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horrorphase · 2 months ago

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JESUS, DON'T CRY ... YOU CAN RELY ON ME, HONEY.

✞ ... # GOREBOUND, featuring : kieran talbot ... a gorehound amateur sleuth obsessed with solving cold cases and finding closure for those whose stories were cut short.

LAST CIGARETTES ARE ALL YOU CAN GET.

more information under the cut.

✞ ︰ BASIC.

name: kieran nathan talbot. nicknames: key or kt. date of birth : september 11th 1999. age: twenty5. gender: cis man. sexuality: bisexual. place of birth: red creek, michigan. father: nathan talbot, mayor of red creek. mother: charlotte talbot, photographer for the register. siblings: tba and maeve talbot. education: BSc in forensic science, minor in computer engineering. occupation: mortuary assistant @ red creek hospital, freelance cybersecurity analyst.

✞ ︰ PHYSICAL.

hair: raven black hair, medium length and usually windswept or tousled. eyes: slightly downturned shape, providing a somewhat melancholic look. rich & warm brown irises contrasting well with his dark hair and strong features. height & build: six foot, six inches tall. athletic build with lean musculature. dominant hand: left. clothing style: prefers comfort over fashion, simple but with an eye for anything vintage and punk-adjacent. wardrobe mostly consists of plaid button-up shirts, corduroy and jean jackets, plain and band tees, cargo shorts, carpenter pants, and slim-cut blue denim jeans. nothing extravagant, mostly thrifted. prominent features: conspicuously tall, strong jawline, and radiant complexion. resting expression that signals aloofness and indifference. a small butterfly tattoo on his left chest.

✞ ︰ PSYCHE.

mbti: intp — the logician. enneagram: 5w4 — the philosopher. moral alignment: chaotic neutral. astrology: virgo sun, aquarius moon, scorpio rising. habits: smoking cigarettes when stressed. constantly checking his phone and email even when there's nothing urgent. avoids eye contact during conversations, keeping his gaze down or on something else, especially when discussing serious topics. taps his fingers on any surface, especially when he's thinking or waiting. goes on long midnight walks to tire himself out just enough before bed. quirks: patterns of insomnia and sleep deprivation from frequent night terrors and sleep paralysis. a man of few words, rarely elaborates unless asked or genuinely interested in the conversation or the person he's talking to. always slouching or leaning against things. carries a flash drive everywhere, usually as a pendant, even if he doesn't need it. has an aversion to physical touch, slightly tensing up if someone touches him unexpectedly or lingers in his space. hobbies: hacking & coding, trawling through old forums and databases, solving puzzles and unresolved mysteries through online resources and amateur sleuthing boards, exploring abandoned buildings and forgotten places, collecting outdated and obselete technology, from old flip phones to retro computres, journaling using code and encryption for an extra layer of secrecy, collecting small tchotchkes and souvenirs.

personality: intellectual and curious, always seeking to understand the world through logic and patterns. meticulous, detail-oriented, and driven by perfectionism in all that he does, but also prone to overthinking, sometimes to the point of self-sabotage. has obsessive tendencies, quickly fixating on anything or anyone he finds interesting in an all-consuming way. emotionally detached and unconventional, always looking for ways to break free from societal norms or expectations. deeply withdrawn by nature, keeping people at a distance to protect his personal space, yet brutally honest when asked for his opinion, to the point of being harsh. no patience for lies or social pleasantries, preferring to cut straight to the truth, even if it hurts. he doesn't mean to offend— he simply refuses to bend reality for the sake of others' feelings. appears calm and controlled, but underneath, there's a storm of unexpressed emotions and desires. seeks solitude, but yearns for understanding and deeper connections and significance in other people's lives. music taste: click here.

✞ ︰ PERSONAL HISTORY.

[ REDACTED ]

✞ ︰ HEADCANONS.

01. life truly set him up to be the typical popular kid growing up, but kieran said no !!! his dad might be charming, but that gene skipped him. leaped. jumped !!! this motherfucker is off-putting. into horror and true crime. tall as a tree. may or may not had a goth phase during his teens. unsettlingly introverted. what's going on behind his eyes ?? who knows ?? maybe he's just been a vibe curator ever since he was a kid, protecting his peace ... fuck playing in the playground, he was probably busy with sims 2. 02. during a school fieldtrip to one of michigan's national parks, a nine-year old kieran stumbled upon a decaying corpse of a missing hiker hidden beneath a tangle of underbrush ( i hope the talbots sued the school for this fdskfksdfkf ) ... trauma, but it really instilled him a curiosity about death and mortality, sparking an early fascination with the macabre. truly a core memory. the visceral image haunted him, and obviously has kind of defined him ... but rather than being frightened, he became intrigued by the secrets that lay beneath the surface, both literally and metaphorically. therapy too expensive, he had to make a career out of it sdfksfkkg 03. he also just loves tech and computers, truly one of his hyperfixations as a kid that he never grew out of. also one of those kids that shouldn't have been on the internet so early, because he was out there talking about his interests and fixations in online message boards and forums with random strangers that were probably thrice his age. but it was also in one of those message boards that he found a community of people trying to solve cold cases. and he was obsessed with it ... probably why he learned to hack in the first place, finding it difficult to move forward with cases that had very little public information. so he taught himself, until he was good enough to hack into the federal database of the unidentified dead to have more information about various jane does and finally solve their cases. we love a neurodivergent king in stem !!! also probably hacked the local library once or twice just so he could extend his borrowing due dates. 04. speaking of libraries and cold cases, his obsession with the 1999 murders started just as a casual project, a twelve-year old kieran talbot just reading through the library archives to learn about the events of the year of his birth. like, he was just there going ahaha what happened during the year i was born ?? bam, MURDER. and while the town had largely decided to sweep what happened under the rug, finding out about the 1999 murders really ignited an obsession within him. he became determined to figure out which townsfolk were capable of murder and what other secrets they kept hidden beneath the surface, especially now. just how far is kieran willing to go to finally solve this shit ?? who knows !! we'll see !! 05. had a gf back in high school, only lasted a week after she broke up with him because he showed her the flukeman and home episode of the x-files back to back during a hangout. never dated again, but does not have that much interest in romance anyway ... he's given up on anyone matching his freak ... there's more. but i'll let y'all unravel his weird ass yourselves ...

#pinned.#redcreek.intro

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lieutenant-rasczak · 2 years ago

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More Downton Fun with ChatGPT

Title: "A Deadly Affair at Downton"

Opening Shot: We see the grand entrance of Downton Abbey as the sun sets. The camera moves through the hallways, showing the opulence and grandeur of the mansion. Cut to a shot of DCI Jones and DS Nelson arriving at Downton Abbey.

Act One: Lady Mary invites the detectives to investigate a series of mysterious deaths that have occurred at the estate. The first victim is Henry Talbot, a former suitor of Lady Mary, who was killed in a riding accident. The detectives soon discover that there is a complex web of relationships and secrets within the family and staff at Downton Abbey.

Act Two: As the investigation progresses, the detectives discover that one of the staff members, a young maid named Daisy, has been poisoned. They also find out that Lady Edith has been blackmailed by Oswald Mosely, who threatens to expose her relationship with Michael Gregson after she wrote many anti-Nazi editorials in The Sketch.

Act Three: The detectives uncover more secrets as they investigate the deaths of several other named victims, including a riding instructor who was bludgeoned to death, and a local farmer who was impaled on a pitchfork. They also discover that Lord Grantham has been attempting to buy the village of Badgers Drift, leading to tension between the estate and the local community.

Act Four: The detectives confront the suspects, and after a tense conversation, they reveal that the killer is none other than Lady Mary's new suitor, a wealthy businessman who had been using the estate for his own financial gain. He had killed the victims in order to cover up his illegal activities, and had been manipulating the relationships and secrets within the family and staff at Downton Abbey in order to maintain his position of power.

Closing Shot: The killer is taken into custody, and the camera lingers on the grand mansion as the sun sets. The villagers are left to ponder the mysteries and secrets that lay hidden within the walls of Downton Abbey, while DCI Jones tries to resist his attraction to Lady Mary, and DCI Barnaby continues to ask Mrs. Patmore for her curry recipes. The episode ends with Lady Edith and Lady Mary reconciling over their shared experiences, and with the estate facing a new era of uncertainty and change.

#midsomer murders #Downton Abbey #Lady Mary #chatgpt #British TV

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ladymegwelles · 2 years ago

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& @edmcndd

Fortune had not been kind to those loved by the Percys of Northumberland. Once a heralded house of English nobility, recent generations had been plagued with those who dared to speak, or even think, against the house of Tudor. It was difficult to fathom how far the current king's mercy might extend; Meg knew that there was kindness in Williams heart, as evidenced by the mercy shown to Elizabeth Talbot, allowing her to die in dignity at the request of her niece. Such kindness also blossomed in his relationship with Edmund Percy, who had been by the king's side nearly as long as Meg had been by the princess'.

Meg remembered the shared years of their childhood fondly, when the young royals and their confidants tore through the halls of Hatfield or the gardens of Hever, eluding their tutors and the servants who were sent to collect them. Meg had developed a fondness for Ned then, her eye always lingering on him a bit longer than on others, fodder for teasing from her mistress. Of late, however, her gaze lingered for a different reason. William's coronation had forced all young people of his age to fully grow up overnight, as they were now a generation with responsibilities and futures to build. When Meg looked at Ned now, whether across the room or in conversation, she could see that his courtly smile did not quite reach his eyes, and her heart ached for her old companion.

"Ned..." Meg spoke quietly as she found herself beside him, glancing casually about the room so as not to draw attention to the sympathies she was about to express. "Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss. I know what it is to lose a loved one, and would not wish it upon anybody."

#edmund #edmund01 #hi

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clarklovescarole · 2 years ago

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February 1936: The Town's Newest Combination

February 2, 1936: The Hostess Goes Home

(The Los Angeles Times)

Mystery still surrounds the early departure of Carole Lombard, official hostess of the evening, from the famous White Mayfair party. Did she leave on account of the “altercation” between Clark Gable and Lyle Talbot, which was reported to have occurred when she went out in the lobby of the Victor Hugo with Gable, or just because (the official reason) she was wearied by all the work connected with the ball?

Anyway, Carole declared it a day (or a night) at about 12:30, whereas some of the guests lingered on until even 4 o’clock. Possibly the absence of Robert Riskin was the real reason. He was ill. Cesar Romero squired the hostess, but only during the time she was at the party.

February 15, 1936

Valentine’s Day in the movie colony brought out practically everything but Valentines. The few orthodox valentines, with lace-paper and the bleeding heart, came from Shirley Temple. She made them. Clark Gable’s souvenir – he found out later it was from Carole Lombard – reached him on the stroke of midnight after he had driven his automobile into a hotel garage. “Sorry, Mr. Gable, but your stall’s taken,” the attendant told him.

Puzzled, the actor followed the man across the room and found the usual spot for his car already occupied by an aged machine. It was painted white with large, arrow-pierced hearts all over it.

Around the tonneau was a tremendous red ribbon tied in a large, flowering bow on the radiator cap.

February 18, 1936

Chatter in Hollywood: Carole Lombard’s divine sense of humor never deserts her. Reams were written that she had left the Mayfair party with Clark Gable before the dance had even started. So Carole thought she might as well make the story a good one. She bought an old dilapidated, fenderless automobile, had it painted white with huge hearts and monogrammed with Clark’s initials, and delivered to the fashionable hotel where he lives bright and early Valentine’s morning. Yes, and her card was on the steering wheel!

February 19, 1936

Carole Lombard and Clark Gable, the town’s newest combination…

February 21, 1936

Speaking of Valentines, did you hear about the one Carole Lombard sent Clark Gable. She had an old Ford painted white and decorated with huge red hearts and ribbon, and had it delivered to Mr. Gable’s hotel with her compliments. All this because of the false reports that have been going around town regarding the fact that she was romantically interested in Clark. Carole says she thought she would give gossips something real to talk about for a change.

February 24, 1936

CLARK GABLE, from the set of “San Francisco,” telephoned Carole Lombard on the set of “A Princess Comes Across” …

February 25, 1936

The boulevard is burning with the story of Clark Gable’s valentine. Returning from a party on the night of the 13th, the star sought to drive into his usual stall in the garage of a Beverly Hills hotel. “I’m afraid it is already occupied sir,” said the watchman.

Thereupon, Gable got out and, to his amazement, discovered an ancient and dilapidated Ford painted white with decorations of large red hearts. Around the body was tied a huge red ribbon. Gable grabbed the card. It read: “To My Valentine, from – Carole Lombard.”

February 25, 1936 – The San Francisco Examiner

After a week of unprecedented gaiety you might think the Schenck party would suffer, but with a good orchestra, grand food and conversation, most of the guests stayed on and on; Carole Lombard and Clark Gable left early because they are working and had to be on the set early.

February 26, 1936 – The Evening News

For days to come, Hollywood will be rehashing the “convalescent” party that Donald Ogden Stewart gave for his wife, Beatrice. He borrowed Jock Whitney’s house, summoned 150 of the movie elite to come at high noon, but dressed in full evening regalia – white ties and tails for the men, evening gowns of full court costumes for the women.

Mrs. Stewart, who has been getting home at 6 p.m. on account of doctor’s orders, thought it was to be a tennis party and arrived in slacks but later changed to evening clothes while riding around the yard in an ambulance with Hollywood’s famous ones doing a snake dance behind the vehicle.

But as Al Jolson would say, you haven’t heard nothing yet. Later on, when Jock Whitney and Gilbert Roland tried to have a serious game of tennis, Clark Gable (armed with a broom), Carole Lombard and a half dozen others batted balls at random at them and all over the court.

#1936 #old hollywood #carole lombard #clark gable

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horrorphase · 11 days ago

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ꜜ ﹙ 📹 ﹚ ﹕ 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮 𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱, foster just had this curious & disarming intensity in how his gaze lingered on someone⸻ as if trying to see through you or past you, or maybe just trying to figure out if you were worth seeing at all. but while many would easily write off such a bashful creature like griffin talbot as a waste of time, foster couldn't deny being a little charmed by the shyness. not because he found it cute, but it also probably made the younger man easier to push and pull until he could have him exactly where he wanted. completely malleable, waiting to shaped by the first hands that would dare to do so. and what a tempting idea that was. ❝ yup, she's brilliant at that, ❞ he said, voice softer now, even a little distant, as if deliberately trying to lead griffin's gaze toward him. ❝ but it's not just suspense for me. 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮. suffocating you like a fat ass sitting on your face, y'know ? ❞ his fingers tapped idly on the counter, gaze flickering briefly on hangsaman once more. ❝ it's the way she makes you feel the walls are closing in— 'cept it's not really walls, but people. pressing down on her heroines like stones on their chests. friends, family, strangers, it's all the same weight. and they are all choking on their expectations, or their judgments, or even just their presence, and they don't even realize it until it's too late to push back. ❞ a pause, letting the silence stretch out for a couple of seconds, then breaking it with a low chuckle as he turned his attention back to griffin. ❝ she even kind of inspired one of the shorts i made in high school— ultraviolet vomit. maybe you've seen it. a dinner party, but it's not the food that makes you wanna throw up your guts. it's all the fucking smothering conversations that make you feel like an exposed nerve. ❞ he could probably go on and on about shirley jackson, even shelley and du maurier, or even taylan yalçınkaya, all of his work's inspirations, but foster didn't want to yap griffin's ears off. because once really started, he might never stop. ❝ guess you could say it's for ... documentation purposes, ❞ foster answered before he walked toward aisle six, a wolfish grin on his lips and a teasing lilt in his voice, as if he was weighing how much to say— or how much to let griffin squirm with a non-answer. ❝ 𝗶 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗮 𝗿𝗲��𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲. the little moments, y'know ? those fleeting kind you forget otherwise. snapshots of … connection. ❞ and he left the youngest talbot with that vagueness, let his imagination run wild while he disappeared from his line of sight, scouring the shelves for the polaroid films he needed. a minute or so passed, then finally, ❝ 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝘁 !!! ❞ he exclaimed, returning to the register with the instant camera films, a low thud as he dropped them on the counter, leaning closer as his smile curved slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly as he looked at griffin, sweet and expectant in a way that suggested a deeper familiarity than they actually had. ❝ so, do i get your family discount or⸻ ? ❞

he looked up, eyes landing on none other than foster. naturally anxious already, he could feel his anxiety ratchet up a notch, his mouth suddenly feeling drier, pulse racing. griffin looked at him with slightly wide eyes, shrugging, "i don't study, um, marketing." he didn't know what possessed him to try a business school joke, but it was too late to backtrack, so he just plowed on. he much preferred to talk about his book anyway, "relate? um.. not particularly," though, the loneliness... sometimes, "i just think shirley jackson is so masterful at building suspense, in... in storytelling, really. anyway... yeah, i could write a thesis on her." he ducked his head a bit sheepishly, not used to being put on the spot — and by put on the spot, he meant literally just being asked a question by someone outside of his family and close friends. if he were braver even a little bit, he would ask foster if jackson's work had ever influenced his, but then that would make it known that griffin had seen pretty much everything the other had made and that would be very embarrassing probably. griffin nodded then, humming, "i, um... stuff related to tech is over in aisle six. i can't promise there's polaroid film, but i know there's disposable cameras and that sort of stuff so... there's a chance?" he told him, "would hate to see you flee town, but i can't make any promises." in griffin's own head, it sounded like he was practically begging foster to not leave town. though, that didn't stop him from the follow-up question that required incredible bravery on his part, "what do you need it for?" maybe he'd even get the scoop on what foster was working on now, which was an exciting enough prospect to keep him from avoiding eye contact completely.

#↷ foster dasgupta ﹙ threads ﹚#chappcdlips #DONT GIVE HIM THAT DISCOUNT GRIFF

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starry-sky-stuff · 2 years ago

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Snippet

Celebration for reaching 30,000 words in The Heiress and the Rake.

Tagging: @zmwrites, @wildswrites, @missbrunettebarbie-writer, @keen2meecha, @aninkwellofnectar, @laufire-writes

“I know this was your doing,” Talbot accused.

“What was my doing?” Isobel asked calmly. “Certainly not your presence here.”

“My sister, Isobel.” Talbot pointed an accusatory finger at her. “I know you are responsible for her elopement.”

“Lady Beresford,” she corrected coolly. “And how would I even know your sister? You certainly never introduced us.”

“My sister would never have done this without your pernicious influence.”

“I think you’re attributing far too much power to my ability to influence.”

“This is your fault, you traitorous, conniving, bitch.”

Isobel’s calm manner only served to further enrage him. She knew that when someone was trying to hurt you, you didn’t let them know they succeeded. The only way to win was to let them believe their words aroused no greater passion in you than a conversation about a topic as banal as the weather.

“My, what an impressive vocabulary you have,” said a drawling voice.

Isobel turned to find Dominic leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed lazily across his chest, and a sardonic smirk on his face. But she could see the tenseness in his frame, the way his eyes gleamed with fury as they narrowed at Talbot.

Talbot curled his lips in disdain. “Beresford, I expected you to keep a better hold on your wife.”

“Whyever would I do that, when she’s so entertaining. Apparently you did not appreciate her wit. It is my wife’s finest qualities.”

Dominic lingered possessively on the word wife, as if he wished to remind Talbot to whom she was married. Perhaps he wished to remind her too. His anger could be attributed as much to his wife talking to her ex-lover as Talbot’s words to her.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Talbot,” she interjected, drawing the man’s attention back to her. “And we will consider the matter closed.”

Talbot hesitated, shaking his head, before storming off through the door. In the end, he was always a coward.

As soon as the door closed behind Talbot, Dominic strode across the room, settling his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Isobel started, frowning in confusion. Dominic rubbed her arms soothingly, before cupping her face tenderly.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would’ve been here if you’d asked.”

“I didn’t need help handling him. He was all bluster.”

Dominic leant his forehead against hers. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I wanted to run him through.”

“Don’t go starting any duels over me,” she warned.

“I would start a hundred duels to defend your honour. If he speaks to you like that again I just might.”

Isobel shrugged out of his hold. “He’s harmless.”

“Tell that to your sister,” he replied. “If Talbot was harmless you wouldn’t need insurance. The nature of which you still have not told me. He’s still capable of hurting us.”

“Us?”

“You. Us. We’re in this together now.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Well, you have it. As much as you want. Any help you need in your plan against Talbot, I’ll give it. The man surely deserves it.”

#my writing #my wips: the heiress and the rake #this is a far bit further into the story #but I really liked the scene so I decided to share it

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angelarmitage98 · 4 years ago

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Teen Wolf preferences...

How you meet: (Part 4)

Brett:

3rd person P.O.V:

You could see your best friend walking towards his old school's Lacrosse team as they got off the bus. 'Oh god' you thought "this isn't going to be good." you spoke out loud, concerned as to what Liam might do. You ran over to Liam as quick as you could. "Is everything ok Liam? You're not going to do something stupid are you?" You asked worried about his actions and the consequences that may come with it. "Don't worry, everything's fine." He said and you believed him, I mean he is your best friend after all. He started to march over to one of the team members and all of a sudden he came to a halt, yelling Brett and then carried on his stomping to get to him and even though he had a face full of anger he said: "I just wanted to say have a good game." To which Brett laughed in his face... 'Urghh, how rude' you thought. "That's cute Liam. Is that what they told you to say in your anger management? Apologise and everything will be alright." Liam stood there frozen, not knowing what to do as you stood behind him too stunned to even comprehend what he just said. "You demolished coaches car." Brett continued, "I paid for it!" Liam replied. "Yeah you're gonna pay for it, we're gonna break you in half out there, and it's gonna be all your fault." As Brett said this you could see Liam getting angrier by the second. Next thing you know Liam's being pulled away by Scott and Stiles but you decided to stay and give Brett a piece of your mind. "Who do you think you are?" you said with a face full of anger as Brett just stood with a sly smirk on his. "Brett, Brett Talbot and who are you sweetcheeks?" he replied. "Don't call me sweetcheeks, and I'm your worst nightmare bitch!" you more or less screamed in his face, feeling proud of yourself. "Oooh, feisty. I like it." Brett spoke, but you could tell he was trying to get under your skin. Yet you weren't about to let that happen. "How's this for fiesty arsehole?" and with that, you kneed him where the sun doesn't shine. Once you had done that you crouched beside him while he was doubled over in pain and whispered in his ear... "Listen here 'sweetcheeks' you do anything to hurt Liam or you know just anything out of line then I will grab your stupid werewolf arse and impale you to a tree... Next time, make sure you pick on someone your own size." Then you walked away with a new found confidence.

Theo:

Your P.O.V:

It's a nice sunny day so I decided it'd be fun to take my five-year-old nephew to the skate park to teach him how to ride. I know it's strange since he's only five but he's been trying to ride my skateboard since he could walk. "Ok Niklaus stand there, Auntie (Y/N) is going to show you something." I took a few steps back, placed the skateboard on the ground and proceeded to stand on it when all of a sudden I was knocked back off. All I can feel is pain shooting up my leg from my ankle. "Ow, my ankle..." I screeched since that's where I felt the most pain. "Oh my god, are you ok?" I heard someone say. "No, it's my ankle. It hurts so much." I replied trying to scream. "Ok, um... Just hold still." I heard the same person say, I looked up to see a gorgeous guy with a stunning smile crouching to pick me up. "I'm Theo, I'm going to take you to the hospital. Come on little man let's go get in the car ok." "Thank you, Theo, I'm (Y/N)."

*Five minutes later (during the car ride)*

"So, um... (Y/N) is this your son?" They asked me, and all I could do was laugh at him. Even though I've hurt my ankle because of this guy, I can't help but have these weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, and honestly, it's the most amazing feeling. He is the cutest person I have ever met, well apart from my nephew of course, but anyways seeing him so confused made me think he is so much cuter, even though I don't know how that's possible. "Why are you laughing?" Theo asked with his face still full of confusion. "Oh, sorry. It's just that's the funniest thing I've heard for a long time, but no, he's my nephew." I said making sure not to laugh because I didn't want him to think I was lying. I turned my head and looked towards him to see him looking extremely embarrassed. Then I turned my head back around and looked back out the window to see we have arrived at the hospital. Theo left the car, grabbing Nik from the backseat, closed the door and then came and got me from the front. He picked me up bridal style and carried me inside, he sat me down on the chairs and sat next to me alongside Nik.

*After being checked*

I eventually called to get checked after half an hour and now I've finally finished being checked by Mrs McCall. I walked back out into the waiting room to see Theo sat playing with Nik and the sight just made my heart melt. I walked towards them with a bit of a limp. As I arrived in front of them, Theo looks up at me and asks "Is everything ok?" "Yeah, just a sprained ankle but I should be fine," I replied. "Ready to go home Nik?" I asked. "Do we get to see mummy?" he asked. "Yeah kiddo we do," I told him and he started nodding his head vigorously eager to get home. "I can give you guys a ride." Theo chimed in. "That would be great, thank you," I replied with absolute gratefulness due to the fact I didn't have a clue as to how I would get home.

*Car ride to my house*

I gave Theo my address and we've been driving for the past ten minutes now when Theo spoke up. "So, umm, am I forgiven for busting your ankle?" "Well considering you made me laugh for the first time in quite a while then yes you are forgiven," I replied while chuckling a little. "Well, since I'm forgiven, I was wondering if I could get your phone number." He said with a cheesy little grin on his face. "Um, sure," I said just as we parked outside my house. We traded numbers and I then got out of the car and got Nik from the back seat. "Say bye to Theo, Nik." "Bye, bye Theo." "Cya Theo," I said. "I'll call you later and we can meet up sometime. I'll see you guys later. Bye." And with that, I walked up to my pathway and entered my house as I heard him drive away.

(So, I may have gotten a little carried away with Theo's and I'm extremely sorry. Kind of. But anyway, I'd like to say a huge thanks to yoitskats again for helping me with this concept. It is greatly appreciated and I adore you for all the help you have been giving me.)

Boyd:

His P.O.V:

I sat at the lunch table alone as per usual. I don't know why but for some reason no one seems to want to sit with me. Suddenly, I heard a tray drop beside me. "Hello, is it ok if I sit here?" I heard a girl say. I looked up to see the new girl stood next to me, I haven't really looked or spoken to her but from what I'm seeing now I must say she's absolutely stunning. "Oh, oh yeah. Feel free." I answered. "I'm (Y/N) by the way, and who are you may I ask?" Wow... She really wants a conversation. "I-I'm Veron Boyd, but most people call me Boyd and you can too,," I told her. "Great, so, I was wondering Boyd, what's this school like?" She asked me with curiosity lingering in her eyes. "Well, it's great I guess. You might prefer it more than I do." I answered honestly as I could. We spoke about ourselves for the next half an hour and then the bell rang for our next lesson. "Umm, maybe we can do this again sometime,," I said to her. "That sounds amazing, I'll make sure to be here same time tomorrow." She replied and from hearing her say what she just said makes me feel like life is definitely worth living. "Great, cya tomorrow," I told her, and in all honesty,y I can't wait for tomorrow, it is going to be great, I can just feel it.

(I couldn't really think of a good enough concept for a way for you to meet Boyd, he's not exactly a big character but I felt the need to add him even though I didn't have the biggest or the best idea for him.)

#teen wolf #x reader #beacon hills #preferences #vernon boyd #theo raeken #brett talbot

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horrorphase · 5 days ago

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ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️ ﹚ ﹕ 𝘁𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗹 [ 𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻 ] : 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 ( 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻 ) 𝗯𝘆 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗯𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗶𝗱𝗲. and perhaps that was the closest comparison kieran could make to the truth⸻ shallow enough to see through, but constantly altering with the light, always concealing something even in such inconsiderable depths. damon stood sat its verge, their reflection warped and awry by ripples of their own making, a flick of their wrist, a careless lean into kieran's space. and kieran felt a quiet pull he wished he couldn't name, but it echoed on and on and on, a name that was stuck on his mind but calling louder this time : yevgeny, yevgeny, yevgeny. wondering if this was what finch witnessed, too. wondered if this was what finch liked so much about them. damon knew exactly how to pique someone's attention, how to reel someone in, without giving much away. but kieran didn't flinch at the shift in space, though his body betrayed in other ways. a stiffness in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched like they wanted to tuck themselves away, breath hitching for a fraction of a second before he stilled it. he surely wasn't used to being on this side of the equation, often the one quietly slipping into the spaces others left unguarded, not used to anyone other than yevgeny being close enough that they could catch the faintest trace of his cheap body wash under the sharper scent of cigarette smoke. 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠, 𝙠𝙞𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙖��𝙗𝙤𝙩 ?

his first instinct had always been to observe, a trait inherited from all the talbots before him, finding the threads people didn't mean to leave loose ; 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗮𝘄 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹. but trying to get to know damon felt like trying to hold water in his hands⸻ never staying in one place, slipping through his grasp just as he thought he understood them. and as damon's question lingered in the air, hanging heavy and sharp, kieran wondered if people viewed him the same way. or if the perception was closer to how he saw himself. kieran let his gaze drift toward the ground, avoiding damon's gaze as his mouth opened, though the answer did not come right away. ❝ i'm not exactly the kind of book people like to read, damon, ❞ said finally but the words came out flatly, each syllable carving a quiet kind of sincerity against his usual nonchalance. his thumb traced a line along his palm, trying to ground himself to the sensation as his gaze flicked back damon, the corners of his mouth curling faintly, but not quite a smile just yet. ❝ 𝗶'𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝘂𝗴𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸. weird gangly limbs. weird vibes— and not just on the outside, though that doesn't help either. i'm like a cover of those animorph books. makes you look but you're still not picking it up. ❞ the words tasted strange rolling off his tongue, like he was peeling back layers of himself he hadn't meant to share. but then, the realizing came : this was exactly where damon wanted him, pulling him into this spiral on purpose, twisting the conversation until kieran was the one exposed and not them. his lips twitched, almost amused. damon was one clever cat.

then the suggestion that he could be the killer tickled a laugh from kieran, candid and unexpected, slipping out before he could even think to hold it back. and for a second, the tension between them almost felt light. ❝ that'd be something, ❞ kieran murmured before shaking his head, expression turning distant as his mind moved somewhere else. to his father, to his fears of kieran becoming a suspect, 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗸𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗼𝗯 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲. ❝ but i've never really thought about it, ❞ he admitted after a beat, shoulders lifting in a light shrug. ❝ killing someone, i mean. not because i don't think i can. i know i can. anyone can, given the right circumstances. the right push. ❞ gaze drifted to the cracked asphalt at their feet before meeting damon’s again, lips curling into a more tangible smile now, self-assured for once. ❝ but that's just not where my mind goes. i just want ... 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲. not just cases. not just statistics. i want to make sure that their stories get told, that their ending is not just about the angle of laceration to their throat, and that whoever killed them are brought to justice. ❞ something in his gaze shifted then, sharp and searching, like he was peeling back layers of skin, looking for the blood and bone underneath damon's skin. searching for his marrow. ❝ but you ? if you can't say yes or no to whether you've hurt someone, then yeah, damon. that makes you spooky. and as much as i like you now, i grow easily wary of people i can't trust. ❞

right, kieran worked at the hospital in the confines of the mortuary. fitting. a worn in boot. but to paint this conversation into scenery it'd be something of its own autopsy. steady hand of a scalpel, careful examination, but something is just ... missing. a rib, maybe a vital organ. something is missing. its in the kieran answers clear and decisively paired with little twitches of his mouth. subtleties, but constructive. the art filing causations and inconsistencies into the report. ( see, damon is also watching them ; honoring that felinic look of theirs but they're not to point it out unlike kieran. ) corner of his lips twitches, the corner of theirs rise in a smirk. " and you hang at cemeteries when you're drunk. yeah, i'll keep that tidbit in mind. c'mon you seemed like you had some fun, maybe i should've stuck around for the hangover. " it's a jest, but he wonders vaguely what plot of dirt if any kieran sunk at.

space doesn't grow, but remains the same with damon leaning into kieran's atmosphere. they wouldn't mark it up as feeling melancholic, but something is dreary about it. comparable to walking into a locked room where you're not suppose to be — the drift of your fingers over a dusted old journal. kieran speaks of how mysterious damon is as if he's a book. maybe they are the book in that locked room. kieran the seeker, the fingers knocking off dust. yeah, that's more accurate. eyes scan his face noticeably only flickering in a break to a scuttling piece of newspaper. they settle right back on him after that second. " knowing people. knowing what they're feeling. and are you an open book, kieran talbot? it's only fair to be. if you're trying to read any of my text. " another deflection, but it comes with an air of honesty. heavy, damn near suffocating. if this was some sort of game, another pin in his corkboard ... maybe damon would start caring about the trials and tribulations coming into good ol' dead creek.

what's terrifying more than any potential knife in kieran's or damon's, they do carry a butterfly knife pocket is that— he's right. getting to know damon was a maze of his own design ; dead ends at nearly every corner, multiple forks and circles. calculated in a way that, yeah, they can understand the suspicion towards them. they could have just answered 'no' and left it, but they ushered kieran to take a left turn instead of towards the maze's exit. hums when he leans closer, head canting slightly up to make up for the difference in height. would never admit it put him on some sort of edge how he could leer over them. what sort of edge, too, would remain unspoken. " you know. i'd almost love to see you try, kier. opening me up like those lil' cadavers. " challenges because that is what's natural. nonfictitious. " gives me something to look over my shoulder for. " it's a smooth drawl, a low whisper of upping whatever ante. " cause, hey, maybe you're the one whose really holding the knife. yeah ... yeah, that'd be a twist, right? get to know me in a way that's satisfying enough to all your little questions and whatever else, fucking theories, and then. " lifts two fingers and juts them forward. almost jabs them into kieran's side. almost. they hang in the air just like whatever tension is building. " sink! goes the butcher's knife. "

arm falls from the buildings bricks and opts to cross both of them over his chest. they couldn't keep the serious tone up for long, finding it a bit ... stifling. therefore, it breaks. smile split across their lip and gaze cast towards the ground as their head shakes. shoulders shake, laughter bubbling from the chest. " jesus, kieran. you're really something fucking else, hah? " slow trail of their eyes to that face, laze of the split smile still there. " could've just said i'm spooky. save the melodramatics. lighten up, talbot boy. asking that type of question to all your contacts ... that damn question might be the last. and that's just sad for your type. "

#↷ kieran talbot ﹙ threads ﹚#c0nnectdots #LONG ASS THREAD ... where r the maximum 3 sentences replies ...

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itscanonfellas · 6 years ago

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You Could Call It Love 4/6

Part 4/6

Rating: General

Pairing: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Implied Nolan/Brett Talbot

Being Liam’s ride home meant Theo had to wait every day until lacrosse practice was finished and then even longer for Liam to shower before they headed home. Today is no exception.

Theo’s sat on a bench just outside of the school; scrolling through his photos absentmindedly just to fill in the time. Maybe he should start bringing a book or something? Or maybe just make Liam walk home?

No, Theo isn’t that cruel.

He’s barely even been there an hour when someone slides onto the seat across from Theo and he glances up. Nolan stares at Theo without a word; reeking of nervousness and almost curled in on himself as though he’s conflicted on what he’s here for.

It becomes clear after a few minutes Nolan isn’t going to speak first so Theo relents “…Can I…help you?”

Nolan’s tugging on the cuffs of his jumper; fiddling with the worn fabric and tugging at the stray thread he finds there. Despite his reluctance to talk he eventually mutters out in a low voice “How do you know if you like somebody?”

Now, had he not had supernatural hearing, Theo would have missed what Nolan said, but he hears it clearly and he can’t stop the cruel laugh that breaks free from him “What?”

“How do you know if you like somebody?”

“No I heard you the first time” Though Theo’s quite surprised Nolan repeated himself and didn’t just turn tails and run instead “Why are you coming to me?”

“Well” Nolan clears his throat; shuffling in his seat nervously. God the kids more fidgety than Stiles and that alone is an impressive feat “Liam’s just finishing up practice and I heard that you two were…”

Although Nolan trails off, Theo fills in the gaps fairly quickly. So word has gotten out around school then. He couldn’t say he was surprised, in Beacon Hills, gossip travels fast and if somebody got a wind of the pack discussing his and Liam’s new ‘relationship’ then it was inevitable really. “That me and Liam are dating?” Nolan nods his head and keeps his gaze on the table between them, still flooding the air with embarrassment “So what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I just assumed you’d know what to expect when you have feelings for somebody, like what made you realise you liked Liam?”

He could just say he didn’t want to talk about it and kindly tell Nolan to fuck off. He wasn’t by any means close with the ex-hunter, hell he only really spoke to him a few times when he sat with the pack for lunch.

But for some reason, Theo doesn’t do any of those things.

His mouth started talking before his brain caught up. “Well obviously you spend as much time with the person as possible and you get the whole butterflies in your stomach shit” Nolan’s gaze looks up from the table to meet Theo’s, seemingly surprised that Theo responds to his question. “But” he continues “Their presence sort of…comforts you? I guess? Whenever they’re around they fill you with a kind of warmth that just settles in your chest and even when they aren’t there, it still lingers; they’re the kind of person you’ll do anything for if just to be with them for a second…” With a delayed horror, Theo realises he’s been throwing all his feelings about Liam out to Nolan and he clears his throat, awkwardly finishing with “So yeah you’ll know you like someone, trust me”

“You really like Liam, don’t you?” The awe in Nolan’s expression is what makes Theo agree without hesitation.

“More than anything”

For a moment, the silence spreads between the two as they sit in awkward stillness, Nolan pondering to himself over what Theo’s confessed and Theo having a minor breakdown over letting himself ramble on like that. Why were feelings so utterly baffling? “…and how do you know if they like you back?” Nolan finally replies, voice returning to a meek whisper, as if it’s a question for himself but Theo humours him.

“I wish I knew that myself, Nolan”

In the quiet, Theo can hear the lacrosse team in the locker room getting showered after a long practice – one Nolan should be at now that Theo thinks about it – and what sounds like the band practicing for the competition a week from now. The sun has almost finished setting and the dark is starting to creep in alongside a chill but it calms Theo more than anything. Beacon Hills is a safe town now and it’s soothing to sit in the stillness the night provides.

The honk of a horn cuts whatever peace Theo feels in half and his head whips to where a lanky figure is leaning against a car; waving a hand in a come here motion. “HEY NOLAN!” Brett Talbot hollers, still dressed in his lacrosse shorts and undershirt as he beckons Nolan over “YOU COMING OR WHAT?”

“One sec!” Nolan calls back and stands up out of his seat, smile playing on his face and cheeks flushing a pleasant red as he pulls his backpack back onto his back. “Thanks for the talk I just…really needed it”

All nervousness Nolan had smelled of previously is replaced with an air of content and something that makes it all fall into place for Theo and he’s reaching out to grab Nolan’s arm before he can walk away “Hey” Nolan spins to face Theo again, expression questioning but the smile hasn’t faded from his face “Be careful with Brett, I can tell you really care about him but, well, his track record isn’t all that great”

“Believe me, I know but he isn’t as bad as you and Liam think he is”

Theo releases his grasp on Nolan with a nod and sits back down “One more thing?”

“Shoot”

“If you’re worried about him not liking you back, I wouldn’t be so sure” Nolan arches an eyebrow “He can smell the attraction on you, if he didn’t like you he’d have to told you so by now”

“What?!” Nolan hisses lowly and he’s clearly startled; bringing his jumper to his nose to sniff almost automatically causing Theo to smirk at the sudden panic from the boy “Oh shit”

“Good luck on the ride home, you might need it”

Nolan scampers away toward Brett and Theo tries to mask the fact he’s listening in on them. “Everything okay?” Brett quizzes as soon as Nolan reaches him; ducking his head to hear Nolan a little better and Nolan looks like he’s going to explode as he shrugs.

“Just talking don’t worry, you ready?”

Brett nods and holds the door for Nolan to hop into the passenger side and then his gaze lingers on Theo for a second, watching the Chimera who throws his hand in the air for a wave “Bye lovebirds!” Brett rolls his eyes before hopping into his car and then backing out of the school parking lot.

Brett and Nolan, who would have thought.

“Hey” Theo wouldn’t admit it but he hadn’t heard Liam pop up at all so when he shows up suddenly at his side, Theo jumps in his seat and shoots around to look at Liam.

“Geez” Theo wheezes and clutches his chest “You all finished?”

“What was all that with Nolan?” Liam asks instead of answering the question, ignoring it entirely to stare at Theo like he’s just killed his dog or something.

“Nolan?” Liam nods in confirmation “He needed some advice about some stuff don’t worry about it” Theo’s secretly hoping Liam had only caught a glimpse of his and Nolan’s conversation because otherwise Theo’s pretty sure he’ll die again except this time from embarrassment and he’d take Kira’s sword with him so he could stay dead.

Liam stares Theo down at first, as if gauging if he’s lying or not before spinning on his heels and turning back to the direction of Theo’s truck and walking away without another word. Now that’s not right.

“Hey” Theo calls after Liam who doesn’t stop “Is everything alright?” there’s no way Liam can’t hear him so that can only mean Liam’s ignoring him. Great, just great. “Liam will you hold the fuck on?!” Increasing his walk to a sprint he gets ahead of Liam just as they reach his truck and he grabs Liam by the shoulders. “What’s up with you?”

Liam ducks his head down so he’s avoiding Theo’s gaze and shrugs out of Theo’s hold; attempting to duck past Theo but Theo puts himself in Liam’s path again. “It’s nothing”

“Says the guy who looks like I’ve just told him Santa isn’t real” Liam doesn’t acknowledge the biting comment; just reaches a hand under Theo’s arm to pull at the truck handle but Theo’s quick to lock it.

When his futile pulling doesn’t open the door, Liam turns to glare at Theo finally and it’s half-hearted at best. “Open it”

“No” Theo denies and shoves the key back into his back pocket and out of Liam’s range. “I’m not opening it till we talk about what’s got your panties in a twist”

“I said it’s nothing just open the damn door, Theo”

Whether he realises it or not, Liam’s eyes flash gold in warning at Theo, the tiniest hint of fangs peeking out as he snarls but Theo gives as good as he gets. His eyes flash in return “Not going to pull that shit on me little wolf, spill”

“Why do you care?”

“The same reason why I wait for you afterschool to give you a lift” Liam’s nose scrunches at Theo’s evasiveness “Just give me a hint”

“There’s nothing to hint”

“Bullshit! just tell me what’s bugging you so I don’t have to ride home with a werewolf having a tantrum”

“Then I’ll WALK!” Liam turns on his heels and walks away from Theo and the truck but Theo isn’t finished, not by a longshot.

He catches Liam’s arm and tugs him back in order to prevent him from storming off again “JUST TALK TO ME LIAM FOR FUCK SA-!”

“I SAID IT’S NOTHING!” Liam spins around; throwing Theo’s hand away from his arm and he’s seething; eyes gold and snarl bubbling forth from his chest; claws out and catching Theo’s wrist a little as he pushes it away. “I’M JUST BEING STUPID AND OVERREACTING OVER THE LITTLEST THINGS AND I-!” Liam’s voice breaks just a fraction but it’s seemingly enough to get him to calm down a little. His gaze is to the ground once more and his arms comes to hold himself loosely and finishes rather pathetically “…I just had a rough day, a shitty, rough day”.

The whole display would have been a lot more threatening had Theo not seen the tears caught on Liam’s eyelashes.

“Hey” Theo states almost softly, Liam remains where he is “Come here”

Cautiously, he reaches a hand out and –when he’s sure Liam’s not going to rip it off – he places it onto Liam’s shoulder and pulls Liam into a hug. Liam goes easily enough, Theo’s arms coming to wrap around his shoulders firmly while Liam’s own fingers dig into the back of Theo’s shirt. “S’ dumb” Liam mumbles against the skin of Theo’s neck and Theo’s embrace tightens.

“It’s not, you may be dumb but being torn up over a shitty day isn’t”

Rather than a punch, Theo’s comment receives a laugh from Liam, the short, warm burst of breath ghosting his skin as Liam rocks them back a little “You suck”

“Only for a price” another laugh. Theo counts them both as a success.

“Can we head home?”

“Sure…but first I want ice cream”

Liam shoots back to stare at Theo, suddenly beaming widely and Theo’s heart stutters in his chest, as if it’s about to give out on him. And it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. “You buying?”

“If you hurry it up” Before he can even blink, Liam’s running towards the truck yelling at Theo to race him though there’s little chance he’ll win. Cheating bastard. Later as they’re sat in the ice cream parlour, nudging each other beneath the table with their feet, Liam brings up Nolan again “So what amazing advice did you give to him anyway?”

Theo shrugs “I think he has a crush on someone and he just wanted to know whether he liked them or not” He won’t tell Liam it’s Brett, neither Nolan nor Brett would hear the end of it and that might put a bit of a mood killer on whatever’s blossoming between them. Liam stares at Theo for a long time and then, seemingly pleased by Theo’s answer, moves his attention back to his almost empty bowl.

“I want another one”

“Go get it yourself I’m not your slave”

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever” Liam pouts; shoving his last spoonful in his mouth and Theo feels that budding warmth settle in his chest again, pleasant but also nauseating because this can’t last forever, nothing does.

And then Liam’s leaning across the table to take Theo’s spoon from his bowl and scooping up some ice cream. “HEY!” Liam shoves the spoon into his mouth before Theo can stop him “You traitorous bastard!”

From another table a woman and her two children shoot the pair a dirty look but Liam’s far too busy trying not to choke on the very spoon he’s got in his mouth as he giggles boisterously at Theo’s dismay.

Theo joins in not long after.

#You Could Call It Love Series #part 4 #Teen wolf #tw #theo raeken #liam dunbar #liam x theo #Thiam #nett #nolan #Brett Talbot #Brett x Nolan #My Favourite chapter to write

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ourhappylies · 7 years ago

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First Kiss - Ladies of Supernatural

Author: Cherry🍒 Requested: @multifandomfix Note: I tried to write for everyone you requested but I found that I wasn’t able to write for Pamela. I hope that’s okay!

Abaddon:

Abaddon takes whatever she wants, and she wanted you. She did everything in her power to win you over, she took care of any creeps that were harassing you, she brought you luxurious gifts, and she took you wherever in the world you wanted to go to. Because of this, the first kiss hadn’t exactly been unforeseen. In a moment of passion, Abaddon pressed her full, scarlet lips against your own. She’d savoured the heavenly soft feeling of your lips, never wanting to part from them.

Bela Talbot:

Your first kiss with Bela wouldn’t have been the kind you’d have expected. Sure, both you and Bela had feelings for each other but neither of you had thought you’d act on them anytime soon. You and Bela were in the midst of completing a heist at a Gala, the security guards were rounding the corner to where you and Bela were hiding. In an attempt to deceive the guards into thinking that the two of you had merely snuck away from the Gala for some alone time, Bela hastily pressed her lips against yours. But the moment your lips had collided, you both felt sparks fly, a feeling like no other.

Ellen Harvelle:

Ellen had closed the ‘Harvelle’s Roadhouse’ up early since it had been dead quiet for the majority of the night. She grabbed two beers and sat on one of the stools, inviting you to join her which you had eagerly accepted. For hours on end, you and Ellen had conversed about almost everything that came to mind, the topics had coolly become philosophical. As the exchange continued, Ellen slowly leaned closer and closer to you, closing as much distance as she could. Noticing Ellens subtle advances, and with a slight bit of liquid courage, you leaned forward closing the rest of the distance, and delicately pressed your beer flavoured lips to hers.

Jody Mills:

Jody and you were hunting when you first kissed. It was spur of the moment, but it was still sweet and refreshing. Jody had saved you from an angered entity as it tried to attack you. She offered you her hand to pull you up off of the ground from where you laid, winded. Gratefully, you allowed her to help you up, only to launch yourself into her arms, repeatedly thanking her for saving you. Pulling back from your hug, you noticed how close you were, before you realised what you were doing, your supple lips delicately pressed against hers.

Mary Winchester:

Mary’s voluptuous lips hungrily moved against your own after you had abruptly pressed your lips against hers. Throughout the day, you’d noticed Mary making coy glances at your lips. Wanting nothing more than for her to kiss you, you’d waited and hoped for her to finally make a move. But as the hours ticked by, it dawned on you that Mary wasn’t going to make the first move; so you did. When you caught her, once again, gazing in your direction, you took advantage of the situation and pecked her succulent lips. The peck quickly flourished into more.

Rowena MacLeod:

When Rowena offered for you to become her protege, she never believed she’d develop such strong feelings for you, but that's exactly what happened. She’d find as many excuses as she could to be around you for as long as possible, whether it be fleeing from an enemy or working on spells together. The thought of your dulcet lips against her own glossy red ones was constantly on her mind. She frequently wondered if they were as soft as they appeared. After a long day of wondering, Rowena pushed past any doubt that lingered in the back of her mind, and lightly lowered her lips against yours. She was pleasantly overjoyed when she felt your lips eagerly move against her own.

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machihunnicutt · 7 years ago

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Fic-vember Day 5

Back at it again with the procrastination. Just so you know, my plan for the next few days is (roughly): day 6 - oneshot, 7 - part 2 of Lost and Found (les mis fic), 8 - part 2 of this fic, 9 - chapter 1 of a new DEH thing.

Friend (Downton Abbey fic)

Chapter 1: School

(or read on ao3.)

"Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas looked up from the letter he was writing to see young George Crawley hovering in the doorway. His presence downstairs had diminished slightly as he'd grown older, but he never looked this nervous in front of his favorite butler.

"Yes Master George? How can I help you?"

"Can I come in?" His blonde hair was in his eyes.

"There's no need to ask," Thomas said warmly.

George seemed to calm a bit and sat in the chair across from Mr. Barrow. He'd rather grown into himself over the years, long and lean like his mother, bright eyed and kind like his father, and aching for adventure like his step-father.

"I go away to school tomorrow," he said. Lady Mary had decided that boarding school was the best option for her son, though he protested that he could do just as well at the school house. But it wouldn't be proper.

"Nerves, Master George?"

He nodded, slightly. "What if they don't like me Mr. Barrow? What if I don't make any friends?"

"Well you've always got one friend right here," he said. "And why wouldn't they like you? Everyone at Downton loves you."

George looked to the floor. "I don't think I've had many real friends, just the people who have to be out of courtesy or blood."

Thomas Barrow had had few true friends in his life, and he was thankful for each one. "Master George just because you have had few friends doesn't mean they aren't special. I've never had many friends--many in this house didn't like me when I first came to Downton--but I found my place, and I found my people."

"You're my friend Mr. Barrow."

"Thank you Master George. You are my friend too."

His face brightened. "Will you write then? When I'm away at school? Mama promises she will but she never knows what's going on downstairs."

Thomas couldn't help but smile at this obliviously cheerful 15 year old. He had no idea the absurdity of his request, or the mingling of social classes he was endorsing. To George Crawley people were people and his friends were his friends, no matter which level of the house they occupied.

"If you would like that sir of course I will."

"Mama will be wondering where I am," he said, checking his watch. "Good night Mr. Barrow, and thank you."

"Any time Master George."

He left quickly up the stairs and back into his world.

"Was that Master George?" Anna said as she passed Thomas in the hall. "He's after you again?" She smiled.

There has been jokes, good natured ones Thomas made sure of that, that George fancied Barrow before he knew what that meant and the many reasons it was inadvisable. It arose primarily from all the time he spent hiding in the servants’ hall, and how he'd blushed and stuttered every time Barrow asked him a question. It was cute and it was innocent and no one minded too much downstairs, but Barrow rather hoped he'd grow out of it, and find someone his own age to trot after like a lovesick puppy, preferably a girl. Even in 1936, it was difficult for people like Thomas Barrow, and he didn't wish his plight on young George.

"You nearly missed tea," Sybbie Branson chastised. She took in the sight of her cousin, eyes bright, face flushed from running full speed up the stairs. She was only a year older than him, but she liked to pretend she was older.

"I was asking Mr. Barrow if he would write me when I'm away at school."

"You want Barrow to write you?"

"He's my friend, why shouldn't he write to me?" He said, somewhat defensively.

"I'm your friend and you didn't ask me," she pouted.

"You're my cousin, I didn't think you needed to be asked."

"Well you know what happens when you assume," she said, voice laced with snark.

"What is that Sybbie?" Her father asked, with disapproving eyes. He took the cup of tea he was handed and sat down across from the two squirming teens.

"Nothing Papa," she said sheepishly.

"And will you write to cousin George?" Tom asked his daughter.

"Of course I will," she said definitively, crossing her ankles beneath her green dress.

"You'll miss me terribly?" He teased. Tom laughed.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy school George. You'll meet lots of new people who aren't connected to Downton."

Everyone in George's life so far seemed to be connected to Downton is some way. The notion of a world beyond the gates was unnerving.

"I'll be back for holidays Sybbie, don't worry. I'll always be back for holidays."

"Well of course you will darling, we're not trying to be rid of you," his mother came in, the babbling Charles Talbot Crawley in her arms. She gave the toddler to Sybbie and took a seat beside Tom.

He enjoyed his last tea before he was off to school, and Mrs. Patmore made him his favorite dinner to have before he went. And he hugged Mr. Barrow goodbye even though he was far too old to do so before Tom drove him to the station.

"Good luck Master George," he said.

"Thank you Mr. Barrow. I'll write."

***

16 September 1936

Dear Mr. Barrow,

We started our lessons yesterday. The first week was spent touring the school and learning the rules and about each other. I miss Downton already, though I will soon get used to life here.

The food here is nothing like Mrs. Patmore's but the tea isn't bad and sometimes they make pudding for special occasions (or so I've heard.)

I have to wear a uniform with a little blue tie and a blazer with the school crest on it. They yell if you don't iron your uniform (they make you do it yourself) and if your socks aren't the right color. This boy Ernest in my class didn't wear his tie one day and he got beat about the ears in front of everyone. He didn't seem too bothered though. He's sort of a trouble maker.

I've told some of the boys about Sybbie and they all want to see her picture. There's a duke's son who's convinced he'll marry her.

I like my history lessons. My teacher reminds me of Mr. Molesley down at the schoolhouse. Do you think he could ever teach at a school like this?

I hope you and everyone home at Downton are well.

Best wishes,

George Crawley

"May I see?" Baxter asked as Thomas set down the letter. "I'd like to see what he's up to."

Thomas handed the letter over, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "I don't know why he insisted on writing to me."

Baxter smiled down at the letter.

"Like Mr. Molesley he says, what a compliment."

18 September 1936

Dear Master George,

Everyone downstairs wishes you well and says hello. Might I suggest ironing your uniform with a damp cloth over the top of it to steam the garment. I'm not sure how I would fare in your history lessons but I know I could wear an immaculate uniform. My time as a valet has not taught me nothing.

I hope you are making friends, even if the dominant topic of conversation is Miss Sybbie.

There is nothing much changed here. Your cousin brought out the old gramophone and has been practicing her dancing for her coming out party. She knows it is too early, but no less is enjoying the practice.

Lady Rose and her husband have come to visit. He has some business in London and they are staying the week before they return to America.

We look forward to seeing you on your holiday.

Best,

Thomas Barrow

"Hey George?" Ernest had the bunk above George's and he could hear him rustling around above him.

"Who sends you letters from home? Do you have a big family?"

"Sort of," he replied. It was larger than some, even more so if he included everyone downstairs, and he did. "My Mama and Papa do, and Mr. Barrow."

"Mr. Barrow?" It was strange not being able to see his face.

"Our butler, he's my friend."

"You're friends with your butler?" The utterance was not quite a sneer, but not quite an expression of genuine curiosity.

"Yes, and he writes me. Who writes you?"

Ernest was silent for a moment and George thought he had fallen asleep. "I don't get many letters," he said at last. "My Mama is sick and Father...well he's too busy to write."

"I'm sorry," George replied. "I'd write you if I were them."

The other boy poked his head over the side of the bed to look down at George. His brown hair flopped in his face, and his green eyes caught the light. "Thanks George," he said.

3 October 1936

Dear Mr. Barrow,

I've made a friend. His name is Ernest and he makes good grades even though he likes to pretend he doesn't. We play chess in the dining hall in the evenings and he tells me about his life at home and I tell him about Downton.

His father is a business man in America and he hardly comes home to him and his mother Lady Victoria Barnett.

We've decided to go out for the track team, though mostly upperclassmen are allowed to run for the meets.

My professor says I'm at the top of my class in history, and my English professor gave me good marks on my latest essay. Ernest is helping me with arithmetic. I don't know quite why I'm telling you this. You're not Mama so you can't brag to Aunt Edith. But I know you value hard work so I thought I ought to let you know I'm doing well.

Thank you for the tip about ironing. Tell Sybbie to quit stalling and write to me, and that I want a dance when I get back.

Your friend,

George Crawley

5 October 1936

Dear Master George,

I'm glad you've made a friend. I shall be glad to meet him if you ever bring him to Downton. You will be back here soon for your holiday. Everyone downstairs, and upstairs, is preparing for your visit as I'm sure you've heard. Miss Sybbie is perhaps the most excited.

I am impressed with you as always in regards to your schoolwork. Hard work should be valued and rewarded.

Dinner is about ready and I have to ring the gong. I look forward to your return.

Best,

Thomas Barrow

"I'm going home today," George said, lingering in the doorway to his and Ernest's room. "Are you going back for holiday?"

He shook his head. "Father's stuck in America and Mama's too sick to see me. I'll see when you get back though."

George's heart clenched. "Can I have a hug goodbye at least?" He asked quietly. Ernest flushed, George ignored this.

"'Course," he muttered, and George could feel his own neck getting hot as he embraced his friend. It was nothing, it was hot in the room, nothing more.

"George!" Sybbie Branson threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "You're home."

"Miss me?"

"Desperately," she said with an eye roll, but her enthusiastic hug seemed to betray her.

"Has young mister Crawley come down today?" Anna asked as Thomas passed her on the way to the servant's hall.

"Miss Sybbie and Lady Mary seem to monopolizing his time at the moment. I'm sure he'll be down after dinner."

She smiled knowingly. "That boy really looks up to you."

"God only knows why," he muttered.

She frowned. "Oh Mr. Barrow don't sell yourself short. You've done terribly well these past few years."

"That's kind of you," he said noncommittally.

"Mr. Barrow," George was at his door again. He'd shot up like a firework and was leaner and more muscular and perhaps even more blonde than the last time he'd seen him. And he looked happy, and full of something that was far from Downton. "I suppose you'll want to shake my hand now that I'm a proper schoolboy." He crossed his arms smugly and Thomas smirked. "But I'm going to hug you anyway."

He did and Thomas couldn't help but laugh at this boy who was somehow so fond of him.

"Mr. Barrow will you teach me to dance now that I'm back?"

"Why Master George you could ask Miss Sybbie. I'm sure she could teach you to..."

"I have two left feet. I don't want her to laugh," he replied. Plus I'd rather dance with you, he didn't add.

"Very well."

The next day they were up in the ballroom.

"The first thing you need to remember is to look at your partner, not at your feet, even if you're sure you're going to make a mistake." George's head shot up.

"Now listen to the music and I'll lead. Then we can switch so you'll know how to dance with a lady."

What if I don't want to dance with a lady? He thought. What if I want to dance with Ernest?

He nodded, and the music brought his attention back to trying not to step on Barrow's feet. He had little success in the endeavor.

"I'm sorry Mr. Barrow," he moaned after the third time. "I really am trying."

"It's confidence Master George. Half of dancing is confidence."

"How do you get to be so confident?" He asked.

It was Thomas's turn to look down. "When you have enough people against you and telling you no no matter what you do, you learn to ignore it."

"Ignore what?"

Thomas met his eyes. "Your doubts. If you stay true to who you are it overshadows everything that makes you afraid."

It occurred to George Crawley that he didn't really know Barrow at all. Every time they spoke it was about him.

"Mr. Barrow have you ever been in love?"

He didn't want to lie to him, not when he'd just told him to be true to himself.

"Yes, a long time ago," he said.

"Who was she?"

"George..." His lack of formality caused him to draw back and listen.

"His name was James. He was a footman here before you were born. He didn't love me like I loved him, but he was my friend. I don't want to lie to you. I must be who I am, regardless of the law."

George was bright red. "So you...and other men...you...I um."

"You don't have to say anything Master George, and I understand if you want to keep your distance from now on..."

"No, I...it's not...I wouldn't do that."

"The house knows, so don't worry that I'm giving you a secret to keep."

The house knows, and they don't care. Something tightened in George's chest.

He turned the music off. "You'll fall in love someday Master George. I have no doubt."

He laid awake that night thinking about it, what it would be like to fall in love with a man. What would it be like to kiss a man? It wouldn't be as soft as with a girl. He thought about Ernest and what it would be like to love him as more than a friend.

#downton abbey #george crawley #thomas barrow #downton fic #downton future fic #awi's fic #awi's fic-vember

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talbot-talks · 7 days ago

Note

At that, he hesitates, his breathing still rattling in his chest like a snake stuck in his lungs, slowly drowning. It sounds painful, agonizing, and she almost feels sympathetic for him even as he drools thickly on the floor.

The poor man couldn't help it. Imagine if her jaw couldn't shut...

He slowly lifts his hands, then, the extra finger so out of place and yet tucking itself unobtrusively against his palm before he signs to her, stiff and clumsy... But at least legibly.

"I hope he hurts for weeks."

'Fuck Danny,' seemed to be the agreeing statement.

Talbot, are you free today at all? I was hoping to speak with you about something scientific in nature. Though, it's pure speculation on my part, in advance.

- Amara

Amara. Of course, you'll find me a curious ear regarding the sciences, even if it is speculation. Speculation leads to discovery.

@wasteland-wonderstruck

#wasteland wonderstruck #lingering conversations with talbot

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melindacoulson4 · 8 years ago

Text

The things you missed

Philinda. 4x22 speculation. It's time they have that talk.

The air circulating in the fuselage of the Zephyr has a bite to it. Phil’s fingertips are almost completely numb and his shoulders have been continuously shaking for as long as he’s been sitting in his seat. They don’t exactly have the luxury of heating the Zephyr, the less fuel and resources that they use the better. The temperature probably isn’t even that low, but his bodily functions have been deteriorating ever since they got out of the framework. His thighs and shoulder muscles have protested with every step and slight movement that he makes. Now, all he wants to do is take a long steamy shower and curl up into a ball in his bed. But, that’s not an option, primarily due to the fact that the base has been blown to bits, so technically he doesn’t even have a bed at the moment.

They’ve been trying to track Aida ever since she vanished into thin air. No one, not even Fitz, has the slightest clue of where she would go. The team has been brainstorming ideas for the last 45 minutes with no progress to show for it. Aida could be anywhere in the world right now, doing god knows what with her newfound powers.

They’re not equipped for this type of mission right now. Mack is still somewhere in the framework along with Yo Yo, which leaves Fitz, Simmons, Daisy, Piper, May, and himself to figure out some way to solve this whole thing. Daisy had called for a break after a particularly long stretch of silence during their makeshift meeting. Fitz had abruptly left the area, immediately followed by Simmons. The conversation had clearly taken a toll on him with everyone on the team staring at him, waiting for some clue as to Aida’s location. It’s a startling thought that Fitz has now become the closest person to Aida. He knows her well; they lived a whole life together in the framework, after all.

Daisy had announced that she was going to the kitchen to whip up some type of food before everyone passes out. She had all but forced Piper to come with her. As the two stood up, she made sure to keep her gaze locked him, while tilting her head towards May. Daisy knew something was up between the two of them. She was giving him a chance to address it with May, privately.

He’s grateful. This is their first moment alone after being blasted by the water and escaping the Russian controlled ship. They barely had time to dry themselves off and change clothes before being confronted by the obliterated SHIELD base, Talbot’s men, and Aida’s rampage. Neither one of them have even gotten a chance to shower since waking up. They’ve been faced with a constant bombardment of information all day.

It’s only been a couple of hours since they’ve woken up, but it already feels like days. He’s completely exhausted, yet too afraid to leave Melinda’s side. He’s terrified that he’ll slip into unconsciousness only to wake up and find her gone again. Either he’ll somehow wake up as Phil Coulson the history teacher trapped in the framework again or he’ll wake up to this life with Melinda missing all over again. It’s a completely irrational thought, but he can’t control it.

Thankfully, she’s seated right next to him for the moment with no signs of going anywhere. Mostly because Simmons had ordered her to stay put after a rushed physical examination. But, he can also tell that she’s completely drained of all energy. She could barely keep her eyes open during their escape from the Russians. The epinephrine was the only thing that had kept her going for so long.

Even sitting against the wall of the Zephyr, he can spot her exhaustion. Her body rests limply against the padded seat. Her head is tilted to the side, chin lethargically drooping to her chest. The profound dark circles under her eyes draw his attention. Her gaze is focused somewhere on the opposite wall. He can tell by the slight wrinkle in her forehead that she’s thinking about something specific. That’s Melinda; always concerned about something else, never giving herself a chance to rest.

He wouldn’t blame her if she wants to be left alone right now, especially given the nature of their previous conversation. But he can’t let her suffer alone, which is exactly what she will continue to do if he doesn’t make a move now.

He wordlessly places his right hand gently overtop of her left hand. His fingers and palm completely encapsulate her tiny hand. He pauses there for a second, reveling in the feeling of her warm skin against the iciness of his own. His eyes fall closed as he silently thanks the universe for this. For her. They’re finally together and alone, out of immediate danger. They’re lucky to have both made it this far. Lucky to be next to each other right here and now where they can finally face everything that’s been building up between them.

He opens his eyes and turns toward her only to find her already meeting his gaze. The sadness and worry present in her eyes is something that he immediately reads. She’s burdened by something, which is hardly a surprise given everything they’ve been through. It could be any number of things, the empty bottle of Haig being his first guess.

“It’s all destroyed. Everything we had. And Mace….I…I did that to him…I ordered it. Talbot was right to come after us…it’s on me,” she says barely above a whisper.

“No,” he responds adamantly.

“Yes I-”

“If it wasn’t you it would’ve been someone else,” he tells her. Any number of Hydra agents could’ve killed Mace. He was the face of the resistance and public enemy number one. He had a target on his back from the beginning.

“Doesn’t make it any less my fault,” she confesses.

He can see that the guilt is tearing her up inside. “Melinda…you didn’t know. She messed with your head. You were only doing your job. It’s not your fault. He wouldn’t blame you.” Aida had made them live entirely new lives. She had forced their framework personas onto them. They weren’t given a choice and that was the worst part of it all. They had lost their true identities, becoming completely different people. It wasn’t even real, yet his memories from the framework are so clearly present in his mind. It was like living a whole extra life. As if this real life had been paused and they all went into the framework for 40 years. That’s exactly what it felt like. He could remember things that happened in his childhood in the framework that never happened here.

They have lived in two completely opposite worlds and so far there was no way that they would be able to erase their memories from the framework. He is a SHIELD agent and a history teacher. There are two lifetimes of memories stuck in his brain. Melinda is a SHIELD agent and a HYDRA agent, which is the most screwed up thing he’s ever thought of. Yet, it’s true. There’s no logic to it. It’s just something that they now have to live with and move on from, if that’s even possible.

Phil reaches out, tugging gently on Melinda’s jacket signaling her to move towards him. She scoots closer and lays her head against his chest, most likely from pure exhaustion he thinks.

Somehow the sensation of her head resting against his body is so familiar, like it has always belonged there. A perfect fit; her body pressed to his. It feels normal even though it is something that they rarely have ever done.

He pulls her closer as he builds up the courage to say exactly how he’s feeling. If he doesn’t tell her now he never will.

“I don’t care about the things that we lost on base. I’m just so glad that you’re okay. I was so afraid….I thought she killed you.” He rests his chin on the top of her scalp, repressing the urge to press a kiss to her skin. He would love nothing more than to experience that sensation, but he can’t stop the guilt that creeps up. The whole situation, she has no idea what actually happened. They didn’t have the luxury of details earlier, so he skipped over mostly everything that happened. Now is the time. She needs to understand. It’s not fair for him to keep anything from her. She deserves to know everything no matter how painful.

The whole situation hits him again. To think that she might not have come back, it brings tears to his eyes. He could’ve lost her and she has no idea what it was all like. She’s been gone for so long.

“Melinda…I just….I’m going to tell you the truth.” She deserves to hear the truth. Besides, he already brought up the Haig situation.

She nods while sitting up and facing him.

“The android…she was like you...in every way. An exact replica. I can’t even explain it. There was no hint that she was a robot. She moved, spoke…did everything exactly like you. Once I found out she was an android…I didn’t even know how long you were actually gone.” He sighs. “I thought….you’d been gone since your death.”

She immediately turns away from him, hair clouding her face from view.

“I drank the Haig with her after everything with Reyes finished up. We sat at the kitchen table drinking it and talking….like we had promised to do.”

The confession lingers in the air between them.

“What else, Phil?” she hesitantly asks. Her tone seems to suggest that she already detects something amiss.

Damn. Is he that transparent?

“Aida came looking for the Darkhold. Mace and I agreed to hide it in his office. He and I were the only ones who knew where it was. Aida attacked me and your android. I got knocked out and I woke up in a room with you. At the time, it seemed like Aida had dragged us both in there and locked us up, but it was probably her. I told her where Mace and I were hiding the Darkhold. And that’s how Aida knew where it was. Mack ended up chopping off Aida’s head before she could leave the base. I took the Darkhold and gave it to the Koenigs. The watchdogs tracked them down along with Aida. So we met up with them and they took us to a library where they hid the Darkhold. While Sam went to get the Darkhold, I was with….her. We started talking and….” He takes a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply and swallowing hard. There will be no going back after this. “I….I kissed her,” he confesses.

A sense of relief finally hits him. It’s out there, the truth. Now she knows; he doesn’t have to lie to her anymore. However, the sense of relief is abruptly followed by a sense of panic. She’ll surely hate him now or at the very least be disgusted with him.

They sit in silence for, well, he doesn’t know how long. It seems like years, in reality it’s probably seconds. He can’t bring himself to move a muscle other than to breathe. All of his insides are clenched up and tense, waiting for her to either hit him or walk away forever.

“There had to be something different about her then,” Melinda simply says.

“What?” he asks, completely thrown off guard. That is not the way he expected her to respond.

“She shows up for a couple of days and suddenly you’re drinking our bottle of Haig together and kissing her?” she asks incredulously.

He nods, more to himself than to Melinda. She purposefully has her eyes trained on the ground, avoiding his gaze. He senses the feeling of betrayal in her voice, the emphasis that she used when saying our bottle of Haig. He doesn’t blame her. He did betray her. All because he finally decided to act on the affection and love that he tried to hide for the decades that they have known each other.

“I thought she was you. I thought she was interested…,” he trails off, losing his nerve, feeling completely pathetic. “I thought you were interested.” He shakes his head. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted to kiss you. And I’m so sorry. I should’ve known. Maybe I didn’t see any signs because deep down I wanted it to be real…so badly.”

He watches her face closely, searching for any change in expression, but Melinda continues to stare at the ground. Why did he have to do this to her?

Suddenly, he remembers her words from earlier. “Wow I’m hurt, Phil. I guess we’re not as close as I thought.” How could he not know? Because he’s selfish, that’s why. He had even gone as far as to call her robotic. She didn’t deserve that. He had panicked and just blurted the first thing that popped into his mind, anything to shift the blame from himself.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did…earlier…about you being robotic. I was just being defensive. It’s not that I didn’t notice any differences because we aren't close enough. I did notice...little things. But…I thought that you were happier. I thought that I was making you happy. At least, I know that's how I was feeling. It felt so good to be with you. Spending time with you. Like we were finally going somewhere. Because I've always wanted that,” he tells her. If he’s going to completely destroy their friendship, then he might as well confess everything now. She deserves to know the truth. “When you were with Andrew last year, all of the...feelings that I was denying came back. I stayed quiet because I knew you were happy. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you,” he continues.

“But now I know that she…you were never really interested. It was all for the book and I’m such an idiot.” His hands come up to wipe quickly at his face, serving as a distraction. How could he possibly meet her eye right now? “And you suffered because of that…..I would’ve been able to get to you sooner.” If I wasn’t so in love with you, he thinks, fists clenching in frustration.

He abruptly stands from his position next to her because he can’t take the rejection. He crosses his arms over his chest, desperately seeking some sense of comfort. This whole conversation leaves him feeling completely embarrassed. She’s his best friend. Having to tell her that he didn’t know she was replaced by an android because he was interested in her romantically, well, it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. Now, Melinda can’t even make eye-contact with him. He really screwed everything up.

It all serves as a reminder of how messed up this situation is. He drank the bottle of Haig that they had saved for decades, she was replaced by a robot, and then the robots apparently blew up the only place that he considered to be home. All while they were trapped in a simulated world that felt so real.

“Now our home is destroyed and the bottle of Haig is gone,” he sighs.

A complete and awkward silence fills the hanger. He stares hard at the metal wall across from him debating whether he should bang his fist against it. Oh how he wants to, anything to relieve these feelings inside of him. His fake hand would likely do some damage, make a fist-shaped impression in the wall. Instead, he waits silently for Melinda to say something…anything. He wants to know what's running through her mind. Yet, still can't bring himself to turn around and face her. The hurt and betrayal present would surely break his heart.

He can’t even imagine what she’ll say next or if she'll even speak at all. All he knows is everything is his fault. If only he'd realized in time. This whole thing could've been avoided.

“I think we both know it was never really about the Haig, Phil,” she admits.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Okay, that was unexpected.

Her fingers lightly begin trailing up and down the length of his right bicep. All at once his nerve endings come alive; her touch ignites a fire in his veins.

He turns around, somewhat hopefully and catches the glistening tears present in her eyes.

Melinda takes a step closer, eliminating almost all of the space between them.

“It was about what the bottle meant. When you were gone…when you vanished because of Eli Morrow it just reminded me of the regret that I felt when you died in New York. I never want to feel like that again,” she says, voice quivering with every word.

New York? She was comparing his time in the other dimension to New York. He never really found out what happened after he "died". There was never time. The first time he saw her after all of that was when he visited her in administration and asked her to join the team. At the time she couldn't exactly be forthcoming about his death. Hell, he didn't even know that he died. A vacation, that's what it was supposed to be, just a man coming back to work after a well-deserved week off in Tahiti.

He did see her face when he was stuck in the other dimension and she was the one to bring up the Haig. If that's any indication of her feelings, he doesn't know. What does it all mean? What is she trying to tell him?

He watches with bated breath as her eyes focus on his chest. She reaches her right hand out and places it against his sternum. He feels the subtle trembling of her fingers against his skin. The only thing separating them is the cotton material of his shirt, which she lightly clutches in her hand. Her touch is overwhelming. She begins tracing a soothing pattern over his chest. At first, he’s baffled by her actions. After a moment, he quickly realizes what she’s doing. She’s following the path of his scar.

This is the closest that they’ve been while coherent since their impromptu return. She can surely feel the erratic beating of his heart with her fingers pressed against him. It doesn’t really matter anymore, he muses. She already knows how he feels; his heartbeat isn’t going to give him away.

Her eyes focus on his and suddenly he’s thinking about the kiss that he shared with the LMD. He took the initiative then, but he can’t help recognizing the familiar movement of her eyes. The way Melinda’s LMD looked at him before he leaned in is exactly how Melinda is gazing at him now. His stomach clenches at the thought. There’s just no way that he can believe Melinda wants to kiss him. The need that he feels for her must be clouding his judgement. And damn it is a need, a desperate all-consuming one. He’s never wanted anyone or anything more than her. The friendship and partnership that they share means everything to him. To think that they could be more seems like a faraway dream.

Right now, in this moment, it doesn’t matter what he wants. This is about Melinda. It’s her choice. No matter what she wants- he’ll respect it. She’s in control now. God knows she hasn’t had control of much in her life recently.

The hand that she has resting against his chest moves to cup his cheek. “Phil. you’re…just….,” she trails off, rapidly blinking away tears. Her lips part as her tongue darts out, momentarily wetting her bottom lip.

He catches her gaze flickering between his lips and face. It takes all of his restraint not to look at her lips. If he does he would surely kiss her.

Her hand slides from his cheek towards the back of his neck. Suddenly, she’s pulling his head down as she tilts her own towards him.

And just like that their lips meet. Her touch is hesitant at first, as is his, each pressing their lips lightly against the others in exploration. It’s nice…warm, comforting. After a few seconds, he decides to wrap his arm around her body and rests his right hand against her shoulder blade. In response, Melinda’s presses her body against his front, aligning their hips. That’s when the overwhelming passion hits him. These feelings that he’s had aren’t unrequited. She wants this just as much as he does. After all of these years, they’re finally doing it. This is real. This is the real Melinda. No decoy. No ulterior motives, just her.

His hand moves from her shoulder to the back of her head. Her dark locks slide easily into the space between his fingers. Somehow her hair is silky smooth. She had been unconscious for over a week, yet her hair is perfect against the pads of his fingers. He gently tugs at the thick wavy strands. A small moan falls from her lips in response.

They continue to push and pull against each other for a good while, he doesn’t know how long. He’s lost track of time, lost track of everything but her.

Eventually, the need to breathe causes him to pull back slightly. He focuses on breathing deeply, hoping that she won’t regret what they’ve just done. Thankfully, she shows no sign of stepping away from him. Neither one of them have moved more than a few inches from each other. He can even feel the gentle puffs of air against his face coming from her rapid breathing.

“I thought you were dead. Once I found out you were gone…those were the worst couple of days of my life,” he admits. He tampers down the urge to share every thought and feeling that races through his mind. There’s an overwhelming sense of need to tell her everything now.

“I tried to get out. I tried coming home,” she tells him, voice cracking.

Her response takes his breath away. Of course she’s worried about his feelings, trying to make him feel better about the situation. “I’m so sorry, Melinda,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand in silent reassurance. She doesn’t blame him; it’s okay.

He lifts both hands and wraps them around her torso, needing to touch her. His hands meet at the small of her back, clutching at the fabric of her jacket, anything to keep her close. It feels amazing being able to cradle her warm body against him without restraint.

He feels her arms wrap around his ribs, hugging him just as close as he is to her.

Finally

It wasn't all in his head. He didn't just ruin his friendship. She's experiencing it too. All of the years of companionship and partnership have led to this. Something more, that’s new and exciting.

They stay in comfortable silence, continuing to drink each other in. Just focusing on the sensations that simple touching creates between them. They’re together, connected through history, love, and compassion for one another.

Staying like this with Melinda allows him to draw strength from her. He has a sudden surge of energy to power through this mess with Aida and the framework, so that they can finally move forward together.

He’s ready for whatever comes next.

//end//

#philinda #phil coulson #melinda may #philinda fic #philinda fanfiction #4x22 tag #agents of shield fanfiction

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sciles4life-blog · 8 years ago

Text

How you meet #4

Brett: 3rd person P.O.V: You could see your best friend walking towarda his old schools Lacrosse team as they got off the bus. 'Oh god' you thought "this isn't going to be good." you spoke out loud, concerned as to what Liam might do. You ran over to Liam as quick as you could. "Is everything ok Liam? You're not going to do something stupid are you?" You asked worried about his actions and the consequences that may come with it. "Don't worry, everythings fine." He said and you believed him, I mean he is your best friend after all. He started to march over to one of the team members and all of a sudden he came to a halt, yelling Brett and then carried on his stomping to get to him and even though he had a face full of anger he said "I just wanted to say have a good game." To which Brett laughed in his face... 'Urghh, how rude' you thought. "That's cut Liam. Is that what they told you to say in your anger management? Apologise and everything will be alright." Liam stood there frozen, not knowing what to do, as you stood behind him to stunned to even comprehend what he just said. "You demolished coaches car." Brett continued, "I payed for it!" Liam replied. "Yeah you're gonna pay for it, we're gonna break you in half out there, and it's gonna be all your fault." As Brett said this you could see Liam getting angrier by the second. Next thing you know Liam's being pulled away by Scott and Stiles but you decided to stay and give Brett a piece of your mind. "Who do you think you are?" you said with a face full of anger as Brett just stood with a sly smirk on his. "Brett, Brett Talbot and who are you sweetcheeks?" he replied. "Don't call me sweetcheeks, and I'm your worst nightmare bitch!" you more or less screamed in his face, feeling priud of yourself. "Oooh, fiesty. I like it." Brett spoke, but you could tell he was trying to get under your skin. Yet yourl weren't about to let that happen. "How's this for fiesty arsehole?" and with that you kneed him where the sun doesn't shine. Once you had done that you crouched beside him while he was doubled over in pain and whispered in his ear... "Listen here 'sweetcheeks' you do anything to hurt Liam or you know just anything out of line then I will grab your stupid werewolf arse and impale you to a tree... Next time, make sure you pick on someone your own size." Then you walked away with a new found confidence. Theo: Your P.O.V: It's a nice sunny day so I decided it'd be fun to take my five year old nephew to the skate park to teach him how to ride. I know it's strange since he's only five but he's be trying to ride my skateboard since he could walk. "Ok Niklaus stand there, Auntie (Y/N) is going to show you something." I took a few steps back, placed the skateboard on the ground and proceeded to stand on it when all of a sudden I was knocked back off. All I can feel is pain shooting up my leg from my ankle. "Ow my ankle..." I screeched since that's where I felt the most pain. "Oh my god, are you ok?" I heard someone say. "No, it's my ankle. It hurts so much." I replied trying to scream. "Ok, ummm... Just hold still." I heard the same person say, I looked up to see a gorgeous guy with a stunning smile crouching to pick me up. "I'm Theo, I'm going to take you to the hospital. Come on little man let's go get in the car ok." "Thank you Theo, I'm (Y/N)." *Five minutes later (during the car ride)* "So, um... (Y/N) is this your son?" Theo asked me, and all I could do was laugh at him. Even though I've hurt my ankle because of this guy, I can't help but have these weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, and honestly it's the most amazing feeling. He is the cutest person I have ever met, well apart from my nephew of course, but anyways seeing him so confused made me he is so much cuter, even though I dont know how that's possible. "Why are you laughing?" Theo asked with his face still full of confusion. "Oh, sorry. It's just that's the funniest thing I've heard for a long time, but no, he's my nephew." I said making sure not to laugh because I didn't want him to think I was lying. I turned my head and looked towards him to see him looking extemely embarrassed. Then I turned my head back around and looked back out the window to see we have arrived at the hospital. Theo left the car, grabbed my Nik from the backseat, closed the door and then came and got me from the front. He picked me up bridal stle and carried me inside, he sat me down on the chairs and sat next to me along side Nik. *After being checked* I eventually called to get checked after half an hour and now I've finally finished being checked by Mrs. McCall. I walked back out into the waiting room to see Theo sat playing with Nik and the sight just made my heart melt. I walked towards them with a bit of a limo. As I arrived in front of them, Theo looks up at me and asks "Is everything ok?" "Yeah, just a sprained ankle but I should be fine." I replied. "Ready to go home Nik?" I asked. "Do we get to see mummy?" he asked. "Yeah kiddo we do." I told him and he started nodding his head vigorously eager to get home. "I can give you guys a ride." Theo chimed in. "That would be great, thank you." I replied with absolute greatfulness due to the fact I didn't have a clue as to how I would get home. *Car ride to my house* I gave Theo my address and we've been driving for the past ten minutes now when Theo spoke up. "So, urmm, am I forgiven for busting your ankle?" "Well considering you made me laugh for the first time in quite a while then yes you are forgiven." I replied while chuckling a little. "Well, since I'm forgiven, I was wondering if I could get your phone number." He said with a cheesy little grin on his face. "Um, sure." I said just as we parked outside my house. We traded numbers and I then got out of the car and got Nik from the back seat. "Say bye to Theo, Nik." "Bye, bye Theo." "Cya Theo." I said. "I'll call you later and we can meet up sometime. I'll see you guys later. Bye." And with that I walked up my pathway and entered my house as I heard him drive away. (So, I may have gotten a little carried away with Theo's and I'm extremely sorry. Kind of. But anyway, I'd like to say a huge thanks to @bestfriends-0212 again for helping me with this concept. It is greatly appreciated and I adore you for all the help you have been giving me.) Boyd: His P.O.V: I sat at the lunch table alone as per usual. I don't know why but for some reason no one seems to want to sit with me. Suddenly, I heard a tray drop beside me. "Hello, is it ok if I sit here?" I heard a girl say. I looked up to see the new girl stood next to me, I haven't really looked or spoken to her but from what I'm seeing now I must say she's absolutely stunning. "Oh, uh yeah. Feel free." I answered. "I'm (Y/N) by the way, and who are you may I ask?" Wow... She really wants a conversation. "I-I'm Veron Boyd, but most people call me Boyd and you can too." I told her. "Great, so, I was wondering Boyd, what's this school like?" She asked me with curiosity lingering in her eyes. "Well, it's great I guess. You might prefer it more than I do." I answered honestly as I could. We spoke about ourselves for the next half an hour and then the bell rang for our next lessin. "Umm, maybr we can do this again sometime." I said to her. "That sounda amazing, I'll make sure to be her same time tomorrow." She replied and from hearing her say what she just said makes me feel like life is definitely worth living. "Great, cya tomorrow." I told her, and in all honesty I can't wait for tomorrow, it is going to be great, I can just feel it. (I couldn't really think of a good enough concept for a way for you to meet Boyd, he's not exactly a big character but I felt the need to add him even though I didn't have the biggest or the best idea for him.)

#teen #wolf #teen wolf #teen wolf preferences #preferences #brett talbot #theo raeken #vernon boyd #boyd #theo #brett

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