’t need me. i’d rather be lonely than hear everyone say some bullshit about me.

everyone in the village knew you as a miss. yuzuriha made you more neutral clothes upon request, but everyone assumed you were tomboyish. luckily, no one read more into it; it was nice to dress comfortably, but it was like no one else understood. why were they still calling you a girl? and the older folks, you knew they meant well! but you couldn’t help but feel like their constant “sweet girl”s were making fun of you at this point.

i can’t do it, i can’t do it, they’re making fun of me right now, as i think. as i exist!

you felt a tear trickle down the side of your nose.

oh, you’re kidding. crying? again? is this—

a knock on your door halted your thoughts; you quickly flipped back and sat up in your bed on the ground of your hut, and wiped your face quickly. you lightly slapped your cheeks to stop yourself from continuing crying.

“yeah.”

“it’s me. can i come in?”

senku’s voice brought some sort of relief; personally you felt it was better for him to come in at such a time than anyone else.

you took a deep breath. “sure, but i just woke up. i’m staying under my blanket.”

senku laughed behind the door. a small shove was made and it opened, revealing a quite chipper senku. he liked to come early in the morning when the rest of the village was quiet.

his smirk faltered once he saw your face. you believed you hid your crying well; you didn’t think to check your red eyes or stinging cheeks.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his words much gentler than when he asked to come in.

damn. how could i not realize i was so obvious?

with a deep breath, you whispered, “senku.. we’re pretty good friends, right?”

he snickered. “of course we are, way more than that asshole gen.”

his voice was closer. you laughed as well, and wiped your eyes clear. he slowly walked over and sat down on the floor next to you. senku was looking at you, really looking at you; it was intense, almost if he was making sure his closeness or anything about his presence wasn’t bothering you.

“okay…i’m about to say a lot of stuff. let me know if you need me to explain more, or if i’m talking too much. or—“

your words halted as senku put a hand on your shoulder, a smile light on his face. “all ears.”

you smiled back softly. “okay. so—back in..our time,”you gestured between the two of you with your hands, “i told my family and friends i was, uhm… nonbinary. like i don’t feel male or female, i use they/them pronouns; all that good stuff. still feel that way now. and, for quite some time, they didn’t believe me. not in a direct ‘you’re lying’ way, but more of ‘i don’t understand it therefore you shouldn’t understand it’ type of thing. i got a lot of shit from people who weren’t my friends, too. but with my friends’ support and getting more confidence after coming out, my parents were able to kinda see it. but yeah, it took quite some time. probably like.. eight months? even then, i had to remind them constantly, ‘not a daughter. please don’t call me she or he. please don’t call me a woman.’ but we were getting there. and right when we got petrified, right when it happened, i saw the look on my mom’s face.

“we were talking about me and my identity and it was like something had clicked in her brain. like, she knew exactly what i meant and how i felt when i said what it meant to be nonbinary. i don’t even remember what i said specifically, but i remember her expression as if she were standing in front of me right now. i was so hopeful i’d see her again, her expression got me through my petrification and even helped me break out of it. but of COURSE, i didn’t ever see her again after i woke up. and then i almost lost my own sense of self after being by myself for probably a year.. i was under the assumption i’d never meet another person again, so when i did run into your village—i had this gross feeling of dread. and i realized it was the same feeling that basically lived inside of me before i came out.”

you sat up straighter and looked away from senku. “it’s like, i have to rebuild my identity all over again. people always say you shouldn’t care about what other people say, but i can’t help it. i’m a sensitive person. i get hurt easily, no matter how hard i try to thicken my skin. they all, they all just use ‘she’ and ‘her’ and ‘that girl’ so often, it feels like they’re making fun of me, like they’re constantly telling me i’m not who i say i am. and i can’t tell them senku, being nonbinary was confusing for so many people in our time, i hardly believe they’ll understand it now. sure, my parents were fine, but it took a while before they got it. i can only imagine how long it’ll take for everyone here.”

senku was quiet. have you over explained yourself? was it too overbearing? in all honesty you’d only been good friends with senku a short while; you should have waited at least a little bit longer before letting him in on something so personal—

“it all, it all kind of makes sense now.”

huh?! “what?”

“what you told me, i think i get it now.”

you gave him a look up and down. it was possible, but you didn’t think there was much of a chance that senku would be so..cool with it. not right away. you expected some form of silent treatment for at least a day or two, so he could collect his own thoughts.

“i’m gonna say something, and i need you to listen. yeah?”

you stared at him like your brain short-circuited. what the fuck is he gonna say to me.. oh god, he doesn’t wanna be friends anymore. but he’ll be too nice to kick me out of the village. but it is his village—

“hey, hey…are you with me?” you both sat facing each other now, and his hands rested on your shoulders.

just hear him out. “yeah. all ears.”

he smoothed your shoulders with his thumb. “you’re just as valid as everyone out there. i know you’re scared, but believe me when i say they will not be mocking you in any way. sure, it might take a while for them to understand, but theyre not going to give up just because they dont get something right away. it took me a few months to fully convince this village i could help them, and even then, there were still a few who didn’t fully understand the experiments and contraptions i made until a while later. i know that isn’t the same as your situation… but what i’m trying to say is that they will try their best to know you, the real you. they aren’t going to mock you; if anything, they’ll have lots of questions to ask you.

“also, you have me, you have gen to help out in case you don’t have the capacity to answer everything yourself. i’ve a few things about gender before the stone world, and gen definitely knows a lot of things that are relevant to it as well.

“everyone here… they’re all so eager to learn, i highly doubt they’ll be unaccepting. they’ll be curious. and they’ll be happy you’re letting them in on something that is so important.”

tears had made their way down your face and on your clothes halfway through his mini-monologue; you didn’t notice him continuously wiping them away until he was finished. “it’s going to be okay. trust me.”

with a quiet sob, you pushed yourself into his arms for a hug.

“thank you.”

you knew he wasn’t particularly one for any type of physical contact, but he gladly accepted. for the occasion, he thought. his arms slowly wrapped around your slightly shaking body as you tried to calm down. neither of you spoke for a few minutes; only your soft sniffles were heard in the hut.

“senku, i think that was the most i’ve heard you talk about something that wasn’t directly related to science,” you laughed into his neck.

he laughed back. “i had a lot saved, since there were moments i could tell you were kind of uncomfortable. i didn’t want to force you into talking about it either, so i just waited. tried to figure out what i was going to say. it had to be good.. you are one of my closest friends, after all.”

both of you embraced each other a little tighter. “i hope all of this helped, i want you to live here with none of those worries. especially after so many months of having it bottled inside.”

you nodded in response.

today.. today will be the day i tell everyone not to use what they used to call me; that won’t do at all anymore.

today, i’ll tell everyone my name.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 4 years ago

Text

popcorn & pronouns

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Remus, Roman Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Dukeceit, Creativitwins Warnings: Not much to warn for in this one. Language, a little bit of suggestiveness, vague non-detailed descriptions of a horror movie. Word count: 3402

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

Dukeceit Week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: A movie night date leads to an important conversation. Already being t4t makes it a lot easier. Or, in Remus's own words, “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess. Huh.”

Notes: Day 6 of Dukeceit Week 2021! Almost there! @dukeceitweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, where each piece can be read without any context. Takes place 9 months after college; at the start of the story, Janus uses only they/them pronouns.

“Ooh, popcorn! Can I have some?” Roman popped his head into the kitchen of the apartment he, Remus, and Logan had shared in the nine or so months since they had all graduated college.

“No, Jan and I are having a date in twenty minutes,” Remus said, waving Roman off without looking away from the air popper.

“Okay, I don’t see how that’s relevant to my question.” Roman pushed himself to sit on the counter by the sink. “I mean, that’s really cute, I hope you have fun. But can I have some popcorn?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Make your own when I’m done.”

“But you make it better!” Roman pouted overdramatically.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “All I do is plug in the machine?”

“Right, which is better than me doing it.” Roman grinned at them. “Less work for me.”

“Hey!” Remus swatted his arm. “The transphobia, honestly—”

“Well, if you making it for me is transphobic to you, then you not making it for me is—” Roman broke off quite suddenly, his expression undergoing several shifts very fast that Remus could not make sense of. Which was… unusual, to say the least. Roman was normally the one person they could always count on understanding. They didn’t like this new development one bit.

“Ro?”

“Iiiiiit’s… queerphobic to me,” Roman said at last, a worried pinch to his eyebrows. He laughed, and it almost didn’t sound forced. “So we’re at a tie, so you should just make me popcorn.”

“First of all, I’m queer too, make your own damn popcorn. Second—” Remus turned away from the popcorn machine and gave Roman his full attention, leaning back against the kitchen island and tilting his head to the side. “Do you wanna talk about whatever the fuck that was?” So far as Remus knew, Roman was bi; that was the label he’d been using for years and years, so long that it practically felt like forever. Since almost the very beginning of high school. Since before Remus had questioned their gender, even. Only last week, he’d called the light switch biphobic without hesitation when it broke.

Whatever had happened to make him so very deliberately not call himself bi just now, it was new.

Roman’s expression closed up very fast indeed, but not before Remus caught a flash of something he was almost certain was fear. “No.”

“You know it’s okay to question, right?” Remus inquired awkwardly. “No matter what specifically, and no matter what the outcome is? Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know I’d still love you no matter what, right? Even if you were, like, a straight man—like, I would make so many jokes about not agreeing with your lifestyle, but—Ro, you know everything is always gonna be okay, right?”

Roman glared at him. “Remus, I don’t want to talk about it.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I’m definitely not straight.”

Remus blinked and raised their hands. “Alright. I didn’t mean literally straight, I just meant—you could be literally whatever, and it would be cool. That was—like—the most extreme example I could think of, you know?”

Roman let out a slight huff of laughter. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly after a pause. “It’s nothing, though.”

“Bullshit,” Remus said immediately.

“It—” Roman swallowed. “I need it to be nothing, okay?”

“If anyone’s making you feel shitty, I’ll beat them up,” Remus said immediately. “Even if it’s Patton. Just drop the names. I’ll do it. I’ll—”

“Remus, it’s fine. I want to stop fucking talking about it now!” Roman snapped.

Remus hesitated, fumbling for what to do or say next, everything about the conversation feeling just a little wrong and sideways.

Roman sighed. “Sorry.” He pushed off the counter, went to the fridge, and stared into it for a solid thirty seconds, then took a cheese stick out of the door. “I’ll make my own popcorn later,” he mumbled and retreated back to his room.

“Damn, alright,” Remus said to the empty room. “Be like that, I guess.” They flung their hands into the air and went to get the butter they’d been melting in the microwave before Roman’s appearance.

Roman would talk to them about it, whatever it was, eventually. He always did. And whatever was bugging him, Remus would figure out a way to bug it back until it stopped and Roman was all happy and bubbly again. Because that was what Remus always did. It would be fine. It was just a waiting game.

Remus sighed. He always hated waiting.

***

“Mmkay,” Remus said, when Janus had arrived, and they had worked together to move the TV out of the living room and into Remus’s room, and they had settled in on Remus’s bed—Remus sitting up against the headboard and Janus half-laying in Remus’s lap with their long thin legs stretched out along the bed and their head on his chest—and the popcorn had been set beside them where they could both reach it, and the blanket nest had been fluffed once more. “What shall we watch?”

Janus was silent for a long moment. Actually, come to think of it, they had been quiet since they’d arrived at the apartment—even more quiet than usual. But Remus was almost certain they weren’t nonverbal, seeing as they had exchanged a few fond words with him. It just hadn’t been very many words.

“Janny, baby?” Remus leaned forward, over their shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of their face.

Janus had their fingers knotted in the blanket that was spread over their lap, fidgeting with it anxiously, a thinking-hard expression on their face.

“Baby?” Remus curled one hand lightly around theirs. “You good?”

“Choices are too hard right now,” Janus said at last.

“Okay, that’s okay. Do you know what you need?”

“I want to watch a movie.” Janus frowned. “I just can’t choose.”

“Gotcha. No problem.” Remus pressed a kiss to their cheek. “I’m really good at choosing.” He threaded his fingers through Janus’s long hair, scratching soothingly at their scalp in just the way he knew they liked, and pulled up the library of movies, switching from Roman’s profile to his own.

“How’s some really cheesy horrible horror film we can make fun of sound?” he asked, scrolling with the remote and still playing with Janus’s hair with his other hand. “I know we have a bunch of those, I loved ’em when we were kids and I think they’re funny.”

“That sounds fine.” Janus nodded and relaxed a little further against Remus.

“Good.” He kissed the top of their head. “Do you need anything else?”

Janus shook their head. “I’ve just been kind of stressed lately. Work’s been shit, and all that. It’s fine. I just want to cuddle and things.”

“Ooh, ‘and things,’ I like the sound of that,” Remus teased, sliding his hand gently to their chin and drawing them to twist around far enough that he could kiss them soft and slow.

“I didn’t say what kinds of things,” Janus said innocently, their eyes still closed and so close to Remus that their lips brushed against his as they spoke. “Perhaps I could be persuaded later.”

“I’ll be sure to prepare my best arguments,” Remus said, leaning slightly up to kiss their forehead and then back down to their lips for another lazy kiss, taking his time and exploring Janus’s mouth until they sighed and melted against him.

“A compelling preview,” they murmured, their eyes still closed and the slightest smile curling at their lips.

Remus meant to make some kind of witty quip in return, really he did, but all that came out of his mouth was a quiet, awed, “Holy fuck, you’re so beautiful, Jan.”

Janus’s eyes opened and met his for a moment, soft and vulnerable, before they turned and hid their face in his neck. “Love you,” they whispered against his skin.

“Mm, I love you too,” Remus said happily, wrapping his arms securely around Janus and kissing the top of their head. “Love your pretty eyes and skin and hair and body, love how clever you are, love your scary goth clothes, love your snark, love your stims, love you—”

Janus whined wordlessly into his neck, pressing kisses to it and fisting their hands in the front of his shirt.

Remus chuckled, taking a handful of their hair and gently tugging until they looked up at him once more. “Do you want to watch a movie at all, or do you just wanna make out? Cause I’d be good with either, but if you wanna do a movie, we should get on that before we’re too distracted.”

“Oh.” Janus leaned their head back a little until it was resting against Remus’s hand. “Not that I don’t want to make out, but—”

“Nah, I gotcha. Gotta at least get through the popcorn, am I right?” Remus cast about for the remote, lost in the blanket pile, as Janus shifted about until they faced the television again.

“There it is!” Remus snatched the remote up, clicking through the library on the television until he saw the particular film he was thinking of and pulled it up. “This look good?”

“‘When moving into their new house, little do our protagonists know it is haunted by a demonic serial killer. Will they get out in time? Or will they be his next victims?’” Janus read the summary aloud. “Sounds absolutely thrilling. Extremely original. Love the bad Photoshop on the cover. I’m sure the acting will be of the highest quality.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s so shitty, I love it. So many cheesy effects and fake blood, it’s the actual stupidest shit,” Remus assured them. “I love it, though. Went as the demon thing for Halloween when I was nine. Nobody fucking knew what I was, but I had the time of my life. And got fake blood on Roman when he wasn’t looking. It was great.”

Janus chuckled, reaching up to brush their fingertips against Remus’s cheek. “Well, with such a glowing review from someone so attractive, how can I resist?” they said fondly.

“That’s the spirit!” Remus hit play.

Remus had watched this particular movie more times than they could count over the course of their childhood. He peppered commentary throughout the film:

“This is my favorite part, if you pay attention you can see her real fingertips holding onto the fake hand she’s about to get chopped off!”

“There’s a jumpscare in this scene, I know you hate those—okay, hit the skip-ten-seconds button in three, two, there. Perfect. Dumbass demon movie can’t even trust itself to be creepy without cheap scares.”

“Look, I know the mom is supposed to have some kind of hot blonde thing going on for the horny straight men in the audience, but she’s got nothing on you.”

“For some reason they made a director’s commentary and it actually includes the fake blood recipe they used, I’ll show you sometime!”

Janus, in turn, provided brilliant, extremely snarky roasts, mostly of either the actors’ absolute lack of skill or the gaping plot holes:

“Oh, yes, going alone to the attic at midnight without so much as a candle is a fantastic idea, nothing bad could possibly happen in this scene.”

“Listen, I can excuse the children because they’re about eight years old, but do you think this man has ever even heard of acting? Or even, like, speaking in a non-monotone?”

“I am truly fascinated by the special effects department’s understanding of human anatomy.”

“So, the demon feeds on misery? Why hasn’t it taken up residence in a large office building? I mean, come on, hundreds of souls in an environment designed to grind out constant levels of misery? It’s perfect. The poor thing must be starving out here in the two-point-five-kids-and-a-dog suburbs, every meal it gets is tiny. I would be so much better at its job than it is.”

At last the credits rolled.

“Wanna see pictures of the costume I made?” Remus asked.

“Sure.” Janus sounded amused.

“Lemme just—” Remus scrolled through their camera roll for a minute. “Oh, here they are.” They displayed their phone to Janus; tiny nine-year-old Remus, who sported long tangled brown hair in two ponytails, was draped in a black curtain, donated by his great-aunt, that he had very enthusiastically taken a pair of scissors to to create a tattered effect; the curtain was splattered with bright red goo, and tiny Remus had a pair of plastic knives in his hands, which were blurry in almost every photo because they’d hardly stopped making stabbing motions all evening. To their right, their little sister Gabby, who’d been six at the time, was dressed as Elastigirl and making a punching motion; to their right, Roman—who had already been a full three inches taller than Remus, even at nine—was wearing a Belle dress with a poofy skirt and a sword strapped around his waist and a huge smile that was missing one front tooth.

Remus swiped through the photos; a delightful scene unfolded, as tiny Remus posed for a few pictures, then in one was blurrily turning towards Roman, then dumping something on him, then Roman was screaming and Remus was laughing as red goo dripped down the poofy yellow skirt; Gabby watched with both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes huge.

“You two really have not changed at all, have you?” Janus asked, stifling laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Remus agreed with an answering laugh. “I think the most that either of us ever changed was when I chopped off all that hair and dyed it green.”

“When was that?” Janus asked.

“Sophomore year of high school. I did not have permission to chop it all off, but I did get permission to dye it afterwards, so that was pretty sick.”

“And that didn’t go against dress code?” Janus inquired.

“No, actually. Not sure how. But I bet my parents would’ve kicked up a big stink about it if the school tried and made me change it; they were always super big on self expression and shit.” Remus gestured towards the picture, indicating tiny Roman in his princess dress. “We always got to wear whatever we wanted, and shit like that. It was nice. Made gender shit way easier when that became a thing for me, you know?”

“It sounds nice,” Janus said softly. “I’m happy you had that.”

Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to their forehead, reaching for a handful of the popcorn dregs in the bottom of the bowl.

Janus shifted in their arms, rolling over to face Remus and propping themself up on their elbows. “Actually,” they began.

Something on their face told Remus that whatever this new topic of conversation was, it was important. He swallowed the half-chewed popcorn in his mouth. “Yeah, baby?”

“Speaking of gender.” Janus picked at the edge of the blanket.

“I love speaking of that, go on.” Remus tousled Janus’s hair fondly.

Janus took a deep breath, staring at the blanket in their hands. “I want to start using he pronouns again. In addition to my regular ones. Or.” They wrinkled their nose. “My current ones, I guess. So, he/they.”

“That’s great, he/they pronouns are very sexy,” Remus said at once.

Janus laughed, looking up at him at last. “That’s true, you are the sexiest person I know,” he said fondly. A shadow passed over his features. “But,” he went on slowly, chewing on the inside of their lip and picking at the blanket once more.

“Yeah?” Remus encouraged.

“I really don’t like the idea of telling anyone else about that.” Janus grimaced. “I keep worrying I’ll get asked stupid questions about ‘oh, so are you a man again now?’ when—like—no, and I never was one in the first place. So.”

“Oh, that sounds gross,” Remus agreed at once. “I can see why you’d be worried about that.”

Janus nodded. “I just—I don’t want to explain. And I don’t want people to ask questions. And they might. And I just—I don't want any of it. I want to skip to the part where they know and it’s all how I want it to be.”

“That’s reasonable,” Remus agreed. “But, I mean, if they can get me using he/they pronouns and being nonbinary, they had better fucking wrap their minds around the concept of you doing it too. Yeah? Or I’ll make ’em. Violently, if you want.”

Janus snorted. “I appreciate the offer, darling.” They reached up and touched his cheek. “I… don’t know if I want to tell anyone else yet. But I did want to tell you.”

“You got it, cutie.” Remus booped Janus’s nose once. “Just let me know if anything changes. I’ll punch people for you. Anytime. They don’t even have to have done anything. Just point me at them and consider it done.”

Janus did laugh at that, outright, scrunching up his face and burying it in Remus’s chest. “I should not be this into you offering to punch people for me,” he said wryly.

Remus grinned and flipped their hair. “Nah, I think it’s definitely very sexy of me and should absolutely turn you on.”

Janus smacked Remus’s arm. “I did not say that!”

“You implied it.”

“Not… necessarily. That was one possible interpretation—”

“Oh, right, I see, mmhm, very interesting.”

They smacked his arm again. “You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little bit. You’re so pretty when you get all flustered.” Remus bent their head at a somewhat awkward angle to kiss Janus’s lips gently. “Are there any new words you want me to use, by the way?” they asked. “Besides updating pronouns?”

Janus tilted his head to the side, considering. “I think… I still like all the sorts of things you call me already. Pretty, and partner, and—and baby, and so on.”

Remus smirked. “That’s good, I like calling you baby.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Janus hid their face in their hands.

“Why, baby?” Remus asked innocently.

Janus made a strangled noise, and after a pause carried on. “I do think I wouldn’t mind adding a little bit of… masc terminology? I guess? If that makes sense? Adding that into the mix. Not all the time, and not as much as the things you already call me, but… just a bit would be nice.”

“Gotcha.” Remus nodded. “I can do that. So, like, my baby is very pretty and handsome?”

Janus’s cheeks went bright red in an instant, and he hid his face in Remus’s chest again, letting out a tiny wordless scream. “Yes. That. That—that’s nice,” they managed after a pause, sounding almost entirely composed.

Remus chuckled and ran their fingers through Janus’s hair. “Good to know,” he said teasingly. “I will definitely keep this in mind.”

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Absolutely, but only in a sexy way of making you happy.” Remus kissed the top of their head. “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess,” they mused. “Huh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, something’s clearly eating at someone else we know, and I think they’re going to tell me about whatever it is within the week. That’s all. It was just funny timing.” Remus kissed the top of Janus’s head again. “So, the movie’s over,” they noted, which, sure, was a blatant and deliberate change of subject, but he felt this was justified, both for avoiding-speculating-about-Roman’s-personal-information purposes and, more importantly, for fun-after-movie-things purposes.

“That it is,” Janus said, a particular innocent tone entering their voice. Excellent, he was of a similar mind to Remus, then.

Remus grinned and drew them up for a kiss. “So, what does the very pretty and handsome and lovely human in my arms want to do now?” he inquired.

Janus made another small, wordless, flustered noise and promptly dragged Remus into another kiss. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“What, about how you’re the loveliest—prettiest—sexiest—” Remus pressed tiny kisses to Janus’s lips with each word, until at last they caught his lips with their own in a proper kiss to shut him up. “Pretty sure I can say it, actually,” Remus murmured against his lips. “Cause it’s true.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Janus said, sounding very pleased indeed, and kissed them again.

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @peruviandesertfox

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argylemnwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Wandered Many a Weary Foot

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (Fight or Flight universe, holiday outtake from the timeline of that story)

Word Count: ~1050

Rating: PG-13 (language only)

Summary: But seas between us broad have roared since days of auld lang syne

Author’s Note: Alright, Christmas was for ICWAM, but New Year’s is for FoF. Because I am a slow poke, this is set a couple of months ahead of where the main narrative is... but I don’t think it spoils anything plot relevant. But ever since I heard about the Greek tradition of smashing a pomegranate on the front door on New Year’s to bring good luck, I knew I wanted to write this story, and I am not waiting until next year to post it, so I’m just embracing the out-of-orderness of it all, hahaha!

I want to wish everyone a very Happy New Year! In know that for almost everyone, 2021 has been another rough one. But there is something about starting a new year that just brings hope, and so I wish everyone bright, happy, healthy, and safe 2022s. I appreciate every one of you.

“Wait, what? You can’t be serious, Walker.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

Drake held back a sigh as he watched Riley’s eyebrows shoot up and her head jut forward. This seemed so unnecessary. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to wake up a toddler at-” he glanced down at his watch “-11:46 at night, particularly when she’s prone to sleep-reversal with teething, and you know that her molars are coming in-”

“Oh my god, you are so old,” Riley interrupted, shaking her head. “It’s fucking New Year’s Eve, and like you just pointed out, her sleep schedule is gonna get shot to hell soon anyway. We’re fucking doing this, Drake.”

Drake rolled his eyes. The old man comment was so fucking predictable. “Since when are you into old, traditional holiday celebrations anyway?”

“Hey, last year we did that dumb ‘eat a slice of 72 different types of apples before the stroke of midnight’ crap.”

“You’re exaggerating, Walker. It was 71 types of apples max.”

Riley grinned and chuckled. “Still, we did a Cordonian tradition last year. Now that we’re in Greece, I think we should do a Greek one.”

Drake frowned, feeling like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. For as long as he’d known her, Riley hadn’t seemed to care much about standard, traditional celebrations for any holiday. He suspected that it had to do with the fact that she had very few festive holiday memories from her childhood. And sure, after Bridget was born, she seemed a little more interested in partaking in some typical holiday elements, probably trying to create some of her missing holiday memories for their daughter. But last year, it’s not like she’d been insistent on any particular celebration. Drake had basically gotten the feeling that whatever they decided to do, Riley was just going to turn it into their family tradition going forward.

But here she was, pomegranate in hand, a determined look blazing in her eyes as she insisted that they needed to wake up Bridget and head outside before midnight. He knew he was missing something, that there had to be some reason why this was something Riley was insisting on, even though this particular tradition had zero cultural significance to either of them.

“Riley, I just gotta ask… why this?” he asked, stepping closer to her and sliding a hand across her shoulder. “Why this particular celebration?”

She glanced to the side for just a moment before she spoke, still not making eye contact. “I dunno. It’s just…” She swallowed, then kept going. “It’s supposed to bring good luck. And after this past year, knowing what we might be facing in a few weeks, I just figured…”

“We could use all the good luck we can get?” Drake finished, prompting Riley to look back at him with a little shrug and nod.

“Yeah. I know it’s kind of stupid, but I just figured it couldn’t hurt, right?”

Drake nodded before tugging her into a hug. “No. It couldn’t hurt.”

He held her against his chest. After all the shit they’d been through over the past few months, and with the Conclave looming ahead, he got it. There had been so much that was out of their control, so many times where they were barely holding on. Given their fugitive status, they couldn’t really do anything about the upcoming vote either. With so many things happening to them, forcing them to just react and adapt, he couldn’t really blame her for wanting to try and do something, anything, that might sway the odds in their favor. So he just held her close for as long as she needed. After a few moments, they both stepped back, Riley sliding her free hand into Drake’s.

“Come on,” he said, “We better go get Bridget before midnight.” And so they went upstairs, waking up a very confused looking Bridget, and slipping on a jacket and some shoes over her sheep-covered pajamas before heading out to the front of the house, Bridget tucked against Drake’s side.

Drake knew it didn’t get that cold in Greece, but he still held Bridget close as a gust of wind caused him to shiver. Riley stepped right up next to him as well, her old leather jacket wrapped around her tightly.

“Alright, Walker. You’re the one who researched this. What do we gotta do?”

“Just wait for midnight. Then we walk back inside and smash the pomegranate against the door. The more seeds that spill onto the floor, the better luck our household will have next year.”

So they just stood there, waiting, watching as Riley’s phone read 11:59 for what felt like an inordinate amount of time. But eventually, it flipped over, the time hitting 12:00 and the date changing to a brand new year.

“You ready?” Riley asked.

“Absolutely.” She tried to hand him the pomegranate, but he shook his head. “You should do the honors.”

“But you’re stronger! You’ll probably be able to-”

Drake wrapped his free arm around Riley’s shoulders, spinning her lightly to face him. “You’re plenty strong, Riley.”

She paused for a second, then nodded. She stepped back and grabbed his hand, tugging him and Bridget along to the front door. She opened the door with a sigh. Then, as they crossed the threshold as a family, she stretched out her right hand, driving the pomegranate into the door. Hard.

Drake flinched slightly as juice splattered everywhere, including into the corner of his eye. They both stepped back to take it in, from the red juice oozing down the door, to the pulp left in Riley's hand, and finally down to the floor, where what had to be hundreds of pomegranate seeds lay scattered around them.

Riley didn’t say anything, just gave Drake’s hand a squeeze. What really was there to say, anyway? They’d been through hell over and over again, and they had no real clue if the end was in sight or not. But they had each other, and hopefully, a decent amount of good luck on their side. And while they still might have struggles to face, the promise of hope that this year might bring something better for their family than the last one was enough to make Drake smile.

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @ladyangel70 @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake/MC: @walkerdrakewalker @petiteboheme @mskaneko

FoF: @burnsoslow

#drake walker #drake x mc #trh au fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh fanfic #choices fanfiction

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wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet

Chapter 5 art by @semains (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

“Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #inside your wires #my fanfiction #my writing

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together.

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

------------------

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x you

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vivianweasley · 4 years ago

Text

In Love With My Best Friend (Fred Weasley X Reader)

Summary: When you realized that you have always loved George, it was already too late. Instead of being the bride, you became the bridesmaid. But it seemed like you weren’t the only one who’s in love with their best friend.

Pairing: Fred X Fem!Reader, George X Reader (unrequited love)

Warnings: angst (George getting married!) to fluff, drinking

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: I was listening to “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat while writing this!

Please do NOT repost my work or translate it on another site without permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcomed

There are always a few things in life that people just take for granted.

Like that year’s Christmas Eve at the Burrows. That night, after a few glasses of butterbeer, you fell asleep lying on George’s shoulder. His shoulders were broad and he smelled like sweet cinnamon and caramel. You just felt so warm and secure next to him. At that time, you still couldn’t understand what that warm feeling in your heart meant, but you just naively believed that this feeling of warmth and security would never go away.

You were friends with the famous Weasley twins since your first year at Hogwarts and the three of you have been best friends for about twelve years now.

But regardless of being given more than a decade, you were still stupid enough to finally realize during the war that you have always loved George. And still you did nothing after that big realization, because you were afraid that he would find you weird or feel awkward around you. You just couldn’t afford sabotaging your friendship with him.

Plus, he’s your best friend so he would always be there for you, right? You could just confess your feelings whenever you are ready. So what’s the hurry?

But life rarely goes according to people’s plans. George eventually got a girlfriend. You were sad, but you weren’t hopeless. It was not like he never had a girlfriend before. So as long as he was not married, you could still wait for him.

But then, he proposed to her.

Fred told you this news when he came to your apartment for your weekly movie night. He always knew that you fancied George, so he decided to tell you this before you hear it from George at tonight’s dinner at the Burrows.

You swore to Merlin that you heard a huge exploding sound when you heard that news, but your apartment was perfectly quiet, dead silent even.

And then you went through what the muggles called the five stages of grief.

Denial. “Ha ha ha, that’s funny Fred. You got me, that’s a good one.”

Anger. “How could he do this to me! This is so not fair! I was here first! I was here for him for twelve years! This is not fair! I need to get him back! I don’t care if I’m gonna ruin the wedding! Fred Weasley, are you with me or not!”

Bargain. “Merlin, please! What should I do! I can trade anything for this, please!”

Depression. “Fred, I need some time alone. Oh I’m not sad...I just...I’m not crying......I’m sorry about your shirt Freddie, didn’t mean to use it as a tissue. I’ll wash it for you tomorrow.”

And finally, acceptance. “Merlin of course! I would love to be your Maid of Honor! I’m so happy for you George!”

You’ve prepared so much for this wedding, possibly overthinking every detail of it. For example, what should you say for your Maid of Honor speech?

Tell them how Fred accidentally splashed paint on your dress the day before the Yule ball, and how George managed to get you a new one one hour before the dance? No, you’re not the bride. This is not about you.

Tell them how you and George hid chocolates in the secret passage at Hogwarts when you were 12? The chocolates all melted after the summer and ants were crawling all over the secret passage. No, you wanted to keep that as your secret memory.

Tell them how George prepared for his bride’s birthday present when they first started dating? He decided to give her a whole box of puking pastiles for her to skip work, but you strongly opposed that idea. That’s a nice story, relevant to both the bride and the groom.

------------------------------------

You were sitting on the stairs at the Burrows, holding your notes in your hand and your nails anxiously tracing the side of the paper. The wedding was just at the tent beside the Burrows, but you were panicking now.

What the hell were you doing? The man that you’ve loved for so many years was getting married and you became the bridesmaid? How the hell did you get into such an unpleasant situation?

You knew that he doesn’t belong to you. He never did. You knew that, but going to his wedding is different. Did you really have the courage to watch him get married to another person? Were you really ready to face the fact that from this day on, George Weasley will never be yours? But you just wanted him to be happy.

Twelve years of memories with him raced through your head. You missed that and you missed the you at that time. You wanted to start over.

Your brain was a mess and the insides of your stomach felt like they were tangled together. And you couldn’t remember a single full sentence from your speech that you spent the entire night memorizing.

You wanted to run away.

“Are you still planning to steal the groom? Thought we are a team.”

You turned your head slowly towards the source of the voice and it took your brain a few seconds to process and give you a name, Fred. You tried to sound as normal as possible, “Oh no, don’t have the energy to do that anymore.”

You thought Fred just came here to make a lighthearted joke, but he sat down next to you on the stairs, “You know, you don’t have to give the speech if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to be the Maid of Honor.”

“No, I have to. I promised him.”

“Or you can give me your notes, or to Ginny. There are so many choices, take your pick.”

“It’s ok Fred, I can do this myself.”

“Fine, just remember that I’m always here to help.” He sounded so serious it surprised you. You’ve never seen Fred being so serious before.

You nodded.

“Alright! Let’s go then!” He pulled you up from the stairs and you followed him to the wedding venue with your head held high.

The wedding went well. When this moment, this moment that you’ve dreaded for so long, finally happened, you were actually feeling calmer than you imagined. Watching them exchanging wedding rings and becoming legal husband and wife, you actually felt relieved for a moment. This was finally the moment when you accepted the fact that George never belonged to you. This was finally the moment when you could officially let go of this unrequited love that you never really knew how to deal with.

After Fred’s toast, it was your turn. You stood up and everyone was staring at you now. Suddenly, you found yourself panicking again. Were you really feeling calm right now? Were you really ready to do this? What if you started to break down during the speech, with everyone watching? Your throat went dry. Your face was burning up, but your hands and feet were cold.

But someone held your hand under the table. You turned to Fred. He smiled at you and whispered, “You can do this.”

His hand was warm and his smile was so comforting, making you believe that you can indeed do this. You felt warmth gradually returning to your limbs. You felt like you could breathe again.

You eventually finished your speech without crying or stuttering. The guests were cheering and you saw George grinning at you, “Thank you Y/N!”

You replied with a soft smile. It was finally over. The wedding came to it’s conclusion and so did your decade-long unrequited love. Nothing dramatic happened. Everything was just the way as it should be.

You fell on your chair. You were grateful that your poor heart could finally find a moment of peace and tranquility. “When all of this is over, maybe I could finally get a good night sleep.”

“When all of this is over, maybe you could give yourself a break in Greece,” Fred replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Charlie was invited to study a really rare breed of dragons in Greece and they said he could bring two friends.”

You suddenly sat up, “Are you bringing me!”

“Yea, Charlie was bringing me and George at first, but I guess George won’t be available for the next month. So I thought I should bring you since you love Greek mythology and all that.”

“How did you know that!” You were surprised. You always loved learning about Greek mythology, but you never told Fred and George about it because you thought they won’t be interested.

“Please Y/N, I’m not that stupid. I saw you reading about it all the time.”

“I never thought you were stupid. I just thought- you couldn’t read!”

He looked hurt, “Is this how you treat someone who’s gonna treat you to a grand trip?”

“You’re right...Where’s Charlie? I need to thank him!” You replied and he laughed.

Slow music started to play and the bride and groom started dancing. The guests soon followed them.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, may I have this dance?” Fred stood up. He bent over a little and offered his hand.

“Of course!” You smiled as you put your hand in his and followed him to the dance floor. You two were dancing right beside George and his bride. This scene took you right back to the night of the Yule Ball. That night, Fred was dancing with Angelina and you were dancing with George.

Fred thought back on that night too, “Looks like you’ve finally found the better dance partner.”

“Didn’t know you could dance too,” you teased, but you also wanted to compliment him. You always thought Fred would be more into dancing to up-beat musics, instead of slow sappy love songs like this. But now with your hand on his shoulder and his hand on your waist, leading you, it felt just right.

“Of course! But you still chose George that year, it’s your loss.”

You rolled your eyes, “Please, it’s not like you’ve asked me or anything.”

“Was planning to, but George asked you first.”

“What?” You thought he was only joking, but he stated it so matter-of-factly. A familiar tingling sensation started to rise in your stomach.

“It’s true. Why? Are you regretting your decisions now? Are you falling in love with me now?” He winked at you as he teased you.

“You wish!” You kicked him, but your heart was beating like crazy and you could feel your face heating up.

Oh no. Not this again! You finally moved on from George and now you were falling for his twin? You tried to calm yourself and regain some senses, but you could already feel the heat from your cheeks spreading to the tip of your ears.

Please, you were not going to make this kind of mistake twice! Because you knew from experience, it sucks being in love with your best friend!

-------------------------------------

Many stories would be so different if different people were telling it. Like that Christmas Eve at the Burrows that you remembered and held dear to your heart for years.

That night after you fell asleep on George’s shoulder, George fell asleep too, leaving Fred to be the only sober one. He tried to wake his brother, but the two of you were sleeping like the dead on the couch. Fred sighed and decided to carry you upstairs to Ginny’s room.

You were so drunk, but you still didn’t forget to mumble a “Thank you” when Fred tucked you in. He found that adorable. A warm feeling started to rise in his heart as his fingertips caressed your flushed cheeks. He couldn’t help but left a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Good night love.” He whispered with a soft smile before closing the door and leaving, knowing this night was probably going to live in his head for a long time.

People all say that Fred is the more insensitive and oblivious twin, but that’s not true when it comes to the person he loves. Long before you even realized that you loved George, Fred figured it out.

But that’s alright, he knew he still got a chance. He knew he would always be there for you and one day maybe you would realize that too. He knew what’s your favorite song and what’s your favorite book. He knew how to make you smile so easily. He just felt so lucky that he’s in love with his best friend.

Part 2

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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splintergirl13 · 4 years ago

Note

So here is a little head cannon I thought of while reading your fan fic.

What if herobrine never had/celebrated his birthday so he forgot when it was, so Steve and Alex pick a day and celebrate his birthday with him. (P.s. sorry I have horrific grammer)

I liked this idea so much I made a little drabble under the read more :3 I hope it is worthy of such an great headcanon! Thank you so much for the ask! It fills me with joy to hear that people are thinking about my story lol <3. And don't worry. Grammar is hard and doesn't make any sense. I feel your pain

Before we dive in: this takes place pretty earlier into Steve and Brine becoming friends. So they are just starting to pine. Not in a relationship yet. Alex and Brine are still a little wary of each other but have come to accept that they are stuck with each other.

I'd say this is rated teen for just some small strong language lol

The Birthday Brine

It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Too nice to spend down in the mines. But a little too warm to do any strenuous activities.

So Alex and Steve decided to go on down to the small river they frequented on days like today. A secluded area where the water pooled deep enough to swim. And, of course, Herobrine tagged along. As was becoming more of the norm these days.

Steve was lying comfortably in the shade of a few trees on the bank of the river. Legs in the water; small waves lapped up to his knees as the water went by. Arms crossed behind his head. His shirt was off and laid over his eyes, shutting out any of the light that filtered through the leaves. Not really dozing off, but close to it.

Herobrine was similarly relaxing. He lay on his belly; balanced precariously on a nearby tree that had fallen over the river. Looking like a big cat lounging about in the direct sun. Soaking up the rays. One hand was draped down to the side, touching the cool water.

Alex was the only one fully in the river. She was a little upstream, floating on her back. She had taken off her pants, leaving them on the shore, and let her long green shirt cover her lower half. Every once in a while she would swim back to her original place as the current took her down towards Herobrine.

The trio had been chatting absentmindedly. Talking about anything, really. Steve ranted humorously about his pickaxe making a squeaking sound. Alex discussed way too many of the current happenings in town. Even Herobrine brought up that a dragonfly had landed on his shoulder. Which had the trio all staring for a bit before it flew off and they went back to their current positions.

It wasn't until a certain question came to Alex’s mind that the peace of the scene was disturbed.

"Hey Sparky." The adventurer asked. "...How old are you?"

Herobrine took a while to answer. Seeming to think through the question slowly. Finally he asked without opening his eyes. "Why?"

"Just curious." Alex shrugged, swimming a little.

The demon shifted. Now peaking over to look at Steve. It was like the miner could tell that he was being looked at because he lifted his shirt to look back questioningly.

Herobrine spoke up. "When was the last time I respawned? Four months ago?"

Steve frowned. "Yes. More like three. You fell through a roof, remember?"

"Right, right." Herobrine moved his hand up out of the water. "Terribly made and rusty old structure. Glad it forced a respawn. Tetanus is not fun even with healing powers."

"Why is this relevant?" Alex asked impatiently.

"I'm 28." Herobrine said immediately.

Alex sat up in the water. Causing a bit of a ruckus amongst some fish that had gotten close. "No you're not!"

"Yes I am." Herobrine turned his attention to her. She shuddered ever so slightly under his scrutinizing stare. "Every time I die, I respawn back to the same age at which I turned immortal."

Alex crossed her hands over her chest. "Okay, well that's only technically. I meant, like, if you count ALL the years you've been alive."

"I have no fucking clue, Alex." Herobrine rolled his head to the otherside of the tree to ignore her. Yet continued to talk. "Time loses all meaning when you're immortal. Not to mention I was trapped in the nether for most of that time. So it's even harder to tell."

"What's your best guess?" Steve asked, now curious as well.

And the head came back around. Looking at Steve. The demon wouldn't ignore the miner. He bit his lip, eyes trailing towards the water. "I dunno... maybe a few centuries... a millennia or so..."

"Old." Steve clarified. Seeing that the demon was struggling a little.

"Yeah... old." Herobrine scowled.

"So, what, do we have to, like, wait until you live a year to celebrate your birthday?" Alex giggled. "No wonder you don't remember it. It would never be your birthday based on that criteria."

Herobrine scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." Steve added, putting the shirt back over his eyes. "Come to think of it, when is your birthday, Brine?"

"You want to know the exact date I was born?" Herobrine sat up now, clearly confused. "Fuck... I don't know. I didn't even keep track of days back then. I just survived. It wasn't until I met... my brother that we talked about days. And he was able to do some weird 'code calculation' as he called it to figure out my true age. But we didn't really care about that. None of us counted in the aether. None of us wanted to count. When you have endless time you tend not to care. It's a depressing chore."

"So none of you celebrated your birthday?" Alex asked.

"Why would you celebrate your birth?" Herobrine growled. "Existence is a curse."

"That's why we have to celebrate!" Alex exclaimed. "It helps us mortals to forget about our fleeting existence."

"Yeah!" Steve enthusiastically raised a fist to the sky in agreement.

"Like the aether needed another reason to celebrate..." Herobrine grumbled, flopping back down on the tree. "The amount of bullshit dances I had to get dressed up for was astronomical."

"So you really have never had a birthday, huh?" Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"Nope." Herobrine said, popping the p and settling back on the tree. Thinking that was the end of the conversation.

But Steve and Alex had other plans.

"Bro you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You think we have enough time today?"

"Sure why not? We were already planning on going into town together."

"Then we better hurry."

"What are you two talking about?" Herobrine muttered. The siblings were getting out of the water and putting back on their clothes.

"We're going to throw you a birthday party!" Steve smiled over at him.

Herobrine almost fell off his branch.

"W-what? Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what day your birthday is, it might as well be any day. And since we are already all together and don't have any plans for the rest of the evening... why not?"

Herobrine teleported off his tree and stood next to the two. "You really don't need to-"

"Too late, it's happening." Alex smiled. Starting to walk off. Not putting on her shoes as she walked through the increasingly tall grass.

"Go wait in the nether and come back around sunset!" Steve pushed on his back excitedly. As if he could shove him through a portal that wasn't there.

"Why?"

"We are gonna surprise you!"

"Oh. Yippee. Surprise." Herobrine did not mask his unenthusiasm.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Steve said as he stopped pushing and went to go join Alex.

Herobrine was left alone and very confused as to what had just happened. He blinked up at the setting sun and winced. He wouldn't know the correct time in the nether. So he decided to go back to his tree branch and relax until the time came. He had no idea what was in store for him. But he didn't try to think too hard about it. If he didn't like it he could always teleport away.

All this talk of aether and age had his head buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He tried to will them away and think of nothing instead. Watching as the river flowed beneath him. The dragonfly landed back on his hands.

It was just after sunset when Herobrine was walking up to Steve's small house and knocking on the door. Steve was adamant about him knocking. As Herobrine had the tendency to just teleport into a location, unannounced. There was the sound of muffled talking as well as a wonderful smell of something cooking in the furnace.

He heard the miner walk towards the door, he recognized his footsteps easily. Much different than Alex’s.

Steve cracked open the door. "Herobrine, you have perfect timing! We are just finishing up."

Herobrine tried to move forward but Steve closed the door more. He smiled, shyly. "Er. You gotta close your eyes."

"... Why?"

Steve smiled wider. "It's all part of the process."

So Herobrine huffed and closed his eyes. Steve took him by the hand. Leading him inside. Herobrine could feel his heartbeat where they connected. The miner was excited. So Herobrine was excited.

He was led into the house and then Steve stopped and walked over to join where he could sense Alex.

"Surprise!" They both yelled.

Herobrine stood there with his eyes closed. Face oozing confusion.

"Open your eyes now, Brine." Steve whispered loudly to him.

"Oh." And he did. He blinked and took in the sight.

The inside of the house was decorated with a few colored strings on the ceiling and what seemed to be little torches everywhere else. It was very simple and yet very pretty.

"Do you like it?" Alex asked.

"We didn't have too much time to decorate so we made due with what we had." Steve said. "Probably not as fancy as your aether parties."

"No." Herobrine smiled. "But I like this better." The aether parties were always decorated with too much. This was nice and made Herobrine feel cozy.

Alex gestured to the table, patting the chair to sit down. "Since it's pretty late we figured we'd just do a birthday dinner. Steve said you would eat if we made you food."

Herobrine nodded. Glad he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. He wasn't the biggest fan of eating. Steve had been reintroducing it to him slowly. The miner was an excellent cook.

"Good!" Alex smiled. Steve sat next to Herobrine at the table. "I handled dinner and Steve handled the most important part of a birthday, the dessert!"

"It all smells nice." Herobrine commented politely. It did. He was actually excited to eat.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Preparing plates for them all. Steve and Herobrine shared a look. Both smiling, somewhat uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. It didn't last long as Alex came out with two plates, setting it down in front of them.

The meal consisted of roasted corn, slathered in butter, some sort of shredded pork on bread with some sweet sauce, and a cold potato salad. Steve instantly dug in. Probably hungry from all the work they had been doing. Herobrine waited for Alex to return with her own plate before starting to pick at the food. It wasn't long before he was eating more sloppily than Steve. Alex apologized, saying she wanted to make something more special like a smoked biscuit but Herobrine wasn't sure why she was sorry. It was all delicious. And Herobrine found himself wanting to eat the entire plate. It was the perfect meal on the warm night.

The house was filled with the delightful sounds of eating. None of them talked very much. Not needing to. Just enjoying each other’s company. And the food! They were all very invested in the food.

Once they were done, Herobrine was tempted to ask for more. But he remembered that there was still dessert to eat. He started to try to clean up his plate. But Steve stopped him immediately. "Ah, ah. No dishes when it's your birthday."

"Hmm. This birthday business keeps getting better." Herobrine smirked at him.

Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates filled with two generous slices of homemade chocolate cake.

He set them down in front of Alex and his own seats. "We have a special slice for you, Herobrine. Hold on."

Steve rushed away and walked slowly back with a similar piece of cake. But this one had a very tiny torch stuck in the middle of it. Herobrine blinked. Huh. Strange.

"It's a candle." Steve explained. "It's a tradition to have some on your cake. We only had this old one." He set the on fire cake in front of him. Herobrine enjoyed the fire flare. "Usually you have a candle for every year you've been alive."

"But that would've set the house on fire." Alex snickered.

Herobrine rolled his eyes and tried to grab his fork. But Alex stopped him. "Wait! We have to sing to you!"

"Er, no thanks." That seemed silly. He did not want to be sung to.

Steve made a face. "I don't like that part either. I think we should skip it."

"We have to! It's tradition!" Alex wrapped her elbow around Steve’s neck. "Come on, Stevie. One time!"

"Alright. Alright." He caved easily. And they began.

Herobrine sat awkwardly as the two sang a little song. Saying his name. Herobrine had never heard Steve sing. It was nice. He had a pleasant voice. He thought the man should sing more. He hummed a lot but never truly sang.

Once they were done. Alex said. "Now you make a wish and blow out the candle."

"A wish? Wish for what?"

"For anything." Steve added. "But you have to wish in your head. And don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true."

"Like a curse?"

"Yeah kinda. But it's just for fun."

The demon chewed on his lip. Seeming to think about it. He nodded eventually. "Okay. I've made my wish."

"Now blow out the candle to complete the spell." Alex joked. Steve nudged her.

Herobrine looked at the small torch on the cake and willed the fire away. It went out.

Alex and Steve stared. Alex giggled. "Guess there's more than one way to skin an ocelot."

"Why would you-" Herobrine blinked.

"It's an expression." Steve laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork to eat his piece of cake. "Ignore her and dig in while the cake is still warm."

Herobrine did, setting the small torch- candle aside and picking up his fork to eat. The cake looked moist. Fresh. And smelled absolutely delicious. His mouth was watering before he even put the treat in his mouth.

When he took a bite he almost moaned. "H-holy fuck." He quickly took another bite.

Alex giggled. "Never had a Steve-made cake have you?"

"Steve, you should stop cooking everything and just make cake from now on." Herobrine had almost finished his piece already. It was just so damn good. He couldn't stop.

"Then it wouldn't be special." Steve chuckled. Looking happy that they both seemed to be enjoying his cake.

"Can I have more?" Herobrine asked, frosting definitely smeared all over his face, unabashedly.

Steve and Alex howled at that. The demon just looked so different from how they normally saw him. It was nice. And also hilarious.

Herobeine got a second slice and sat back, looking full. The demon didn't usually eat so it was a lot all at once. Totally worth it though.

"Present time!" Alex jumped up from the table as Steve moved the dishes into the kitchen.

"Present time?" Herobrine parroted.

"You get presents on your birthday!" Alex walked over to grab two things that had been set aside on a coffee table. "From everyone who comes to the party."

Alex handed Steve something and walked back to the table to give Herobrine a rectangle that looked like a book wrapped in paper. Herobrine took it confused. "Er, thanks?" He held it in his hands.

"You gotta open it dude!" Alex said excitedly.

"Open it?"

"Yeah tear open the paper!"

"Oh." Herobrine, a demon of destruction, ironically opened the book very carefully. Not wanting to damage it.

He held the book up once it was unwrapped. It was, indeed, a book. Not too hard to guess correctly.

"It's a book of modern day phrases." Alex explained. Tapping the cover. She smirked. "I know that you have some trouble with some of our more modern hip lingo."

Herobrine lifted an eyebrow at her. He flipped to a random page. "There's more than one way to skin an ocelot? Oh. I get your 'joke' now."

"See. You're learning already." She snickered. Steve smiled too.

Herobrine looked confused. But not unappreciative. He waved his hand, tucking the book away into his inventory. "Er, thanks. I will read the rest later."

"No problem!" She giggled. She then pushed Steve forward. "Go ahead, your turn."

Steve had a paper package tied up in butcher's twine behind his back. He coughed and walked forward, handing Herobrine the parcel.

The demon took it. Knowing what to do now, he tore into the paper. Revealing what was inside.

He paused when he realized what it was after pulling all the paper off and letting it float to the ground.

"It's... your cloak." Herobrine said. Not giving away any emotion. Steve seemed to droop a little. Expecting him to be a little happier. Alex nudged the miner. They shared a look. Steve rolled his eyes. He walked closer to the demon, touching the cloak in his hands.

"I knew it would already fit you. And there wasn't enough time to get you a new one made. I just know how much you like to borrow it from me when it gets colder." Steve ran his fingers along the cloak. Pointing out some stitching on the green material. "I sewed up all the holes so it won't be as drafty. And-" He tapped the button that held the cloak together. "I replaced the old latch with a golden one I got from town today. I know you said you like to wear a little gold in the nether for piglin respect or... whatever." The miner let go of the cloak and backed up, rubbing his head awkwardly.

Herobrine stared at the green gloak. Rubbing the material in his fingers.

"If... if you don't like-"

"I love it." Herobrine almost whispered. Sounding so genuine it made Steve blush and Alex smile. "It's perfect."

"O-oh." Steve scratched his head again. "Good. I'm glad." He smiled, looking away. Desperately trying to hide his blush. He had gone bright red. And Herobrine wasn't helping.

The demon stood instantly and put the cloak around his body. He had worn it before. But it looked different now. Like it was his now. It was truly his.

Herobrine looked up at Steve. "This is... the greatest gift I've ever been given." He didn't smile but his glowing eyes said it all. He was absolutely telling the truth. "Thank you, Steven."

The miner stared back. Smiling to the side and tilting his head. Embarrassed but screaming on the inside in happiness.

Alex had to butt in. Not liking the way the two were looking at each other and getting a little protective of Steve. "Pfft. Thanks a lot there, Briney boy. Glad my gift meant nothing."

Herobrine blinked. Processing the words. And then realized. "Oh, no, sorry Alex. Thank you as well."

"Yeah whatever." Alex nudged him with her fist, walking past him. She then let out a yawn. "Well. I think I'm all birthday partied out. Mind if I crash on your couch, Stevie? It's too late to walk home."

"Sure I'll get you some blankets." Steve mimicked the yawn. His eyes looked tired. They did do a lot to put the party together for him. They deserved a rest. "Happy Birthday, Brine."

"Thank you." Herobrine nodded. "Thank you both. This was... enjoyable."

"See our traditions aren't so bad." Alex said, flopping down on the couch.

"I do believe I've judged it too early." Herobrine nodded. "You do this every year?"

"Yep. And you get to do the planning and gift giving to us when it's our birthdays. No party is exactly the same." Alex nodded. "I think planning is actually more fun than celebrating your own birthday."

"Oh. Well I look forward to that. You will have to remind me when the time comes. Time is... difficult for me."

"Of course, dude." Steve produced some blankets from the closet. Herobrine sensed it was time to make his leave. He headed for the door.

"Thank you again." He said a little awkwardly. "I will uh, see you both tomorrow."

"Sounds good!" "Bye!" The siblings said.

And with Herobrine out the door. Steve and Alex looked at each other.

"I think that went well." Steve said.

"I think you owe me money for not making a single birthday suit joke." Alex said back. He threw the blankets over her head as she giggled.

"Goodnight Alex!" He went to his bedroom, trying to hide his blush. "Put out the candles before you sleep."

"I'm just saying, Stevie! That would've been a better gift if you-"

"Goodnight Alex!!"

Herobrine stood just outside the door. He wiggled his shoulders a little. Feeling the soft weight of the cloth around his shoulders. He smiled. Feeling warm inside and out. And teleported off.

#herosteve #fluff pining and stupidity #ask #jaraemonfox #fic #writng

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donaidk · 4 years ago

Text

Teddy bear - George Russell

A short but fluffy little thing. I couldn’t really think about anything else after seeing this photo 🥺

Special thanks - @formulola for sharing that photo and giving me all the feels, idea ❤️

Using the pass that Sara, one of the people behind the team’s christmas project, gave me a few days ago I entered the paddocks and immediately went to the Williams’ motorhome so i could meet up with her. After last season this one was a lot calmer, making it possible for me to travel with George to most of his races. I didn’t meet him yet after flying back home for the past two weeks and as I was planning a surprise for him it wasn’t a possibility to get my usual pass for the circuit from him. Luckily his media team was in on the secret and could get one for today that I could use before George would give me the other one tonight.

„ Hello! ” I quickly greeted everyone when I stepped into their office and Sara stood up as soon as she saw me. „ Hope I’m not too early. ” I let out a sigh as we exited the room and I followed him inside another one that already had the cameras and presents set up.

„ No, you’re perfectly timed. They just left for the track walk so we at least have time before they would get back. ” She shook her head with a smile, closing the door behind me.

„ Even if he sees me here, he won’t know what’s happening. ” I shrugged a little, chuckling as I took my bag off my shoulder so I could open it. „ I don’t have it wrapped yet. We had like two papers at home and I knew he would recognize them. ” I got the plushie out from the bottom of my bag finally, fixing his little shirt.

„ That’s okay. I still have to wrap some, one more won’t break me. ” She shrugged with a smile, taking the teddy from my hand and placing it on the table next to the papers.

„ I can help if me staying isn’t a problem. ” I offered, taking a seat across from her when she handed me a roll of wrapping paper. I took it as her accepting my idea and I was happy to help, so we can be ready quicker.

It didn’t take long for us to finish up the task and I was just putting the last piece of tape onto my gift when we heard the guys arriving. The only things I knew it about was hearing George’s voice, and I panicked for a moment. By reflex I hid the green papered present at the bottom of the pile, even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to see inside of it. It was seconds after I got up from the chair when the door to the room opened and George’s head popped inside. He was just about to greet Sara when he saw me and could not stay outside. Seconds later he was next to me, with his arms around my body and I let out a laugh as I hugged him back.

„ Thought you wouldn’t get here until the evening… ” He looked at me curiously when he could finally let go of me a little. „ Not like I’m complaining, you just surprised me. ” He added, chuckling and I didn’t even know how much my ears missed that sound, until now.

„ Yeah, that was the plan. I finished up yesterday and caught an earlier plane here. ” I shrugged a little, grinning up at him when we let go of eachother. That’s when I realised how hard it will be to keep the secret to myself for the next day, until they’re gonna finally film the unwrapping.

~ ° ~

As Christmas time and the end of the year was getting closer all the F1 teams made sure they had enough content before the holidays would fully start. At Williams they already got the guys to film a little present opening video, where they had to get a stocking together for their teammate. Just when they gave the fans a sneak peak, they got another idea and let some of the fans send in little things for their drivers to open up. It was of course quite monitored, and they checked everything before it would get into the video as a present to either George or Nicky. I would have attended the filming anyways, as I always did when I was at the race circuit with them at the time, but then I realised it would be the perfect opportunity to surprise George with what I have been hiding from him for the last two weeks or so.

„ How far back would you like your gift to be? ” Sara asked me, while they were getting George ready behind the table. My little present was already next to all the other wrapped ones. I knew which one contained the little plushie, so I would know when it was about to be opened

„ It can be wherever you would like, but I don’t really know how much he will be able to focus after that. ” I let out a little laugh, making her smile too as she went back to get all of them in order.

I saw as she put it around the middle, and I was about to laugh at how unfocused George will be after opening it when he looked straight at me and I had to make sure to only just smile. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for him, and he knew me too well. It was already hard to stay silent about this for the last week, as I really wanted to plan the perfect announcement. This felt like a creative way of doing so, even though I was second guessing myself if he would be okay with me doing it so publicly, but I knew it was just probably hormones playing with my head.

„ Ready? ” We heard the cameraman ask and as soon as everyone gave him a nod they could finally start the quick countback. I watched as he started the camera and George looked right into it, to start his intro that they asked him to do.

I sat down a few meters away so I wouldn’t be in the shot but I could see him unwrapping everything. He seemed excited and I couldn’t help the smile that got on my face as we got closer and closer to the light green papered one, that was covering a piece of our future. It was so strange to know how much of our life will be changed in just a few months, hopefully only in good ways. When my present was handed to him I forced myself to take a deep breath as he started with the unwrapping. Just seconds later it’s ears were already visible and he took the rest of it out while a smile got on his face. It had a tiny Williams shirt on, with the ’World’s #1 dad’ text across it. I saw as confusion ran through his eyes but he still looked up at the camera with a smile.

„ I don’t really know what to say, but thank you! ” He let out a laugh and looked down at the little bear again, trying to figure out what it actually meant. „ Do we have a note for this one? ” He asked Sara, as there were some which included little letters from the sender, to explain the present.

She looked at me as an answer and when I looked back at George he was already looking at me confused. I already had my hand in front of my mouth to cover my grin, as I knew the camera would turn to me forsure. I motioned for him to turn the plushie in his hand so he could see the little ’to be’ text on his back. I wanted it on it, but more hidden so the bear could be relevant even after they were born, even though I knew he would love it nevertheless. He was still confused as he looked up at me again, his eyebrows furrowed. It made me laugh how clueless he was and that he couldn’t figure it out, even with all the tips.

„ I just hope they won’t inherit your discursive skills. ” Sara spoke up, making us all laugh as he looked around gnawing at his bottom lip, before his eyes landed on me again. I had my hand on my stomach instinctively, giving him another tip towards the solution.

He needed a second or two and one more look at the teddy’s clothing before his jaw went slack at the realisation. We moved at the same time and met in the middle as he hugged me to himself. The plushie was still in his hands as I hid my face in the junction of his neck and shoulder. I knew I was tearing up but I was sure he wasn’t any better if the wetness of his cheek on my neck was any indication. We stayed there for a second longer as I felt his hands clutch onto my sides. When we finally parted a little I leaned back to look at his face and with a chuckle, tried to get the tears off his cheeks with my thumbs. I gladly received his kiss, although tried to keep it short in front of his team, who were all clapping around us.

„ I knew that there was something… You were too quiet and sneaky. ” He sighed but I could hear the happiness in his voice although I knew it was probably still quite unbelievable to him. „ Since when? ” He shortly questioned before he would have to sit back so they could finish filming.

„ Around two months now. ” I answered, letting him rest his forehead on my shoulder again as my hand came up so my fingers could comn through the short strands at the nape of his neck. „ Go, wrap up the challenge. I’ll tell you everything afterwards. ” I promised him in a whisper, before giving one last little kiss to the corner of his mouth as he was lifting up his head.

I thought he would never let go of me but then gathered some willpower and stepped back from me so he could go back to the chair. I sat back down in my previous spot, pulling the light sweater around me a bit more, while I watched him take the last few presents so he could open them up. I knew he wasn’t as focused as before, but luckily his team was rather happy for us than angry with him for rushing a little in the end. They didn’t even try to get him to say a full outro, probably giving it to Nicky rather, so that he could leave a little earlier with me by his side, as he didn’t really want to let go of me after I was back in his proximity.

In the end they made a fully separate video just from the parts where he got the Teddy bear unwrapped and finally realised what was actually happening. The challenge came out just a few weeks after the shooting and then with our permission they shared ’our’ video on Christmas Day. This way we had time to tell our families and friends, so they didn’t have to find out from a YouTube video but at the same time the fans didn’t have to wait a lot longer. Never have I ever thought they would take it so well and we would get so much love and well wishes from them from the moment the video was public for them too. It made the holiday season even better as we felt like we were celebrating with all of them from around the world. I would have never changed it though.

#george russell #f1 #f1williams #george russell oneshot #george russell fanfic #george russell fanfiction #george russell imagine #f1 fanfiction

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

------------------------------------------------------

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

-------------------------------------------------

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

---------------------------------------------

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

#OT4: Government Men and There Cryptid Boyfriends #Indruck #agent stern/duck newton #sternclay #50s au #inclay #meet ugly #reader request #trans duck newton

13 notes · View notes

thevioletjones · 4 years ago

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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