#been dying to write more of him since the christmas fic

[writingjourney]

a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.” 

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he’s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me.  Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else. 

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up. 

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity. 

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?” 

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

 You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…” 

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad. 

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer. 

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for?  I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one. 

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first: 

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners  of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse. 

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.” 

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then. 

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…” 

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Tesoro, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass. 

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap. 

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries. 

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out  the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#i dedicate this to all of my awkward cardinal lovers #been dying to write more of him since the christmas fic #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #copia fluff #cardinal copia fluff #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader

[smilingbuckley]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @diazsdimples

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

302 because I removed some earlier works (2018) from anonymous. I've been writing since like 2016 in general and moved some fics from wattpad to ao3 in 2018/2019

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

1,369,693

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly 9-1-1. Though I also want to write a few more for Roswell New Mexico and The Rookie. I used to write Teen Wolf, Legenfs of Tomorrow and Glee fics. Dipped my toes into a few other fandoms as well.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

The Human of the Pack (Teen Wolf, 3,149 kudos)

Firefighter Diaz (9-1-1, 3,096 kudos)

5 Times Bobby and Athena Acter Like Buck's Parents + 1 Time They Actually Are (9-1-1, 2,366 kudos)

driving me wild (9-1-1, 2,295 kudos)

this is a place where I feel at home (9-1-1, 2,204)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes it takes me a few days because it can be overwhelming, but I try to respond to everything. Except ones that complain about something, I tend to ignore them

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I tend to prefer happy endings, but I have I think 3 with sad endings. While unrequited Buddie is very sad, I think the angstiest one is where Bobby is dying and Buck cries in Eddie’s arms. (That ending is sadder than the sequel where Bobby actually dies because in that ending, Buck dies of old age and gets reunited with Bobby again)

If you want to read them, you can find the series here.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm. I don't know. I try to always write a happy ending. So almost all of them?? I really don't know which one to choose.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally. I usually delete them. I think only 2 fics got a lot - one where Tarlos was tagged as a background ship but the Tarlos fans got angry that they weren't the main ship, so an entire army of Tarlos fans flooded my comments with anonymous hate comments. And one where Chris is being a teenager and in an argument says that Buck isn't his father or something like that, I think that he wished Buck and Eddie weren't dating? It's been a while since I wrote it. Anyway, I wrote Buck getting insecure and sad and breaking up with Eddie without telling him why and people got mad at me that Buck didn't tell Eddie - though I did that on purpose because Buck was very insecure and didn't want to hurt Eddie with that knowledge. Ended up turning off comments in general for a while.

9. Do you write smut?

Yep. For a long time smut made me uncomfortable and now here I am...

10. Craziest crossover?

Oohh haven't written one in years. I once wrote a Christmas fic back in 2018 where every fandom I was in got connected, but I ended up deleting that one because it was a mess. I think I wrote one or two Glee/The Flash crossovers where Barry and Sebastian were related? Oh, and one with Teen Wolf where Barry and Stiles were related.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I did once get a message that someone copied my fic to wattpad but it was deleted by the time I checked it out. Otherwise, I'm not aware of an entire fic, word for word, being stolen

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Two actually. And people have reached out recently offering new translations as well.

Right now one of my Teen Wolf fics was translated into Spanish and a 9-1-1 fic to Ukrainian.

13. Have you co-written a fic before?

Not since my Wattpad days

14. All time favorite ship?

Romantically: Buddie.

A relationship (not romantic) in general: Buck & Bobby. They are my favorite relationship of all time. I just love their father-son bond.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will

Oohhhh uhm.... my farm fic. I love the idea of it but it has been more than a year since I touched it and realistically... I probably won't ever touch it.

(My farm fic is an AU where Buck was forced to take the lawsuit money and left to start a farm with rescue animals. He makes up with everyone but Eddie and keeps in contact with Christopher with letters and postcards. One day, Christopher runs away after an argument with Eddie, and he goes to visit Buck. Buck calls Eddie because he has to, so Eddie comes pick him up. But then there's a storm and they're stuck staying with Buck)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am allergic to saying anything positive about my writing so I couldn't tell you 😂

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pff. Uhm. Descriptions maybe? I tend to mostly write dialogue. I try to add some more actions while editing but don't always manage to.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language

I'm learning Spanish on duolingo just so I can include more Spanish in my fics, but I don't often do it. I do really like it though. I love it when bilingual characters speak the other language.

Back in my Seblaine days, I loved writing Sebastian speaking French. And I don't think I wrote it, but I also used to love Teen Wolf fics where Stiles spoke Polish.

19. First fandom you wrote for

Every Witch Way. I was 11 or 12 years old and new to Wattpad. There were no Dutch fanfics so I wrote my own. I learned English by reading fanfics. (Very important: I was team Jemma.)

The first one I wrote in English was Teen Wolf, also on Wattpad... it wasn't great.

20. Favorite fic you've written

I love writing long fics the most. My all time favorite is probably worth staying for, my nurse Buck fic.

Though a more recent one that I loved writing soooo much is since I met you, I just can't forget you which is my veterinarian Buck x cat dad Eddie fic. I loved it so much.

Tagging: @buddieswhvre @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @bidisasterevankinard @chaosandwolves @mattsire @mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld @specialbrownieeater @m1kayu

#911 #evan buckley #buddie #eddie diaz #911 fanfic #buddie fanfiction #fanfiction #tag games #911 abc #911 on abc

[lorata]

Ive been doing a Christmas reread of all your amazing work and the more I think about the centre, the more I wonder what the trainers and trainees thought about the stunt with the berries. Did they turn it off? Did they get a talk about it the following day? More generally, is there much of the games that the trainers keep from the students? I remember when creed died they were sent to bed when it got too gruesome and I imagine a similar thing with Cato

I was gonna answer this one but I wound up writing it instead lol

Fic below! CW for blood, death, Arena-gore, etc etc etc

******

“She should have killed him hours ago.”

Blake’s voice growls low in Rowan’s ear, curled tight and ragged at the edges. Pushing the urge to cry into rage and fury like the trainers taught them. Rowan gave up as soon as the door shut behind them and the trainers couldn’t see, Blake’s undershirt a sodden mess beneath his cheek.

Still, though, that’s not fair. None of this is fair. Cato’s face in the shadows, pale but for the splashes of blood, the dark hole of his mouth, screaming. Twelve girl and her boyfriend, wrapped around each other, shaking. “What was she supposed to do,” Rowan says. The words taste sour, thick with choked tears. “She’s out of arrows. He’s dying of sepsis. Is she supposed to go down there and punch them with her bare hands? Cato has armour and they’re eating him. She’d get torn to pieces.”

“Okay, but —” Blake mutters a curse into Rowan’s hair. “Yeah okay, fine. But they should send her another arrow so she can end it, then. Nobody wants to watch this.”

Somebody does, Rowan thinks, stomach twisting. The Gamemakers used fire to herd Twelve girl toward the Careers, they used mutts to drive the final confrontation, they could, if they wanted to, find a way end this now. “I think it’s a warning,” he said. “Like our first year in Res, when they made us go to bed too. We’re allowed to train and stuff but we’re not — special. You know? We die slow and painful just like everybody else. No special treatment.”

“So don’t get cocky,” Blake says in a low voice, then, “Fuck.”

He hates it here. It pricks sharp and startling, like stepping on a forgotten blade. Rowan can try to soften it, dragging his mattress into Blake’s room at three in the morning and making their shoebox dorm into an impossibly cramped — but cozy — shared bedroom, wrestling with Blake during free time and cuddling on the couch when the trainers aren’t looking, pretending this is all a really intense athletics camp for him and his friends. But they’re killing people, numbers ticking up on both sides, and with each one Blake gets a little more faraway and it takes longer for Rowan to draw him back, and the Games are getting worse and worse and worse. Since Rowan joined Residential their tributes bled to death for hours and hours — had their skulls and pelvis smashed with maces — fought monkey-mutts while having chunks torn off them for almost half an hour — and now this.

He can’t even imagine what the Quarter Quell will look like.

Blake’s breathing has slowed and Rowan’s starting to drift when a loud hammering at the door jars them both. Rowan jerks up, slams his head hard into Blake’s jaw by accident as Blake bites back a yelp. “Up, up,” calls the trainer from the hallway. “I know you’re both in there, we don’t have time to pretend. It’s happening, now!” Rapid footsteps, shouts and door-pounding continue down the corridor.

Rowan shoots Blake a guilty look, scrambling out of bed and pulling on his uniform. “We gonna be in trouble later, you think?”

“Depends on how this goes, probably,” Blake says, grim.

They race into the gymnasium in time to hear the cannon fire.

Rowan skids to a stop, bile rising. And okay, they’ve seen a lot of ugly deaths, but this — it’s not even a person anymore. This — this is meat. Already there are sobbing thirteens being escorted out of the room, exit paperwork ready to go. A pile of fresh vomit steams in the far corner, but they can’t run for towels because this is endgame.

No trumpets. Cato a mutilated lump of flesh and still the Games go on. “Predictions,” calls out Livia.

“There never was a rule change,” says one of the Seniors, arms crossed. “It’s all for ratings. They’re going to make them kill each other.”

Jolted, Rowan mis-times his sit and turns his ankle, thumping to the floor in an awkward heap. No one notices, the others still piling in under the trainers’ impatient directions. Blake settles down a careful six inches away, which Rowan notices with a sharp squeeze in his chest. Onscreen the Twelves are whispering frantically, until —

Everyone turns to stare at the Senior who called it. He shrugs, not smug at being proven right, more like resigned. “They let Cato and Clove believe it was for them,” he says. “Come on. Had to be fake right there.”

“That’s mean,” says one of the thirteens, who hasn’t cried or vomited so they’re still here, but jury’s out for how much longer with an outburst like that. “Why would they make a rule like that and take it back?”

“Sorry, is this the everyone eat ice cream and hug it out games, or the Hunger Games?” This time it’s Russet, from Rowan’s year. He’s a good friend but the Centre draws out his mean streak, and this has been a rough couple of days. “Because they can. Because it’s more fun that way. Because the whole point is we go in there to die horribly on camera while people eat popcorn so that not everyone who’s in there dies too soon to be entertaining.”

And that’s Russet gone as well as the thirteen and the room is silent, save for the sound of all their ragged breathing. “Enough,” says Livia, sharp with warning, but they were right. It was horrible to let the tributes hope — both Twelve and Two. It was horrible to leave the Twelve boy by that riverbank for days, slowly dying of blood poisoning. Horrible to let the mutts chew on Cato for what, twelve hours? And now, horrible to ask the Twelves to kill each other after everything.

Livia stares them down, and whatever restless energy Rowan sensed surging flattens out. “Strategy,” she says. “You are Twelve. What now?”

Twelve girl aims her bow at the same time as the boy throws his knife into the lake. “Oof,” someone mutters. “Too bad he’s bleeding to death, that was a great strategy.”

“You are Twelve,” Livia repeats. She doesn’t say it, but everyone knows she means Twelve girl. “The boy is the only thing giving you audience appeal and you just threw all of that away. How do you walk away from this alive?”

“She can’t,” Blake says. Rowan holds himself very, very still. “She can’t, there’s no way. They’ve been a package deal from the start and he was holding her up. Giving her humanity. He’s going to sacrifice himself for her and she’ll be here alone.”

“Then she has to earn it,” Rowan says. The words scrape his throat. Twelve girl screams for the boy to take up the bow and shoot her. “She’ll spend the rest of her life proving she was worth the cost. But she — can’t — kill him. And he can’t make her. He has to do this, for her.”

Twelve boy tears the bandage from his leg, his pant leg soaked black with blood. Livia nods. “A high price,” she says. “And not one that would work for any of you. But for an outlier? Yes.”

They wait — but the Twelves are still arguing, fumbling in pockets, and — wait. Wait. The drones can’t pick up what the Twelves are saying, but even so the girl’s eyes are dark with challenge, finding the closest camera and staring at it, unflinching. They raise the berries to their lips.

(“Holy shit,” whispers one of the fourteens; another socks him hard in the leg without looking away.)

And then — trumpets. Livia’s entire posture sharpens. “Back to bed,” Livia announces, over the panicked voice of Claudius Templesmith. “All of you.”

“But it’s breakfast,” says one of the youngest thirteens, barely made the cutoff, only to wilt under the worst glare Rowan’s ever seen Livia give.

“Bed,” she repeats, like the thud of an axe through a fallen tribute’s spine. “Now.”

A few hours later the trainers call them out for breakfast. All the televisions in the commissary sit blank and silent, the screens reflecting Rowan’s face and the occasional shared glance before he and the other candidates hastily look away.

A tense, awkward week of pretending to train until everyone gets called back for the post-Games interview. Love story, they say. The twelves were so in love that they couldn’t bear to live without each other. But Rowan knew what he saw, the steel in Twelve’s eyes, the Gamemakers’ alarm. The Capitol ran a crooked game and Twelve outsmarted them — and now she has to stay alive.

“Obviously she’s lying,” says one of the Seniors, cynical. “I mean, it’s her cover, but —” They all jump when Livia jabs a finger.

“No. Stop.” Livia wets her lips. “As far as you’re concerned, those two are in love and that’s the end. Got it?”

“But —”

Livia marches across the room and strikes the girl hard across the face. “Got it?” she says forcefully.

The girl sits up straight, squaring her shoulders and tossing her head back to look Livia in the eye. “Got it,” she repeats, precision-sharp, a red splotch spreading across her cheek.

Livia returns to the front of the room, faces them all with her hands clasped behind her back. “The Games are over. We have a lot of training to catch up on. I don’t want to hear another word about it, am I clear?”

Rowan echoes ‘Yes, sir’ with the rest of them, but the ground beneath his feet has already shifted. 

When the trainers call him in to talk about Blake and his priorities it’s the easiest test he’s ever failed. Rowan closes his eyes on the blood and the screams and the berries and exhales hard. “I want to go home.”

#lorata answers #anonymous #we must be killers: tales from district 2 #the hunger games #my writing #oc: rowan

[natimiles]

A Summer Birthday (Isaac x f!MC)

Summary: Spending his birthday together wasn’t even a question anymore. And they’re gonna be celebrating it in a different way this year because Comte gave them a couple’s trip.

Words: 2389

Tags: couple’s trip for a tropical country; Summer Christmas; Summer birthday; teeny-tiny suggestive scenes (really tiny); established relationship; long-term relationship; assertive Isaac (sort of); domestic/slice of life.

Notes: the door works as we want it to work for the sake of the plot, thank you. Shoutout to my brazilian folks dying in this fucking hellish tropical weather 🤍 And shoutout to who said it’d be actually nice to have a Summer Christmas fic! I was struggling to think about something cozy in Winter, it was hard while I was sweating my life out of me. I’ve never thought about writing a hot Christmas, so it was nice! Now, shall we melt together?

Countdown to Isaac’s Birthday | IT’S TODAY! Happy Birthday, Isaac!

Spending his birthday together wasn’t even a question anymore. They’d spend the whole day on a date, returning to the mansion for an evening party. They’d wear something warm for the cold winter, sit by the fireplace after a special dinner, and Isaac would open the presents everyone gave him. Then they would wrap the night in his room with his special present.

However, things changed this year. Comte gifted them a couple’s trip as Isaac’s birthday present and a Christmas gift for her — it turned out to be a tip to her home country in her era. Missing the warmth of the past few years, she was thrilled about spending the entire week there. The anticipation of seeing everything and showing Isaac the delights of a Summer Christmas had her brimming with excitement.

“God’s Truth, how are you not dying?” Isaac whined, flopping backward onto the bed, his body splayed out like a starfish.

“I guess I’m used to it,” she giggled, sitting by his feet, her summer dress skirt pooling around her. She tilted her head to the side to get a better look at him. “Are you okay? Your face is really red.”

“I feel like I could die and go to hell just to feel cooler,” he said, frowning.

She sputtered a laugh, offering him a sympathetic smile as she got up and reached for the air conditioner controller. “There. Is it better?” she asked, noting the appliance springing to life.

Isaac looked up at the weird thing with a frown, but it melted away when he felt the cold air hitting his body. “Getting there.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “What is that?”

“An air conditioner. It makes the air colder or hotter. I don’t know exactly how it works though,” she said.

“It’s nice,” he sighed again. His eyes were growing heavy, his body more tired than usual — probably from the travel and the intense summer weather.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep now!” She punctuated the words by poking his ribs, and he yelped, trying to defend his body from the tickles. “I wanna show you around!”

“We’re going out?” His eyes widened in a cute way.

“Isaac, do you plan on staying indoors the whole trip?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“... No?” he answered with uncertainty. “I mean, I really didn’t, but, you know…” He pouted, and she laughed.

“I know. But it’d be a waste to just stay inside the room for the whole week. And there are so many things I’d like to do with you.” Now she was the one pouting, and he knew he was screwed. He’d go anywhere when she looked at him with those wide, puppy-dog eyes.

xxx

The physicist... wasn’t so excited about the trip anymore. She warned him to wear some light clothes, and he tried, but he had never been to a tropical country before! He didn’t know it would be like this. He was sweating since they arrived there; she could hear his labored breathing, his clothes clung to his body in the most uncomfortable way, and his face was so flushed she swore he’d faint before arriving at the hotel on their first day. They bought some clothes for him so he’d be more comfortable, but his tolerance to the hot weather was really low.

He was trying really hard, though. He went anywhere she wanted and didn’t complain; he just thanked God when they got back and he could lay down for a little bit. She was so happy, and he didn’t want to ruin her trip. And in the blink of an eye, the week passed by.

They had ice cream while sightseeing, swam in the hotel pool all afternoon, went to a barbecue restaurant and had some drinks — non-alcoholic, of course. They walked hand in hand while dipping their feet in the ocean, got a nice tan (she did, he got a sunburn), and had matching henna tattoos done (little stars on their wrists). And he knew she wanted to celebrate his birthday somewhere special, but he didn’t have the nerve to say he just wanted to stay inside the room and rest. How could he say something and ruin her plans? She just wanted to show him a little bit of how her life was before going to the mansion, and he couldn’t refuse it.

However, Isaac often forgot that she was more observant than she seemed. She could tell when he tried to act tough, when he didn’t want to upset her; when he tried to step on his own feelings just to please her; when he tried to smile and it turned out strained; when his voice cracked when he was overthinking something; when his eyes turned away slightly as he tried to hide something from her. She could see almost all of those now. And it didn’t take more than a few moments for her to decide to change all the plans for his birthday celebration.

“Well, we’re done for today and we still have some time until dinner. Why don’t you take a shower to freshen up?” She offered with a smile.

“Good idea.” He looked at her. “Will you join me?”

“Of course, honey. Let me just, um, grab my clothes.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked at her. She was such a bad liar. It was clear she wanted him out of the room to do something — obviously for his birthday. They had spent the whole week in that hotel, sharing that bedroom, and not once did she care about getting her clothes before going to the shower. It wouldn’t be him to spoil her attempt at making him some kind of surprise, so he just nodded and went to the bathroom.

When she heard the sound of the water, she ran to the phone on the nightstand and called the reception. If she was changing her plans, she’d need to be fast — his birthday was already the next day, and it was Christmas Eve; lots of shops would close in just a few hours. Some minutes later, she joined him in the bathroom, a happy smile on her face that told him everything he needed to know: whatever she was planning, she succeeded.

xxx

The next day, she woke up with the sun hitting her face through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, she rolled to the other side with her eyes tightly shut, and her body encountered something warm — hot, actually. She peeked one eye open and found Isaac, a frown on his face as his eyes stared at the ceiling. She was about to ask him if something was wrong when he spoke.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he said cautiously. “But please don’t touch me and move to your side of the bed.”

She blinked slowly at him a few times and snorted a laugh. “Good morning to you too,” she said with a smile and pecked his cheek, making him grimace. “And Happy Birthday, my beautiful scientist!”

“Good morning,” he sighed. “It’s just… It’s so hot already, even with that thing.” He pointed at the air conditioner.

“Mmm, I think we can make it a little colder.” She looked for the remote control and set a new temperature. “If it gets too cold, we can turn it up again.”

“I don’t think it will ever be too cold here.” He turned his body to the side, to look at her. “And thank you.” He pecked her lips and smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still tell you lots of ‘Happy Birthdays’ today.” She giggled. “Are you ready to celebrate your birthday summer style?”

“Oh… Um, right.” He smiled, but she could tell he wasn’t so enthusiastic. “What have you planned for us?”

“First, we will have an amazing breakfast. Then we would go sightseeing, have a good lunch at a restaurant near the beach, walk in the sand and swim a little, have dinner in a fancy place I found, celebrate your birthday and eat cake. Then we’d call it a night.”

“That’s… a lot.” He blinked at her and tried not to sound like he didn’t like it. “Wait… Would?”

“Hmph, right?” She shimmied her body closer and looked intently into his eyes. “It was a lot. And it was nothing you wanted and I could tell you were tired of walking around town. So I changed it all.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did. It’s your birthday, honey.”

“I know, but I’d do anything you wanted. I’ll be happy if you’re happy.”

“And that’s why I changed it all, Isaac.” She smiled. “I don’t want to force you to do something you’re not really enjoying. I already dragged you all around for the whole week, I can stay inside for one day.” She giggled.

“Can you really?” He laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking at her with loving eyes. “Thank you, darling. So what are the current plans?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it! Are you ready?” she asked in a whisper, like it was a secret. He chuckled and nodded. She cupped her mouth to whisper in his ear. “The new plans are: stay inside and do nothing.”

“What?” His eyes widened.

“We can add whatever you wanna do too. If you wanna go somewhere or do something special, we will. But until now, the plans are staying inside, hanging out in this nice air conditioner and enjoying the happiness of doing absolutely nothing for a whole day. Oh, and eating cake later.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said with a smile and pulled her closer, embracing her body and resting his chin over her head.

She tangled her legs with his and sighed contently. Their silent moment was interrupted by a few knocks on the door and a voice saying something he didn’t understand.

“Oh, it’s here!” She beamed and got up, going to open the door.

Isaac just looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. She was speaking in a language he couldn’t understand, but her tone sounded amicable, so he thought everything was fine. Still, he inclined his body a little to the side so he could see who was at the door and what they wanted. As soon as he saw that the person was an employee from the hotel, MC took a step back inside the room, pushing a cart, and the person helped her by closing the door.

“Don’t you dare get out of that bed,” she warned him when she noticed he was about to get up to help her. “And get comfortable, sit by the headboard, will you?” He raised an eyebrow at her commanding tone, but complied without questioning. She uncovered the plates and gave a satisfied smile at what she saw. Then she rolled the cart to his side and kissed the crown of his head. “Here. Happy Birthday!”

He looked down, only then realizing it was breakfast. Flowers decorated the enormous tray, and there were pastries, the cheese bread he had already tried before, toast, jam, some sliced fruits and coffee. He smiled at her.

“Is this the amazing breakfast you were talking about?”

“Yes! And I told them it was your birthday, look,” she pointed at the corner of the fruit plate, where someone wrote a message with chocolate sauce. “It says Happy Birthday.”

She sat beside him, and they happily devoured it all. Isaac couldn’t stop smiling. Who would have thought he’d be able to have such amazing birthdays with someone he truly loved? If he had said this to himself in his past life or even a few years ago in this life, he’d never have believed it. And now it’s real, but it still feels like a dream.

xxx

He thought they’d get tired of doing nothing all day and eventually leave the room, but they didn’t. They actually found lots to do, from watching a random TV show she said he’d like to engaging in make-out sessions, and then some napping.

When he woke up again, the night had already fallen. He rubbed his eyes and realized he was alone in the bed. Frowning, he sat up and was about to call her when he heard her muttering on the balcony. He got up and padded his way there, finding her with her back to the door and fumbling with something.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped and turned around quickly. “Oh, hey! I was… setting something up.”

He looked behind her and saw a birthday cake over the table with an unusual candle above it. He tilted his head in amusement and looked back at her. “Is the candle a question mark?”

“Well, I’m not sure about your age!” She put her hands on her hips and laughed.

“I’m not complaining, it’s perfect.” He walked to her so he could hug her and kiss her hair.

“Happy Birthday again, darling!” She squeezed him in her arms.

Despite his protests, she sang him ‘Happy Birthday’ before letting him blow out the candle and cut the cake. They sat comfortably on the balcony lounge chair, with her between Isaac’s legs, holding the plate of cake they were sharing. She just gave him the last piece when they heard something exploding in the sky.

“Oh! It’s usually during New Year’s, but I guess some people like to light up fireworks for Christmas too. We can pretend it’s for your birthday.”

She put the plate aside on the table and laid back on his chest. His arms wrapped comfortably around her body, and he rested his chin on her shoulder as they watched the fireworks coloring and lighting up the clear sky. They were able to spend a whole week alone, just enjoying each other and doing so many new things together. He’d cherish this forever — and probably try to do more trips with her.

“Thank you for everything, MC,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you.” He placed a light kiss on her neck and she giggled.

“I love you too,” she replied and placed her hands over his arms, squeezing them with a giggle.

Ever since he had her in his life, he considered all his birthdays the best birthday he could ever get, but this year was really running for first place.

Of course I had to make Isaac come to Brazil and eat cheese bread! It’s the best thing to eat and it doesn’t even have to be for breakfast. Sometimes I eat it for lunch or dinner, when I’m too lazy to cook, HASIUEHASUIEHAS.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SCIENTIST BOY! I love you so much!

Masterlists

#countdown to isaac's birthday #happy birthday isaac! #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #isaac x mc #ikevamp x mc #ikemen vampire x mc #ikevamp fanfic #christmas #summer christmas #isaac fanfic #natimiles writes #f!mc #female mc

[dailyunstableeve]

I’ve been non-stop listening to this song, Natalie by Mckenna Grace. I couldn’t help it but to think this song is my Spidersona, Eve and Miguel. 

I wish I could draw it out but my talent in art is limited so I thought maybe it would be nice if I just used words to visualize it. 

You can listen to it while reading it too 💕

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

She's got something about her

It's easy when you're around her

Miguel is used to working solo like any spiderman would, after the spider society is founded, he’s mostly with Jess. Since Jess is pregnant, Miguel would secretly look after Jess. Eve joined the group and Miguel would find his job of capturing anomalies a lot easier than before. As in dropping the idea of constantly getting worried at Jess because Miguel and Eve would get it done most of the time. 

A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in

Eve is a cheerful person, she’s a big sister to everyone or a mom figure for everyone, because of her ability to look after people, like how she cares for Miguel. Eve basically cares about everyone more than herself. 

Eve and Miguel would hang out from time to time, Eve is always there to try to crack a few smiles or laugh from Miguel but Miguel is mostly in his serious mode. But little does that Eve doesn’t know, Miguel loves watching Eve smile, holding onto eye contact as she was talking to him. 

She's the first on the dancefloor

Eve is an 80% extrovert, she will never be able to resist the temptation of music and always dance along with it. 

Small Flashback from the Christmas fic (You can find it in the Masterlist), Miguel gifted her a vinyl of classic music and she loves dancing with it. 

Watch her laugh, the kind you would fall for

This will be the same explanation of “A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in” 

She'll always be there when you're calling

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

Miguel often would have nightmares about what happened in Gabi’s Universe, that he will keep on working and working until he thinks he did enough (he never did). When it comes to night that he couldn’t sleep, Eve would accompany him, she would sit in the office together with Miguel as he continued the work. 

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Or, write a poem about (They had a poem bet before) 

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Her flexibilities, her ideas of fixing problems, all learned from F.E.A.S.T. Which brought her a huge advantage when it comes to keeping everyone on check. 

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

Miguel believes he’s a monster, sometimes he wishes to be like Eve, that everyone in the Society adores Eve while Miguel is just a boss to them. 

I'd like to know

Natalie

She's always fun at parties

Walks in looking so carefree

She shines and I feel a little lighter

‘Parties’ take it as the band show she’ll be in every weekend with Hobie, Gwen, Miles and Pav. Eve would never know that Miguel actually watches her show every time. At start Miguel is just watching from his office then he starts to appear in Hobie’s universe just to watch the band show. 

Miguel loves to watch how Eve just spreads her wings and sings out her best, it does give him a slight relaxation of how he doesn’t need to be so strict to everythings.  

Brown hair right past her shoulders

Confidence that makes her seem older

Eve has brown hair, except she dyed it to red (since Red is her favorite color). Miguel and Eve have an age gap of around 8-9 years (I heard Miguel is around his age around 30 while Eve is 23 by the time she joined the society) Sometimes, Miguel would forget about Eve’s age due to how she handles the situation no matter how bad it is. 

I wish I was a little like her

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

Feel like the moon watching the sun

Miguel is like the moon, and also he is a crazy workaholic at night. And the moon is only able to shine because of the sun. He thinks that with Eve around, he could do so much better, turning the society into a better place

So many stars but she's the one

That everybody needs

Out of every Spiderman he recruited, Miguel believes Eve is the one (no hate towards other spiderman, spiderwoman and spidersona, I love all of them)

(Oh, oh, oh)

I'd like to be like that for once

How does it feel to be so loved?

Could you show me how to be?

After losing Gabi, Miguel basically told himself that he doesn’t deserve anything anymore until Eve appears. Eve showed Miguel that it’s okay to embrace the mistake and learn to fix it, she showed him warmth and he wishes to return that favor too. 

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

a/n: this is mostly of how Miguel viewed my Spidersona and I've been urging to write about it for so long because the song is so beautiful 😭😭😭

Masterlist

#atsv #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spidersona #miguel o'hara x spidersona #spidersona oc #spidersona headcanon #i love miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #marvel #across the spider verse #astv #Youtube #Spotify

[winchesterandpie]

Sleigh Ride

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 1035

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, soft Bradley, reader plays piano

A/N: Welcome to Top Gun Christmas! I have a few winter-themed fics (some specifically Christmas, others generic winter) that I have written/planned that I'm going to put out over the next few weeks and I'm hoping to write some more! If you have ideas/prompts, please send them in! I'd love to have some fun little things to write! For now, enjoy this one!

Also, for reference, here's the duet mentioned (no, these aren't my family friends who play it, but it is the right arrangement)

You were sitting at the piano, trying to remember the right notes when Bradley got back from the store. He set the bags down in the kitchen, just in time to catch you in his arms as you bounced in to greet him. You were lifted easily into a quick spin that made you laugh.

“Hey, you’re home!”

“You know I can’t stay away from you for long, baby.” He grinned at you as he set you on the counter with a chaste kiss.

“I can help put the groceries away, Roo,” you said when he started to move away. Rooster leaned back in to give you another kiss, longer this time. You wound your fingers into his hair, pulling a hum from his lips. When he pulled away again, he tapped your nose lightly.

“You help me plenty, let me do this. Please?”

“You are too good to me.”

“Mmm, I disagree. I’m just the right amount of good.” With a last kiss to your forehead, he moved back to the groceries. “What were you playing?”

“Oh, I was just trying to remember a piece. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it, but I can’t find the right sheet music online either.”

“What piece?”

“Sleigh Ride. This couple--family friends--played it at the Christmas party we went to every year when I was a kid.” You smiled softly, leaning your head back against the cabinet as you remembered those days. “It was my favorite part. They played a bunch of duets, but Sleigh Ride was the one they played every year. We would all clap for the whip sounds--we got pretty good at the timing too!”

“That sounds like a really great time,” he said, tapping your knee so you would shift so he could put snacks in the cupboard behind your leg.

“Yeah, it was. They were the sweetest people too…” You trailed off, your brow furrowing as you tried to find whatever was tugging at the corners of your memory. When you found it, you brightened immediately, pulling out your phone. “I might actually have a video of it, let me check.”

You scrolled through the older photos and videos you had saved, looking for what you thought you remembered. Bradley finished putting the groceries away while you searched, coming to lean against the counter next to you.

“Aha!” you crowed triumphantly. “I found it! Do you want to see?”

In response, he shifted to stand between your legs, leaning back against your chest. You slung your arms over his shoulders so you could hold the phone for you both to see. You both tilted your heads together for the trip down memory lane.

Two weeks later, you and Rooster pulled up to your house after a long, fun day on base testing a new piece of equipment in your jets. He grabbed the mail, including a larger envelope, but tucked it into his bag with a sly grin. You pretended you didn’t notice, letting him sling an arm across your shoulders as you made your way into the house.

You left it alone until after dinner when you both dropped onto the couch. He had been glancing furtively at his bag all evening, but he maintained his silence.

“Anything interesting in the mail?” You tried to sound nonchalant--like you hadn’t spent all evening dying of curiosity.

“Actually, yeah.” Bradley hopped up and retrieved the bag, unzipping it to pull the mysterious envelope out. “I, uh, I talked to those family friends of yours.”

“Family friends?”

“The ones that played Sleigh Ride.” He handed the envelope to you to open. “I asked if they could point me in the direction of the duet and they offered to send a copy.”

“You went looking for it?” You unsealed the flap so you could pull out the score. Astonished, you turned through the pages, skimming your fingers across the printed notes.

“Yeah. I thought maybe we could learn it together. If you wanted to, of course.” There was the slightest tremor of nerves in his voice.

“You did this all for me?” You looked from the music to him, overwhelmed by how much Bradley loved you. He saw the extra shininess in your eyes, but in his nervousness, he misinterpreted the cause.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, that’s totally okay,” he backtracked quickly.

“No, no, I would love to.” Setting the music aside, you took his face in your hands. “You sweet, sweet man. What could I possibly have done to deserve you?”

Bradley relaxed at the contact and your reassurance, his hazel eyes soft. His eyes said everything you could never find the words to say, but at last, he replied simply, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, nor did you care, as you soon found yourself in a gentle kiss. His hand skimmed up and down your back, making you warm and pliant against him. Your fingers returned the favor, delicately mapping out the planes of his face that you adored so much.

It didn’t last terribly long, as you were too excited about the idea of learning a piece together. Once you pulled apart, you were bouncing up from the couch, music in hand as you tugged him toward the piano. He laughed, sweeping you up in his arms to attack your neck with kisses that made you giggle.

Bradley let you go at last, watching you fondly as you set the music on the piano. He loved your smile, your laugh, your happiness. You were it for him, and he vowed to himself that he would bring a smile to your face every day of the rest of his life. You didn’t know he’d bought it yet, but there was a little velvet box burning a hole in one of his dresser drawers, waiting for the right moment.

He couldn’t wait for all the precious little moments like this one that you would surely accumulate together. Until then, he joined you on the piano bench, pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and fumbled with you through the first of many practice runs of the duet.

Top Gun Taglist:

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun christmas #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick

[narrators-journal]

Part 9

Ngl, I procrastinated on this part bc we’re getting into the chapters I’m not suppppper confident in. Like, I like them, but I feel like the characterizations aren’t the strongest, or the plot was too boring or confusing. Then, I ended up hitting a sort of slump in my interest in this fic. I had a lot of fresh ideas, this one felt kinda weak, then life has been rough, so I ended up putting it off MORE as a result.

But! I am determined to post this bitch! Even if it’s not my strongest work! So if you’ve stuck around this long, you are so fuckin’ great dudes and dudettes! I hope you can forgive any wonky writing or missed stuff going forward, I just wanted to get this part done since I’d left it so close to done, but left it hanging lol. Admittedly, no garuntee on when part 10 will be done, but there’s only 3 more chapters! So hopefully I can knock them out soon! Soon-ish! Before the next god damned Christmas!

Thank you for hanging on for this beast. I really do appreciate it. I’m gonna try my best going forward, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

Previous part: Here

Next part: Here

The morning after Yukari's questions was a bit tense. At least, tense enough for Ryoji to ask if they'd fought again when he noticed Yukari's vicious glaring.

Yet, with a limited time of her stay remaining, Minato ignored the dirty looks and kept his mouth shut. If she didn't learn her lesson with her first attempt, that's her issue. He told himself on his way to the kitchen on her final day. Only to freeze before grabbing the handle of the cracked-open kitchen doors when he heard the conversation. "Why are you so close to Minato?" Yukari was questioning. Which, while annoying, did pique the man's interest as much as it made him bristle. Stop that. Ryoji liking us does nothing to hurt us. Quit it. He scolded himself, shoving those anxious feelings back down. Him having feelings for me, good or bad, doesn't affect our relationship, it's fine.

That point didn't stop Minato from listening against the kitchen doors for Ryoji's answer, though. "I'm not that attached to Mina, am I?" He asked, a pause his only response before he hummed, "Well, if I must try to explain myself. He's not the first sacrifice to not fear Thanatos, but he's probably the most interesting in how he goes about it. Usually, even the most resigned offering snaps at least once, but...I think his only escape attempt was moreso because of what I did, not the threat of dying." he began, adding in a brighter tone "Oh! I also like his sense of humor, or, at least the way he's not as judge-y about mine. He's also got a nice laugh, and he's smart! Granted, he showed that by trying to escape. But, he was smart enough to try and cover his tracks, and use the snow to his advantage! Most sacrifices go for the doors, so, y'know, refreshing at the least. I get tired of the corpses only digging straight up to get out of the graves."

Naturally, the morbid attempt at a joke only got another unamused silence from the girl. "Okay, then why does he get special treatment?" "Huh? Whoever said he got special treatment?" Minato heard the brunette squawk. Sounding almost offended at her words before she continued with a light, but pointed tone, "I mean, you two seem close, you trust him enough to not be up his ass 24/7 around here," Ryoji cut her off, "Jokes on you! I simply haven't gotten around to asking him if I can be up his ass yet." Which, got an annoyed half-scream that time instead of a silent look. "Wait, where are you going?! Breakfast isn't done!" Ryoji called. Minato left to scramble away from the doors before Yukari threw them open as she snapped back, "Ugh, no! fuck your breakfast, I'm not going to sit down here when you're being gross!" "I was only joking! It was a joke, I didn't think it was that gross!- Oh, good morning Minato."

The pair stopped when they spotted the blue-haired man in his pale dress in the entryway of the fancy, gothic home. Yukari eyed him as Ryoji smiled at him. "I only came down for some breakfast, I didn't mean to interrupt anything." Minato offered, but Ryoji waved it off, "Don't worry, this works out great for me! I need to talk to the both of you, anyways." Which, got a suspicious look from Yukari as she squawked, but he added, "But it's okay! Nothing bad's going to happen." Not that it helped soothe her. "Why did you need to talk to us both?" She asked, "Why are you so hostile about it?" Minato asked her in return, getting his own glare from her.

He simply returned the evil look, his deadpan expression not shifting an inch, even as she asked, "Oh what, I just trust the immortal helper of the god who's keeping me trapped here?" and while her reasoning was sound, her sharp tone dug at Minato yet again. So he once again turned to his usual sass with her. "I mean, what's your other option? Try to bolt out of the door again? Because that worked so well the first time."

Thankfully, before she could smack the midnight-haired sacrifice, Ryoi caught her hand. His laugh a bit tense while he tugged Yukari further from Minato, "Chill out you two, I promise there's no need to fight over this. I'm not throwing anyone to the wolves, or implementing some form of torture." He assured, "I only wanted to tell you both at the same time that I've gotten permission to take some of my leave. So, you two will be here alone for the most part, but I'll come back to feed and water you." "Oh great, so we're like gerbils-" Yukari paused. Minato able to see the ideas in her brown eyes as she looked back at Ryoji, "Wait, you're leaving us alone? What about you being, like, a guard though?" she asked, the taller brunette giving a bit of a nervous laugh at her surprise. "Well, I mean...you won't just be here unsupervised with the doors open, y'know? That's asking for creeps to get in, or for you two to get out and freeze to death, or get kidnapped, or attacked by animals. In short, yeah no, Thanatos obviously isn't letting me leave you guys unprotected." And like a house of cards, Yukari's expression fell.

And, Minato couldn't deny that he felt bad for the girl. He may not have wanted to go back to the village that threw him to the wolves, but he recognized the pain that replaced the hope in her eyes. He'd felt a similar way when he'd woken up in the hospital after the crash.

However, the sacrifice mentally shoved that sympathy back down. No! No no, Ryoji is probably fucking Thanatos, getting attached to him is acceptable. Yukari is a bitch. She'll bolt at the first opportunity, she doesn't fucking like me. Quit feeling bad for her. He scolded. Taking a deep breath before zoning back into Yukari and Ryoji's conversation. Only to finally register that the taller of the brunette duo was looking at him. "Huh?" "You didn't catch a word of that, did you?" Ryoji laughed, making the sacrifice scowl a bit before he continued. "I was saying that before I go, I'll need to lock you in your rooms and leash you to the bed. Do you understand, Funeral lily?" "Oh, yeah, whatever." He hummed, shrugging it off. Which seemed to throw Yukari for a second, but instead of nagging him for it, she shook her head with an annoyed huff.

Ryoji, though, smiled brightly at his compliance. Giving the grumpy man a quick hug before he continued, "But! Until I leave, you two can roam around freely, I promise! So, how about we take advantage of that freedom and have some breakfast, hm?" before herding Minato and Yukari back to the kitchen and the breakfast he prepared.

Yet, regardless of the food's flavor, Minato ate it. For no real reason but to watch each of Yukari's plans flick in her warm brown eyes like movie screens. As well as talk to Ryoji for the morning. Though, once his food was gone and the conversation had dwindled, he returned to his room once more. Content to melt into the mattress and watch whatever tv shows or Christmas specials came on. Even if some part of him found it a bit repetitive.

However, the curse of a woman out in the hall interrupted that plan. God damn it, is Yukari gonna try to bolt out the door again? He thought with a sigh. Rolling his grey eyes before he pulled himself out of bed to trudge over to the door and look out.

Sure enough, the brown-haired girl was creeping down the gothic hallway. Past the pale vases of colorful, plastic flowers and gorgeous paintings. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got nuts at least. “Yukari, what are you up to?” He asked. Watching the girl jump a bit and whip around to look at him like a deer in headlights for a brief second before she relaxed. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m not going to sit here like a trained bitch.” She hissed back. Spitting the last word out like a poisonous barb at him, but he swallowed down the urge to return that poison and only blinked at her. “You’re being stupid, is what I think.” He stated blandly, “Do you even know where Ryoji is?” “He’s in the shower, I checked.” alright, fair I suppose. “And what’s your plan? Run out the door a second time? Go out the back and try to climb the brick wall? Try to dig your way out?” “I’m gonna try something, I don’t want to be tied to a damned bed!” She argued, throwing it into his face as if she expected him to react to her words. And, when reiterating Ryoji’s plan back to him didn’t get more of a reaction than his usual look, she barred her teeth at him. But, she let the conversation die there in favor of continuing her way down the stairs

Minato ended up trailing after the woman without another word between them. Playing as her shadow while she circled the cold brick wall that enclosed the snow-layered garden. “Is there a fucking reason you’re following me around? Are you looking for evidence to report to Ryoji?” She asked, spinning on her heel to fix the shaggy-haired sacrifice with yet another one of her dirty looks. “No.” he hummed, his casual tone offering little to soothe the melancholy anger in her face. “There’s not much else to do but follow you around, or sit and watch tv.” “Then go watch tv!” “Nothing good’s on.”

Yukari screamed through her teeth at that. Spinning on her heel without a further word to return to scouring the yard for some crack in the bricks, or tunnel hidden in the long dead fauna. Minato, meanwhile, hung back to watch her go for a moment longer before he finally decided to finally go defrost from the cold.

And, not too long after he’d left the girl, Ryoji poked his head into the living room, where the sacrifice had settled with a grilled cheese and a cup of hot cocoa. “Hey there, funeral lily, where’s Yukari?” he asked. His hair damp and hanging in his face, and somehow, his soft face and vibrant eyes were even prettier than before. “Oh, uh, she might still be outside.” Minato hummed, blinking a bit to bring his focus back to the conversation. Not the mental image of the man naked in the shower, rubbing soap over his soft body beneath the warm water- “Minato? You still with us, space cadet?” Ryoji hummed, suddenly leaning on the back of the velvety couch instead of the doorway. Bringing with him a cloud of sweet florals and honey from his soaps, and a casual smile. As if his suspenders weren't hanging from his pants, his button-up wasn’t open, and the shaggy-haired man wasn’t replaying their time together in his head. I need to jump this bastard again.

But, for now, he shoved those thoughts away. “Why wouldn’t I be?” the sacrifice asked instead. Doing his best to be as casual as he could be while an alluring mix of honey and flowers seemed to aim to seduce all the conflicted emotions it could out of him. His companion, meanwhile, only shrugged, “You looked a little spaced out is all, anyways! Did you bury Yukari alive?” He asked, only for his smile to drop when Minato shook his head, “Wait. So, she’s outside alone?! Fuck!”

And, before the midnight-haired man could explain any further, or suggest a second bath, with him included this time, the brunette was out of the room. Leaving him in a rolling boil of lewd thoughts and those usual barbed questions that always came up. Which, Minato took as his sign to move his grilled cheese and hot chocolate up to his room. Where, for the rest of the day, he stayed. A choice he soon thanked himself for when he heard Yukari and Ryoji fight from the top of the gothic home’s stairs. So, instead of getting tangled up in that, Minato made a beeline for his room and just sat in bed and watched TV once more.

Not that there’s much else to do around here. He mused when the daylight shifted from the sunny glow of afternoon to the warmer gold hues of later hours. A fitting transition. As, like the darkening sunbeams, his thoughts began to drift into darker hues. Maybe Yukari’s got a point...can I live like this? Spending my days watching TV and sitting inside all the time? Ryoji’s fun to sleep with, but the best-case scenario for me is that he is just a god’s assistant. Should I be okay with living on a leash until the day I die?

It wasn’t a fun train of thought to chew on. It was bitter and dug into the roof of the sacrifice’s mouth like a goathead. Not helped by the mixture of guilt and disgust it dredged up from the depths of his ignored feelings. Is this all it takes for me to submit to living in a dress? Captive for a stranger god? A nice house and a pretty captor? What the hell am I? The dumb protagonist of a paranormal romance story? Yet, at the same time that those thoughts had been dug up, other sour thoughts leaked out of their jars. Images of what memories he had of his parents, the crash, the family, and the institutes he bounced between. The dirty looks of others in town, the whispers, the avoidance. They joined in on the skeleton dance in his head.

With a firm shake of his head, Minato tried to disperse the horrible memories and the slurry of emotions they brought with them. Only for them to creep back in like the tide over the sand. Shit. Arisato, stop it. Think of something else. Think of fucking Ryoji again! He ordered in an attempt to distract himself as his fingers tangled in his shaggy hair and he pressed his palms into his eyes to try to force the tears that welled up in his eyes away.

But, a knock at his door interrupted his impending breakdown, soon followed by Ryoji’s voice. “Mina? You decent?” “Uh, give me a moment.” He called back, quick to try and wipe away any sign of emotions before he got up to let his companion into the room. “Hello again,” He chirped as he came in. The smile on his face that of a dog excited for a walk, which, almost awoke a pang of bitter jealousy in the male sacrifice. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt more than a blip of joy. Yet, even then, it was never as strong as the excitement that glowed in Ryoji’s eyes.

Yet, Minato stomped that feeling down with the rest. “Sorry if I’m interrupting, but the sun’s going down, so I wanted to pop in and make sure you’ve eaten, taken your medicine, y'know. All that. Also! Explain that, because you’ve been here so long, I got permission from Thanatos to leave you untied in here! Of course, your room will still be locked, just to be sure, but you’ll have free reign of the room!” The brunette hummed, a sunny smile on his face as he hopped back to his feet. “Of course, if you try to take advantage of this, I will find out, and I will come back to catch you and tie you to the bed.” “You don’t have to threaten me to tie me up, Ryoji.” Minato snorted. The bark of laughter he got for his blunt flirtation a lovely sound after his earlier thoughts. “Behave yourself, Funeral lily. I’m too busy tonight to play.” The brunette scolded with a laugh as he headed for the door. And, while the midnight-haired sacrifice gave a light-hearted boo, he let the man shut and locked the door for the night.

With the door locked, and no plans to go a second round with Jack Frost, Minato kept to his word. He crawled into bed as the evening darkened outside to try and sleep the encroaching night away. Which, wasn’t a hard task under his plush, crimson comforter in such a comfortable bed.

So, before he knew it, he was jolting awake to the sound of a distant crash. Either downstairs, or in Ryoji’s bedroom. I guess Ryoji’s back. He thought as he buried his face in his pillow, That, or Yukari’s throwing a fit. Either way, the man curled up under his comforter and tried to let the infomercials lull him back to sleep.

But, when he heard his doorknob start to shake, he shot straight up in bed. His senses were immediately on high alert as he sat up in bed and scanned the dark room for an explanation. His heart thundering in his ears and time felt sluggish and thick. Yet, at the same time, those attempts to open his door continued.

Upon that second rattle of the nob, Minato’s body finally kicked into gear. Throwing his blanket off of himself to get to his feet. His storm-grey eyes widening at the light clicks of his door’s lock undoing. Whatever time Minato had to hide, was dwindling.

So, thinking quickly, the sacrifice squirmed beneath his bed. Oh god, this is so stupid. This is such a cliché hiding spot! He chided himself, yet, before he had any chance to bolt for the balcony doors, his bedroom door unlocked. And, from beneath the bed, Minato could do little else but try to keep his breathing quiet and watch as not only Yukari’s shoes, but those of strangers came into his room. Four pairs in total, plus Yukari. “Are you sure there’s another sacrifice here?” A man asked, only to get a hiss as one of his companions likely spotted the disheveled bed. “Oh, shit.” he breathed, before he spoke in a louder voice, “Hey, miss! Don’t hide, it’s okay.” “Minato’s a guy,” Yukari provided as she opened the balcony doors to look down to the distant trees and brush. “A guy? I thought women were the only ones sacrificed from your town.” He said back, and, some dark part of Minato wanted to snort at that assumption. But, he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut and only watched the feet shuffle around his room. One of the people checking in his bathroom, someone heading out to check other rooms. As well as another checking within his dresser, as if Minato could squish into the drawers.

Maybe checking under the bed is so cliché this’ll work? The hopeful part of the male sacrifice suggested in the back of his mind. Yet, as if that thought had given him away, a pair of shoes came over to the side of his bed to pat the bundled-up blankets before a face appeared to the side of Minato to look under the bed. “Oh! I found him!” He called, while the midnight-haired sacrifice wiggled away from him. “Hey, wait! We’re here to help you! You don’t need to be afraid!” The hat-wearing man said, grabbing his ankle to tug him back before the sacrifice swat at him. “No! Fuck off!” Minato snarled while Yukari huffed, “Look, he likes it here, can we leave him? Before the keeper comes back?” scolded by a gruffer man, “Of course not. If he’s got Stockholm syndrome, then he especially needs our help.” which, got another huff.

While they discussed what to do, though, Minato took stock of his new situation. Under his bed, surrounded by Yukari at the foot, a wall behind him, and two strangers on either side of it. God I should’ve jumped off of the balcony. A broken ankle would be better than this. Should I try to bolt for the balcony while they’re talking?

Yet, before he could decide, the man who’d grabbed his foot and injected something into him. “The hell was that?! What did you do?!” Minato snapped, but the tall man only sat by the side of the bed with the others. They had cornered Minato under the bed. Likely drugged. “Ryoi?! Ryoji!” Minato called, squishing himself to the wall, “Who’s Ryoji?” the first voice asked, and while Yukari explained, Minato’s mind scrambled for a way out. Only for the drugs to eat his thoughts and energy. Shit...Wait, no...don’t… Before he could even finish the thought, his vision dimmed to black.

#Persona 3 au #Winter is a lovely season for romance and funerals #Persona 3 #Persona #Ryoji Mochizuki x male!Persona 3 protagonist #Minato Arisato #Makoto Yuuki #Ryomina #MinaRyo #Ryoji Mochizuki x Makoto Yuuki #dark #fanfic #Ryoji Mochizuki x Minato Arisato #Ryoji Mochizuki #Fanfiction #passion project #part 9 #alternate universe #au

[hazzabeeforlou]

Dear long suffering fandom friends: I am WRITING A CHRISTMAS FIC! And, everything willing, will be finished before the 25th for your holiday reading pleasure. I’ve done this a bit in the past, but I’d like to start a daily advent calendar of fic snippets, both to keep myself on track and to hopefully build a little excitement since I haven’t posted in SO long. So. Without further ado, the first (and probably longest I’ll post) snippet of “Santa, Baby.”

“Sophia is due in what, two and a half months? God I’m so hoping she’s an Aquarius and doesn’t leak over to Pisces, you know? Well of course you know since you ARE one. I just can’t handle water.” 

“Too bad there’s not a sign in wine,” Harry muttered again, but Nick only heard the wine part.

“Yes! Actually, I brought us a little rose, just to kick off Christmas on the right foot. I’ll pour, you keep on with your, um,” Nick motioned at their surroundings, “Decorating.” 

Harry did as he was told, more for the burning sensation of electricity in his palm than anything else, but by the time Nick came back he’d gotten a good fourth of the way around the large living room window.

“So! Any news from Rainbow Baby?” Nick asked, like he had asked for the past year and a half, even as he and Zayn had found a surrogate, paid the enormous fee for invitro and an egg donor, and spread their journey to becoming dads all over social media like it was their own singular dream and no one else’s. Least of all their best friend’s. 

“No.” It was a flat answer. The aching disappointment had faded with time. Rainbow Baby was a non-profit LGBTQIA organization devoted to ‘providing every person with the dignity of reproductive human rights,’ and as such the waiting list to be considered for their services was long. Harry even had an advantage with his sister willing to be an egg donor and surrogate for him, but the need for a sperm donor and all the technology that came with that would still be far too expensive for him to consider on his own, with his small 9-5 job, living in a shoebox in New York City. 

“Aww hun. It’ll happen soon, I promise. How could they turn you down? You’ve even got the cancer thing in your favor. Like,” Nick waved their wine at the air, “That’s a certain make a wish right there.” 

“Unfortunately,” Harry snatched one glass of wine from Nick’s oblivious hands, “I don’t have the advantage of dying to hurry things along, remember? The cancer didn’t go past my balls.” 

“Right.” Nick seemingly couldn’t help looking down at Harry’s crotch.  

“You want to hand me the next bundle and make yourself useful?” Harry had run out of lights. 

“Of course.” Nick had the good grace to look relieved at the escape afforded him. He’d never been one to enjoy the uncomfortable consequences of his own mouth. 

#My fics #Santa Baby #advent cal 2023

[fluffypotatey]

T V Z U O

Hey babe 💕💕💕 thanks for the asks

T - Any fandom trope you can’t stand?

when they make one of the guys in an mlm effeminate. this goes for specifically towards mpreg and abo. this is no hate towards effeminate men. i’m talking about how in order to make sense of an mlm dynamic, there are fic writers who will choose one from the pair to be more “girl-like” and it’s typically the leaner one. 

V - If you could write the sequel (or prequel) of any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

hmmmmm idk

maybe a prequel to You Only Live Once written by @storiesforsomeone bc i love that fic so much and i think it’d be fun to maybe see more of tiny Merlin when he worked for the Dragon

but tbh i wouldn’t touch them. idk if i’d do them justice

Z - Major Character Death-do you ever write/read it? is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

oh dear, uh, me and mcd have a complicated relationship. love her, but also despise her. 

idk if i can write character death in my fics. i would be more upset bc they’re my little babies that i’ve latched on to since i saw them on screen. i would write character deaths for OCs tho lol they’re free game

i will read one-shots with mcd. will not read mcd if it’s a multi-chapter fic bc i will get attached and i will be inconsolable later. however, if i am assured that one of my favorite characters or ships won’t die, i’ll read. even the temporary character death tag will have me reading the most gut-wrenching and heartbreaking pics if i know my babes will come out of it alive (maybe not ok but alive).

basically, i need that reassurance that the ending will be a positive one

for characters i can’t tolerate dying? well, wish i could say arthur but the show beat us to it lol, so every christmas all i get is gifs upon gifs of him dying (spoilers, i guess?). does wonders to the heart. 

anyway, we have Merlin, Gwaine, Gwen, Hunith, Liam, Theo, Jenna, Dr Geyer, Tara (in the college/human AUs), MK, Sun Wukong, Mei, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Macaque (once was enough), Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth *stares at DC*, basically the whole bafam tbh

U - Share 3 of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much

well, be happy you said 3 bc this would have been a longer list

@eneiryu literally everything they write is just *chef’s kiss* i am in love with their characterizations of Theo and Liam. sobbed like a baby when i read ‘built a ship in the morning but the hull’s worn through’ ended bc i loved it so much. reread that 3 times

@theoceanismyinkwell always a slay. saved so many of his fics. doing a reread of regression to the mean and OH MY GOD T^T just as beautiful as the 1st read

@yikeshereiam have not recovered from you top gun au, babe (everybody should read it btw) really love how you write these idiots so well and the frustration from poor communication is beautiful.

O - How do you begin a story? with the plot or the characters?

mostly characters i think

with my dr geyer fic that began bc i wanted to explore characters. the plot was already given to me, i just expanded on dynamics that jeffy man ignored. and tbh my merlin fic, i just wanted to give Merlin a magic friend. someone who wouldn’t die after 1 episode or leave when they both realize they have opposing views or whatever. i wanted to give Merlin a friend and, damnit! a friend he shall have!

however with my og wip, that’s neither plot nor character. i began with the world. then characters then themes then plot.

#asks #thanks for ask bean <3 #long post #I def have more fic writers I love #tbh the fact that i’ve become mutuals with y’all astounds me bc i admire all of y’all so much 🥺 #anyway #love ya babes #fanfic ask game

[ailendolin]

ThemThere Thursday - 02 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Certainty [AO3]

Characters: Thomas/Nigel, Mick

Idea: After the panto, Nigel wishes he could have shared a dance with Thomas. Mick takes it upon himself to help him make that dream come true.

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent Norne sequel to the 2022 Christmas Special that I've been itching to write ever since the special aired. I hope you (aka the 2.5 people out there who enjoy my Norne fics - love you!) will like this fluffy Christmas story.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

————

Certainty

“He looked lovely up on that stage, didn’t he? So … charming! I wish I could have shared a dance with him.”

Nigel’s wistful sigh was met with several groans.

“Are you still going on about that good-for-nothing poet?” Geoff’s wife asked him with a roll of her eyes that rubbed Nigel the wrong way.

“So what if I am?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Need I remind you that only a few months ago, you were fancying him too?”

Geoff’s wife stopped so abruptly in the middle of the stairs he nearly ran into her. She turned around to level him with a look. “Yeah, but unlike you I grew out of it.”

With that, she lifted her nose a little higher and continued on her way. Nigel stared after her while the others shouldered past him. Some, like Jean, were giving him pitying looks as they walked down the stairs; others muttered in not so subtle annoyance about him being in their way. None of them stopped except for Walter, and he only paused to look Nigel up and down and say, “No offence, Nigel, but you’re not exactly Cinderella material. Thomas probably doesn’t even know you exist.”

He huffed out a laugh that held no warmth, amused by his own words, before he followed the others down to the basement.

Nigel let his arms fall to his side and remained where he was: standing in the middle of the stairs. He suddenly did not feeling like going down to the basement anymore. It wasn’t anger that made him ball his hands into fists, though; it was disappointment. Was it really too much to ask of his mates, his family for all intents and purposes, to support him? He didn’t need Walter to know he would never have a chance with someone like Thomas. Nigel was very much aware of his own deficits. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream, did it?

And how he dreamed. The others had no idea what it was like to spend not only their lives but also their deaths – literal eternity – alone, always on the outside looking in. They’d all had husbands, wives, children. Some of their loved ones might have already moved on but that didn’t change the fact that all of them had once been loved wholeheartedly and unconditionally by someone else.

Nigel had never been loved like that. He’d had exactly one single drunken kiss behind the tavern once before fear of discovery had forced him and the other man apart and to hurry to go on their separate ways. Under different circumstances that kiss might have blossomed into something more but it hadn’t. It had barely scratched the surface of what could be, barely satisfied Nigel’s curiosity, and the need it had been meant to satiate had only grown worse after that. Dying had not changed that in the slightest. On the contrary, it had made him even more desperate to experience what seemed to come so easily to everyone else. He wanted someone to look at him like Jean and Geoff looked at each other when they thought no one was watching them. He wanted the kind of love that Alison and Mike shared, a love so deep it allowed them to be silly around each other without fear of being judged. He wanted to fall asleep the way his parents used to, with a kiss goodnight and the promise of a kiss good morning when the sun rose.

He wanted so much, and he wanted it all with Thomas.

It was a recipe for heartbreak and disaster – Nigel knew that – but the heart wanted what it wanted, and his was set on Thomas. It had been for a while now. The portrait situation might have just been a passing fancy for the others but for him, it had opened a door to a deeper yearning, one that went beyond soft locks and pretty brown eyes. He longed to spend time with Thomas, longed to get to know him, to understand how his mind worked and make sense of the poems he liked to recite so passionately.

It would always remain just that, however: a longing, quiet and unfilled. Some dreams just weren’t meant to come true and Nigel’s had always firmly fallen into that category. It was something he had made peace with a long time ago.

A light touch on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts.

“For what it’s worth I think Walter’s wrong,” Mick told him softly, his lips pulling up into a smile. “You’d make a fabulous Cinderella.”

Unexpectedly, Nigel felt his eyes burn. “Thank you, Mick. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I also think you should ask Thomas for a dance,” Mick added. When Nigel blinked at him in stunned silence, he shrugged and said, “How is he supposed to know you want to dance with him if you don’t tell him? You’ll never have a chance to win his heart if you stay in the basement all the time and refuse to talk to him.”

“I’ll never have a chance either way,” Nigel muttered, looking away.

Mick tilted his head in confusion. “Why not?”

Nigel gave him an incredulous look. “Have you looked at me lately? I’m riddled with plague sores, Mick. And even if I weren’t – I can’t even share Thomas’s biggest passion with him because I can’t read. Thomas would never be attracted to me.”

That’s what he told himself at last, every time he felt the tiniest bit of hope flare up in his heart lest it turn into a devouring flame.

“You could learn to read,” Mick said, eternally optimistic. “Alison helped Mary, didn’t she? She could help you as well. Oh, or Thomas could! You could ask him!”

Nigel shook his head. “I’m not going to ask him anything, Mick. I’m going down to the basement, get some sleep and forget all about this silly dream of mine.”

Mick frowned. “But … don’t you at least want to try? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

He might say no, Nigel thought. He will say no.

“He’s not going to laugh at you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Mick went on, unaware of his thoughts. “He knows what that feels like and wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You sound awfully sure of that for someone who doesn’t even know him,” Nigel pointed out.

Mick shrugged. “I see and hear things, you know? When I go upstairs to talk with the Captain.” His eyes suddenly widened in a way that told Nigel he’d just had an idea that probably wasn’t going to bode well for him. “That’s it! I’ll come with you! Help you find him and be your wingmate or what’s-it-called!”

“Oh, no,” Nigel said, shaking his head and instinctively taking a step backwards, nearly sending himself stumbling down the stairs. “Definitely not.”

But Mick only nodded more excitedly. “Yes! I’ll help you get your dance with Prince Charming tonight! I’ll even ask him for you so you won’t have to.”

Before Nigel had a chance to protest, Mick grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him back upstairs to the room with the stage. When they found it empty – thank god – Nigel breathed a sigh of relief. Mick, however, didn’t let that deter him. “Mhm. They said something about presents, didn’t they?”

“Which means they’ll probably be busy, Mick,” Nigel tried to intervene again. “It might be better if we came back tomorrow and–“

Mick let go of his hand and turned to face him. “Why are you so against this?”

Nigel heaved a heavy sigh. “Because right now, I can at least still dream about this. About him and me. About a dance. Tomorrow, I might have nothing.”

He let his head hang in defeat

“You’re wrong,” Mick said quietly, causing Nigel to look up at him. Mick’s face was more serious than he had ever seen it when he said, “You won’t have nothing. You’ll have certainty, and that’s worth an awful lot, Nigel.”

Unable to hold his gaze, Nigel dropped his eyes back to the floor. Mick wasn’t putting it into words but Nigel knew exactly what he was referring to. They had all been there that day when Mick’s younger sister hadn’t come home from picking berries, had all helped him and his family search the woods and meadows and even the neighbouring villages for her to no success. She had simply disappeared. Mick had spent a whole month searching for and ended up finding not a single trace of her anywhere, not even one tiny clue as to what might have happened to her. A bear or a pack of wolves? An abduction? An accident? Mick and his family never found out and Nigel knew it drove Mick crazy to this day.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly. “I didn’t mean to–“

“I know,” Mick sighed. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, always quick to forgive. “I just – I don’t want that for you, Nigel. The constant questioning. The what-ifs. Having to settle for dreams. You deserve more than that.”

So do you, Nigel thought sadly, knowing Mick had no hope of ever getting that. He, however, had, for better or worse, and maybe – maybe Mick was right: maybe it would be better to know, to make his peace with the inevitable rejection and move on.

Nigel exhaled slowly and managed to give Mick a small smile. “Where shall we look next?”

Mick beamed at him before he began pulling him through the house in search of Thomas once again.

It was the soft sound of humming that eventually led them to yet another beautifully decorated room, and to Thomas standing under a pair of headphones, gently swaying and humming along to some music Nigel and Mick couldn’t hear with his eyes closed in bliss. There was no one in the room with him, and he looked so relaxed and at peace, lost in his own world of sound, that Nigel found himself – not exactly getting cold feet, but rather not inclined to destroy what looked like a perfect moment with his selfish request.

“We better leave him be,” he whispered, turning to look at Mick – who was already crossing the room towards Thomas. Before Nigel could hold him back, Mick reached out to tap Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas, unaware he wasn’t alone anymore, jumped in sudden shock and instinctively covered his wound with his hand as if he had just been shot again.

“What do you think you’re doing, sir?” he rasped out, looking so badly shaken that Nigel winced in sympathy as Thomas flinched away from Mick’s touch. “Going around scaring people like that – on Christmas Day, nonetheless!”

“Sorry,” Mick mumbled apologetically. He lowered his head for a brief moment before he barrelled on, completely unperturbed. “Can I ask you a question?”

Thomas gave him a pointed look.

“You just did,” he pointed out. When Mick continued to stare at him he rolled his eyes and, waving his hands about, said, “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

“Would you dance with Nigel?”

For the first time since they’d entered the room Thomas’s eyes flicked over to Nigel. Nigel shyly waved at him and breathed out a hoarse little, “Hi,” somehow managing not to fidget nervously under Thomas’s stare. There was a furrow between Thomas’s brows as he looked at him, as if he couldn’t quite figure out why Nigel was here or why Mick had asked him such a peculiar question. Then his eyes suddenly widened in understanding.

“Oh, you want to learn the steps so you can ask Kitty for a dance!” he said with a knowing nod. “Taken a fancy to her, haven’t you? Can’t say I blame you. She made a radiant Cinderella.”

He smiled at the memory of the panto and Nigel exchanged a panicked look with Mick. He’s got it all wrong! What am I supposed to do now?

He should have known Mick’s solution would not be helpful.

“Nigel would make a wonderful Cinderella as well,” Mick said, only too happily.

Thomas went very still. He blinked at Mick for a very long moment, and when Mick eagerly nodded in Nigel’s direction, Thomas turned to face him once more. The wide-eyed look on his face made Nigel immediately wish for the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

“You … want to be Cinderella?” Thomas asked slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure he had understood Mick correctly. “And you want to dance … with me?”

His disbelieving tone made Nigel glance guiltily at his shoes – a confession in and of itself.

“Oh,” Thomas breathed out softly. “So it isn’t Kitty who has caught your eye. It’s–“

Unable to hear the truth put so plainly into words, Nigel interrupted him. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. Mick, we should go.”

Ignoring Mick’s protests, he grabbed him by the arm and began to pull him out of the room. They should have never come here – that much was very clear to him now. Only an idiot would have let Mick – someone who tended to be hopelessly optimistic about these things – talk himself into this foolish plan and risk everything on romantic hope. Walter had been right all along. Nigel was not Cinderella material, wasn’t even worth a second glance, let alone–

“Wait,” Thomas suddenly called from behind him. Nigel’s spiralling thoughts came to an abrupt halt and he froze. “Please, Nigel, just … wait.”

Nigel had never heard his name spoken by those lips before. The sound, painfully soft and vulnerable, made his heart flutter so desperately that he found his legs trembling under him as he turned to face Thomas. He was barely aware of Mick twisting himself out of his grasp and slowly backing away through the door to give them space as he took in the lost expression on Thomas’s face.

“I don’t understand,” Thomas admitted after a beat of silence, sounding just as lost as he looked. “You … you did not like my poetry. Why would you want to dance with me and not Kitty?”

“I didn’t understand your poetry,” Nigel corrected him gently. “But I wanted to, Thomas. Very much so.”

“Oh,” Thomas whispered. “I … I thought everyone’s infatuation was just about my–“ He gestured at his face, the message clear. Then his shoulders fell and he looked away. “Not that I would understand that either, what with my–“

He left that sentence hanging as well as he self-consciously covered his wound once more with his hand. Nigel didn’t know what exactly he’d expected Thomas’s reaction to be to his feelings but it certainly wasn’t the revelation that Thomas believed himself to be both unattractive and unloveable. It broke Nigel’s heart – even more so when he realised that he too had played a part in that by allowing himself to get caught up in everyone’s frustration during the recital. In hindsight, it seemed awfully clear now that Thomas had been desperate for someone to appreciate him when he stood in front of them and performed his poem, to appreciate the parts of him that everyone else, himself included, deemed unworthy. It made Nigel wish he had reacted differently that day.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, taking a tentative step closer. When Thomas glanced up, a questioning look in his eyes, he said, “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

“I would still only see a man who thinks himself a poet but has never been anything else but a fool,” Thomas said quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

Nigel shook his head and took another step towards him. “No. You’d see a man who doesn’t give up, no matter how cruel the world is to him.”

“So a man who doesn’t know when to stop, then.” Then Thomas added bitterly, “You know what Julian and the Captain would call that? Pathetic.”

“I was rather thinking he was very brave,” Nigel whispered.

Thomas met his eyes.

“Brave?” he hesitantly asked. When Nigel nodded, he let out a nervous chuckle. “No one’s ever called me that before. I … I suppose you do like me?”

He phrased it as a question, so trembling and hopeful that Nigel couldn’t lie to him, even knowing that the truth might cost him his dreams.

“Yes – very much so,” he admitted, unable to stop nervously fiddling with his hair. “And in case it wasn’t clear: I think you’re quite handsome, too. Wound or no wound.”

Two spots of colour formed high on Thomas’s cheek. Slowly, his eyes never leaving Nigel’s face, he lowered his hand from his wound. When Nigel offered him a reassuring smile, Thomas’s lips twitched up into a shy smile of his own and oh, Nigel thought as his heart quickened its pace. That smile was just for him. No one had ever looked at him like that before, all soft and gentle and like the sky was in his eyes. It felt wonderful.

Then, to his surprise, Thomas bowed before him and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

For a moment, Nigel forgot how to breathe. Feeling his own cheeks burn, he placed a shaking hand in Thomas’s. Thomas’s fingers wrapped around his with infinite gentleness, effectively stilling the tremors with his touch. His skin was warm – something that shouldn’t be possible since ghosts could feel neither heat nor cold, not like this – but before Nigel could revel in the sensation Thomas carefully pulled him into the middle of the room where he guided Nigel’s other hand to his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Nigel’s back in a secure hold. Warmth bloomed all over Nigel’s body. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he had felt so alive.

“Is this all right?” Thomas whispered into the small space between them.

Nigel breathed out a laugh. “All my dreams are coming true right now – of course it’s all right!”

Smiling, Thomas bit his lip. “We haven’t even started dancing yet.”

So they did. The steps were easy enough to follow: take a step back with the left foot, step to the side and bring both feet back together. Then do the same forward, starting with the right foot this time. It didn’t take long until Thomas had them dancing around the room in gentle circles that started to feel so natural after a while that Nigel stopped worrying about his feet and gazed up at Thomas’s face instead to enjoy the moment.

“I actually feel a bit like Cinderella right now,” he admitted, unable to stop smiling.

Thomas’s hold on his hand tightened in reply as he twirled him out of his arms and pulled him back in a moment later. Nigel laughed and missed a step. Stumbling against Thomas, he suddenly found himself looking up at crinkly eyes full of warmth. “You’re a natural.”

“Clearly,” Nigel snorted, and they began anew.

He couldn’t say afterwards when exactly Thomas had begun to hum a gentle waltz for them to dance to or when he himself had closed his eyes and let himself to be guided by Thomas’s hands and voice alone, but he knew the spell was broken when the old grandfather clock downstairs chimed midnight. They slowly swayed to a stop in the middle of the room and, after a slight moment of hesitation, awkwardly stepped out of each other’s arms.

“Bit cliché, really, to stop at midnight,” Thomas noted quietly.

“Well, you wouldn’t want to see Cinderella in her peasant rags,” Nigel said softly, only half-joking.

For the first time since his earlier confession, the smile fell from Thomas’s face. His eyes dropped to Nigel’s cowl before he said, very quietly, “You know I don’t mind that – the class difference – don’t you?”

“I – I wasn’t sure,” Nigel answered truthfully.

“Well, I don’t. Not at all,” Thomas said. He took a deep breath, looking nervous all of a sudden. “I also wouldn’t mind sharing another dance with you.”

He sounded hopeful – actually hopeful – and for a moment, Nigel could do nothing but stare at him in stunned silence. His dreams had always ended at this point: with a dance, a touch and, if he felt particularly lonely and in need of comfort, a kiss goodbye. He’d never dared to dream of more and here Thomas was, offering him exactly that: the chance to get to know each other.

With his heart in his throat, Nigel managed to smile up at him. “Neither would I.”

“Good,” Thomas said, looking relieved. “That’s … that’s good.���

Nigel’s smile softened. Gathering up his courage, he asked, “See you tomorrow, then?”

Thomas nodded. “Eight o’clock? Same place?”

“Perfect,” Nigel breathed. “Well, I better get going, then. The others will be wondering where I am.”

“I imagine they will,” Thomas said softly before he bowed once more. “Goodnight, Nigel, and thank you for the dance.”

“Thank you for indulging me,” Nigel smiled. “Goodnight, Thomas.”

He was almost at the door when Thomas addressed him once more. “Nigel?”

Nigel turned around. Thomas looked so lovely in the warm glow of the Christmas lights that he feared his heart might beat out of his chest. “Yes?”

“Merry Christmas,” Thomas said shyly.

“Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

It took all of Nigel’s willpower to tear his eyes away from Thomas’s face and not skip out of the room in the same manner his sister had when her not-yet husband had kissed her for the very first time. Mick was waiting for him outside in the hallway, an expectant look on his face. When Nigel smiled and nodded, Mick grinned and pulled him into a heartfelt hug. “I told you Walter was wrong!”

Unable to hold his joy inside any longer, Nigel laughed.

#thomas thorne #nigel the plague ghost #mick the plague ghost #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #norne #my fic #themthere thursday

[meteor752]

Oh lawd they been through some shit

So, I’ve done their designs when their parents were still alive on DL. I’ve done their designs of when they joined Empires. I’ve done their designs for when they visited Hermitcraft. I gave them lil Christmas outfits. I showed what they would look like in the future. I even made them as gosh darn villains

But there’s one period of their lives, that I haven’t shown you. I’ve talked about it plenty, even wrote a fic about it, but you’ve never been shown it visually

Double life when their parents had died

Twenty years, of just starving to death repeatedly for the babs

Let’s show it

Oh and btw tw for like, some minor body horror, gauntness and starvation, blood, injuries, and all that jazz. Will be properly tagged

(Also, I cannot express how fun these designs were to make. I spent hours on every single one and it was just such a delight to make them)

Liana

I think I’ve stated this before, but Liana took some heavy damage to her left eye during this time, resulting in her needing a monocle to see properly, thus the eyepatch. Dirty and ripped clothes (those will be very common across every design), and fresh scars that can still be seen in her later designs, just more faded. The missing shoe is also intentional, as that is the foot she later looses to frostbite. It had very little protection against the elements. Her wings being their normal bright colors is also a fun little thing, as even during her most horrid distress, Liana found the time to preen. Idk what’s going on with the pose, but I’m assuming broken ribs. It just looked fun

Wes

The famished look actually the most unnatural for him, because he’s usually so bulky and large. Moss coat fresh and clean, most important thing for him. Newly broken horn, probably a month or so into the development. I actually have very little to say about Wes’ design here compared to everyone else’s, cause like it’s the one I’m probably the most dissatisfied with. It still looks fine and such, but it’s just a bit basic I guess. Idk. I still like the hair, especially the dyed part

Gertrude

Could have gone with the same kinda vibe for her as everyone else, but I realized that I actually haven’t shows Weretrude. This right here isn’t full on Weretrude, more like halfway through transformation, cause I still wanted her to like, look like her ya know. But yeah girl is fully out of it. This is probably not too long after the end of dl, before the game mechanics stopped. When the passing of time kinda stopped, as did the monthly full moons because it never became night. So yeah, the one advantage to their miserable situation

Johnny

The first design, and the reason I did all of these. Johnny was always the one closest to his parents, so their death tore him up the most, to the point where he never left their grave. Moss and vines started to grow on him eventually, and animals and bugs found home in his hair and wounds. So yeah, bad time for lil country bumpkin boy.

Jassy

Ngl, Jassy looks cool as fuck. The sunken in eyes paired with the startling green of her irises, her dirty white hair and mask covering most of her face, her clothes, the fucking contrast in her skin between the light and the dark sunken in parts. I didn’t even intend for that but I just loved it so much that I kept it. Also since this is before she started to form her own identity, she still has the classic Kakashi mask.

Jekiv

Mans looks…honestly pretty normal. Like when everyone is just skin and bones, the actual zombie doesn’t look that zombie like. His skin and hair is a little dirtier, his pastel clothes are a lot dirtier, but yeah he faired pretty alright during this time. Since the first fic I ever wrote for the kids was Jekiv’s logbook, I felt it would only be fitting that he was writing in it for his pose. The quill is also made from one of Liana’s feathers, hence the quality condition. As mentioned in the logbook as well, Jekiv lost his hooded cloak a few years in to a spider, so his hair is on full display here. He hates it.

Novo

Absolutely obsessed with him actually. All of the kids have their own unique weapons (Liana her bow, Wes his war hammers, Gertrude her mace, Johnny his whip, Jassy her double daggers, Jekiv his scythe) except Novo, so I thought it would be only fitting for him to have something as well. And what’s better for him than a barbed bat? He probably still has it in the future, but it’s mostly being kept in his inventory. Difficult being a friendly bard if you keep a murder weapon on you at all times. Also, his cloak? It’s one of Pearl’s old dogs. Not Tilly of course (She was cremated), but one of her pups. Morbid? Yes absolutely. Fitting for my favorite weirdo? Yes absolutely.

#Tw starvation #tw blo0d #double life smp #dlsmp #dlsmp fankids #dlsmp children #double life fankids #liana no last name given #wes double sv #gertrude stats diggity dawg #johnathan ‘johnny’ tek #jassy smallishbeans #jekiv inthelittlewood #novo major moon #Scarian #Desert Duo #Impdubs #RenB #Box duo #team rancher #solidaritek #Halfslab #Boat boys #Smalletho

[spiteless-xo]

Hiiiii, Tiff. I'm new here on your Tumblr and I don't have an ao3 account so this is my first time commenting, even though I've been following tbaw since april (?) I think. Anyways, I got my Tumblr account back just to follow you haha.

Giiiiiirl were do I start. So first of all tbaw is the only story I religiously follow and never forget about and every fucking tuesday is like Christmas to me istg. Even back in june-july when I was busy with my uni thesis and was slowly dying lol I kept reading every chapter and it was such a joy to be able to relax and take a break and escape in the fantasy. And now check the new chapters at work. Guilty 😅

Also, apparently you also wrote that Eren camping smut fic, omfggggg it's so good, easily one of my top fave Eren oneshots.

The way you write dialogues??? Fucking amazing. The interaction between the characters... I literally get lost in that reality and feel every single one of the characters. They are so humane. The tension, the attraction, the love, the hatred, everything feels so real when your characters interact. It's astonishing.

Now, I was team Eren from the start (yes, I am an Eren girl lol), I wasn't opposed to Jean, he is my second favorite from aot, but! Eren was so fucking charming in this fic, I just couldn't get into Jean I'm sorry. He gives mixed signals and we don't approve those in my house fiehdhdj. But Eren was perfect in every fucking way, which was suspicious and now we know the truth sadly.

I can't believe that after the big reveal so many people were shitting on Eren and they switched sides lololol. Like it was kinda obvious tbh. Well not obvious, but expected.

Idc what other people think, but I do believe Eren wants to change and will do that.

Now! As for the reader. Ofc she can't forgive him that easily, I wouldn't. And I do believe they both should work on themselves first and then they could develop a healthy relationship. It would only feel fair for the reader to see Eren really change. And I still want him to be endgame.

Honestly I'm just biased cause I love him lmao, he looks like my bf 💀 objectively, reader should seek her own path, Jean and Eren should figure their shit and forgive each other and be friends again. And then we can see a healthy relationship develop with one of them and a strong friendship with the other. I just see Eren as the best fit because they have really good chemistry. Idk tho, I said I'm biased. He was so cute in the last chapter with the date I was cryiiinnnggggg. 😭 Literally a cute lil cinnamon roll djdkdhekd

Well these are my thoughts I guess?? I'm sorry this is so long but tbaw gets me so excited I really love that and I wanted to give you some appreciation. 💕

omg, hello!! 🥰💗

i can't believe you've been following along since April!!! ahhhh!!! i think i've said this before but it's so crazy to me that some of you have been following along for so long 🥺 ty for your commitment i love it 💗

thank you so much!! i put a lot of importance in the dialogue because it can say a lot more than just what the characters are saying.... if that makes sense lol like what they choose to reveal vs. what they keep to themselves adds an extra element to dialogue aside from the actual words they're saying idk idk but i'm glad you like my dialogue 😭😭

i think some people, like reader, are quite taken aback by the reality of what eren's done. it's easy to forgive him when you're only told vague details and you see him act cute, but seeing this "darker" side of him come out (even though characters have been warning us about this almost the entire story) is really jarring and it affects some people more than others.

damn, you're lucky to have an eren all to yourself!! hopefully he doesn't treat you like groupchat!eren 💀💀

thank you again so much for such a lovely message and i'm so so so happy that you're enjoying the story!! thank you for sharing your thoughts and i hope you continue to enjoy it and have fun with the rest of us as the story progresses 🥰 only 10 weeks to go!

#tiff.ask #moot.lya-blueberry8 #tbaw.fic #aot

[badgod01]

Vince's Imperfects

My only AO3 collection is one titled "Vince's Imperfects". It's a collection of works that I personally believe do not fit my standard quality for fanfictions anymore. My writing has improved since many of these fics were released, so I decided I would private them. As of writing, nine works have been lost to the sands of time... until I release them back into the wild public, that is.

That being said; one delightfully fascinating thing I discovered due to this feature is tag popularity. If you put works into a collection, there's a little category in the side bar called "Tags" and when you click on it, it'll show you the most popular tags. The more popular, the bigger it is.

So, here's the most popular tags for my fics:

The most popular tags are Angst, Hybrids, Mob Hybrids, Non-Human Technoblade, Sexual Content, and (hilariously) Sex.

The Hybrids/Mob Hybrids and Non-Human Technoblade tags were because I wrote three fanfictions, all including him. They were G-rated angst stories:

Ranboo falling into water, and Technoblade subsequently rushing to save him from freezing to death,

Technoblade entering hibernation, and Phil taking care of him,

and Phil dying in war, with The Syndicate (especially Technoblade) struggling to cope with his death.

While I did and still remain to write angst, I find that the stories I wrote around this time to be very personal for one reason or another. Mainly because it focused on how I personally felt at the time. Nowadays, my fanfiction is more character-driven and are, more or less, just character studies or observations, and creating/playing out an inspired scenario with said observations. See: Skeppy/Bad in Good For You and Roier in Sorry For The Bother, Stranger. Because of this, I decided to private these works. No hate to the people who write angst personal to them, I just don't like being profiled by my audience—or even worse, people who harass writers for just writing. (Filters exist for a reason, people!)

Another reason I decided to hide some works is because, exactly as the description says, my writing got better. I know there's no reason to be, but I feel slightly ashamed of the works that don't reach my quality standard anymore. As my writing improves, works I once thought I was proud of have now become... not that.

Back then, I barely wrote above 1k words; the most words I wrote in a chapter by mid-2022 was 4k. My angst was all around 500-1000 words. For a comparison, here's the word count for all of my recent fics:

WORSHIP has 2k words. Although it's one of my earliest fanfictions, I still hold some light appreciation for it. (Don't tell anyone—I was thinking of rewriting it for Christmas of 2022, but I couldn't do it without sacrificing my wellbeing.)

PRAYER has 7k words.

slice of heaven has 4k words. This one stays up because I continue to be proud of it, as I found that writing a threesome was especially daunting.

Good For You has, at the bare minimum, 10k words per chapter.

Sorry For The Bother, Stranger has 6k, nearly 7k words.

Anyways, I'm not quite sure if I'll be putting more fanfictions in there or releasing any of them anytime soon. Either way, I hope you found something insightful about my thought processes.

#vicstalks

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #exes to lovers #ex boyfriends

[thefanficmonster]

could you do emma langevin x corpse husband x fem reader Headcannons were the reader is like taller then them like there 6'2

i remember corpse saying he was 5'10 during a live stream and emma saying she is 5'3 in there FAQ

Ooooh this is gonna be FUN 🤭

Shorties

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Emma Langevin x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Maybe a swear word here or there

Genre: FLUFF, HUMOR, RPF (Real Person Fic)

- Being a 6'2 girl, you're used to having some heads turn to look at you when you're in public

- You've received compliments and also been mocked about your height

- Therefore you're used to many different reactions when someone sees you either towering over them (which is the case more often than not)

- However, you never made any jokes about people being short, like ever

- Or at least that was the case until you met your boyfriend and girlfriend who can often times be quite the amusement when you compare their heights to yours

- Corpse typically brushes off your teasing with a shake of the head and a smirk

- Emma gets heated though

- Especially if she’s in a roasting mood

- “Are the levels of oxygen up there ok? Can you breathe?”

- “Careful, a plane might fly into you.”

- “Hotter up there ain’t it?”

- And your personal favorite: “How come birds haven’t attempted to make a nest on your head?”

- Boy do those one-liners of hers crack you up 

- You laughing at her ‘insults’ only gets her more heated though, providing you with entertainment a bit longer

- Corpse is nothing short of dying-laughing on the floor too

- He’s got the same sense of wit as you thankfully

- That’s why he got himself and Emma a stepping stool for Christmas 

- Yes, so they can at least keep eye contact with you without you risking a neck strain

- Oh, and to kiss you too, of course

- While Corpse doesn’t need the stool that badly, Emma is gently encouraged by the both of you to use it since she almost looked directly into the sun on accident while trying to look you in the eyes

- And she does use it at home sometimes

- Most often when Corpse isn’t around to see her cause the last thing she wants is him snapping a picture and using it as blackmail

- And if said debacle happens: cue the chaos

- “Calm down, children. No need to argue.”

- Insert ruffling their hair just to add THAT much more frustration to their already hot plates

- “Stay out of it Lady Dimitrescu!”

- Little do they know how huge of a compliment that is to you

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#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse x y/n #corpse x reader x emma #emma langevin #emma langevin x you #emma langevin x corpse husband x reader #emma langevin x reader #emma langevin headcanons #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse headcanons #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfic #headcanons #fluff #humor #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #request #x reader #reader

[mywritingonlyfans]

i like the idea of thomas for the dad/christmas fic 🥺

heeey!!! thanks for comment on it again!!! once again, i'm sorry for not writing that one with the person 'we' mentioned first😅 hope u like it!

-> dad!thomas raggi x reader

prompt: in which, dad!thomas is bit late for xmas to see his little girl! bonus. he teaching his little girl how to play the guitar!

warnings: none, just the good stuff today!! oh, we actually talk more about the 'finals' holiday than xmas itself on here so i hope it doesnt be too awkward for people who don't celebrate it.

-------------------++++----------------

You closed the fairytale book, putting it in its place on the shelf, and then tidied the blanket to cover Alice better. One of her arms was on her new guitar, which Santa Claus had left for her at Thomas's mother’s house; and by Santa you meant Thomas. She was so happy at the moment that you couldn't wait to show him the video. 

 Despise this, the smile on her face hadn't lasted long, you didn't know if everyone could see that she looked sad or if it was something maternal that warned you about it. She was asleep, and even though you could tell she was heartbroken, her long eyelashes rested under the freckles of her chubby face; appearing to be all agitated - she had not cried, but you knew she had held back her tears while you put her to sleep. You didn't blame her, you missed him, too. 

 You hugged your torso, wanting to stay there with her, you didn't feel like going to sleep knowing that he wasn’t home for Christmas. When you looked at her again, with her sad little face, you suddenly felt bad for not thinking about letting her sleep with you; since she liked it when you let her stay in Thomas’s side of the bed when he wasn’t around.

“I love you, angel,” you whispered, brushing her hair away from her face and placing a kiss on the prominent freckles on her nose. She mumbled something you couldn't understand, and smiling silly at your girl, you took her purrs as your cue to make your way to the kicthen.

You hummed one of Thomas’s band songs to yourself after you checked that there was no messages or new call on it. He promised he would at least contact you, and as long as you are together he never was one to broke his promises; so what you could do was wait. 

 It was the first Christmas after you had Alice that he hadn't been able to come back home on time. And as much as you told him that you understood and that everything would be fine, which was true, you couldn't deny how much you missed him.

You kept the leftovers Alice had begged her grandmother to give her on the frigde, remembering how she had planned on eating it with Thomas when he got home. Glad pleased, you could imagine how happy he’d be that she thought about doing it for him. Just when your mind was ready to get lost in a scenario where Thomas would be home for the Holidays, the vibrations of your phone interrupted you.

“Hey, babe. Merry Christmas!” You said excitedly. It was him, he wouln’t forget of you. It was late at night and you had no idea what time it was for him, but still he called. 

“Merry Christmas, babe,” He said in a slurred, almost inaudible voice. He looked a bit sapped and busy.

“It's not a good time, right? I can call you later if you can’t speak right now or are feeling too tired,”

“Nah, it’s fine,” He assured, a bit breathless, getting clearer over the phone. “How was your day? How’s Alice? God, I missed you,”

“It was good,” you sighed, thinking about being cheeky and adding that it would have been better with him, yet you were afraid that it might make him feel worse. “Alice is fine too. She loved the guitar, you will love to see it. I filmed everything, she didn’t stop jumping with it in her arms, telling your parents how it was just like the one his dad have. She misses you so much, Thommy, and I think she’s learning how to deal with it.”

“She’s learning...” he repeated. “I wish she didn't need to learn to deal with me being away from her,”

“Don’t say that, I made a bad choice of words, you know she loves you and she loves even more the way you love her extra when you’re back. She understands, Thomas,”

“She’s 5 years old, Y/N,”

You let the silence fill the chasm between you. You felt how sad he was, he had been away for a long time because of the turns before, still he always managed to return for the special dates - just as he had promised when Alice was born - but this time, well, this time it wasn’t possible.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and you visualized in your head his eyebrows furrowing as his hand ran agonizingly through his hair, just as he always do when he‘s feeling in low spirits. “You’re right. I should be focusing on the good things, soon I’ll be home, I’m gonna teach her to play the guitar, show her all my love and be the best dad in the world,”

You laughed at his abrupt change in mood mixed with a hint of himself. “I know you will, babe,”

“I’m gonna be the best boyfriend too,” he would give continuity to his words when a loud noise of something falling stopped him abruptly.

“What was it?” You asked. You made it clear that you were suspicious, and by his nervous laugh he knew that. After all, what would he say about the noise that seemed to have come from the room next to where you were? “Oh my god, Thomas, that can’t be you.”

He didn't even need to answer, the sound of your steps going on his way was enough for him to know that you knew he was there, making him curse himself for being so clumsy. And just like in a flash, you were in his arms. He dropped his bag on the floor, giving you al of his attention as he squeezed your shape to his body.

“You’re here,” you bured your face on his chest, letting the feeling of comfort fill your nostrils, and then soul. “You’re really here.” You added in a breathless sigh.

Relief taking over his body as you snuggled into his frame, he grinned, “I promised that I would try my best to be with you all the special dates, didn't I?” He asked, holding your face so he could look at you properly. “Are you crying?”

You nodded at his soft voice. “I’m sorry,”

He laughed, a nasal sound that you missed so much. “It’s ok, 5 months is a long time,” He said, tracing kisses across your face. “I promise I’m gonna love you extra now.”

——————-

It was already possible to see the sun rissing outside, yet you refused to close your eyes and lose any moment with Thomas.

You rested your head on the pillow, waiting for him and thinking of how lucky you were that he managed to catch a last minute flight to spend the New Year at home. He was scheduled to return only after the first day of the year, somehow things would have worked out better than expected and he managed to get back sooner.

“She looks like an angel sleeping so calmly.” He spoke, lying beside you under the covers.

“I thought you were going to wake her up, she'll go crazy when she sees you.”

“I know,” He smiled, proud of himself. He knew she was the definition of daddy’s little girl. “I will wait until she wakes up. I'm dying to fill her with kisses and hugs.”

Still with his charming teeth and cute dimples on display, he pulled you to his chest, trying to wrap you in the blanket next to him. “She loves you. She doesn't care about the time you spend away, as long as you come back to her.” You nuzzled into his neck, squeezing him tighter as you said that. It was likely that this would happen more often, letting Thomas blame himself for that wouldn’t do him any good.

He bobbed, kissing your forehead, enlacing you with the same intensity. “I know, babe,”

“How was turn?” You asked, looking at him, making sure that he was fine. He was thoughtful, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

He told you about his gigs around the globe and you were happy feeling his body soften on your arms. His voice almost lulled you to sleep, but you were sure you would never tire of hearing him talk about what he loves. You showed him the video of Alice receiving the guitar, seeing his eyes fill with water after she said that she‘d be just like her father made your chest almost explode with love. In the best possible way, of course.

“You can sleep if you want, babe.”

“No, I want to spend more time with you.”

“I’m here, I am not intending to go anywhere.” He patted your hair, rubbing his nose through your hairline, and the last thing you remembered was feeling his lips on your temple.

When you opened your eyes again, he was no longer there. You rubbed your eyes tight, trying to adjust to the light, wondering if there was any possibility that it might have been a dream, but then a sweet chuckle brought you back to reality.

Alice was standing in front of you, with the guitar resting awkwardly on her shoulders. Her eyes went from you to Thomas, as if asking him if everything was all right. You smirked lightly at her features that looked the same as Thomas's.

She started playing something, which looked incredibly bad, Thomas wrinkled his nose in an attempt not to laugh so as not to discourage her. He should have spent a lot of time helping her, and she looked like she was trying. Her lips was between her teeth as she concentrated to play her less than a minute of song was so cute that as much as you didn't understand a thing, you couldn’t help but feel proud of her.

“It’s Vent'anni,” Thomas mouthed, waving his hand in a way that would get your attention but not hers. “It’s Vent'anni.”

“Oh my god!” You opened your arms for her as she finished playing, watching you with her excited eyes. “It’s Vent'anni.”

She grinned from ear to ear, handing Thomas the guitar, and then jumping into your arms.

“Did you like this?” She asked happily, making ‘this’ sound like ‘dis’. “It’s not perfect but I’ll get better, right dad?”

“Yes, better than Damiano trying to play It!" Thomas confirmed, stroking her back as he approached you. “Good mornin’, love.” he kissed the top of your head.

“I love you,” you kissed his cheek, wishing he could feel how much you love him. “And I love you too, little one,” you mumbled, pinching Alice’s nose, which eyes was stuck on the two of you.

She laughed, her gaze still on you and Thomas. She looked like a completely different person from the night before.

“Dad said you look cute when you're tired.”

You knew that you looked tired, the day before wasn’t the best and you had barely slept. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at Thomas who had a silly smile playing on his lips and felt your cheeks get hotter. The reason you still felt that way when he complimented you was a mystery, you liked it anyway.

“You are a gossip little thing,” Thomas joked, poking at her sides.

“No, I’m not.” She laughed, trying to run away from him flawlessly, letting him hug her as she recovered her breath.

“I love you too, both of you,” she pointed a finger at both of you. Thomas's smile was priceless, you could live in there forever. “but can we play more guitar now, please?”

You agreed and Thomas got up to sit upright, putting her between his legs. He looked at you, his face still radiant, you could easily imagine him talking about you with Alice - just like you did talk about him with her as well. He positioned her tiny hands on the guitar, guiding then with his own fingers. His gentle, patient voice teaching her things that both knew she would soon forget and he would have to repeat it all over again - and you knew Thomas would do it without a problem - was lovely to watch. Her head was resting on his chest and whenever she hit a note and heard Thomas praising her, she would turn to you and say "see mom, I did it.” And you swear that you couldn't be happier to have found the meaning of the word home in two of your favorite people in the world.

#maneskin #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi imagines #fanfic #ethan torchio #imagines #fiction #maneskin x reader #måneskin #writing #damiano david #thomas gives me so much of the cuddler vibes just want to lay down and die in bed with him.