#not the step mom and certainly not the mom who stepped up either
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it--knows-you ¡ 5 months ago
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obsessed w Denvers being everyone’s shitty mother figure in Ennis. Hello there young adult without a mother. Do you have mommy issues? Would you like to?
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humanstein ¡ 7 months ago
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I am extremely convinced that we are just beginning to unwrap what's going on with Ruby Sunday.
Ruby received the perfect fairy tale outcome—wish-fulfillment-level picture perfect. No New Who companion has had such a mellow and completely amicable resolution.
The mystery of her mother resolves with a blameless biological mother who made the right choice and a father who didn’t know she existed. And the mom who raised her is there too. She gets to have everyone. That happy ending was like a picture-perfect Christmas card, narrated by Mrs. Flood.
Additionally, I will need to rewatch to make sure but it did not seem like winter when they were at the coffee shop, yet it’s snowing at the end when we pan up to Mrs. Flood. Unless that was supposed to be much later...?
They also kinda raised more questions about 73 Yards than they answered. They confirmed that Ruby did not prevent the timeline in 73 Yards and additionally made that timeline essential to uncovering who Ruby's mother was. They also emphasized 73 Yards as the limitations of the TARDIS perception filter. Were the people in 73 Yards seeing beyond a filter on Ruby? Is the TARDIS projecting something on Ruby? Did both Rubys cancel each other's out? What did they see?
I'm completely willing to accept that ending if it’s just what it says on the jar, but I'm very suspicious right now. The "watch where you step" thing hasn't paid off yet either.
Something is still up. I’m starting to think the TARDIS is hiding something about Ruby and might have even conjured up Ruby's mom and dad out of nothing to keep hiding it. I know thats a little crack pot.
To clarify, I really liked the episode and I can certainly appreciate the themes of having her mother be normal and having intense value projected onto her.
However, that doesn't explain why the memory was changing, why it snowed, or why Sutekh would be especially interested. Certainly, the TARDIS has encountered more intriguing mysteries. Additionally, I feel like we would have been shown her face in the time window or the video somehow. It's either something or a bit of a missed opportunity in the script.
I feel like “projections of Ruby's subconscious” and “TV show” might still be on the table. Tell me if I'm off my rocker, but combine this with the fact that we know Ruby will be back, and, well, I think there's much more still to come.
So, basically, I'm thinking this is some sort of fake-out.
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whambambatfam ¡ 14 days ago
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Webs of a Wing
Chapter 1
I am not well versed in DC knowledge. I've read a bunch of the older comics but, honestly, these timelines are too confusing to say I have a firm grasp on what the fuck is happening at any given point.
Anyways, this is my story, I made a tumbler for it. I'll definitely upload again..
When the fly on the wall starts to spin webs of their own, can the bats catch on? Or will they be left to dangle in the web they've tangled?
───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────
You're hardly school aged when you wake in a strange place, vague memories of someone patting your head as you fall asleep. Then it was all blurry and you went from cold hard ground, suddenly, to a warm bed worth more than you've ever seen.
Laying still, staring up at the ceiling, you lay dazed until you hear the door starting to creak open. Quickly shutting your eyes you wait for the suspect to peak inside.
When his voice sounds, back on the other side of the door, you perk up, "Who's this? They're kinda cute." A boy, most likely a few years older than you.
When that deep, fear inducing voice reaches for you, you jump out of bed after it. "Apparently, my child." He couldn't possibly be talking about you, right?
You make your way silently to the creaked door. Peeping through to watch them. "Huh? What?? Like seriously???" Hands resting on his hips, a boy of black hair and lean physique gapes.
A tall man with a build as intimidating as his voice, "Yes, I've run a DNA test and everything." His large arms cross over his broad chest.
Mirroring the older man's stance, the boy questions, "So, who's the mom?"
"I'm still working on that.."
"Have you.. asked them?"
There's a heaviness lingering in the hall around them. "We don't know if they'll talk yet, not till they wake up." He doesn't like not having answers, clearly.
"Can they?"
Swinging the door open, you bark out at your own defense, "I knew how'd to talk!"
His shoulder shot up, face blossoming in embarrassment, "Oh, sorry." Sighing, he tries to appear nonchalant. "Well, heyyy.. kid.. My name's Dick.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he smiles, “Guess I'll be like, your, uh, big brother?"
Eyes widening, you step away from his grasp. Being in a strange place with strange people claiming to be your family was concerning. Even in your young mind, alarm bells rang loud and clear.
Like a light shining through your darkest times, his voice cut through the tension. “This may be all too much for,” A man, much older than either, rests his hand on your back, “the newly young master Wayne.” He ushers you gently back into the room. All gentle pats and kind smiles as he insists on you resting.
You never spoke about who or where you came from. It hurts to try, to think of the cold, the dark, the pain, the fear. Push out all the bad. Make it just go away. You just wanted it to go away. Wanted to take every memory of before and lock it up, never to be found. So, that's what you did, burying every painful memory. After some time, your young mind turned repression into suppression. Now, left with only bits and pieces, you couldn't remember even if you wanted to.
So, you’ll need to fill in the emptiness with this fresh start.
Life in the Wayne house started off joyfully. You found serenity in the solitude of the manor, disconnected from the rest of Gotham. When Alfred wasn't pushing tedious homeschooling work, you explored the massive house you'd be calling home. The quietude of empty ballrooms, winding halls and stodgy gardens was your respite. While it wasn't a place made for children, you felt at peace for the first time. The perfect home for a ghost with plenty of walls for flies and flowers alike.
Coming from unknown origins with no paperwork to speak of left you in a peculiar predicament. As a child was low grasp on the passage of time, you couldn't exactly say how old you were. Let alone when your birth date was. No one has ever bothered to tell you and if they have you certainly weren't going to remember. Infact, at Alfreds insists on a celebration, he comes to find you've never truly experienced a birthday of any kind. He had to correct this at once, give you a proper one with cake, singing and presents. It makes him wonder what sort of childhood you've been plucked from.
“Well, young master.” Alfred takes your hands as you climb the step stool next to him, “It's been a year now since you've joined us at the manor.”
Your hands slap onto the counter when you finally reach it. “Yeah, I like it.” Smiling wide up at the old butler, you babble on, “everything is so big and warm and it smells nice and I like when you cook and I wanna cook too and-” Alfred hushes your ramblings with a hand on your head.
“Yes, that's lovely, my child.” The other hand opens a draw nearby. “And that's what we'll be doing today.”
You tilt your head as the hand on it brushes over it and falls away, “Cooking?” Craning your neck, you try to peek at the cards he flips through.
“Well, baking, but yes.” He confirms, offering you a smile that's warm and sweet like his cookies, “Today was the day you joined the family, it's as good a day as any for a party.”
Your eyes light up, “A party for what?”
“Your birthday, my dear.” He chuckles softly at your look of awe,“Today will be your birthday, and every year I shall make you a cake.”
“Woah, every year?” You gasp as he hafs you the small stack of cards, each a handwritten cake recipe. While you can't read them yet, there are pictures of each cake pasted alongside the words. “That's a lot of cakes.. Can I help?”
“Whichever you like most we'll bake.” You're quick to pick one, waving the card around frantically, “I would be honored to have your help as well, young master.”
Alfred got to work with measurements, letting you pour everything into the bowls. He shows you how to mix, guiding you hand over hand when you struggle. You can't help spilling half of you what you're given, covering the counters. Sliding the pan batter into the oven, Alfred has you assist by wiping away your mess.
As he begins readying ingredients for frosting you ask, “Are those guys gonna join us?”
You're too busy scrubbing batter from your stool to see the way he deflates. “Unfortunately, your father and brother are tied up in something.” He sighs, taking the rag and finishing your job. With a sullen smile he hands you a measuring cup of sugar, “Perhaps next year.”
The night is spent merrily celebrating. When it cools Alfred frosts and decorates your cake. He places a number of candles, It's the first of many birthdays spent with just you and Alfred.
The next years were your first time in true schooling, a prestigious boarding school to boot. You couldn't remember seeing so many other children before. The eyes you received from strangers when given your new last name made your skin crawl. Deciding to forgo it in most encounters. Yet, for some reason to a great number of your fellow classmates, that fact seemed to matter greatly. If you met someone who insisted or withheld their friendship without, then you'd simply roll your eyes, never speaking to them.
You decided friends weren't important, instead making it your goal to not just succeed but to exceed. If this was your shot of a real family, you wanted to show them you were something capable. Worthy. You were hopeful, determined in getting close.
Only to be pushed aside at every opportunity.
“I got’ perfect score!” The words burst from you with such excitement you're bouncing on the balls of your feet.
Bruce doesn't even bother to look at the paper you're frantically waving at him. Simply mumbling as he places his mug in the sink, “Very nice.” Before turning to Dick, “Come on, son. It's time to go.” You thought maybe this was how a father was supposed to be. Cold, distant and hardly ever around for someone so small.
Alfred steps up from behind your slumped form. Plucking the paper from your dejected gaze. He hums softly before you hear a rap on the fridge beside you. “Wonderful job young master.” You smile for him as he pats your head. Happy to have at least someone’s acknowledgement.
From what your classmates say, a big brother will either pick on you or support you. Soon you came to find that living with Dick Grayson didn't guarantee you any of his time. Good or bad.
So, despite the terror that being center stage fills you with, you entered your school's spelling bee. The thought that maybe you could possibly impress them gave you just enough nerve.
“Hey, um, Dickie...” When you catch his sleeve, your teeth skin into your cheeks. He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Here, it's a competition.”
His nose wrinkles slightly before he smiles. “Spelling bee?” Not a real smile, you don't get those. It's a empty, meaningless thing that hardly lifts his lips.
“If you're not busy.” You clasp your fingers together, steeling your nerves.
“Uh, yeah. Maybe.” It’s thinly masked disgust if anything.
Time came to discuss bringing you into the public eye, an official declaration of your relationship with the Wayne's. Just the thought of it was unsettling, like placing a target on your back. The last place you want to be is the spot light.
“I don't wanna go. I won't go.” It was then in that moment, when the words left your lips, you could see it in his eyes.
A wave of relief Dick couldn't quite stifle, lip touching at the corner before turning to Bruce, “Maybe they're just scared of all those new people. With everyone looking at them, seeing them as your..” That uptick in his features falters slightly, “first child, technically.” Back then, you thought he cared. That this was actually for your protection. “It's a lot of pressure, maybe it would be better. For them, to stay safe.”
Bruce crosses his arms, examining his older child before looking back to the younger. “You have a point there, Dick.” You've twisted your fingers into Alfreds pant leg, half hidden behind him. “Fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. It might even be for the better.” Neither of them wanted you there, thinly veiled behind words of care, never quit saying it.
Not once then did you realize. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say, nothing you could show for. Nothing to make them see you, the real you. You couldn't provide them with anything, that made you useless.
“Very well, Master Bruce.” With a sigh, Alfred guides you away as the two leave. He was always the one in your corner. Before you even know this life would be a battle.
This give on the topic began your gradual slope into obscurity. In the hectic years of adolescence, you'd come to the conclusion that private schools are for snobs. You manage to convince the old butler, with baked goods, to allow a change of schools. Not wanting to slow your studies yet overwhelmed by your known family reputation. Public school seemed viable, no one had to know who you really were. There seemed to be no object, or real acknowledgment of this decision.
You used to believe, despite how they act, this was it, this would be your family and you could be happy. Surely, you thought, it's because you're new to them. It must be hard to connect, you found it quite difficult yourself.
So, you decided, you'll just need to put in more effort. Show them that there is something that you and they can do together. You took up everything you Alfred offered to teach you when he was around. You learned to cook, sew and clean the whole manor faster than the master butler himself.
Of course, he had other priorities, not just as your caretaker. Try as he might to keep you at the top of that list, he still has duties to attend. So, you would take your days, even weeks, alone with stride. A good time to build your skills on your own, finding new ways to utilize them. Hoping for something, anything, to bridge the gap with your new family.
“I'll be home late today, Al.” While you had gotten away from uptight private schooling, Alfred still set into a well funded school.
He gives a light chuckle of disbelief over the phone, “You have plans, young master?” Pinching the device between your shoulder and ear, you fumble through your first ever locker.
“It's just a club, I'll still need you to pick me up after.” With all your free time, you thought you'd use more of your growing skills.
“At your service my dear.”
You took time to catch on, years of peeling away from the background. Picking and pulling apart from the inside out, finding something that could peak their interest. Hoping to think twice, even once to turn their heads back to the lone manner.
That's how you found them, their secrets; and the life that pulled them as taunt in one direction as the other did. Digging for a way that you could connect from beyond the twice eye catching lives they live day and night. You were piled with reasoning when you found that special place in the library they all seemed to love. The idea of passing the security felt out of reach at the time.
Walking along the dark water line, looking out to the misty sky. You don't wish for misfortune, but you wait. When that light flickers on and that familiar symbol reflects on the dark Gotham clouds, your breath catches. Ducking alonge the rocky cliff wall by the large alcove, you listen to the rumble. You brace yourself as something in the shallow cave opens, the rumble growing.
Then you have your answer. The Batmobile comes billowing out of the cave, in its wake you hide. Long after its departure from the property, you emerge from your hiding spot. Slipping through the closing doors and wandering down into the bat cave.
Despite how they see through you most times, you're sure Alfred knows when you sneak in. So, appreciating this to be Alfred throwing his hand up and hiding his eyes for your sake.
It's awe inspiring to say the least, especially knowing you live above it every day. It felt like peeking through the lives of strangers and you couldn't look away. You don't know why he kept it from you but you didn't want to be shut out for knowing. Yet, you couldn't satiate your curiosity with just this visit.
You had told Alfred you had a meeting after a club and that you would be home late. For some strange reason he promised Dick would pick you up.
Water splashes up from a speeding tire as you walk along the misty Gotham streets, “Aw man, come on!” Of course Dick didn't show! Why would he? When has he ever?
Now, in this situation, Alfred would wish for you to call him for assistance.
“Over there! Look, look!” Across the intersection a pair gasps and squeals, fingers pointed up at the Boy Wonder. The last thing on his mind as he leapt through the night sky, was an unwanted sister.
If only Alfead could get everything he's ever wished for, but you're not a fairy.
Following gunshot and bangs you skirt around chaos, nearly avoiding an obvious outbreak of costumed thugs. You watch in ired fascination as they beat down each threat thoroughly. As the moon starts to sit lower again and the bad guys are carted away, you realize how long you've been gone.
You arrive at the gates in tune to be blown past by the Batmobile. Inside, Alfred gives you a look as if he knows every secret you've even kept. Thankfully he doesn't say a word, You're out of your damp clothes by the time the dynamic duo ascend to the manor.
For people of the shadows, they never could seem to see you creeping through them.
It's through this that you managed to learn about Barbra Gordon. The commissioner's daughter was someone you could only catch glimpses of from time to time. It was rare for you to catch her attention. Much too preoccupied with her work for the Bat, your father.
The batgirl's skill inspired your own delve into tech. Hacking, coding and even trying your hand at tinkering with new devices. Creations that you've jerry-rigged and hoped against hope that she would even glance at.
She's coming over today, you overheard dick say so. You've poked your head over the banister as you wait to spot the red head. Yet, once she's there, you freeze. Dick and Barbara push through the front doors together. Light rain chasing them inside from the sturing storm. Their foot falls followed by light laughter and easy chitchat. If only it was so easy for you.
You watch as your brother scurries off, promising to grab a towel. This is your shot. “Oh, um!” Words are coming from you before you even know what to say. Stumbling over yourself, you bumble over, haltung in front of her. “B-Barbra?”
“Huh, who?” At the ruckus you've made, she whips around. Head on a swivel 'till green eyes locking on you. “Oh! It's you.. uh..” looking you up and down she stumbles as well.
You have to give her your name, again.
“Right, right. Sorry.” Barbra looks off sheepishly, carting a hand through her hair. Hand flicking droplets from the ginger ringlets.
“It's okay..” that's alright, that's normal Even. You don't see each other all that often.. even though you remembered her name just fine. “I just want to ask you about some-” Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, she cuts you off before you can pull out what you want to share with her.
“I've actually got to-” Her mouth snaps shut before she thinks better of words, “Well, um, talk with Bruce.” She finishes with an awkward chuckle and mumbled “Y'know how it is. Always something with the Wayne's.”
No, “Yeah..” You didn't know.
You've never shared more than a last name with the Wayne's.
Patting your head she smiles, “Sorry again, hun. Maybe later?” turning away down the hall Dick had disappeared to. Even to the all seeing eye you were nothing but a mere fly on the wall.
Gothams streets were dark, dangerous, and the only place you could see them for more than a minute. You loved nights like this, when you could slip from the manor. Undetected by the inattentive gazes that should have kept a preteen like you home.
With this habit of bird watching, you found yourself looking more into your subpar self defense. Living in Gotham has given you a natural caution but all too often you've wound up in tight situations. All because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. Maybe if you show them you could do that, fight back, they might see you.
You put yourself out there over and over, “Uh, d-dad?” Alfred insisted you call him that, but it never felt right, “I've been doing, um, I have this..” taking a breath you force it out, “It's martial arts, could you come see me?”
Another paper half glance at before the typical, “I'll see what I can do.”
Apparently, there are some things even Batman can't do.
“H-hey.. I, uh, am doing..” You pull out the flier for your competition. inspecting it over before looking to see him. Half-heartedly glancing up from his comic, Dick gives you a once over before continuing to read, “Gymnastics.”
Finally his eyes hold yours when the word shoots from your mouth. For a second you think this is it. This is when you’ll finally have his attention. Finally make that long awaited connection with your big brother. “I'll see, why don't you ask Bruce?” Dick lays the paper on the living room table in front of him.
“I did... he said the same thing.”
The paper is still there when you come back later.
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familyvideostevie ¡ 1 year ago
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you have me, you have me only
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joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3
___
"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."
The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.
"How's the head?" 
Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.
"I'll live."
He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.
"Thanks for back there," he says.
You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell. 
"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."
You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.
But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.
He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."
"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?
"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."
Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"
"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."
He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.
"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."
The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.
"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."
"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."
Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.
"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."
Jesse laughs.
Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.
It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.
You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.
The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.
He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.
"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.
Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.
"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"
"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."
His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.
Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.
In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.
"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.
"You wanna explain...this, then?"
His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.
But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.
You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.
"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."
He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.
But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.
Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.
"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."
He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.
"Gotta clean that," he says.
"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."
Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.
"Shower," he says.  "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.
You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.
"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."
More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.
It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.
You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.
But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.
You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain. 
Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.
"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"
"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."
The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on. 
Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.
He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"
You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.
"What're we dealin' with, here?"
You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.
"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."
"You sure?"
You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.
"Cut could use a stitch." 
He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.
"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."
His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.
"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"
"Joel."
He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."
You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.
"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.
"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.
"Nothin' broken," he says.
"Told you."
He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.
"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'
You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.
"How was your patrol?" you ask him.
He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.
"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."
The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.
Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.
"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."
You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.
It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.
But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.
You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.
"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."
"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."
"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.
"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."
Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.
"Fuckin' hate those things."
"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."
"Should've been wearing gloves."
You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."
"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.
He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.
But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.
The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.
"Lucky me," you say softly.
You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.
Joel drags his lips along your cheek.
"Knees," he says.
He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.
"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."
He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”
You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.
"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."
"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.
"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.
He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"
"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."
You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.
The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.
You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."
He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."
"Now who's flirting?"
Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.
You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.
Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.
He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.
And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.
It's just another way he takes care of people.
"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"
"And hungry."
He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.
"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.
You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.
"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."
"C'mon, now."
He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.
"I'll heat some soup."
Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.
He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.
You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.
"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."
He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."
"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"
Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.
Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.
"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"
You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.
Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.
But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.
Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.
Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.
Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.
You can hold each other in the dark.
"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."
You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."
Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.
"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."
It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
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mind-intheclouds342 ¡ 2 months ago
Text
A new ladder - Reader x Curly
Previous - Part 4 - Next
"I really hope Lin doesn't come to check on you, she'll kill me."
You said, sighing and gently applying cream to Curly's face, neck, and collarbone, as it was red from sun exposure after you had fallen asleep in the meadow until a light drizzle woke you up to return to the house. 
Curly: "I don't think so... She'll understand."
"Pfft, yeah right, I'm going to be horribly scolded by her if she finds out, she was always strict with me." 
Curly: "It seems like we're not talking about the same person."
"Of course we don't, you talk about the one who was your fiancĂŠe, I talk about my older sister."
Those words lingered in his mind, unwilling to understand that the woman he had met could be so different with him than with her own family. 
Curly: "...How have she been?"
"Mm... She has two children, Mike and Agatha, aged 20 and 15, they are good kids, she is married to Jake, he isn't home much because of his job, but he earns well, they all seem to be happy. Mike left home at 15 anyway, but he keep in contact" 
It certainly hit him hard to know the age of the eldest son, thinking there was an extraordinary chance.
Curly: "Let's say... Mike, how does it look?"
It piqued your curiosity when he asked that, until you put the pieces together. 
"Mike isn't yours, don't worry, he's an exact copy of Jake, even with the same allergies. Trust me"
Curly: "Then I should have been in cryostasis a bit longer... Isn't that right?"
"Didn't those capsules only last 20 years? They found you before the energy ran out."
Curly: "Maybe there was a miscalculation-"
"Lin said you had 2 months left in that capsule, if they found you later you would be dead." 
Curly: "Maybe someone-!"
You were startled when he suddenly approached you, you could see the nerves and desperation in his eye, along with his agitated breathing.
Curly: "If the boy is 20... That means she..."
"...I'm very sorry that... The person you thought you knew wasn't really as perfect as you thought..." 
You shrugged, looking at the ground, not knowing how to console him upon learning that his fiancÊe, while he was doing his delivery job, had been cheating on him with someone else, with whom she later married after he didn't return. 
In that instant, Curly realized something: all the effort, everything he had achieved, the ladder that had cost him so much to climb to the top, simply crumbled in a second.
You heard him start to laugh, or maybe sob, it was a strange mix of sounds he was producing. 
Curly: "I have nothing left... I can start over-"
"Okay, you're scaring me— I don't know if you're happy or sad—" 
Curly: "I don't know either!" he said, letting out a laugh. 
"I'll go get your pills and water." 
You got up from your seat to go get that, but you stopped when you heard someone knock on the door. 
You sighed, running your hand over your face. 
"It's like she have an alarm and it knows when I do something..." 
You knew very well that he was waiting behind the door, so you went to open it trying to put on your best face. 
Mike: "Hey, aunty" 
What a surprise you got when you saw your nephew with his mother; the boy took a step forward to give you a hug, which you reciprocated. 
"What are you doing here?"
Mike: "Mom told me you were back in town, so I came to see you, can I come in?"
Linda: "Come on, remember there's someone else here, I have to talk to (Y/n)"
The boy rolled his eyes without looking at his mother, as if to say "I didn't ask you" while he walked into the house. 
Linda: "I hope you're not doing the same thing Dad used to do and giving him his pills with chocolate."
You crossed your arms, looking at her in silence, you weren't going to admit that you almost did it once, but then you retracted and you gave him all his medications with a glass of water and maybe a candy if it felt too bitter in his mouth. 
Linda: "Of course," she ran her hand over her face, "You love giving people placebos, you always do the same thing."
"Just so you know, that's how your children learned to swallow pills without fear." 
Linda: "Don't you think what you're doing is horrible? The medications are wasted in your hands."
"I'm not stupid! I haven't done that in years! Stop treating me like a child!"
Linda: "Stop acting like one then!" 
She took you by the arm to pull you outside so you could continue arguing, closing the door so nothing could be heard from inside. 
Curly: "...I had never heard her scream..."
He mentioned sitting in the dining room with the boy in front of him. 
Mike: "That's how she is, she has a nice personality with people outside, but when it comes to family, she scolds you a lot." 
They both stared at each other for a moment, until the boy rested his face in his hand, smiling at him.
Mike: "So you are the famous Curly, it's a pleasure to meet you." 
Curly: "You must be Mike"
Mike: "The same, my mom used to tell me about you, saying that I was your son, that was a great story until I started having suspicions, and at 15 I found out I was the biological son of the man she is married to."
Curly: "Why would she lie about something like that?"
Mike: "Why? So they don't think she was slut, that she got married because she got pregnant, she lied to everyone saying it was your baby, and they believed her. When I was born and you didn't come back, then she could do and say whatever she wanted." 
The man fell silent, thinking about what kind of person he was going to marry, and how he couldn't see through her and notice her deceit. 
Curly: "I was... Used to seeing the image in general..." 
Mike: "At least you got saved, and I'm glad my aunt is taking care of you, she's great, right?" 
Curly: "She is... extravagant, to say the least." 
Both were startled when they heard the door slam open.
Linda: "Mike! We should leave now, darling." 
"Get out of here already! Don't even think about coming back!"
The difference in voices was very striking, one so calm and the other so agitated.
The boy said goodbye to Curly by waving his hand side to side and got up to leave with his mother, despite not liking the idea. 
Once again, the door slammed shut, and a muffled scream was heard; you had taken a pillow from the couch to scream into it and not make too much noise. 
Curly sat there, not knowing what to do or say about it, until he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen, leaving a glass of water and the pills for that schedule. 
You were standing next to him, your head turned in another direction, wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't take the pills on his own. 
You sighed, taking a seat and helping him take the pills. Then he could see it, the red mark on your cheek. 
"You just need to continue with some medications for a couple more months and then you won't have to keep taking all these horrible things." 
Curly: "When I am self-sufficient... What will happen?"
"I guess I'll leave," you shrugged. 
Curly; "Oh"
It was the only thing he said, he wanted to say many more things but, he couldn't, so he just decided to accept the solitary fate that sheltered him. 
219 notes ¡ View notes
chanandlersstuff ¡ 2 years ago
Text
Bubble and Moose.
Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.
Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.
Word count: 8.124
Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn. If you squint, there's a "steamy" part.
Author’s note: Hello again, thanks for the paitence. My life has been a little ecthic lately and I'm sorry this took this long. There's still a second part to this part and a final part. With that being said, hope you like it and have a nice day.
gif credit @hayden-christensen
← Previous part // Next Part →
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May 2020, definitely not a coworker's relationship.
After their birthday gifts were exchanged an invisible barrier seemed to be taken down, they started to talk more frequently, it didn’t matter who called who, the other answered right away. 
In the beginning, it started with her brainstorming with him about Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader because according to her, who better to tell me what seemed right than the guy you portrayed him?, but he certainly didn’t mind if he got to listen to her rambling sweet voice asking and answering herself in seconds. In the process, they leant a little in their favourite episodes of The Clone Wars Series and it was funny seeing two grown-ups discussing over Facetime a child series but they had fun and spent days. 
At some point, the brainstorming stepped into the background and movies, plays, books, series, and all kinds of things started to be recommended. His favourite moments of those facetimes were when she got passionate about what she would have done in the movies they saw, when she did all that technical talk and her face lit up, started gesticulating more and talked quickly, sometimes too quickly for his fascinated-by-her brain to comprehend. Fascinated in professional terms, not at all in the sentimental.
If someone had been looking at him while he looked at her, they could have witnessed the soft smile on his lips, how slowly he blinked and how attentive he listened to every word that left her mouth as if she was telling him the answer to cure world hunger. 
But it was just the two of them talking for hours by a phone screen, while in reality, they were dying to be next to the other on the sofa talking face to face, close enough to touch but without really doing it for fear of being too much.
It was a normal day, which meant that their breakfast routine remained but with the little twist of being in quarantine. Her phone was resting on something and he, from his sofa with the cup she gifted him in hand, had a clear view of her moving around her kitchen making coffee and pancakes. It was intimate, so intimate that it overwhelmed him a little but at the same time made him happy. 
“How’s Canada?” She was mixing her ingredients.
It took him a few seconds to answer, too distracted by the flour in her cheek and the need to pass the screen to wipe it himself. “I wouldn’t know,” He took a sip of his tea “I'm not there.”
She looked at him frowning, and the mixing stopped. “What? I thought you were quarantined in your house.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you, I would think that you were one of those people acting as if all this mess is a sick joke.”
He laughed at her irritated face. How can I take that face seriously when it’s too damn cute and, on top of it, has flour on it? “I would never, you know that.”
“I know, that’s why I said If I didn’t know you.” Add ‘duh’ to the phrase and she was calling him dumb. “Are you paying attention to me, Starboy?” She asked with her hand on her waist, like a mom when she was mad at something.
Yes, I can only focus on you when you are present and even when you are not, you are the only thing I can think about. “Yes, Little Miss, so drop that tone.” He was about to take a sip of tea but smiled, and giggled when he saw her rolling his eyes at him. “Don’t do that either.” And just to infuriate him, she rolled them more exaggeratedly. It’s too early in the morning to go to that place, Hayden, so don’t do it. Plus you would not be able to come back. Keep it professional. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I'm here in LA.”
The bowl almost fell from her hands and her mouth was opened in surprise. “You’ve been here this whole time?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Bri and her mom live here so I’m staying here to be with her and not see her over a screen. It’s tedious.” It’s tedious seeing you over a screen too, but it would be more tedious to not see you at all.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She nodded while pouring the mix into the pan. “But that’s sweet of you. You are a great dad, Hayden.” It came to his notice that she said his name only in important/serious matters and when she wanted him to know she was telling the truth.
And oh how he loved it when his name rolled out her lips, how he would like to hear it in the most unprofessional, not pg-13, scenarios and tones. Drop it, Hayden.
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Mid May 2020, clearing doubts and new beginnings.
He was alone in his house, Briar was with her mom and although he tried to read, watch a series and even designed something for his patio, nothing could take his mind out of her. She plagued his mind more frequently at that point and the last time they Facetimed was a couple of days ago.
Fuck it. He was calling her. Her contact name was ‘Little Miss’ staring back at him, no picture. It rang for a few and when he was about to hang up her face came up. 
She was looking at the side, her profile in clear view. Airpods, messy hair falling into her face, eyebrows frowned, mouth a little agape and his eyes got lost in how she licked her lips before talking. What would they taste like? Was she talking to him? Was she talking with someone else? Was he interrupting? Was she with someone else? 
“Hey.” Her tone was cheerful. “How are you?”
“Good, good.” He nodded, still with his eyes locked on her lips. “You?” She was looking at something away from her phone, making funny faces. “I called at a bad time? I can call you later.”
This time she looked at him with a tiny smile on her lips. “Not that your calls bother me at any time,” he smiled at her words. “but can I call you in twenty?”
With the smile you are giving me, how can I ever deny you? “Yeah, of course. Take your time.” He nodded with a smile on his lips
“Thank you, I’ll call you right back.” She blew him a kiss and hung up before he could even react.
Was that a kiss or I’m hallucinating? Her lips looked more beautiful than normal or it was just that I hadn’t seen her in person for such a long time? He went to the kitchen to get something to drink and watch the sky to clear his mind because all that he thought about were those lips.
Time seemed to fly while he admired the sky, from the outside, but in reality, he was comparing the feeling of her lips to the sensation of touching clouds. Both foreign to and, yet, Hayden could bet all the money in his bank account that they were soft, heavenly-like, addictive and like nothing he had ever experienced in all his years of living. Not very professional of you, Hayden, thinking about your coworker’s lips.
The sound of his phone ringing brought him back to the real world and with a smile he answered. “Hello.” 
“Hi.” Her hair was still messy but with no frown. He tried to not look at her lips to be able to focus on her. “Sorry about earlier.”
An apologetic smile appeared on her lips but he shook his head. “Not at all, you were occupied?”
“Yeah,” she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, “the kids arrived like two seconds before you called so they were all over the place.” While she was moving around the place, he caught a few glimpses here and there about her house.
“Kids?” He had one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side. 
“Yeah.” A smile appeared on her lips. “Not mine but something like that.” Okay, that confused him as hell and she seemed to notice it. “My niece and nephew.” 
He nodded remembering. “I’m sorry, I assume you had kids and-
He was quick to apologise but it was her turn to shake her head. Laughing. “It’s okay, Hayden.” Hearing his name coming from her lips made him smile widely. “I talk about them as if they were mine, so the confusion is expected.”
He looked unsure but she smiled at him. “So they stay with you?” She was looking up from the screen from time to time.
“Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law are doctors,” he listened attentively to her words, cheering for her trust in him “So, the kids stay with me to be safe.” and nodded. “Besides I’m the fun cool single aunt with a big house that lets them get a little wild from time to time.” She laughed at her own words.
And he did too, tilting his head back. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down in full display for her to see. When he looked back at her, he caught her just in time licking her lips and her eyes a little lost. What’s she looking at? Lost something? Her cheeks have always been that red or has it happened now? The thoughts started clouding him so he cleared his throat and her eyes travelled back to his. “It’s nice that you are taking care of them.”
“Huh?” He smirked, she giggled and he did too. The laughter of one made the other laugh harder as if they were little kids again. Five minutes passed before it died down and it wasn’t even that funny. “Oh God.” She cleared a tear from the corner of her eyes, while he chuckled. “What did you say?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “That is nice what you are doing.”
She smiled at his words. “They are the closest I have to my own kids, it’s not like I’m adopting orphans or donating piles of money to the health of my country.” In the last part, she gave him a knowing look and before he could say something she kept talking. “It’s the least I can do while their parents are saving people and risking their lives.” He nodded understandingly.
They kept talking for a little while until she had to hang up, but this time there was no kiss blown in his direction. Which made him a little sad, if he was honest. Why would you? You two are nothing except coworkers.
A few weeks passed when they didn’t Facetime as much as before because he didn’t want to interrupt her time with the kids, he knew how handful one kid was, let alone two. Plus he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, they were starting to get wild and he couldn't let that happen. But, they texted frequently, small things here and there to stay in touch, although he preferred a thousand times more seeing her face. A little contradictory, don’t you think Hayden?
He and Briar were cooking together, more like the little girl was sitting on the island while he did all the work when Facetime came in. "How hard can it be to build a kid's playground?" Her desperate voice reached his ears, making him laugh.
"Hello to you too." He teased her.
"Hi." It came all muffled by the groan that left her lips. 
His eyes found Briar's, who was giggling, and he did it too. "Now, tell me. What are you building?"
She exhaled loudly while he kept making lunch. "I bought a small kind of playground or something like that." He nodded, a little confused. "Thinking it couldn't be that hard to put together and surprise! IT IS." The pair, father and daughter, laughed again. She lifted her head from the papers in her hands for the first time and looked at him with a frown on her forehead. "Am I interrupting something?" 
He shook his head and Briar, with the curious nature of a five-year-old, moved her head to see his phone. "Hello." 
"Oh hi!" She looked surprised but with a smile on her face.
"I'm Briar Rose, and you?" The little girl introduced herself and she did too, still with a smile on her lips and a cheerful tone. "Where are you friends with my daddy?" She asked innocently. "Briar Rose!" Hayden said in his dad's tone.
But she laughed, a genuine laugh. Not like the ones he heard her give when she was nervous or uncomfortable, so he relaxed. "From work, we are working together." See?! COWORKERS! She said it herself.
The little girl nodded. "Bri, you helped me choose a present for her a few months ago, remember?" She seemed to think about it and then nodded.
"Oh, you helped him?" Briar nodded eagerly and she smiled. "I loved the flowers, they were so pretty. Thank you." She bowed her head and the little girl blushed a little.
He couldn't see her face directly, because Bri's head was in the way while she got comfortable in front of the phone, making him smile. "Really?" 
"Yeah." Just by her tone, he could see her, in his brain, smiling. "I put them on a desk in the centre of my office so everyone could see them." Those little blue eyes opened wide in surprise "Every person that entered my office that day, loved them. You picked right." and a big happy smile appeared on her face.
Hayden saw how closely Briar was looking at her, how she tilted her head to the side from time to time while they talked. "Why are you building a playground?" He looked at them from the corner of his eyes.
"My niece and nephew, Brianna and Daniel, are 6 and staying still is not their thing." He laughed, picturing himself as a little boy and understood what she was saying. "The other day they told me they missed the park."
"I missed it too, but Daddy has a swing on the patio for me," Briar told her and she opened her eyes in surprise, following along. "So I don't miss it that much."
"Well, I had a similar thinking to your Daddy's" What? Come again? "and since I cannot watch them being sad, I bought a small playground for our patio." The little girl nodded.
"In a cool, fun aunt way." He added. 
"Exactly." She laughed and the little girl did it too. "Besides, I don't want Daniel jumping out the balcony ‘cause he's bored out of his mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear to you, that kid is wild.”
They laughed, the three of them. "So you bought a playground for them?" Hayden asked in disbelief.
"Kind of?" She sounded unsure and Briar laughed.
He looked at the two of them with a smile on his lips. "Do you even have the tools to set it up?"
They looked at each other and she had that irritated face that he found so cute, so endearing. A big smile appeared on his lips, unwittingly, naturally. "I'm not silly, I bought everything at once."
"Of course you did." He said under his breath found it funny. You and your like for order.  
She nodded, putting a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "In my defence," she held her finger up and he raised an eyebrow, ready to hear her excuse "It seemed like a great idea." She sounded so sure, so convinced.
"How?!" He was frowning, his deep tone a little higher than normal.
She got comfortable behind the screen and they did too, their lunch almost ready. "I ordered it the next day they told me that, and with the protocols and everything, it arrived a day after they left, which is today." They nodded. "I thought of building it myself so when they came back, in like a week give or take, they would be surprised." 
"That's nice," Briar said.
"I know. Thank you, Briar." She winked at the little girl and she tried to mimic but failed, making the two adults laugh. "But I didn't think it was that hard to build it!”
The little girl giggled, making her father, and her, laugh. “It didn't come with instructions?” 
“Yes.” She shook the papers in her hand for him to see. “and I saw a few YouTube tutorials but it's not as easy as it seems.” They laughed again. “So I was this close” she put her pointer finger and thumb a little close to measuring “to a mental breakdown when a lightbulb went on in my head so I said ‘Hey, I have a friend” Friend?! That’s an improvement from coworkers. “who's really into design and architecture and has a beautiful daughter” she winked at Briar, making her giggle “so he would know how to help me’ and that’s how we are here.” She finished with a big smile on her lips and batted her eyelashes as if that was necessary for him to help her.
The little girl looked at him with a smile, fully engrossed with all that was happening. “What do you say, Bri, should we help her?” He looked around, thinking, tapping his chin with his finger, acting as if he was weighing his options, but his beloved daughter tugged his shirt, impatient. “Yeah, daddy, help her.” Hayden looked at her, at that smile on her lips, then at Briar who was mimicking the face she had moments ago. “Okay, we will help her.”
They both celebrated, even high-five through the screen, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips, the warm feeling that ran through his body and the hope. Hope? Hope of what? Keep it professional Hayden. 
After she sent them photos of the instructions, at his request, they had lunch, over Facetime, while he looked at everything from his tablet and they, Briar Rose and she, chatted. Scratch that, Bri did all the talking while she listened closely. 
She told her about her classes, about his dad’s farm and all the animals, asked about her niece and nephew, and all kinds of topics they did. All that, while Hayden half listened to them, looked at them interact with a smile on his lips, and half daydreamed, but never once reading at the papers in his tablet, always acting as if he was. 
Stop it, Hayden, you are working together. You already went down that road and the only good thing that came out of it’s Briar, so don’t even think about it.
"Isn't that right, daddy?" Briar was looking at him but he frowned, a little lost. “She looks like Bubble.”
“As in The Powerpuff Girls?” But the little girl shook his head.
The brunette was thinking of any recent character his daughter saw that could resemble her. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, too big for her, that matched her skin tone, her hair held up messily, making it seem like she had a pixie cut and lighter, by the light that was hitting on it, and glasses, he noticed she was wearing them more frequently. I like how they look at you. Really? Not very professional of you.
“Bubble like the fairies movies, Daddy. The one we watched the other day, remember?” He was really trying to remember what movie she was talking about because they watched too many. 
But she seemed to realise what she was talking about. “Tinkerbell?” Briar nodded eagerly.
“The one with big glasses, wearing green, that's always building something and it's funny." She explained. "Bubble!"
If he remembered correctly it was a male fairy and his name wasn't Bubble. "Oh, the one that was in love with Tinkerbell?" Briar nodded again. "Bobble.”
"Bubble." The little girl corrected, but even though it was wrong, she nodded.
Haydey found it extremely cute, and funny, the resemblance his daughter found in her. A little magical, mythical, figure a little bit clumsy, extremely passionate about his work and art. Briar Rose wasn't that far from reality, they were similar but at the same time, she was like no one he ever knew. 
"Bubble." He tasted it on his tongue and it suited her just fine. 
She laughed, shaking her head "I'll take it" and arranged her glasses. "But, if I'm Bubble, you, my friend" Again with it. she pointed at him "Are going to be Moose." A smug smile appeared on her lips, his little girl laughed and he did too, amazed at the name.
"Moose?" He asked in disbelief.
She nodded. "You are Canadian and tall as a door. It suits you just fine."
"Fair enough, Bubble." She smiled, proud, with her chin held high. "And me?" Briar asked, not wanting to be left out, looking at both of them.
"Can I?" She mouthed, her eyes connected with his, asking for permission, and he nodded. "What you say about 'Princess'?”
Hayden knew she would love it. "Yes! I love it!" The little girl danced in her seat. They looked at each other, she was frowning but he gave her a smile, to reassure her it was alright and she nodded.
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June 2020, planning dates and weird texts.
Saying their relationship was becoming something more was an understatement and that put him in a tough spot. They were more than coworkers, that much was for sure. They were friends? Probably on her part, but Hyaden had feelings he felt he should not have. Feelings? I know nothing about that. That’s very unprofessional. Feelings he would not speak about. Feelings he would deny and bury deep inside him because it was unprofessional. So, the only rational reaction he came up with was to distance himself a little, but not too much. They still talked over text and Facetime, but the last ones were from time to time, weeks in between them, not as often as they used to. 
He and Briar were watching some movie, comfortably lying on the sofa, his little girl with her feet on his lap really engrossed in the movie ‘Anastasia’. A recommendation the little girl got as soon as ‘Bubble, what movie should we watch now?’ left her lips. When she found out that her daddy’s friend made movies, she was over the moon, asking for movie recommendations left and right, almost like Hayden did on one of their facetime at the beginning. 
This was one of those times when they were texting about God knows what. Sometimes they had separate conversations while texting each other like they were having their own monologues on the same chat. 
I've never understood why people in movies used to send boxes with people inside as a gift
He frowned at the text, tilting his head to the side. 
Huh?
WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Type or what?
The three dots appeared and seconds later the response came. 
Not that gore
But you know, like when someone jumps out of a cake
Like a surprise 
His frown deepened.
What movie are you watching?
Singing in the rain
A smile appeared on his lips. 
You have something for musicals, don’t you?
Shut up, Moose
He couldn't contain his laugh and Briar shushed him. “I’m watching the movie, daddy.” The little girl complained. 
“Sorry, sweetie.” He smiled at her, not that she paid attention to him, and looked back to his phone. 
You definitely have something with them, because I’m watching Anastasia and that’s on you
It’s a great movie, Bri is going to love it
He nodded, watching how invested his little girl was with the movie. 
She already does
And you are not even trying to deny the musical part
They are my guilty pleasure, shut up
He chuckled, tilting his head back. Who would have thought? 
So……
People jumping out of boxes/cakes are not your thing I gather
Of course not, like that's scary as hell. 
He laughed, again. 
Don't laugh
A frown emerged on his face, a little surprised.
How did you know I was laughing? 
‘Cause I know you
Those words made him smile, proud of such thing.
And people laugh when I tell them about my unusual fear
For some reason, it didn’t seem right to him that someone laughs at her fears, no matter how small or foolish they seemed. 
I promise not to laugh
Tell me about it
It was true, he wanted to know about it. About her. 
Why would someone do something like that? 
Why would someone want the birthday person to have a heart attack for the scare?
Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?
No, it’s common sense
Sure, Bubble, whatever let you sleep at night
Certainly not that idea 
Call me when that happens, we will take care of it together
The together part put a smile on his lips. In a friendly context, nothing more.
I will
To put your mind at ease, I promise to never send you those kind of things 
Thank u
He could see her with a smile on her lips, that kind, sweet, smile so characteristic of her. 
A couple of days later they were Facetiming, he called because he missed her voice but he was trying to mentally keep his distance. It was like a battle was being held inside him. I miss your voice, but saying it out loud may be too much. It may change everything and I don’t want that. I’m not prepared for that.
“Are you okay?” Her voice brought him back to reality.
The brunette nodded “Yeah, why?” with a frown on his forehead.
She shrugged, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, I-” She seemed to think about her next words and he raised his eyebrows, curious about them. “It’s gonna sound lame, but I feel like we don’t talk as much as we did before.”
The sadness Hayden saw in her eyes, even through his screen, made him heartache, but he knew she was right. That wasn’t what I wanted. No, don’t look at me like that. Please. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He was quick to apologise but she shook her head. “I have lots of things in my mind.”
“Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. It wasn’t at all my intention.” His eyes could see her manicured hand on her chest and a little frown on her eyebrows. “I meant it as, I know this whole staying-at-home thing is taking a toll on people and their mental health, so if you want to talk about it, or don’t, just know I’m here, Hayden.” The sincerity in her tone took him aback, but it shouldn’t have. 
One time, he made a fleeting comment about his mental health after finishing Star Wars in 2005, trying to make his advice more clear for her. Hayden didn’t think that she would remember it, but it seemed he was mistaken. She remembered everything that came out of his mouth. The donations to Canada, his love for architecture, an embarrassing story about his childhood, his birthday, every little detail. So why wouldn’t she remember that little comment? 
The sudden trainwreck of emotions inside him almost made him choke. “Thank you, Bubble.” There wasn’t a need for words, his eyes told her everything with how shiny they were and the smile on his lips was so soft, so sweet.
A sincere smile appeared on her lips, but she shrugged again. Taking a little off the emotion and seriousness of the moment before it became too much. “You would do the same for me.”
“Of course.” He said not missing a beat.
“So you don’t need to thank me.” She winked at him and that simple gesture made him feel lighter.
They stayed like that, talking for hours, making up for the lost time, enjoying seeing the other faces and hearing their voices. He moved from his studio to the kitchen, ready to start dinner for one, while she was still seated in her patio with her book on the same page she was when he called. 
As she watched him move around his large kitchen, she couldn't help but become entranced by his movements. The allure of his every gesture left her feeling a little lost in the moment. “What are you cooking?”
He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Pizza.” She giggled when she saw that the tip of his nose was full of flour. “What are you laughing at?”
“You look cute with your nose full of flour.” She said in between laughs. 
He rolled his eyes but blushed at the compliment. "Well I can't clean it right now so, focus on something else other than my handsome face." He teased her.
"It's going to be a very hard task focusing on something else." She followed his lead. "Your beauty is very distracting." Was she teasing me back? Or was she telling the truth?
"Haha, very funny, Bubble." He kept his face down, looking at what he was doing for her to not notice the blush that started creeping to his cheeks.
"I'm hilarious, I know." She moved her hair back, with a smug face. And he laughed but rolled his eyes. "Back to the pizza."
"Yeah, back to the pizza."
"You pick a few skills from Little Italy, I see." She got closer to the screen to watch what he was doing.
"First of all," he raised a finger full of flour "I was a very good pizza aficionado before the movie-"
"Show-off" She faked a cough.
He rolled his eyes again, trying not to laugh. "But, yes. I picked a few things up." He mixed the sauce.
"I wouldn't know, I have never tasted it." She had a tiny smile on her lips and her eyes had a particular shine. Or maybe it's the light from my house playing tricks with me.
"Maybe when all this pandemic is over, I can cook for you." He said looking at her, what he was doing was long forgotten, his attention solemnly on her.
The smile on her lips was breathtaking mixed with the warm light of the sun on her patio made the image burn in his brain. "I will like that very much." 
His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. "It's a date then? I'm having a heart attack, surely. There's no other explanation.
She nodded, with a tiny blush on her cheeks. "It's a date." A bright smile, teeth and all.
Well, so much for keeping it professional Hayden.
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July 2020, seeing you shine. 
The night was darker than normal and more humid than usual in July. Not a sound could be heard in his house, besides the one caused by the weather. The hot summer weather was starting to bother him a little so the storm that was rising outside made him happy.
Miss Bubble
You up?
Confused as hell, he looked at the hour. What was she doing up at three in the morning? Was she alright? Something happened to her? Was she in danger? All the possible bad scenarios were occurring in his head, so he called her. 
Pick up, Bubble, pick up. Not long passed before she answered him. 
“Are you alright?” Those were the first words that left his mouth when her face came into view. 
She nodded “Yeah, you?” confused.
The brunette frowned. “Yeah. Something happened?”
“No. Why?”
“Cause you texted me at three in the morning and I thought that something had happened to you, so I got scared.” He explained. 
She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. “Sorry about that, I truly didn’t mean to.” An apologetic smile appeared on her lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, it’s really sweet.”
“Are you okay?” His heart was still beating furiously. 
“A little guilty but 100% fine.” She gave him a tight smile. Hearing she was right relaxed him, all the muscles in his body loosened. “Did I wake you up?”
“Nono, I was already up.” He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet on the little table there and resting his phone on the thigh, cigarette in the other hand. “Why are you in the dark, though?” He squinted his eyes to look at her better.
The sound of her sitting comfortably could be heard. “I love thunderstorms and being in the dark makes them more beautiful.” You are beautiful, even in the dark. “What about you?”
He smiled at her “I'm enjoying the peaceful silence and the sound of the rain.” and took a drag of his cigarette.
“I can call you back some other time, at a decent hour.” She quickly said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
She could see him shaking his head, thanks to the warm light that was illuminating his face. “No, no. It's okay.” He reassured her with a smile. “We can enjoy this together.” Again with the ‘together’. “you, your thunderstorm and me, my silence.”
A massive thunder illuminated the sky and he saw the big smile on those lips. “I would love that.” She was smiling because of me or because of the thunder?
“Great.” He smiled, getting comfortable.
Who knows how long it passed where his gaze took turns looking at her and then at the water falling against his big window. Her doe eyes were looking in the distance, her lips curving in a smile every time a thunder made everything tremble. The light it provided made her, in his eyes, illuminated, and shine. A few times their eyes connected and a tiny smile appeared on her lips. 
Unknowing to him, she looked at him every time she felt his eyes move from the screen. Fascinated by how the cigarette smoke danced around him with the warm light that was reflecting on his face and making his hair look golden-like and his eyes had a particular shine. The artistic part of her wanted to be there, on her knees in front of him, in the angle she was from her phone, with her precious video camera in hand recording every second of him smoking that damn cigarette. 
It dangled over his large fingers, but it never quite felt, on the way to his lips. Oh, those lips. They wrapped around the filter part and he hollowed his cheeks, making his bone structure more prominent. How would it feel to trace his face with the tip of my fingers? Maybe, just maybe, to finish off killing her, he exhaled the smoke through his nose tilting his head back. How can he make something so deadly as smoking, so hot, so alluring? Her eyes traced his neck, the veins there. Where is his weak spot? Can I find it with my lips? 
Hayden felt her stare on him, how she was tilting her head from side to side the whole time he took a drag, slowly, just to tease her. When he moved his head, just a little bit to see her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating normally and started a fucking race. Her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark he could see it. Her lower lip was caged by her teeth and the need to free it made his hands itch. When he finally reached her eyes, oh those eyes, pupils dark and intense, lost in him, lost in desire.
If her eyes were dark, the blue in his was long gone too but that didn’t stop him from looking her up and down. The grip she had on the blanket around her was so tight that her knuckles were losing colour. The fine strip of her pyjama top was falling from her shoulder, leaving him free access for his eyes to trace the journey from her clavicle, to her neck to the jaw. He gulped at such a display of skin, feeling like a horny thirteen-year-old, Will I ever have the privilege to feel her skin with my lips?, like he travelled back in time and was one of those men that get horny by a glimpse of an ankle.
Their eyes finally met and it was like someone left hell and heaven gates opened. They were on Facetime but the tension, the burning sensation, around them was real. They both felt it. But at the same time, they were sure that giving in would be like touching the sky. It would be a sin I would be glad to commit.
Hayden said her name in a low and husky tone. His tone is going to be the death of me.
"Hayden," she replied, trying to keep her own voice steady, but failing miserably. Whisper my name in my ear with your soft tone. Shout it at the top of your lungs too. 
That simple gesture of saying the other’s name made the tension grow stronger. Their hearts were racing, they were heavily breathing.
He leant closer, and brought her closer, more like his phone screen, to say something. What are you going to say, Hayden? That you want to cross the line so far with her so damn much it would look like a fucking dot if you look back? That you know it’s unprofessional the feelings you have for her? That those eleven years between you two are going to be the death of you? 
She swallowed hard, ready for whatever he was going to say. Are you ready to admit that you have been dying to kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair, since the first day you saw him? Are you going to tell him that only by looking at you he makes you weak on the knees and that you have to mentally restrain yourself to not giggle and twirl your hair?
There was only one thing that was running around in their minds. Not physical, because there were plenty of those in their heads. God, I wish you were here with me, I wish I had you right here in front of me so I could kiss you. Show you all the things I feel for you but that I’m too cowardly to tell. 
A very loud thunder broke the bubble they were wrapped in and brought them back from the tunnel they were getting themselves into. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling of his house, taking a deep breath, while she arranged her hair and sat straight. “Look at the time.” What, Hayden? Are you an idiot?
“Yeah, it’s-” She cleared her throat too because her voice sounded breathless “It’s getting late.”
The brunette nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah, yeah.” Truth be told, it was like five-thirty in the morning. 
The two fools bid goodbye, saying that they would be heading to bed and that they would call some other time. But instead, they stayed sitting in their respective houses. Going over and over again what happened. How they almost gave in in the heat of the moment.
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September 2020, you never cease to amaze me.
If the sweet moments were too much before, the sexual tension of that July night was something that went out of their hands. 
Since that call, Hayden’s brain has been playing tricks with him almost every night. Dreaming all sorts of things with her, it was divided between the nastiest of them and the most domestic too. Railing her watching the Eiffel Tower, leaving love bites all over the visible, just for him, parts of her body and then taking a walk on the French streets hand in hand, or having coffee in the morning and cleaning the foam off the tip of her nose and then kissing it.
Dreaming of her never failed to leave him wishing for more, praying for more. After a very vivid, specific, hot dream where he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eyes for a good couple of days, he had to put space between them. So the facetimes were a big no because the dream kept repeating in the back of his mind, every day, and looking her in the eye would make a mess of him.
But now, after nearly two months, he was more than happy to look at her beautiful face. Eager even. Why? Curiosity got the best of him and he had googled her, just to see her work and ended up watching a movie of hers. To say he was fascinated, and amazed was understandable. Hayden always knew she was incredible, but the way he ended up at the edge of his seat, wanting more of her art, was something that didn’t happen every time he watched a movie. 
 She answered right away, her glasses on the bright of her nose. “Hi.” 
“You…you…” she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “you are a work of art.” Coming up strong I see. The truth in his voice, in his eyes, came from his heart.
Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips “What?” and a little laugh escaped them.
“I just watched one of your movies and…and…” she looked like a deer caught in headlights “and it’s amazing.” A smile adorned his lips. “You are amazing.” 
She dropped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “You really think that?” 
“Of course.” Sincerity laced in his tone. “I think that since I met you, sorry if I never told you, Bubble.” The way she looked down, hiding her cute smile, made his hands itch to lift her chin to be able to see it in person.
“A little reminder from time to time, wouldn’t harm you know.” She joked, making him laugh.
“Sure, I’ll remind it to you.” He winked. “But not all the time, we wouldn’t want you to be a show-off.” It was her turn to laugh about it. Her sweet laugh was music to his ears.
Hayden turned into a fan of hers, bombarding her with questions left and right about what inspired her, why things were how they were in the movie and every little detail about it. And she happily answered it, giving him her complete attention.
The title ‘Little Miss Director’ was too small for her, actually, it didn’t fit her at all. In his eyes, and surely in the eyes of everyone who met her, she was a great director, a splendid artist worthy of awards. It didn’t matter that she was young. The brunette was eager to see her in her element, in the field guiding the team so that the vision she had for the script, which she was putting sweat and tears into making, would come true.
“Ewan’s words did not make you justice, nor to your work.” 
She frowned. “What did he say?”
“Basically, that you were amazing.” She giggled, nervously, blush creeping to her cheeks. “But nothing more, I tried to pry details away but he didn’t slip, not even once.” He joked and a true laugh escaped her lips. A proud smile plastered on his face by the fact of being able to make her laugh.
She nodded. “At this point, I think he’s as proud of me as my dad.” They laughed.
“He is!” The brunette reassured her. “Crazy proud.” 
“I adored him.” She confessed and he nodded, feeling the same for the Scottish.
You adore me too?  “And he always said that you are a well-deserved award winner.”
She opened her eyes big, “Yes, I have a few.” and mumbled.
At that point, he was comfortably seated on his sofa, hand supporting his head and his attention fully on her. “I know.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I may or may not have googled you.” He admitted hiding his face, a little ashamed. Perfect, now she would think I'm some creep stalking her. But her sweet laugh reached his ears.
“Please tell me how unflattering the pictures are?” She asked, still laughing. “I’ve never googled myself.”
He shook his head. “There’s no pictures of you.” She frowned. “Which I found odd for someone who has three Spirit Awards under her belt, one feature film nominated in Cannes and one Caméra d’Or.” He had a proud smile on his lips and she blushed but with a smile so big it closed her eyes. “Absolutely amazing.” He clapped at her and she blushed harder. “I’m crazy proud of you too.” While I’m at it, why don’t I tell her that I have a 13-year-old boy crush on her? Make myself 100% embarrassed.
Maybe it was the lighting in her house, maybe it was his imagination, but Hayden could swear she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Hayden.” The brunette nodded. 
They talked a little more about the awards and the technical aspects of the movies she made. “One thing I still don’t understand is” she raised an eyebrow, curiously “How a face like yours isn’t plastered all over the place?”
“Is that a compliment?” Her head tilted to the side. 
“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Subtlety is not my thing, clearly.
It was like he was trying to see how many times he could make her blush in a single conversation. Because those words made her red like a tomato, to the point she could feel how warm her cheeks were. “Thank you.” And he bowed his head again, happy to compliment her. “The photo thing is because I try to blend in as much as possible,” he frowned, “which is easy, when what all the people are most interested in is taking photos of the young models and big actresses there.”
He tried to rack his brain thinking of what young models or actresses had that she hadn't. And the answer was nothing. She was beautiful, like a breath of fresh air, fashionable and had a smile that could light up any room. But behind everything physical, she was funny, artistic and intelligent like no other. Hayden was pretty sure his words came up short if he tried to describe her. 
“Besides,” her voice brought him back, “I wanted to be taken seriously at that time for future works, so if there wasn’t a picture of me it was better.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to be judged by my age, which people tend to do.” She pursed her lips. “No one would hire me to do a movie if they found out I was that young when I started. Not that the no pictures stopped them, because when they saw me in person a few backed down from the offer, but I fought tooth and nail for my art, my work.”
The scene in the first reading table came to his mind. “You still do.” She nodded. “That’s why you ran after standing your ground in the incident with the writer that time?”
She nodded. “He was rude as hell, not the first time that a male writer was rude to me, but the condescending way he said it boiled my blood.” She remembered, shaking her head. “I had to get away from that room before I lost my mind.” That was why he hadn’t found her when he looked for her. “But, back on topic, I like having a low profile”
He nodded, “Yeah that’s a feeling I can resemble.” She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds. “I like my private life.”
“I totally agree, like I will not make my life a circus for all the media to pick apart.” They were both nodding eagerly, happy to be thinking the same thing. “I mean, I'll pose if it's strictly necessary, otherwise I'll avoid it like the plague.” She said laughing.
He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What you mean?”
She shrugged. “All the flashes and screams, being the centre of attention, the madness, I don't know, it gives me anxiety.” He knew what she was talking about. “And I like being behind the camera, I’m much more comfortable there.”
It was a little criminal to him that something as beautiful as she liked to be hidden from the lenses, away from the world to witness, but a tiny part of him, the selfish part, loved being one of the few who really knew her, or was starting to do. 
At that point, the list of things Hayden noticed about her turned into a notepad. The things he kept learning about her day after day, text after text, facetime after Facetime, meant a lot to him. The trust she had in him made him feel special.
Next Part →
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not-another-leon-blog ¡ 1 year ago
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Family Matters
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DI! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader
Death Island Spoilers!
Summary– The kids are exposed to the evils of the world. Word count: 3746 D/n– Daughter's name S/n– Son's name Sequels: Aftermath / Out Together
You woke to the sound of quiet sniffling. Someone was shaking you, almost begging you to wake up. Your eyes opened, your vision fuzzy and your head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.
“Mommy, wake up,” your daughter cried as she shook you. “Please, wake up.”
You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes. Taking in your surroundings, you knew you were far from Los Angeles. Instead, you were surrounded by concrete walls and steel bars. This wasn’t the Walk of Fame, it was a prison.
“Mommy, I’m scared,” your daughter said, throwing herself in your arms.
“Don’t be scared,” said her twin brother confidently. “Dad’ll save us.” His pacing betrayed his confidence, not that his sister could tell with her face hidden in your shoulder. “Besides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris are here, too.”
“They are?” you asked. The fog in your head was starting to lift. “Chris? Claire?”
“We’re here,” Chris called. But he sounded weak, wounded. 
“Where exactly is ‘here’?”
“Alcatraz,” said Claire. If Chris sounded terrible, she sounded worse. Whatever was going on, you knew it was something the kids shouldn’t be a part of. “Jill’s here, too.” Somewhere." It only took a second for you to connect the dots. If they were all here, then surely Leon would be as well. 
You knew he had been on assignment in San Francisco so logically he couldn’t be too far away. It was supposed to be simple– a job he could complete in a day or so and then he would meet you and the kids in Los Angeles. How it turned into this…
We’re bait, you thought. It was a virtual guarantee. But how? All of your files had been secured and locked up; Leon had made sure of it. So how did you end up here? Why were you here?
D/n trembled in your arms and S/n was becoming more restless. Carefully, you lifted D/n with one arm and pushed yourself to your feet with the other. Reaching out to touch the bars, you gave them a firm shake. They didn’t budge.
“I gotta set you down, baby,” you said to D/n. She nodded hesitantly, going to her brother once she was out of your arms. She and S/n went to sit on the cot, holding each other’s hands. S/n’s leg bounced nervously.
You continued to examine the bars, looking for any kind of weakness. “So, what brought all of you to Alcatraz?” Might as well get an idea of what you were about to face if you were going to be stuck here.
“There were outbreaks in the city,” Chris said, his breathing heavy. “Found a connection to Alcatraz…”
That’s certainly one way to get him and Jill here, you thought. But what about Leon? How did his assignment connect to all of this?
“You kids okay?” Claire asked, taking a sharp breath.
“Okay,” S/n answered softly. 
You abandoned the bars and went to kneel in front of them. D/n’s face was blotchy with tears and she was wiping her nose with her sleeve. Soft hiccups rocked her little body. S/n, on the other hand, was still bouncing his leg and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. You took their hands and gave them a soft squeeze.
“We’ll be okay,” you assured them. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, understand?” You looked each of them in the eye. “No one will touch you while I’m here.” D/n nodded and you reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Mom,” S/n said, but his attention wasn’t on you. It was on someone standing outside of the cell. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a shiny pink jumpsuit. You knew exactly who she was and suddenly it all made sense.
Like a switch had flipped, your attitude went from soft and caring to tough and protective. You stood and put yourself between her and the twins. “What do you want?” Your voice was sharp and stern.
“Your husband will pay for what he did to my father,” Maria replied.
“Yeah, I get that.” You took a step closer. “But they have no part in it. You want to use someone, use me. This isn’t their fight.”
“It became their fight when he murdered my father. They deserve to know what kind of monster theirs is.”
S/n jumped up from the cot and rushed against the bars, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. “Our Dad’s a hero!” he yelled. “You're the monster!” Maria hit the bars, scaring S/n away from them. But he only backed away enough to stand next to you and stared Maria down as she marched down the cell block.
D/n was crying again. S/n turned to her. “Dad’s gonna be here,” he assured her. “He’s gonna save us– just like he saved the girl in Spain!” He froze like a deer in headlights and glanced over at you.
“S/n Marvin Kennedy,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been in your father’s office again, haven’t you?”
“No.” An obvious lie. There was no other way he would know about Spain and Leon would never talk about past missions with his kids. He never even really told him what his job was.
“We’re having a talk about that later.” He bowed his head and went to sit beside his sister again. “And I’m reminding Dad to change those locks, too.” S/n seemed to shrink more into himself. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
He stayed quiet for a moment. “Dad… maybe… kinda taught me to pick locks.”
“Then get us out of here!” D/n yelled at him.
“I don’t have anything to use!”
Leon would certainly get a scolding for that. A sharp pain shot in your neck. A moment later your body felt weak and you leaned against the wall for support. In an instant, breathing began to get harder, too.
“Mommy?” D/n said through her sniffles.
“Y/n?” came Claire’s voice. Whatever had infected Claire and Chris had infected you, too. But how? Your mind raced. You were never bitten.
You groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. With what strength you could muster, you crawled back to the bars to put distance between you and the kids. D/n moved to go to you but S/n held her back. He knew something was wrong. He knew there was a reason you were moving away from them. At eight years old, you hated how perceptive he was.
Lights shone at the other end of the prison block. Footsteps came closer, echoing off the walls. You gripped the bars, trying to ready yourself to face Maria and whoever else she was working with.
“Leon?” Claire muttered softly.
The kids gasped and ran to the cell door. “Daddy!”
“Y/n? Kids?” Leon rushed to your cell, quickly holstering his gun. The kids reached their hands through the bars, trying to hug him as best as they could. He looked them over for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” S/n told him. “But Mom…”
The pain was getting worse. Your breaths had turned into short gasps. The twins let go of him and he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed. 
“Long time, no see, sweetheart,” he replied, his blue eyes full of worry. “What happened?”
You shook your head. “I don’t know. We were going to the Walk of Fame and…” Then you gestured to the cell. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been… more careful.” Maybe you were starting to get rusty. Years ago you would’ve seen the ambush from a mile away.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Get us out of here!” another man’s voice cried, catching Leon’s attention. 
“Well, I’ll be,” Leon muttered as he craned his neck to see who spoke. There was no way in hell he was leaving his family’s side right now. “Antonio Taylor… I’ll deal with you later.”
The overhead lights turned on and the kids scrambled to your side. The light stung your eyes and a headache started to form at your temple. Leon shot up, pulling his gun from its holster and scanning the cell block. There at the second-story railing stood Maria and another man, his cane tapping rhythmically on the metal floor.
This new man introduced himself as Dylan Blake. “I bet you’re wondering how people are getting infected without being bit,” he said, proudly going on to describe his bio-drones: insects that could infect whomever Blake pleased. Your heart sank at this realization. It was only a matter of time before you turned. 
You tuned out whatever Blake continued to say, your attention on the kids. D/n was still shaking like a leaf against you, but her tears had stopped. S/n was on his knees in front of you. The pain was starting to become unbearable, and knowing what would happen if you turned… 
“There’s a reason I left you and Leon alone, Jill,” Blake continued. “You want to talk about justice? You should be pointing your guns at Claire and Y/n.” Leon spared a glance at you. You were pale and shivering and you were only getting worse. “They’ll turn soon enough and when they do, they’ll rip apart the doctor and those kids.”
“The kids have no part in this!” Leon snapped.
“They became part of it when you began to work for liars, people who cover up the truth. The ones continuously sending you into battle rather than staying home with your family.” Leon stiffened. You knew he felt guilty about being away from home so much. “Which will it be? Your wife or your kids? Better make your choice quick before she devours them.”
“Leon,” you called softly. With his gun still trained on Blake, he looked back at you. You nodded at him, but he shook his head. Shooting you wasn’t an option for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot his children– he’d rather die than do that.
Soon enough Blake and Maria were gone and Leon was back by your side, D/n and S/n clinging to the arm he slid between the bars. “Babies,” he said, “I need you to get in that back corner. Can you do that for me?” They nodded and did as he said. His attention turned to you and he lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “Y/n, I’m not shooting you. The twins need you and I will not let them witness something like that.”
“I don’t want to hurt them,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “Leon, you have to.”
“No.” His voice was stern. “It’s not gonna happen. We’ll figure it out.”
You lifted your hand to gently trace the curve of his jaw, his stubble lightly scratching your skin. “I love you, Leon.” He held your hand against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.
“Daddy,” D/n called. “What’s gonna happen to Mommy?”
“Mommy’s going to be just fine,” he told her firmly. Leon felt like the worst father in the world. The last thing he had ever wanted was for his kids to be dragged into his work. He was sure that with Y/n at home, they’d be perfectly fine. He thought he’d taken every step necessary to keep his family safe. What had gone so wrong that they ended up here?
“Real father of the year,” he muttered under his breath.
“This… isn’t your… fault.” You curled in on yourself as pain shot through your body. You had the cell bars in a death grip as you attempted to maintain yourself. Something was brewing in your chest, something violent and bloody. You met Leon’s eyes, your tears finally falling. “Please…”
Just as he was about to reply, someone came running into the cell block. It was Rebecca with a hard-shelled case in her arms. “What’s that?” Leon asked, but he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it to believe it.
“A vaccine,” Rebecca replied, popping the case open and handing him a syringe.
Leon couldn’t move fast enough. He uncapped the syringe and brushed your hair aside. “This might hurt, baby.” There was a sting in your neck as he injected the vaccine. Relief washed over you like a cool blanket and finally, you were able to catch your breath. As you composed yourself, Leon got to work on unlocking the door.
The door slid open and Leon enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulled away and the two of you were nearly thrown over as the twins barreled into you. Leon held all three of you tight against his chest.
“I told you Dad would save us,” S/n said, his voice muffled against Leon’s shirt. Leon kissed the tops of their heads and pulled away just enough to look at all of you.
Whatever was in that vaccine worked wonders and by the time you were back on your feet, you felt good as new. “What now?” You couldn’t just take the kids and leave. There was no telling what was lurking in the halls. Taking them with Leon was risky– Blake wouldn’t give up easily. There was no doubt in your mind that there’d be a shootout at some point.
Leon kissed you again and handed you a spare gun. It wasn’t safe here with the bio-drones and he wasn’t about to let you go out and try to escape the island with two eight-year-olds. His only option was to try to keep you all in his sight and out of harm’s way. “Stay with me.” He turned to the twins. “You two,” S/n stood a bit straighter, “do exactly as I or your mother say. Understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
The four of you made your way to the armory. Leon took the lead with the twins behind him and you taking up the rear. Once you made it to the armory, Leon stopped and hugged the kids again. “I love you,” he said to them, “listen to Mom.”
“Where are you going?” D/n asked, gripping his shirt.
“I’m gonna stop the bad guys,” he replied. “Be good.” He stood and pecked your lips. “Get to the control room, you’ll be safe there.”
~~
The three of you reached the control room. The openness of the room didn’t bring you much comfort– there wasn’t any real place to hide the kids. The best you could do was keep them away from the windows.
You made sure the door was secure and turned to the kids, tucking your gun into your waistband as you kneeled in front of them. “How are you two doing?” The answer was obvious, but you wanted to hear them talk to you. You needed them to focus as best as they could and make sure that they understood how important their safety was.
“Aren’t you scared?” S/n asked. 
“I am,” you answered honestly. “And it’s okay to be.”
“So you and Daddy were doing this stuff when you met?” asked D/n in a small voice. She had calmed down but maintained a nearly bone-crushing grip on her brother’s hand. You knew that she had always wanted to picture a romantic meeting between you and Leon like the other girls’ parents at school, but the reality was not nearly as sweet.
“Yeah, sweetie–”
A monstrous roar cut you off and the twins screamed. You grabbed your gun and spun around to the window. A massive, mutated monster took up the expanse of the window, but it wasn’t focused on you. Still, you ushered the kids back into the wall farthest away and kept your gun trained on it.
A number of loud pops sounded from outside. Gunshots. The others must be down there. With the beast’s attention away from the window, you focused your attention on the door. Your grip on your gun tightened. The kids jumped and gasped behind you with each new explosion. Shielding them from watching those through the window would be near impossible.
Something smashed against the window, but the glass held strong. Barrels and boxes flew throughout the expanse of the armory. The ground shook beneath you and the groans of crashing metal echoed in your ears.
The door burst open, scaring the kids and startling you. It was Claire and Rebecca.
“What is that thing!?” D/n yelled.
The two stopped short, unsure of how to answer her. Claire recovered first. “That’s the bad guy.”
“That’s the bad guy!?” S/n repeated. He tugged on your shirt. “You have to go help Dad!”
“I need to keep you two safe.” As much as you wanted to go help, you and Leon had talked long ago about situations like this. Situations you had hoped and prayed would never come to pass and a discussion that led to your retiring from the D.S.O.
Only one of you would actively fight. The other would stay with the kids no matter what. That way if something happened to the other, the twins would still have at least one parent.
“What are you doing?” D/n asked as Claire and Rebecca rushed to the main computer.
“We,” Rebecca started as her hands moved across the keys, “are gonna stop a bunch of bugs.”
~~
As the gunshots rang and rockets exploded, Leon kept watch on the windows of the control room. Leading the creature, formerly Dylan Blake, away from those windows was his top priority (aside from killing it, of course).
At least with Maria dead, he didn’t have to worry about someone else going after you and the twins. And even if she were still alive, you’d give her hell for doing this to your family.
“Just a heads up,” Chris said as they put together a massive rocket launcher, “the missus is gonna have a word with you about teaching S/n to pick locks.” He grunted as they slid the two pieces of the weapon together.
Leon grinned. He knew that would come back to bite him one day. Hell, he was looking forward to your scolding. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t.” He lifted the front of the launcher up on his shoulder while Chris steadied it from behind. “A little lower.” Chris kneeled down a bit more, letting Leon get a higher angle.
The creature had jumped into the water after Jill and was now trying to make for open waters. Leon aimed for the gate's pulley system. With only one shot, he needed to make this count.
Another second passed as he steadied the launcher and pulled the trigger.
The rocket flew from the barrel, jolting him and Chris as it flew to the gate. The rocket exploded on impact, and the gate dropped. It crashed into the water and a moment later another explosion erupted. Blood stained the water and pieces of Blake's mutated carcass rained down.
Leon eyed the water nervously, searching for any movement that could indicate that somehow the bastard survived. When nothing aside from a massive corpse floated to the surface, he sighed in relief.
He barely had a moment to relax before he was knocked over. It wasn't often that his kids caught him off guard, but here they were, piled on top of him and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Well, if he were to die, being smothered by his childrens' affection didn’t seem like such a bad option to him.
Once he’d regained his bearings, he hugged them equally as tight, enough to make them groan and try to push away from him (which in turn made him squeeze just a bit harder). He turned his head to see you approaching, a soft smile on your face. “Care to join in on this?”
“He’s crushing us!” S/n squealed.
“Am not,” Leon huffed.
“Are too!”
He let the twins go and sat up. D/n stayed in his lap and S/n sat beside him. At that moment, there was no denying that S/n was his son. He was almost a carbon copy of his father. The scene almost made you forget about everything that had just happened.
You could still feel a faint throbbing where Blake’s drone had stung you, an eerie reminder of what could have been if Rebecca hadn’t shown up when she did.
“Can we go home now?” D/n asked.
~~
While waiting for the evacuation helicopters, the twins had taken to bombarding Claire and Rebecca with questions, giving you a brief moment alone with your husband.
“You know we’re not sleeping alone for a good while.” 
“I know.” He watched as S/n turned his attention to Chris, climbing up on the man’s shoulders. Where other parents might dread the thought of having their bed invaded, Leon welcomed it. He’d rather have them running to him in the dead of night than deal with nightmares on their own.
“We should’ve just stayed in D.C.,” you mumbled, leaning against Leon as he wrapped an arm around you. Maybe if you and the kids had stayed home they would have been spared the terror of being kidnapped and threatened.
Leon shook his head. “Maria would’ve found a way.” Of that, he was certain. If there was anyway to guarantee his suffering, targeting his family was a sure way to do it. “We’ll take a real vacation after this.”
“D/n has been begging to go to Disney.” You sighed. “We can’t hide this stuff from them anymore.” That was perhaps the worst of it. You and Leon had gone to great lengths to shield them from the reality of Leon’s work.
The two of you watched the twins. Chris was still carrying S/n on his shoulders and at some point D/n had managed to steal Claire’s red jacket. Soon, they came running back, wedging themselves between you.
D/n pointed toward the horizon. “Are those the helicopters?”
“They sure are,” Leon replied as he smoothed her hair.
S/n tugged on Leon’s shirt and flashed his best set of puppy eyes. “Can I have the window seat?”
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glassrowboat ¡ 1 month ago
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Childe. Where is Childe. You would do him justice.
Falling In The Snow. Childe.
Okay, I... actually, I don't think I know who you are. Tbh, I don't have that big of an interest in Childe, but given my love for writing banter, I could Def see where you're coming from, Anon.
This is not proofread
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Your feet stopped as you heard a voice calling out for you leaving you with one buried in the snow and the other hanging in the air only to be forced to the ground as a sudden weight chambered against your back. It hit you suddenly drawing out a groan from your already chapped lips as you struggled to manage the little monster claiming you as his jungle gym.
“Hi, Teucer.”
You heard him chirp back a hello as his tiny hands settled on your shoulders to grab onto your giant puffer jacket.
“And where's your big brother?”
“Uh, around?”
You heard as your feet stepped into the snow again, forcing it to crunch under you. With each step, a new footprint was left behind, your soles leaving an obvious track you could only hope Childe would get the hint to follow as you headed to your home. Given the cold and the sniffling in your ear, you could already tell some hot chocolate that would be appreciated by all three of you once you were inside those cozy, warm walls.
“So you ran off again.”
He was already denying your words, but with one pointed look his hat covered head was hanging low as he admitted defeat. “Maybe I did.”
It seems both brothers were completely hopeless when it came to sitting still, then.
“Well, if you're going to be naughty, it seems you're going to have to sit in the corner with nothing to do but shiver.” Fixing your hold on him, you shifted Teucer up higher along your back. Mittens, apparently, weren't a help in carrying an overactive child around. “My mom used to make me do the same all the time.”
“That sounds….”
“Horrible? It was. She wouldn't even give me any toys to occupy myself with, either. Can you believe it?” You asked, trying to get a proper amount of horrified shock to your voice even when the cold was turning your tongue into a popsicle.
“Awful.” Teucer agreed.
“And that's the punishment awaiting you when we get back, kiddo.”
You could feel him wrestling against your back the minute his sentence was set, trying to get free of your hold and almost succeeding too as you cursed under your breath when pulling him back to rest against you again. Arms wrapped around your neck. “I don't like that idea very much. Can't we just say I got lost?”
“The same kid who managed to go all the way to Liyue to find his brother got lost in his own hometown? What bullshit.”
Immediately, you recognized your mistake as Teucer gasped. Hands going over his mouth at your curse despite the fact you know his older sisters and brothers have said much worse in front of him; you have too. “You know, mom and dad say you're not allowed to say those words.”
Grumbling to yourself you huffed out an “I know.”
“So…” For a moment you thought you didn't catch what he said over your footsteps, but there he was leaning over your shoulder to ensure you saw his cheeky little smile framed by freckles and a red face. Like this, there was no denying his relation to Childe, not when you saw him in the same twitch of Teucer's lips and wrinkle in his nose. “Say you don't give me a punishment, and I don't tell anyone you said a bad word in front of me. Again.”
And his cheekiness certainly matched a certain ginger.
“You brat.”
“Does that mean I'm in the clear?”
Your foot kicked out a bit more snow with your next step. The flakes flew up in the air only to fall back down to join the piles on the sidewalk your neighbors had shoveled out of their way that morning. “Childe may let you get off easy, but you'll still get something coming to you.”
Your home was in sight by the time you finally settled on a just punishment, the old wooden door already waiting to greet you and welcome you inside as you approached it.
“I won't subject you to the corner, but you're not getting any whipped cream or marshmallows in your hot coco.”
For a moment you were expecting Teucer to try and hassle you even more only for his little hand to reach out and try to shake yours as he declared it to be a “deal” only to realize you couldn't quite shake it when you were giving him a piggyback ride.
With a sigh, you lowered him down, took his hand, and shook on it.
“Now go inside, you scamp.”
Before you even had a chance to chase him inside, following after his fit of giggles to run around the sofa in circles like you've done so many times in the past you saw Teucer's arm raising up and waving through the chilly air. “Ajax! Come on! They agreed to make hot chocolate for us!”
Your head turned to see another head of ginger hair, ever so bright against the white backdrop of Snezhnaya's endless winter it drew your eye with ease. He waved back, easily treading through the snow covered ground like it was a field of grass instead of the very thing you had been trudging through for the last five minutes.
It was only when a flake of snow landed on your nose were you able to pull your attention away from Childe and his casual stride over to you both.
“Go and get inside, kid, or I'll make sure your drink is as cold as ice.”
“Why, so you and my brother can do that gross thing where you kiss and-”
Before he even had a chance to finish that sentence, you were pushing Tuecer. inside your home. He stumbled at first, trying to adjust to the sudden force he was subjected to only to turn back around to try and say what was undoubtedly another comment about you and his brother before you shut the door in his face.
“Kids.” You huffed.
“Kids.” Childe said as he finally made his way over, a cheer to his voice as he smiled down at you.
“Can't live with them, can't live without them.” You stood back up to your full height as you spoke, mitten covered hands trying to brush yourself off to avail as once one layer of snow was gone a new came from the sky to replace it.
“I think he's a joy to be around, even with his adventurous nature. If anything, it's a good reason to get out there to stretch your legs as you try and keep up with him.”
“Of course you'd say that.”
Childe’s hands came to peek out of his jacket, breaking past the layer of black fur you had no doubt was keeping him nice and toasty to reach up and fix your - or his- scarf. The red fabric was brought up to your cheeks, brushing against them. “And I'd say you're a little thief, but we'll call it even if I get a kiss before we head inside.”
“I don't know. That's a big ask.”
The scarf rustled again, but this time, it was accompanied by Childe pulling you closer. His gloved hands held tight onto the fabric, ensuring you couldn't budge an inch when his head ducked down to press a kiss to your snot dripping nose.
A tiny part of you hoped he regretted that, but given the way his eyes where shining, you couldn't help but think he didn't.
“That wasn't even a real kiss.”
“Oh, so now it's not a big ask if it's what you want?” Childe asked, a single brow raising until it hid behind his mess of a haircut. You'd need to trim it for him again.
“Exactly.”
“Well, I suppose if it's what the lady wishes.”
Before you could even try and wipe your nose off on a handkerchief, mainly for his sake, Childe’s hand was resting on your lower back, running over your jacket to pull you in close to him as your lips met. He was warm. It had you stepping in closer to him as he kissed you, and you didn't hesitate to linger even when your lips parted and you were once again greeted with a brilliant smile framed by freckles and red cheeks. The only difference was that this one happened to be your favorite grin in the whole of Teyvat that never failed to have you smiling back.
For a moment, you two stood there, taking in each other's presence as the cold started to seep into your bones from staying still for long until his laugh broke the silence.
“So, hot chocolate?”
“Yeah, hot chocolate.” You repeated as you pulled him through your front door.
There could always be more kisses when you were both under a blanket and curled up on your sofa together with a mug in both your hands.
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bri-cheeses ¡ 1 month ago
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Fall Break — Part 3
| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 888 | The link for Part 2 is unfortunately not working so…. sorry? |
-
“We’re really not like that–” he began, but she interrupted.
“Do you know what the first thing you started talking to me about was when I first called you this semester? It wasn’t how you were liking your classes, or whether or not you had a nice dorm, or even how you had seen some cute girl at the coffee shop down the corner or something along those lines–no, it was how you and Evan had been up late the night before, too busy talking and doing whatever it is you boys do to go to sleep at a normal hour. And there was that time I FaceTimed you only for Evan to pick up, apologizing on your behalf for being unable to talk, seeing as you were passed out in his arms on the couch together. And that time I came down for the weekend to surprise you for a visit, and I ran into Dorcas outside of your hall, who very politely informed me that I wouldn’t be able to see you right at the moment because you and Evan had gone out to eat together, and that time Regulus was teasing you in the background when you were on the phone with me about how you barely had time to keep up with your classes anymore because you were too busy keeping up with Evan, and really, Barty, are you sure that you two aren’t actually dating?”
Barty sat there, dumbfounded. How his mother had managed to notice specific instances of all those little things that had somehow worked their way into his and Evan’s relationship unbeknownst to either of them was beyond him, but here she was anyway, standing in the kitchen and forcing him to see his friendship with Evan in a new light.
And upon further inspection, Barty found that he had to admit his mother had a point. He and Evan weren’t normal friends. Normal friends didn’t sleep in each other’s bed every other night, normal friends didn’t want to be in each other’s company every second of every hour, and normal friends certainly weren’t too busy with each other to even think about dating someone else.
Memories came unbidden to Barty’s brain. The people all over campus telling Evan and him that they were a cute couple, only to be laughed off hysterically. Barty whining about having no love and Regulus jokingly suggesting that he simply start dating Evan since it would be so easy, except now that Barty thinks about it, it hadn’t really sounded like Reg was joking. The pact he had made with Evan to marry and move in together if they were still single by the time they were thirty five, and the little seedling of hope in Barty’s chest that he had thought so odd. The fact that multiple people had broken up with him because he was, in their words “too close to Evan” to truly be close with his partner like he supposedly should be, along with the fact that people had done that to Evan, too, for the same reason.
And yes, they were good friends. They had always had a nice, very platonic friendship that was just… very, very close at the same time. That’s how Barty had always viewed it. But if he took a step back and tried his hardest to think about it from an outsider’s perspective, things looked a bit different. And maybe the reason he had never tried looking at it from an outsider’s perspective before was because deep down, he had known what he might find.
His mother was still quietly looking at him, a knowing glint behind her eyes. Barty was half hysterical as he made eye contact, his mouth wide open in disbelief and his hands gripping his mug much too tightly.
“I,” he said, and stopped. He tried again. “I have to, uh, I, call… Regulus. Yes. I have to call Regulus.”
He nodded shortly as if to seal a deal, and the corner of his mom’s mouth twitched. He was thankful that she didn’t say anything, though, instead choosing to nod understandingly, giving him free reign to stand up and frantically pull up Regulus’ contact on his way out the kitchen.
He hit the call button as soon as he was out of earshot. His foot tapped an inpatient rhythm against the hardwood floor, just barely enough to accent the ringing of his phone, but there nonetheless.
“Regulus,” he said as soon as the call connected, not even waiting to see if Reg was actually even listening. “I need your help.”
Regulus was silent except for a long-suffering sigh that filled the space between them, but Barty didn’t stop to acknowledge his friend’s familiar impatience. Instead, he took a deep breath to prepare himself, then blurted out in one huge, potentially catastrophic jumble of a sentence, “Am I or am I not kind of unknowingly dating Evan?”
The sigh Regulus let out once more was so weary that Barty wondered at how he didn’t have wrinkles yet, if he was truly feeling that old. Still, the wayward thought was not enough to cause him to miss Regulus’s very much exasperated earth-shattering response.
“Finally,” he said, somehow sounding relieved and annoyed all at once. “I thought neither of you would ever realise.”
-
(The End!)
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echoingbirdsofprey ¡ 2 months ago
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Delicate (Jake's Version)
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1 - Iceman's Daughter
Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: swearing (as usual) and Jake just getting shit from everyone
WC: 2.5k
A/N: So I'm borrowing the twins idea...so Tyler and Jake are twins so those stories will coincide at some point. Enjoy please! Don't be a silent reader either!
Playlist
Sam didn't need a damn thing in this world. Not a thing. She certainly didn't need a man. She certainly didn't need any of these cowboy fighter pilots in Fightertown. They all seemed to want to flirt with her, but it always ended there. No one ever made a move because of who her father was.
Iceman.
U.S. Pacific Fleet Commander Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky.
Her father was one of the highest ranks in the Navy. And when she walked in a room, in a bar, or almost anywhere in Miramar, California, people knew exactly who’s daughter she was. 
To say that Sam wanted for nothing was an understatement. Sam would consider herself well off with her almost brand new truck, that yes, daddy did buy, and all her pretty clothes, that yes, daddy did buy for her. She flaunted the fact that her dad bought everything for her. So it was no surprise that there hadn't been a man who could match up. Especially where Sam was much smarter than most of them, and worked harder than most of them too. She had a younger brother and sister, Mark and Alexandra, who were both in high school. Sarah, their mom, had always been a stay at home mom, and took the best care of them all, while Iceman did his duty. He provided a beautiful home, and whatever they wanted or needed. 
But it didn't stop the guys from trying.
As she stepped through the open doors at The Hard Deck, a local bar where most of the military personnel hung out, Sam made a vow to herself. None of these stick jockeys were getting in her pants. Not now, not ever. These guys weren't getting a single thing from Sam. She went toward the bar and sat, noticing the sign that said ‘disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your phone on my bar, you buy a round’ and she made sure to keep her phone off the bar. 
“Nice touch, Penny, the sign’s new, huh?” She asked the brunette woman behind the bar. Penny had known Samantha since she was little and it had been about two years since she’d seen her. Penny whipped around and a huge smile that went all the way up to her eyes formed as she nearly ran to Sam. 
“You’re back!” She exclaimed as she hugged Sam tight. “And you graduated?”
“I did. Dad was able to make it too.” Sam said, her tone turning slightly solemn. Penny hugged her again, tighter this time.
“I heard he’s not doing well...” Penny said quietly to her and Sam nodded.
“Yeah. So I’m home for now. Working remotely so that I can be here for as long as I need to.” Sam explained. “I’m meeting a friend here.”
“Well, it’s five so the entirety of the Navy should be showing up soon. Speaking of...” Penny said, glancing at someone as they came in. Someone that Sam also knew. 
“Mav.” Sam said as Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell walked up and pulled her into a hug. He then sat and his eyes traveled to Penny. Sam knew they had some history, so she checked her phone and then saw Maverick turn to her. 
“Tell your dad thanks for saving my ass. Again.” Maverick said and Sam laughed.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked and he explained that he was there on a special assignment. Sam nodded and felt a hand at her back. She turned to see her friend Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. Another big hug and when the two parted Nat had a big smile on her face.
“I’m so happy you’re here. I’m glad I’ll have a friend to go to the beach with while we’re on assignment.” She said and Sam smiled wide. “And you can tell me all about Harvard and all those boys you met. By the way, you look super pretty as always.” Sam had worn a pretty, lacy dress, pink on the top and blue with flowers on the skirt. She had dressy flip flops on and her phone which had her wallet with her cards and cash attached to the case.
Nat said shed be back in a few and went over to the other Naval Aviators that were there. Sam took a moment and glanced around, taking in the familiarity of it all. There were the tables and high tops on one side, some booths here and there, and then there was a jukebox, a piano, and a pool table overlooking the view of the ocean. The sun was going down so the rays were shining in through the windows, creating interesting shadows. 
She hadn’t even noticed the other aviators filing in, all meeting in the corner with the pool table. There was a tall blond, another blond with glasses, a rather handsome black guy about the same height as the first blond, and a shorter Hispanic man. They were all dressed in tan uniforms, names on their right chest, patches and wings on their left. All well put together.
Sam ordered a cider beer, and took a sip. That was the biggest thing she missed about Harvard. Every bar around had a different cider beer. She was going to miss being there in the chilly autumn months when the leaves were changing colors and falling, and everyone was decorating stupid early for Halloween. Penny smiled back at her as she chatted with Maverick, noticing Sam had seemed to be stuck in a daydream, her pink lips on the edge of the bottle opening. She was deep in thought until more of the tan uniforms walked in. A blond with a mustache who wore a Hawaiian shirt, whom she knew as Rooster, then a bearded black guy, two asian guys, an asian woman, and a dark haired white male who winked at Sam as he walked by.
Fuck.
She was trying to not be noticed and of course, one of them noticed her. She should’ve just taken her cider and gone outside onto the beach deck. She couldn’t now though. She had a great spot on the bar. And she did like people watching.
The taller black man and the tall blond had come over to the other side of the bar, asking for a round of drinks for them and their friends. Eleven beers in all. They had to come back and when they did, the black man smiled at Sam. She tipped her head down. 
Well fuckity fuck.
She noticed Nat glance over and she decided to shoot her a text. 
Sam: don’t mind me i’ll just hang out by myself
She saw Nat glanced down atr her phone and then up at Sam and mouthed a ‘sorry’ and then texted her back.
Nat: i’ll come back over in a few, catching up with Chicken Little
Sam: thought I recognized him, i forgive you as always 🥰
Sam nursed her cider and flipped through her Instagram, looking at her friend’s stories who were back in Boston. 
“You here all by your lonesome, darlin’?” A voice asked from beside her. She turned to see the tall blond leaning on his elbow over the bar. His friend, the handsome black man, was standing to his left, staring at Sam with a smile. She sighed and pursed her lips.
“Waiting for someone.” She said, trying not to look at his stupid, very handsome face. He had an air of arrogance about him that unfortunately, Sam was instantly attracted to, but she couldn’t let him know that. And the accent? Fuck.
“Well, someone isn’t here yet, so...” He said as he scooted in a bit closer. His friend whacked him on the shoulder and the blond glanced at him with a smirk. 
“New in town?” His friend asked and Sam’s eyes flicked to him. She took a sip of her cider and looked him up and down, just as another one of the tan uniforms walked up. This was the one that winked at Sam. Now she had the attention of three very good looking, very testosterone driven males, who were looking at her like she was a very unattainable snack. And they didn’t seem to know who she was. She saw Nat’s eyes gleen over and a horrified look spread across her face. Sam smirked at her. 
“You’re TopGun pilots, huh?” Sam asked with a grin, as she left the beer close to her lips. The blond’s eyebrows shot up and a wild smirk spread across his very pretty, very kissable lips. God, did she want to kiss him. FUCK.
“Jake. Jake Seresin.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. She did, immediately noticing how warm his hand was. He flicked his head toward his friends. “This is Reuben Fitch, and Neil Vikander,” pointing first to the handsome black man and then the brown haired, freshly shaven white guy. Reuben held his hand out for her to shake and she did so. Neil did not, instead he just smiled at her. 
She took another sip of her beer and glanced at each of them, up and down, before asking, “What are your callsigns, boys?” 
Reuben said his was ‘Payback’, Neil’s was ‘Omaha’, and then Jake...Jake took a second, tipping his nose down and flashing his pretty smile before speaking.
“Know a little bit about pilot shit, huh?” Jake asked and she rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.
“I know a lot about a lot of shit. What’s your fucking callsign, Jake ?” Sam said, the swears rolling off her tongue calmly. Reuben and Neil broke out into a fit of laughter and they both patted Jake on his back as they left. Neil leaned in and said, ‘good luck’ to him. Jake’s eyes followed his friends for a moment before the sage green locked back on her mahogany brown ones. 
“ Hangman .” He said as he sat on the stool next to Sam. 
“See that wasn’t so hard was it?” She said, finishing her beer.
“Penny, m’dear, she’ll have another, on me.” Jake said and Penny shook her head and smiled as she took Sam’s empty and replaced it with a full, ice cold bottle. 
“Oh, all I have to do is insult you and I get free beer? Excellent.” Sam said, starting on her second. Jake tilted his head and scooted closer, manspreading next to her. She placed her hand on his chest and looked him dead in the eyes. “Easy there, Peacock . I get it. You’ve got the prettiest feathers . Don’t need to see them any closer.” 
“Goddamn you are somethin’ fuckin’ else.” Jake said, shaking his head, an opened mouthed grin plastered to his face. “ Let me buy you dinner .”
“Don't need you to buy me anything else, handsome.” Sam said and Jake just kept on smiling. He looked like a love struck puppy, all wide and sparkly eyed. The only thing that was missing was the wagging tail and the tongue hanging out of his mouth. 
“Hard to get is your game then? I can hang .” He said and Sam laughed down the barrel of the bottle. 
“That why they call you ‘Hangman’?” She asked and he didn't have a come back this time. He just sat there, smiling like a fucking idiot at her, clearly hoping his handsome fucking face would get her to do whatever he wanted. Oh, boy, when he found out who her dad was, he’d change his attitude for sure. She saw Nat heading back over.
“I see you’ve met Bagman.” She said as she placed her arm around Sam’s shoulders.
“Oh no, are you Phoenix’s girlfriend. Shit. Now I really wanna take you to dinner...I didn’t even catch your name, sweetheart.” Jake said, eyes darting between Sam and Phoenix. She scoffed at him and side hugged Sam.
“I'm not going to dinner with you.” Sam said, taking her phone out and opening Instagram back up. She scrolled for a moment as Jake watched her. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for her to give in.
“You really don’t know who she is, Hangman?” Nat asked, with a knowing smile. Sam glanced at her, Here it comes. The implosion of his self confidence. “Sam Kazansky...” Nat said and Jake’s eyes locked on Sam’s, then widened. He touched his beer to hers and then smiled and tipped his head.
“My Insta is jseresin90 when you decide to follow me.” He said, as he stood. He began to walk away and Sam's eyes followed him. He turned and smiled at her, saluted her and said, “Can't wait to see all your pretty pictures, Sam!”
She followed him with her eyes as he made his way back over to his friends. Sam turned in her seat as Nat sat at the bar next to her. She motioned to Jake.
“ So tell me more about Jake Seresin. ” She said and Nat smirked and asked Penny for another beer.
🛩️🛩️🛩️
As Jake continued drinking and playing pool, his friends and co-pilots teased him. 
“What the fuck, Jake? Tell me you got her number.” Neil said, and took a sip of his beer. 
“Yeah,, seriously, she’s hot as hell, man.” Reuben said, shaking his head.
“Well?” Bob piped up, with a smirk. Jake stopped as he was about to make his next shot, glancing around as everyone got quiet. And then he lied.
“Course I got her number.” He said, a bit sheepishly, and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, the dirty blond with the mustache, raised a brow. He’d give him shit later but not here. They all laughed, a few of them sighed and rolled their eyes, and then they went back to drinking and conversing with each other for a couple more hours. When everyone was sufficiently drunk or buzzed, they all decided to head home. 
Jake stepped out onto the patio and gazed out over the ocean. Behind him was his friend Coyote, aka Javy. He clapped him on the shoulder and shook him a bit, making Jake smile. 
“You okay, man?” Javy asked, and Jake nodded.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Jake said tentatively and Javy patted him on the back.
“When you wanna talk about it, I’m here.” Javy said and went back in, just as Rooster came out. Jake had turned to go back toward the parking lot and he drew in a sharp breath as he caught Rooster’s disapproving stare.
“You didn’t get her number.” He said and Jake shook his head.
“Why do you have to be an ass about it...” Jake said and Bradley stepped into his space.
“ Don’t ruin her. You’re gonna be in a world of shit if you do. You have no fucking idea who she is. ” Bradley said and Jake bumped his shoulder into his, as he brushed past him.
“There’s a whole side of me that y’all won’t ever see because you think I’m a dick. Fuck off and let me be.” Jake said as he went down the patio stairs and toward the parking lot. 
“Maybe stop acting like a dick then, Bagman!” Bradley yelled as Jake got in his truck and slammed the door. He punched the center console and swore. He took his phone out and checked to see if he had any notifications. Nothing. 
Fuck.
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deadlysoupy ¡ 9 days ago
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DATV banter if my Rook (Urchin) was a companion 1 / >> 2 << / ?
Neve: You’re jittery in Dock Town. What’s got you worried?
Rook: Isn’t everyone jittery in Dock Town? I’m surprised no one stole your leg while you were walking.
Neve: You’re dodging my question.
Rook: If I said it was the smell, would you accept that?
Neve: Hm. All right, good enough.
Rook: Oh, no. I told you too much, didn’t I? You’re already theorising.
Neve: (laughs) Perhaps.
~~
Neve: Rook, I beg of you, please stop poking fun at our enemies. One insult can cost you your life, some day.
Rook: Hey, they already hate us. What’s the point in holding back?
Neve: The point is that you infuriate them even more. You’re drawing attention to yourself.
Rook: I think that’s the idea.
Neve: Just… (sighs) Be careful, okay? Step on the wrong people’s toes…
Rook: Don’t worry. If I do step on their toes, they’ll know not to mess with someone who has this many friends.
Neve: I’m amazed and scared of your confidence.
~~
Lucanis: You would have been a good assassin, Rook.
Rook: Eh, too much work. And the blood is so difficult to wash off.
Lucanis: That’s why we wear leather.
Rook: The leather is nice. You look incredible in it.
Lucanis: I… appreciate the compliment. But is style really the only thing stopping you from being an assassin? You’re already an honorary Crow.
Rook: It’s good money, that’s for sure. But… I don’t like killing. Not by choice. I kill for survival, not greed.
Lucanis: I don’t kill for money, either.
Rook: I know.
Lucanis: But I understand. If you need work, or a place to sleep…
Rook: I know who to ask.
~~
Rook: Lucanis, I’ve noticed you hold your daggers more upwards. Is that comfortable?
Lucanis: The tilt makes it easier for me to slice. Why?
Rook: It’s not how I do it. Maybe you could show me? I always plunge the dagger in too deep. Ends up a mess.
Lucanis: Sure. What brought this on?
Rook: I don’t know… the Crows are so elegant at killing. It’s mesmerising.
Lucanis: I’ll make sure to tell the other Crows that Rook likes them. But yes, we certainly are taught style fairly early on. How is it with the Lords?
Rook: It’s… different. Okay, fine, I don’t really know.
Lucanis: How come?
Rook: Isabela taught me, no one else bothered to… or could get close to me. I guess I’ve simply developed her techniques.
Lucanis: All right. We can train together and exchange skills. Might be good practice.
~~
Taash: So. You and Isabela.
Rook: Uh-oh.
Taash: What?
Rook: Who told you? How did you find out?
Taash: Woah, slow down. I don’t know anything. But I do want to know now. Are you doing it?
Rook: What! Taash!
Taash: Ugh, what! Isn’t that what you were afraid of?
Rook: (sighs) No. I’m… Isabela practically raised me, Taash. Get your head out of the gutter.
Taash: O-oh. Sorry. Why didn’t you tell me in the first place, then? I thought we trusted each other. You met my mom. Holy shit, I met your mom!
Rook: (laughs) Well, I didn’t tell you because we’re not really official or anything. You know how she is. No touchy-feely stuff.
Taash: Yeah. I get it.
~~
Taash: Why do you wear Tevinter clothes? I thought you were a Lord.
Rook: Tevinter has style. Good colours, comfortable. Lets me appear like a normal citizen.
Taash: But you’re not Tevinter. Why hide where you really come from?
Rook: Taash, it’s Tevinter. I’m an elf. You really find nothing wrong with me wearing flashy Rivain clothes in gloomy, dark Dock Town? Without anyone bothering me?
Taash: (grunts) I guess that’s true. You ever tried, though? What if they’re cool?
Rook: I don’t want to risk it. Not hearing “knife-ear” every minute and just pretending I belong to someone is better.
Taash: Oh. That’s vashedan. I’m sorry they treat your people like that.
Rook: It gets worse, but thanks.
~~
Rook: Bel, did you adjust the rope yesterday?
Bellara: Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t have the time. The Nadas Dirthallen was acting up again. Sorry.
Rook: Hey, it’s okay! Take your time.
Bellara: We can do it together after we get back! What do you need the targets for, anyway?
Rook: I want to try throwing knives. No one’s ever taught me, and I saw a few Crows practising. If I could toss the bomb and then follow up with a knife throw, it would be much more effective than a timed bomb!
Bellara: Oh. Wait, hold on! That’s dangerous! What about collateral damage or friendly fire?
Rook: Eh. I’ll work those out on the fly. Don’t have much time to practice, anyway. But I’ll warn you if it helps?
Bellara: Uh… okay. I’ll tell the others to watch out for “sky bombs”.
Rook: O-o-oh, good name!
~~
Bellara: Rook, how are your burns? Do you need more healing salves? Should I bring some to your room?
Rook: (laughs) Bel, you’re fine. I’m fine! I’ve dealt with worse when I was just starting out. Messing with all this magic is new, but we’ll get there.
Bellara: I still feel bad. I asked you for help.
Rook: And I agreed! So no hard feelings. It’s not like you wanted for the core to explode. Unless…
Bellara: Rook! Of course I didn’t!
Rook: I was just messing with you. But there you go, then.
~~
Rook: Hey. What has an eye, but can’t see?
Davrin: Oh, please don’t.
Rook: Come o-on.
Davrin: Ugh. Fine. What?
Rook: A fsh!
Davrin: (sighs) I hate you, you know that? I already feel new wrinkles forming on my face!
Assan: (laughing squawk)
Rook: Aw, thanks, Assan! At least someone appreciates me around here.
Davrin: I can’t tell who’s worse: you or Assan.
~~
Davrin: Hey, Rook…
Rook: If it’s about your bed, it was Assan!
Davrin: I… what?
Rook: (laughs) Sorry, what were you gonna say?
Davrin: No. Please, do go on. What was that about my bed?
Rook: I’ll never tell.
Davrin: Fine. Then I’ll look the other way when Assan tries to play with your jewelry next time.
Rook: He’s been doing that?
Davrin: Among other things. Talk.
Rook: (sighs) I’ve been… napping on your bed when you’re gone.
Davrin: You what?
Rook: It’s really soft! And dark. It’s like I’m in a cave. Reminds me of the ruins.
Davrin: Hm. Well. If you ask, I might let you switch with me sometimes. I have always wondered what sleeping in your room is like.
Rook: I’ll let you see for yourself. And… thanks, Davrin.
Davrin: Just don’t go around mentioning this to anyone, got it?
Rook: My lips are sealed.
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aimbutmiss ¡ 5 months ago
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Buggy stared at the stone wall in front of him with wonder and curiosity, as if the mysterious box-shaped rock held the secrets to life itself.
It probably did. At least a fragment of it.
“Fascinating, isn’t it? The ancient language.”
Buggy stopped his deep staring to turn to the tall man beside him. “It looks beautiful.”
Oden smiled at him. “Couldn’t agree more, Buggyjiro. What’s interesting about the writing system here is that it doesn't display the phonetics alone. The order of symbols and the way they’re connected also dictates the grammar…”
Buggy listened to the enthusiastic man talk about the writing in front of them, explaining and translating as he went. Maybe he was trying to pass down at least bits of the forgotten yet ever important language to him, or he was just really passionate about the poneglyphs. Either way, Buggy took every little piece of information that fell from Oden’s mouth as if it was a sacred treasure.
He stopped his little lecture as little Hiyori walked –more like stumbled, up to the stele and touched the surface with her tiny hand, babbling passionately. Though neither of them could understand what the little girl was trying to convey, they listened intently as if every little noise out of her made perfect sense.
“Is this one causing you two any trouble?”
Toki came over to them, walking in small steps as usual, and picked up the still bubbling Hiyori in her arms.
“Oh, not at all. She’s a clever girl, like her mom.” Oden said, making his wife giggle.
The samurai looked at them as if they were the most valuable treasure in the whole wide world. It warmed Buggy’s insides, yet there was a pang in his heart. Family. Something he longed to have for himself down the line, but he didn’t know if he could ever have it. He was pulled out of his thoughts when a strong hand squeezed his shoulder.
“I can tell you’re deep in thought. It’s good to think, but you need to learn when to get out of your own head, Buggy.”
Buggy looked up to his captain, not understanding when the man had even walked up to them. He hadn’t heard anything when he was approaching.
“Sorry. A lot to think about, though.”
“Hm, indeed. But you’re only 13. No need to think so hard at your age. Look at Shanks, he’s the master of not thinking.”
Buggy turned his head to watch Shanks run around the land, chasing a large snake around as he laughed without worry. Buggy grimaced. “That would be because he’s an idiot.”
Roger laughed. “That’s not such a bad thing in this world. If anything, you’re the one who’s too clever.”
“And that’s bad?”
“No, not quite. I just worry that’s all.”
Before Buggy could ask him to elaborate, the man abandoned the subject as he turned to Oden.
“You think you can leave a message in my steed on here? To let the future generations know that I was here.”
Oden laughed loudly, as he did most things. “Of course, Captain. That is if you can find anything that would dent this stone.”
Roger laughed back. “Who said anything about carving on the poneglyph, idiot? There’s no need, especially not when there’s a perfectly good gold surface next to it.”
That made Buggy smile. The captain was clever too, much clever than him, yet he couldn't see how that was a bad thing. If anything, he liked being clever because it made him more similar to the captain. They didn't look anything alike and he certainly didn't have his bravery. He'd like to have a trait of his to remember him by.
He frowned. Perhaps thinking too much was indeed not a good thing. He turned to the sacred bell of Shandora as the dialogue in the background became background noise; and though he was not raised to be religious, he prayed that he had a little more time with his dad captain.
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whumpsday ¡ 6 months ago
Text
Caught
Whump & Giant/tiny Oneshot - Writing masterlist
find my G/t blog here: @smallsday
content: whump, g/t, tiny whump, trapped under rubble, crushed limbs, begging, fear, broken bones
Whumpmas in July Day 12: Caught GT July Day 13: Betwixt Whumperless Whump Day 12: Trapped under rubble / I can't move my legs
combining three different creation events for this one!! since i'm posting this to both my accounts, for non-g/t people who don't know, borrowers are a species of tiny people who secretly live in humans' houses and survive by stealing bits of food and supplies.
-
It had to be someone, eventually.
Cotton just barely kept himself from crying out as the pile of books he’d been climbing toppled over. He tried to grab at his grappling hook, but it was slack. The lack of resistance sent blood rushing through his ears as he fell.
He hit the ground first, and it wasn’t a good thing. The impact was bad enough from a few feet up, but borrowers were sturdy, and he had enough reserves to make it until his family’s next visit. But he certainly wasn’t sturdy enough for what came next.
The tower fell the same way he did, burying him in literature. A hardcover landed harshly on his legs, pinning him to the floor with a crunch he could no longer keep quiet through. Cotton wailed, but more books kept falling, burying him in a dark tomb he was helpless to escape from.
When the only sound that remained was his own crying, Cotton realized that he was still alive.
He tried to wiggle out, but he was utterly caught between the books and the floor, and he couldn’t move his legs. Every time he even tried to drag himself out by the arms, it sent a new wave of agony through him so bad that he had to stop.
Cotton laid there under the rubble and wept, until the worst of the pain subsided and he couldn’t feel his legs at all.
He tried again now that he could bear to, but it was useless. He wasn’t strong enough. A single book was twice his height, and he was buried under countless.
Which meant the human would find him.
The human would get home, see their books strewn about, and find him as they cleaned up. Whether they realized he was aiming to steal away food from their desk or not, they would find him. And he’d be powerless to stop… whatever they decided to do with him. Even more powerless than usual.
He couldn’t be seen. He couldn’t. Mom and Dad and his little siblings lived in the apartment right next door, and it wouldn’t take a human long to start to question where he came from. Every borrower would be in danger if he was found. But Mom and Dad weren’t visiting until next week, and the human would be home today.
It was hours before he heard footsteps, the telltale click of the front door’s lock. Cotton’s heart hammered in his chest.
“Shit,” the human–Özdal, that was their name–muttered, increasingly-loud steps booming over. “I really need to get another bookshelf.”
This was it. He could either make himself known, or wait to be found.
“H-help.”
Özdal froze. “Who said that?”
Cotton shuddered. “Please help. Under the–the books.”
There was only a moment’s hesitation before he heard shuffling up top, books being lifted. “Yeah! Yeah. Holy shit.”
More and more were lifted, the suffocating darkness giving way to the warm light of the apartment and removing the weight on his legs. An enormous figure loomed above him: he’d never been this close to a human before. He wasn’t supposed to ever be this close to a human.
“Oh my god.” Özdal staggered back, a hand over their mouth.
Cotton whimpered. He tried dragging himself away, slow and agonized against the floor.
“No! Don’t, oh my god, don’t move.” Özdal quickly knelt down before him, blocking his path with a massive hand that just barely missed touching him.
“Sorry!” Cotton cried, squeezing his eyes shut.
Özdal seemed to realize they were scaring him, and the hand was gone when Cotton dared to open his eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry! Your legs! What happened? What are you? What were you doing here? Are you o–I mean, obviously you’re not okay.” The human had tears in their eyes.
“I was climbing, please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry.” Cotton kept his voice quiet, hoping maybe Özdal wouldn’t hear.
“I won’t hurt you!” Özdal’s hands went up again. Cotton would have flinched if he could really move at all. “You need… a doctor. Like an emergency room. I’m not, uh, I can’t help with this.”
No no no no no. This was all going so wrong. More humans, more eyes on him. He was going to be the one to expose borrowers, an entire existence of safe secrecy down the drain. Who knew how many lives would be uprooted, captured, ended, all because of him?
“No! It’s fine! I’ve been injured before, I can handle it, don’t take me to anyone!” Cotton insisted.
Özdal said nothing for a moment. They pulled a ‘phone’, a device a little taller than him out of their pocket, pointed it at him, then turned it around.
Cotton was there on the screen, like a mirror stalled in time. His top half was mostly normal, if not for some bruising, but everything after that was… wrong. His legs were hardly recognizable, smears of blood and bone that he could hardly believe were attached to him.
“I gotta take you to a doctor,” Özdal said softly.
“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll… handle it somehow.” Even if he died, he couldn’t go. It would mean the end of life as they know it for every borrower. “Remove that image. Please.”
“Okay.” They still used that gentle, soft voice, like they were talking to some kind of scared, infant animal. Cotton didn’t like it. Özdal showed him as they tapped a little icon shaped like a trash bin, and the image disappeared. “But I still have to take you to the doctor.”
“No. You don’t understand,” Cotton pleaded.
Özdal looked down at him in all-too-obvious pity, then left the room. Cotton tried to drag himself, but he could barely make it a couple inches before Özdal returned. They carried a rubber spatula in one hand, and a woven basket emblazoned with HAPPY EASTER! and lined with a washcloth in the other.
“Listen. I dunno what you are or why you’re here, but I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you die because I was too lazy to clean my room, okay? I’m sorry. I, uh, really hope this doesn’t hurt.”
“No!” Cotton protested, but he could do nothing as Özdal carefully slid the spatula under him. He screamed as it jostled the only part of his legs he could feel, his upper thighs, eliciting a frantic sorry, sorry! from Özdal.
And then he was lifted.
Cotton clung to the spatula for dear life, gasping as the floor fell out from under him and he plunged up into the open air. Just as fast, he was deposited into the basket.
“Here.” Özdal reached in and folded the washcloth over him, enveloping him in softness. “Just try and, um, rest, okay? We’ll be there soon.”
“No,” Cotton repeated, but it was hollow. He knew it was hopeless at this point. Nothing he said made any difference, and there was nothing he could do to make the human just listen to him. Not without telling them about borrowers, about his family, and that would only put everyone else in even more danger.
Özdal carried him out to their car. Cotton had only seen them from a distance before, terrifying, monstrous things. He never thought he’d end up inside one. It stank of oil and shook like thunder, but Özdal wasn’t deterred.
When the shaking finally stopped, they picked up the basket again. Cotton pulled the washcloth over his head as soon as he saw: humans were everywhere. They would all see him.
He felt the basket being placed down on something.
“Hi, I’m here with an emergency!” Özdal shouted.
They lifted the folded portion of the washcloth.
Cotton stared up, wide-eyed, at the bright-white room. There were more humans than he’d ever seen, and before he could even try to hide, several were already staring right back.
A couple of them pointed their phones at him, just like Özdal had.
Dread solidified in his gut.
“Oh no,” he whispered, finally passing out.
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padfootagain ¡ 8 months ago
Text
Only an Almost (XIII)
Chapter 13: Decisions
Hi! Here comes a new chapter! We are reaching the heights of the angst… next chapter. So, buckle up, we’re up for a wild ride…
I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!
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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU
Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!
Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.
Word Count : 1982
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
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“Andy, honey… can you take a pic from up there? Down the river. Try to centre it on the bridge…”
Andrew followed his mother’s instructions, climbed on the bench by the docks that ran along the Liffey, aimed the camera the best he could, took a couple of pictures.
“Is that alright?” he asked his mother to check the pictures, handing her the camera.
“Perfect! Thank you, honey.”
They resumed their walk down the river, Raine’s camera secured around her neck. He offered his mother his arm, and she took it with a tender smile.
“This is such a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” she said after a moment of comfortable silence.
The sky was grey but there was no rain in sight. Dublin was busy with life, as it always was. The murmur of cars passing in adjacent streets and boulevards mingled with the cries of a few seagulls who had flew up along the river from the sea. It was early in the afternoon still, right after lunch-hours, and the docks were empty of people, except for the occasional joggers and their loud earphones, the parents and their children, the lovely couples. It wasn’t too warm, nor too windy. There was a sweet scent coming from a nearby bakery.
“Yeah, it is lovely,” Andrew nodded.
“Thanks for coming with me today and helping me with the pictures.”
“I’m expecting some kind of reward for such hard work,” he joked, making his mother laugh wholeheartedly.
“That may be arranged… if you come for lunch on Sunday.”
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Jon is coming too, with his partner.”
“Lovely.”
“You can ask Y/N to come, if you want to.”
“Mom…”
Andrew shook his head, growing annoyed already.
“Y/N and I aren’t together. I’ve told you…”
“I know, I know. You have that… casual thing going on. No progress on that then?”
Andrew grew quiet, pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he thought of an answer.
“I don’t know,” he answered earnestly. “I’m fucking lost.”
Raine waited patiently for her son to speak again.
“I… It’s like… I don’t know what she wants. Sometimes it’s just so… nice. Like we’re moving forward, like we’re getting closer to being an actual couple. And the next second she’s cold and just…”
“One step forward, two steps back…”
“Yeah, something like that. Back to square one. I don’t know what to do. I just… I can’t believe she feels nothing at all. There was this one time I talked to a woman in a pub… she was fucking jealous. I stayed over night and it was so… intimate. Really. It wasn’t just casual. And we have so much fun together, like… we really have a lot of moments when we are truly happy. But then, the other day, she just ran off like laying in bed with me for five minutes might kill her.”
He heaved a deep sigh.
“I don’t know. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I should do, and I don’t know what I want either.”
“Don’t you? Know what you want?”
“I mean… I do know. But she doesn’t want that.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“No… I don’t think she would react well.”
It was Raine’s turn to heave a sigh.
“If the two of you don’t want the same thing… you can’t stay with her. You’ll get hurt, Andrew. Do you understand?”
“Of course… don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” he fought back, being harsher than he meant.
He felt guilty as soon as the words passed his lips, and so he tightly closed them.
“You need to talk to her,” his mother insisted, ignoring her son’s irritation. “It’s the only way out. Communication is key.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But if I do, and she rejects me…”
He let his words suspended in mid-air, to hover between them. But Raine soon let out a low chuckle.
“Andy… You can’t have happiness without sorrow; love without pain; satisfaction without risks… it’s never one or the other. It’s always both. If she rejects you, you’ll have to learn how to live with it, the way we all do.”
“I don’t know how to live without her. And I don’t think I want to find out.”
Slowly, she nodded.
“You must really love her,” was her only answer.
His throat tightened, he could feel that he was welling up too.
“Yeah… yeah…”
“I have to admit… I don’t understand her,” Raine went on.
She stopped their walk so they could sit on the bench there, facing the river. It wasn’t the nicest part of the docks, but it was quiet, and someone near was blowing soap bubbles with their daughter. They flew up catching the light of the hidden sun, iridescent and fragile as they rod on the wind. They both looked at the bubbles while they spoke.
“What do you mean?” asked Andrew.
“I mean… I’ve always thought that she felt the same as you did. That one day your lives would finally align, and you’d end up together. Married even.”
“Were you already choosing baby names for us?” Andrew laughed.
“I have a whole list,” she joked, and they both laughed for a moment, despite all the pain held in this conversation. “I don’t know… I thought she loved you.”
“I don’t know… sometimes I have hope. Sometimes she pushes me away so much, I wonder if she doesn’t hate me a little.”
“Hate you?”
“Or is ashamed of me, perhaps.”
“Why would she be ashamed of you? You’re a good man. You truly are a good and kind person. There will never be a day when I am not infinitely proud of who you’ve become.”
“God, mom, stop… that’s enough…” Andrew protested, blushing all the way to the top of his ears and shifting uncomfortably on their bench.
Raine merely smiled fondly at him.
“I don’t know,” Andrew went on. “I don’t understand what she wants.”
“This can’t go on forever.”
Slowly, he nodded. Daphne’s words echoed in his mind.
“You’re right. I need to talk to her.”
“I’m your mother. I’m always right!”
They laughed again, brighter and merrier than before. They remained there for a long while, chatting, the conversation drifting towards the rest of their family, this new recipe for a blueberry pie she wanted to try, this song he was working on.
When he offered to go for tea before going home, Andrew was fully aware of how lucky he was to have her by his side.
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The hike was nice, although the weather was unsteady. But then again, it always was in Ireland.
Andrew wanted to wait until you would reach the lake to talk. First Daphne, then his mother… he couldn’t push back that moment any longer.
You had talked about your work while you walked, then about the wedding. It was coming closer, only a couple of months left. Soon, it would be time to try on the dresses and suits, settle on the flavour for the cake.
You were growing a little annoyed though. It was visible that he was only half-listening to you, barely participating in the conversation. Still, you didn’t say a thing, merely pouting and frowning a little. You were adorable, as always…
“Ha, there it is! Let’s take a break!” he offered as you finally reached the shore of the lake.
You plopped down in the grass as an answer, further away from the trail so as not to be disturbed if more people were coming this way. Andrew soon joined you.
“Alright, what snacks for today?” he asked, making you roll your eyes.
“You know you can bring your own snacks…”
“They’re better if I steal them from you!”
You chuckled, handing him some biscuits and some grapes.
“As sweet as you,” he teased, biting in one of the fruits and shooting you a wink that brough fire to your skin.
“Smooth,” you said with irony dripping from your voice.
He laughed, biting on his biscuit instead. His favourites. He wondered if you knew how much he loved them. You often carried these when you hiked together.
There was a long silence, and Andrew was visibly nervous. He had a lot of courage to gather, and a lump in his throat that needed to be swallowed back, so he could finally talk to you.
“Andy? Spit it out.”
He looked up at you.
“Hmm?”
“Whatever it is that got you so worked up… spit it out. You’re killing me.”
He clenched his jaw, set his gaze on the lake. Peaceful. Tiny ripples brought by the wind. Rocks and grass and wildflowers staining its shores. There were some birds over there, on a tiny rock, right on the edge of the water. He wondered what kind of birds they were, all shades of grey and white and black…
“I just… I think we should talk.”
“We have talked,” you fought back, defensive already.
“Y/N…”
“Look, Andy… things are simple. We don’t need to talk about this more. We agreed that this would be casual, just sex, no attach. If you don’t want to do that anymore, we can stop.”
“I don’t want us to stop…”
“What do you want then?”
You.
But if he said it, he knew you would run. He could see it in your eyes now. Somehow, he just knew you would fly away like these birds on the shore of the lake, that you would disappear in the sky, never to be seen again.
“I just want you to answer one question.”
“Go on.”
“What do you want from me?”
You were so taken aback by his question, you were left silent, with lips parted and brows furrowed.
“What… what do you mean?” you stuttered back.
“What do you want from me? This… this is temporary. At one point, we’ll either become more than friends, or go back to being in a friendly zone. Which one will it be?”
You huffed, clearly uncomfortable, shifting your weight.
“I don’t know. How could I know that?”
“I know.”
“And what do you want?”
“I asked first.”
“I asked second.”
“No. No, Y/N. You’re not allowed to turn that around.”
“Why not? Why are you asking this anyway? You’re always… wanting to plan, wanting to make this evolve… why can’t things just remain how they are?”
Because I’m in love with you.
But Andrew couldn’t say that. He settled for what seemed like the next best thing.
“Because I care about you. And because nothing ever stays the same. Things always change.”
He was surprised by your sudden anger. How you got to your feet in a jolt. How you started packing back your snacks.
“Y/N…”
“I don’t fucking know, okay?! What do you want me to tell you, Andy? It was never meant to be more than an arrangement. What else could I say?”
“It means more than that to me.”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to make of your silence. Because if no words were coming out of your mouth, tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes.
And his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, but he didn’t back down. He stared, and waited, for an answer that never came.
Instead, you kept on packing. And then you were off to the trail without a word. He followed you, eventually, walking behind you in silence. It started to rain, about halfway down the trail to get back to the carpark. You reached his car in silence, drenched and miserable.
You didn’t speak for a few days, until an olive branch was offered to him, in the shape of an invitation to the cinema.
He ended up in your bed that night, but when it was over and done, he didn’t stay.
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weirdlookingsnakewithlegs ¡ 4 days ago
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hey sauce, ☄️ here,
Seekers deserve to have a kinda small handle on their back, like just at the base of their neck wide enough to put a digit or two through. So they can be picked up like kittens. It can either fall off with age or stay there for their entire life (assuming they never receive any sort of injury). Just scoop them up and you're my friend now. No more runaway Seekerlings. Just nab you're coming with me now, do not resist.
The flock also deserve to kind of be like cats in the sense of they take turns with young, coparenting. Maybe one or both creators are worn out from one thing or another? Just need to get up and get a vent of fresh air? No problem, another jet will step in watch the little flappy bastard, whether it be the other creator, an available trinemate, or another flock member.
now for sads. It's inevitable at some point, there will be instances where the second creator has passed while a Seekerling is still young. Could be after the flappy bastard is born, could be just before, but at some point there will be an instance of a creator's partner not getting to be there to help raise said little flappy bastard. Another instance where either living creator's trine or dead creator's trine step in to fufill the primary purpose of the deceased creator. also could go the other way! Creator dies, maybe from complications or is taken out by some outside force, leaving just the second creator and flappy bastard Seekerling. Rest of the flock, especially the two creator's living trinemates will swoop in very quickly to fill that role (pun intended).
and for slightly less sads. It would also be some inevitable instance where both creators might perish in some way. Could be a flock extinction, orphaned Seekerling found in the wrecks of a bombing or after their creators were killed, could be an instance where one creator was already dead and the other perishes at some point, but either way if they don't perish and live long enough to be found (assuming one of the first three events), they're very likely to be adopted by either one of the creator's trinemates (if applicable) or potentially given to another creator who'd perhaps lost a Seekerling (maybe by defect and dispatched by the Winglord).
also give them glowsticks. please, let them have some glowsticks this can only end well.
These are all beautiful ideas, I love them so so so much buuuut I would like to add the idea of flock adopters, aka seekers that tend to take in orphaned or the rare abandoned seekerlets. For example, Wheezingarrow, who certainly picked up and raised a large amount of younglings despite never having any of his own, it’d be so fun to watch him wrangle like six seekerlets, snagging on their handles and holding them up to gently scold them. You could also consider altruistic behavior! Perhaps a seeker that lost their seekerling takes in a predacon bitlet, now wouldn’t that be chaos?
I have no doubt though that the living trinemates would eagerly scoop up the little seekerling(s), probably being extra doting given the circumstances as they don’t have the creator/sire bond the original creator did.
Also seekers working like a cat colony is 100% real in my mind, it’s where the cliques and flock ideas came to me from. They definitely take turns with their young, after all sometimes mom and dad need a fly without their little balls of chaos, who better to watch them than the rest of their trines, clique, or the flock? Love to imagine these little babysitting adventures are what got Thundercracker and Skywarp to meet as their creators and sires were apart of different cliques.
As for the glowsticks, bold of you to assume most seekerlets wouldn’t bite into them just to get a taste of those foul chemicals(<- has bitten into a few glowsticks as a child). Assuming they didn’t try to gobble on it, I can imagine some maybe snapping them open to cover themselves in the chemicals, why stick glow when you can glow? Probably would scare the life out of their parents but it would also be adorable in the sense a seekerlet might strap some glowsticks to themselves, parading around biolights they haven’t quite developed yet.
Also it’d be hilarious if someone like Thrust still had his handle and Ramjet just has to snag onto it every time he tries to start a fight.
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somethingusefulfromflorida ¡ 5 days ago
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I've had a few people tell me that they think JD Vance will be president within the year, but I don't buy that. There are a lot of avenues for Donald Trump to leave office, and not a single one of them seems plausible to me.
He's probably not going to die of natural causes. He's about four years younger than Joe Biden, meaning he's basically the same age today as Biden was back in 2021; the fact that Joe Biden is still alive, and the fact that Trump's mom lived to be 88 and his dad lived to be 93, mean it's very likely Trump will still be alive well into the 2030s (if he matches Jimmy Carter, he'll make it to 2046... God help us all...)
He probably won't be assassinated. After the attempt in July, he's sure to get the highest level of secret security any human being has ever had. Nobody will be able to get close to him. (I'm still convinced the attempt was a false flag; he had a squib of fake blood behind his ear, the "shooter" was a patsy, and the secret service shot some random schmuck in the crowd to make it look real; but that's just a theory, a Conspiracy Theory™, thanks for watching!)
He will never be impeached because he owns the House and Senate; every single member who voted against him in 2021 is either gone or has announced plans to leave very soon. Mitt Romney was safe in Utah, but he chose to retire rather than face a primary challenge from a diehard Trump supporter. No Republican in Congress will ever defy Trump again, not when he's the one who appointed the majority of the Supreme Court (methinks Thomas and Alito may resign soon so they doesn't end up pulling a Ginsburg by dying with a future Democrat in office; if not them, Roberts will almost certainly be blackmailed/bribed to retire like Kennedy in 2018).
JD Vance and the cabinet will probably never invoke the 25th amendment to remove him. Trump is not a smart man, but he has the world's strongest self-preservation instinct. I concede that he's easy enough to manipulate because he surrounds himself with opportunistic yes men who know how to butter him up and betray him when it becomes convenient (look at the staff turnover from his first term, all the sycophants who turned around and wrote tell-all books which nobody has ever bothered to read), but I think he has enough true loyalists in his pocket to warn him of any potential schemes behind the scenes. I don't think a majority of his cabinet picks would ally themselves against him because they'd be politically crucified. The rest of the party would back him 100%; Donald Trump IS the Republican Party, so no faction within it can get rid of him, and the mouth-breathers who voted for him would riot if they tried.
I don't think there exists a single scenario in any universe across any possible multiverse in the totality of creation in which Donald Trump would choose to resign from office under his own free will. None. That will NEVER happen. He is a narcissist who relishes in having complete control over his party; he is their face, their voice, their avatar. He is not the kind of person who would willingly step out of the limelight and pass the torch to someone else. Even when he's out of office in 2029 he'll still be president vicariously through whichever successor the Democrats fail to defeat. He's never going to disappear; Ronald Reagan disappeared because he had Alzheimer's and was embarrassed of being seen in public as he deteriorated, but Trump has no shame and none of his family members care enough about him to keep him at home when his mind is gone, they'll parade his catatonic husk around until he dies, and even then he'll have enough instinct left in him to smile and give thumbs up for the camera.
JD Vance will almost certainly get Trump's endorsement in 2028 and effectively run unopposed the same way Trump did in 2024 (nominal opposition that never stood a snowball's chance in hell; Ron DeSantis and Nikki Haley were NEVER going to get the nomination over Trump), but I don't think he's going to become president before then. Trump won't let him.
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