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undeaddevildom · 2 years

Text

The Brothers Playing Minecraft

I don't know what this is i just zoned out for two hours and this is the aftermath. Sorry this is borderline incomprehensible I am sick in the head 👍

Unedited rip

ps I named them with their usernames :)

Luc1fer_

aw hell nah who got peepaw on the minecraft server

Only plays when asked and even then its not certain that he will join.

Probably takes all his brothers begging to get him online.

Not as fast a learner of the mechanics as his brothers and refuses to admit that he needs help figuring some things out.

But in the rare moments that everyone is playing together WITHOUT trying to tear each other apart? Hes soft </3

Nice house. Likes building more than anything else.

Probably considered getting the soundtrack vinyl but it doesn't come pre cursed… hm...

Has three dogs and they're all named Cerberus.

Was given good armor and gear by Levi specifically because Mammon figured out where he lived.

Well who else is gonna have some big fancy gothic mansion -_-

Secretly wishes he could play with his brothers more… he'd rather die than admit that though.

The only reason he has any deaths is because at the start Satan beat him to death with a stick a few times.

Achievement hunter. Him and Levi team up to complete them all.

His skin is of himself (Asmo made it) he thinks its cute… also will never admit that either.

wither rose stan. enjoyed when the wither blew up some of Beels farms because the mobs dropped a lot of them.

He loves his brothers and if playing with them for just a little while will make them happy and he has spare time? He'll be there.

Songs I think he'd like: Strad, Blind Spots, Ballad of the Cats

Biome(s) I think he'd like: Mountains

Dimension I think he'd like: End

xX_Mamm0ney_Xx

???are you a fucking mole?????

This mans strip mines WILL collide with yours. and he WILL find his way to your base with them.

Say goodbye to your valuables.

Went through four bases before going underground.

NOT to hide from anyone! Just because uhh its nice down here! Yeah!

Lives in a terraformed cave. Its for the best because his previous bases were EYESORES.

The concepts were great yeah sure.

But he cant choose good blocks to build with for shit.

Why is one part of the wall sponge and the other part is dirt and BLUE GLASS are you kidding me.

Is really into grinding for resources.

"Theres gonna be something good right behind THIS BLOCK- okay no what about THIS ONE- or THIS ONE- THIS ONE- and it goes on and on until its been an hour, his pickaxe broke, and his inventory is full of stone.

Will sell materials that he grinds for gold, which is worth more to him than diamonds for some reason.

This absolute lunatic will craft gold blocks and instead of putting them in a chest he will place them all in a pile in the center of his base

Asmo, the interior designer he is, decorated the cave to look like a dragon lair. Mammon loves it sm <3

Has the most deaths

Grinds for valuable items like music discs and mob heads (fails 70% of the time)

Prefers parkour over PvP. He doesn't like losing his stuff.

Thinks he's good at PvP either way. He is not.

[xX_Mam0ney_Xx was slain by L3v1ach4n.]

Always keeps a totem of undying that he borrowed in his offhand incase Levi catches him lacking.

Mains an Infinity, Flame bow and he named it Tax Collector

If he manages to kill someone they are NOT getting their stuff back and just to rub salt in their wounds he'll sort through their stuff too.

Accidentally killed Asmos sheep and went on a wild goose chase to replace it before he noticed.

Songs: Blocks, Aria Math, Pigstep

Dimension: Overworld

Biome: Lush caves, Mesa

L3v1ach4n

This big fucking NERD

Thinks he knows everything because he played Devilcraft. Its DIFFERENT!

Is a speedrunner.

But he waits for his brothers to catch up because he sees that they're genuinely having fun and they need his help and he feels really important :((

Had an axolotl named Henry until he finds an orange tropical fish. Then he has Henry 1.0 and Henry 2.0!

Until he learned the hard way that axolotls eat tropical fish :))

[Henry 2.0 was slain by Henry 1.0]

[xX_Mam0ney_Xx: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT]

[Asm0baby: uh oh]

[belphiesnooze: oh??]

[L3v1ach4n: WHAT THE FUCKSJDGSJG]

[s4t4n: oh havent you heard? :)]

Has an ocean monument base that hes drained. Conduits for decoration and everything. The whole thing is a flex even if he didn't originally mean for it to be.

Decked out armor stands as decoration- yeah sure he's not trying to flex. Sure.

Spam kills Mammon. Premeditated, unprompted, goes to Mammons house and breaks his bed and kills him.

Also griefs him. A lot.

Actively hunts him down for sport.

Is the reason why Mammon has the most deaths.

Doesn't tell Mammon where he lives so nothing goes missing.

Sets traps similar to satans just in case.

Is ready to kill the dragon by day 2.

Accidentally brings the wither fight too close to Beels base so they kill it together.

He lets Beel keep the star as an apology for the damage it did.

Probably has deviltube streams for when he plays.

Names one of the monument guardians Lotan.

Recreates the entire HOL at some point.

Favorite biome: warm ocean or lush cave

Songs: Taswell, Shuniji - C148, Wait

s4t4n

As soon as he realizes PvP is on he's punching the shit out of Lucifer

Then runs as far away from spawn as he can and finds a village and ends up staying there.

Its only when he finally settles in foes he realize that hes not as far away from spawn as he thought

God damn it.

Sets up redstone traps around his base.

Also revamps the village and sets up a nice trading hall that he shares with Levi.

Lives relatively close to Asmo but not really. They travel to each others houses via nether hub.

Best at PvP on the server. Fear him.

Max enchants on his armor from his trading hall. He's set.

Virtually impossible to steal from. If you can manage to get past all of his elaborate traps and manage to get into his house you will be greeted with an ungodly amount of cats.

They sit on his chests to lock them.

But thats not even half of them.

You can hear him coming because he has 50+ cats following him meowing loud af. The sound of impending doom.

Him and Lucifer will PvP and the fight will just go on and on because they're both too stacked to die but neither of them will give up.

Bullied Mammon into giving him the Cat music disc.

His chests are so unorganized oh my god

Keeps all his essentials in shulker boxes and ender chests and whatever's in the regular, cat guarded chests at his house has just been sitting there since day one.

But he knows exactly whats in there.

His base is over a stronghold (only Levi and Asmo know) and they all decorated it together <3

His favorite dimension is the nether.

He loves the aesthetic and contrast to the other dimensions.

Biome: jungle edge or shattered savannah.

Songs: Haunt Muskie, Dreiton, Pigstep, and (obligatory) Cat.

asm0baby

Hang on he'll join in a second he has to finish making his skin

And downloading texture packs

And shaders

At this rate his pc is going to explode and he hasn't even joined yet-

Finds a pink sheep!! Its the highlight of his base

His builds are… there alright.

He can never get the shapes down or build roofs or figure out slab work and windows BUT HE HAS A VISION.

It looks better in his head...

However, he IS good at making block palettes and decorating.

Teams up with Mammon to make these JAW DROPPING builds its super cute.

They only argue 80% of the time :)

Gets paid in gear/tools/food to decorate his brothers houses too

Very good at paying attention to detail and keeping themes consistent.

Lives near Beel and has the crop farms smoothly morph into flower fields

RARELY Wears Armor. Has the 3rd most deaths solely because he keeps accidentally getting killed in his brothers crossfires.

Says he doesn't want to cover his skin because he really liked it (it's him)

Is surprisingly good at PvP. Would be even better if he had more protection than just a shield.

Mains a high Power, Flame, and Infinity enchanted bow that he got from fishing with Satan.

He and Satan have the most pets on the server. He was fishing so he could breed his cats.

Doesn't play all that much and has a bunch of unfinished projects laying around the server

But catch him in the club pulling a Levi and playing pocket edition, completely absorbed in it

Avid acacia appreciater. Insists that no one knows how to use it right.

Favorite Dimension: overworld (or aether if hes playing modded)

Favorite biome: flower fields or dark oak forest

Songs: Aria Math, Biome Fest, Cat, Approaches (Aether Soundtrack - Emile Van Krieken)

beely_bub

please for the love of god stop growing wheat

minecraft more like farmcraft because this man is absolutely lost in the sauce.

Has a farm for every edible ingame item and they're all HUGE.

Feeds the whole server.

None of his farms are automated. Hes doing all the work by hand.

As long as he has some irl snacks he will be fine, he actually really likes the game once he gets the hang of it.

Loves to explore above ground but doesn't like to stray too far away from home (or whoever he's exploring with)

His house is just a box. Maybe some windows. Asmo decorated it in exchange for food.

Runs out of storage space quickly because all his chests are full of seeds and food.

Didn't start mining until a week and a half in.

Levi noticed all the farms and then saw how he only had stone tools STILL and took him mining :)

Has crazy high xp levels because he doesn't enchant (he asks Satan to do it)

"Are… are these baked beans??"

[Beely_bub tried to swim in lava.]

Is planning to build Belphie a cow ranch themed house. He's working on it- he just has to harvest this crop first hang on-

Has max defense armor (gifts from Levi and Satan for food trades) and mains a max sharpness axe.

Always keeps a shield in his offhand.

Wasted his diamonds on a hoe 😔

Whenever Levi and Mammon are spamming the chat with each others death messages he goes and breaks them up (more like gives Mammon a chance to run away)

Will eat when his hunger bar is missing half a point and it drives Levi crazy because he's wasting saturation Beel please-

Kills the wither with Levi

Also does a lot of damage in the dragon fight

Dimension: Overworld

Biome: plains or mountains

Songs: Oxyene, Approaches (Aether Soundtrack - Emile Van Krieken), Sweden.

belphiesnooze

...is this he afk or just ignoring me?

This mf CANNOT play with the soundtrack on. He'll fall asleep within the first 30 seconds.

Also doesn't care to build a nice house half the time.

His chests and stuff are all spread out around his bed and he doesn't even build walls around it. He's just raw dogging the wilderness like a freak.

In multiplayer he's probably basing with Satan or Beel.

Or crawling around inside Lucifer or Mammons walls like a rat.

Will go in your chests and spread everything out and make a MESS.

Mains a sword with a low level unbreaking enchant and max knockback.

Doesn't play too often because if theres not a lot going on he loses interest and might start napping.

Mostly plays with Beel, Levi, or Satan.

Sat in wide-eyed silence for 10 minutes straight when he tried to sleep in the nether and promptly exploded.

Beel had to console him.

He lost all his stuff :(

Despite keeping a bed in his hotbar like a maniac he almost never sleeps ingame.

He has a fleet for 80 phantoms chasing him down as hes trying to get into someones base for protection.

He leaves the door open and a bunch get in

Chaos.

Do NOT take him mining oh my god

He will bring: half broken pickaxe, Food that Beel gave him, maybe like 12 torches, and the bed that he NEVER USES.

Has the second most deaths on the server.

Likes PvP even though he loses most of the time. Challenges Lucifer (full maxxed armor) with his wooden sword and iron boots.

Despite all of this he's the first person to get an elytra and absolutely keeps it away from everyone else. he doesn't even use it and hes SO smug about it.

Mammon is seething.

His favorite dimension is the End.

His favorite biome is a snowy taiga.

Songs from the soundtrack that reminds me of him: Key, Living Mice, Flake.

Bonus: most to least deaths.

Mammon

Belphie

Asmo

Beel

Lucifer

Satan

Levi

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me! headcanons #obey me! imagines #minecraft #obey me! minecraft #would it be considdred a crossover if TECHNICALLY minecraft exists in canon #this is so cringe and self indulgent nobody look #obey me! crack #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! levi #obey me! satan #obey me! asmo #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! beel #obey me! belphie #obey me! belphegor

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teklarn · 3 years

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𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - -

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention?

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.)

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely.

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed.

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end.

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended.

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right?

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting?

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care?

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for.

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating.

“you’re staring again.”

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything.

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard.

“so it makes you look creepy.”

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.”

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?”

“excuse me?”

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.”

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics.

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.”

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.”

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though?

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur.

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again.

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out.

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance.

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him.

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n.

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music.

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them.

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all.

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance.

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile.

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red.

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place.

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.)

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time.

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape.

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up.

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up.

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging.

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder.

he swung the door open, hinges crying out.

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted.

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.”

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?”

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-”

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?”

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-”

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?”

“no. shut up. i need to-”

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?”

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?”

“well, you’re just being shitty.”

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them.

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.”

“no.”

“please?”

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-”

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?”

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips.

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.”

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place.

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?”

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back.

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.”

“who the hell are you talking about?”

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.”

“...y/n?”

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?”

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.”

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.”

“shithead, get out of my face.”

“you still have to go out with me.”

“why the f-”

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.”

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?”

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s.

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets.

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door.

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone.

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible.

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin.

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more.

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room.

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways.

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them.

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through.

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer.

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him.

“you okay?”

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?”

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?”

“nothing. nothing is wrong.”

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.”

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.”

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin.

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along.

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?”

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.”

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.”

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?”

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder.

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable.

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy.

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring.

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve.

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough.

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage.

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry.

“just running errands together.”

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage?

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space.

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue.

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist.

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back.

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.”

“good.”

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual.

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone with a perspective like yours to know if i do.”

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.”

tokage let out a low growl.

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.”

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from?

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.”

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close.

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes.

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this.

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?”

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw.

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.”

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face.

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.”

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.”

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shelobussy · 3 years

Text

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do) by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this.

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up.

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust.

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend. Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.)

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.)

________

#lmao follow for more fic recs #ash recs #ash's rec list #ash recs fics #tma fic list #tma fics #jmart #jmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma fic recs

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

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shinygoku · 3 years

Text

Trust Thomas, the Better Version

I find Trust Thomas to be a guilty pleasure of sorts, an episode of Season 3 that has some serious writing issues but I can’t bring myself to hate it. But I can bring myself to improve it significantly with a rewrite!

Helped along by @mean-scarlet-deceiver ‘s commentary tags on the post I’d made about it before, I present to you my saltier, spicier interpretation! 😼✨

Maybe a smidge over the target audience’s recommended intake.... no actual swear words but still, I give it a PG for Parental Guidance ;3 Also no, I’m not gonna put this on my Ao3 as it’s an Episode Rewrite and not one’a my Original Plots.

===

======

Thomas the Tank Engine was feeling bright and cheerful. It was a splendid day, with warm sunshine, birdsong and lush green fields.

“Good morning!” he whistled to some Cows, but the Cows didn’t reply. “...Never mind, they’re busy with their breakfast.”

He stopped at a red signal, somewhat relieved that Bertie only came by after a brief pause, so he probably hadn’t heard Thomas talking fruitlessly to the cattle. Instead, Bertie was preoccupied with a large jolt as he drove over a hole.

“Owch!! That’s another one!”

“Um, sorry?” Thomas was preoccupied with the signal changing and set back off.

Thomas was still in good spirits when Bertie arrived at the next Station.

“Bad luck, Bertie!” he teased. “Now, if you were a Steam Engine, you’d be running on a pair of Reliable Rails!”

“Huh!” Bertie spat. “The Railway was supposed to deliver tar to mend the road two flippin’ weeks ago! You can’t trust a thing that runs on rails!”

“Oi, I run on rails, you big red lunchbox! I’ll show you, I’ll sort the matter out! You can at least trust me to get results.”

Thomas left Bertie and chuffed away importantly, along the branch line towards the Big Station by the sea.

James was snorting about in the yard. He was saying many rude words and bashing the trucks roughly, cross about having to cover for Percy.

“Ooh!! Arghh! Oww!” wailed the Trucks. They longed for vengeance but were powerless to bump the big Red Engine back.

Gordon watched the events from another rail and chortled.

“You know, James, if you were ill, you wouldn’t have to shunt trucks here, would you?” he offered, safe in his luxurious role pulling coaches that day.

James’ furious scowl lifted, all too ready to latch onto this half-baked suggestion. “That’s a good idea! Here comes Thomas, I’ll start pretending now!”

Thomas was perplexed to see the two big engines looking miserable.

“Cheer up, stick-in-the-muds! It’s a beautiful day!”

Gordon assumed the air of quiet suffering, his face creased with frown lines. “Not for James, it isn’t. He’s sick.”

“Yes he is --I mean, I am.” wavered James. There was a pause, and then he coughed a couple of times. “Ooh, I don’t feel well at all!”

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he looked over James. He didn’t really look so poorly, but then, Henry didn’t often look as bad as he’d felt before getting Welsh Coal, and then that new shape. Shame he wasn’t here to help judge.

“Hmph, really? I suppose I'll help out, if you're ill. Lucky for you that I'm already headed for the Quarry.”

He bustled out with some of James’ trucks. Once out of earshot, Gordon and James sniggered.

The Trucks were still furious over their mistreatment, and Thomas was a tempting outlet for their pent up aggression. They began to plot amongst themselves.

Thomas collected the heavy stone from the quarry and set off back to the junction. “Can’t let James forget he owes me...” he muttered, going slowly over the wooden bridge. There was something else he wanted to remember, but it was escaping him at the moment.

He was too preoccupied with these thoughts to prepare for the Trucks’ plan. “Go faster, go faster!” they shrieked, pushing forwards, assisted by the weight of the rocks they were holding.

“Augh! Slow down!!” Thomas was braking hard enough for sparks to kick off his wheels, but it was no good. He was forced off the track and derailed into a shallow, muddy pond.

He was dazed and confused, but in the wait for help his mind cleared enough to become rather cross. “Lovely flippin’ day, indeed!” he muttered, further disappointed by the lack of onlookers to hear his withering sarcasm. The only audience was a horrible slimy toad, it’s warty arms climbing up by his lamp-iron.

Eventually two engines came to his aid. Duck pulled the Trucks away, giving them a bump on the way out. “Hard luck, Thomas!” he called, over the pained sounds of the battered Trucks.

Edward helped Thomas back to the Junction and patiently listened as Thomas ranted about the horrible day he’d had.

“I’m going to find James and stuff the stones down his funnel! Gordon, too! James barely has enough brain power to think of a stupid plan like that, it must have been his smart idea! Oooh, when I get to him, I’m going to wait until his fire is out and I’ll dump him off the quay!”

“Thomas, you can’t kill them,” Edward said, soothingly. “You’d have to pick up on James’ work, for one thing! That would probably be after the Fat Controller takes Ffarquhar away from you, cause if you off Gordon we won’t have an express! That’s very costly for the railway, you know.”

Thomas muttered but privately conceded. “Can’t take Ffarquhar away, it’s a place…. Oh! Ooh!! Edward, I just remembered something!”

Glad to hear the shift in tone, Edward listened keenly. “Yes? What?”

“The roads are all dodgy down part of my line, Bertie was complaining about it earlier. He said something about us having supposed to have delivered Tar for it, d’ya know anything about that?”

“Tar… oh, yes! There’s tankers in my station, but they never said what it was for! Must be that, Driver will make arrangements when we’ve dropped you off!”

Inside Edward’s cab was a slight sarcastic muttering, but Edward and Thomas ignored it.

Later, James spoke to Thomas. He was having difficulty making eye contact with Thomas, who was still perched on the flatbed and needing to be cleaned from the pond, and whose expression had taken a darker turn once he’d noticed the Red Engine.

“I’m uh... sorry about your accident, and so is Gordon,” he shot a pointed glare back at the Big Engine who was lurking nearby. “We didn’t mean to get you into trouble, honest!”

“No, indeed,” spluttered Gordon. “A mere accident, but all’s well that ends well, isn’t that right?”

“It bloody well isn’t right, you big blue blimp! Make sure you don’t rest too close to the sea or you’re going to find yourself well acquainted, you hear?!”

Thomas’ tirade got cut off by Bertie’s arrival.

“My road’s being mended now!” he beamed, having completely missed the atmosphere of the scene.

“Oh.” Thomas was rapidly rearranging his face to put on a smile for Bertie. “I am glad!”

James was using the chance to slip away. Gordon was a bit slower on the uptake.

“Now I know I can trust an Engine, especially if his name is Thomas! Thank you!”

Gordon slinked away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough of that soppy stuff.” But he was genuinely smiling, at least.

The toad had managed to stay on for the ride over, but Thomas was looking forward to watching it get put in the ditch when he was washed down. Maybe he should name it after a certain Express Engine who had ended up in that water himself some years before? The thought amused him greatly.

#This is TTTE #TTTE Fanfic #TTTE Episode Talk #or rather a rewrite but myeah #Trust Thomas #Thomas the Tank Engine #TTTE Thomas #and the rest lol

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strawberrylemonz · 3 years

Text

Campfire Tales

Part 3 of my series! Thank you for 100+ followers!!!

As usual, do ask me any questions you may have regarding this series!

This is dedicated to both @petrichormeraki and @applepie1000

Enjoy!

Part 2

Part 3 [CURRENT]

Part 4

————————

“You’re gonna burn the ‘mallows”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Calm down, you two”

Everyone was sitting around the campfire as Tommy brought out the sticks and marshmallows. He had already taken out the rest of the supplies to make snacks and drinks using the fire, doing his best to make sure that everyone was comfortable before he explained his time before joining the hermits.

“You doing alright?”

Tommy stiffened at the sound of being addressed so suddenly. Turning to his side, he saw his older brother smiling up at him. Tommy had been feeling very anxious since the group began their hike up to the campfire, so the sight was comforting for him. He returned the smile to his brother, who extended a hand out to him.

“Let me help you with those, Toms. Just sit down and relax for a bit. You’re probably very nervous.”

Now, Tommy would usually bite back with an overconfident comment, but Tommy didn’t feel like his usual self. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and handed Grian the remaining supplies. Grian, in turn, grabbed the supplies before sitting his little brother down on a seat. Ruffling his hair with affection, Grian handed Tommy some marshmallows before setting off to finish handing everything out.

“You get near that majestic cat, Iskall, and I will stab you”

“Okay, okay, I’m backing off.”

Peering up, Tommy saw Cleo scoop up a cat, before walking off to sit on a different log seat. Iskall, in turn, nervously laughed as if he just escaped death. ‘Wouldn’t be an understatement.’ Tommy thought with slight amusement. Iskall then turned to Tommy, smiling at the younger boy. Tommy, returned the smile, waving at the man. Iskall saw that as an invitation and proceeded to sit down next to Tommy on the log.

“Nervous?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Well, yeah. You started to tone down on the cussing when we arrived at Pirate’s Pier. You stopped cussing in general when we took Captain Puffy’s ship to the campsite, and you haven’t cussed since. You’re also fidgeting around a lot.”

“Shit”

Iskall let out a laugh as Tommy shoved his face into his hands. Patting the young adult’s back with care, he did his best to comfort Tommy.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll understand if you decide to stop telling us. But don’t push yourself to either share past your comfort or to coop up all your feelings. It’s not healthy for you, and we’ll all attack you with care and affection until you feel better.”

Tommy barked out a laugh as he playfully pushed away Iskall’s face.

“That’s all you lot have been doing since I arrived. Been acting like I’m your baby brother, or some shit.”

“Well, that’s the case. At least, for one of us.”

At that, the two peered over to Grian, who was putting up the left over supplies with haste, obviously eager to begin unraveling his brother’s pain.

“He seems more hyper than usual”

“I’m pretty sure it’s on the account that he found out that his favorite raccoon is, in fact, his younger brother.”

“I hope he isn’t disappointed-”

Tommy was interrupted when a hand covered his mouth. Feigning irritation, Tommy peered over at the owner of the hand, Iskall. Quirking an eyebrow at him, Tommy gave a pointed look. Iskall huffed before removing his hand from Tommy’s mouth.

“What the hell was that for, Isk-”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? Your name?”

“No, Tommy, not that. Don’t say anything about Grian being disappointed in you being his brother. The two of you have been acting like brothers since the day you two met. You guys are two peas in a pod, burrowing in bases together and pranking any fool who let their guard down. He is more than happy to have you as his brother.”

“How can you be so sure when you say that?”

“Because, Tommy, I saw how he reacted. The two of you obviously couldn’t see that well, with the two of you weeping up an ocean-”

“-Did not-”

“-Did too. Anyways, I saw his reaction to putting the pieces together. It was a whole new Grian, one we never got to see before. His facade fell the moment he saw who you were. Something changed in his eyes, and he held you with more pride and love than he ever did before. He’s more than happy to have you as family.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows before looking Iskall in the face. He wanted to doubt his words, he really did. He wanted to believe that he didn’t deserve so much of Grian’s love, that he didn’t deserve a special place in his heart. One look at Iskall’s face, however, was more than enough confirmation that he wasn’t being lied to. As much as Tommy wanted to avoid his brother’s love, he knew he couldn’t. All Tommy could do was to just pray to Clara that this brotherly bond would not be torn apart and bombed, just like his last two. He just wanted a family member he could rely on, not one that would break him with betrayal and miscommunication.

“What are you two talking about?”

Tommy peered up to see Grian standing there, munching on a melted marshmallow. Rolling his eyes, Tommy snorted at him as Iskall laughed.

“Talking about how much of a big man Toms is.”

“Hey! Watch the sarcasm! I am a big man!”

Grian snorted before sitting down on the other of Tommy, getting comfortable on the log. The two brothers shared a smile before Tommy faced the rest of the group.

“Everyone ready?”

A chorus of confirmation was given, a single nod to return them. Sighing, Tommy situated himself and cleared his throat.

“I’m severely grateful for all of you, truly. You’ve all looked past the fact that I was a bastard and decided to keep me around. You guys helped me come to terms with things that I once thought was impossible to come to terms with. You’ve all even helped me heal from those stupid, shitty triggers. I really don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t ended up here, especially looking back to where I was at my previous server.”

He saw everyone’s face gain some form of affection at his words. The pat on his back and the hand on his was all he needed to know that he woild go through with this. They’ve housed him and healed him for over 2 years, they deserved to know what they saved him from.

“Alright, it all started when I got an invite to Dream’s server, the Dream SMP.”

————

Grian didn’t know how to react, how to feel. How could he? It’s not everyday that you find out that the amazing big brothers you idolized weren’t so amazing after all. How could the people that vowed to look after their baby brothers turn around and break the youngest one? Tommy claimed that everything was a misunderstanding, and that he deserved his punishments, but no one deserved punishments that severe.

“-I tried telling them how that made me feel, but Technoblade and Wilbur said that it had to stay in the pit. Tubbo tried to tell me that it wasn’t a big deal, but he was terrified of fireworks for so long after that. Not just fireworks, loud noises in general.”

Grian could tell how uneasy everyone was feeling, but they all understood not to prevent the boy from sharing. He had a lot of built up trauma that he tried forcing away, and that wasn’t healthy for him. He had to get everything off his chest, for the betterment of his mentality and health in general. Grian tried not to grimace as Tommy moved onto the death of the president, how he died of a heart attack. Doing his best to make sure his brother was comfortable, he periodically offered the younger boy drink and snack breaks in order to collect his thoughts. Tommy was grateful for these.

“-He was so mad that we reinstalled a person to be our leader, saying that we betrayed him, but that’s not the case! I promise you it wasn’t! I wouldn’t have intentionally betrayed someone that I saw as my brother, my idol, my...my friend.”

Grian put an arm around the slouching boy and after making a mental note to help him fix his posture offered him a hand. Tommy happily accepted the comfort, trying his best to compose himself.

“And then he...he...”

“What is it, Tommy? What did Techno do?”

“He asked me if I wanted to be a hero. I didn’t even get to properly answer him. I still remember his words, they are forever engraved in my brain. ‘You wanna be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!’ Then he set fucking withers on my nation, my home. Pathetic, isn’t it? Haha, and that’s not the worst part! That wasn’t even the worst disaster to have happened on that stupid, cursed day. My nation was blown up, and when I had turned to see what happened, I saw Wilbur, standing there, laughing at the chaos. Next thing I knew, dad- er, Phil, he...he killed him. I lost Wilby. I couldn’t save him from his madness.”

His voice had gotten much quieter as he spoke about that painful day. If everyone wasn’t so quiet they would have missed it, the way Tommy’s voice broke and quivered. Trying not to break, he leaned into his older brother, not paying any attention to the height difference. Grian, in turn, was holding his little brother as if the world would crumble if he let go. His brother was dead, the other blinded by his personal morals. And his father, his hero, murdered his son in front of the others. Grian did his best to listen to what Tommy was saying, not wanting him to feel unsupported. He just sat there and listened.

“-He didn’t even say goodbye to me. He just stood there as Dream took me away. Ghostbur went along with me, which I was grateful for, but the company of a ghost can only go so far, especially when it’s of your late brother.”

No one could believe the burdens put upon the shoulders of these two boys. They shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this, yet they were forced to do so. They couldn’t get mad at Tubbo, he didn’t deserve to be despised after having to deal with such a stressful decision at such a young age. Iskall took over trying to comfort Tommy while Grian tried to drink as much water as he could, as if it would drown all the emotions he was feeling. He felt absolutely sick hearing what Dream put his baby brother through. He suddenly felt amazing at being a Dream slayer. He was sure Tommy would find comfort in that. Tommy eventually got to the end of his stay with Techno.

“I was hoping that he would understand why I didn’t stay, why I had to leave. As much as I care for him, he was feeding in to my negative thoughts, and I had to prevent myself from becoming everything I didn’t want to be. He didn’t get it, though. I still saw him as a friend, a brother, but he only saw me as a selfish traitor. He only saw me as someone who wanted to use him as a weapon. Phil called me a traitor, too, and they took down my tower. It’s okay, everyone sees them as ugly pieces of shit. Tubbo and I began to slowly heal our friendship as we prepared for Doomsday, but that’s when things got weird. As Tubbo and I went on a walk to discuss our plan, some weird portal opened up in the ground. I felt weightless as I fell in, and then I ended up here. I’ve been here with you guys ever since.”

Before he could say anything else, Tommy was engulfed into an embrace. Grian buried his brother’s face into his chest, kissing his brother’s hair as he rocked him back and forth. Iskall joined in and rubbed the boy’s back, Mumbo approaching and supporting Grian and Tommy’s weight so they wouldn’t fall. Xisuma stood behind the two, hand on Tommy’s shoulder. One by one, Stress, Scar, Joe, Tango, False, everyone began to join in on the comfort circle to give support to the brothers.

--------

Grian and Tommy had not detached from each other since the campfire. No one pointed that out, not this time. They just gave the birdie personal space with his raccoon of a brother. Everyone gave the two smiles, wishing them goodnight as they all left to stay in the lodging of their choosing in the adventure park. Tommy and Grian waved at them before turning to leave to their choice in lodging. After a while, they arrived to their destination, the Antarctic Empire. After standing in the hall and debating which room to stay in, they eventually decided to stay the night in Grian’s room. Once the were changed for bed, the two just sat on the bed, unsure whether or not they should talk about something or force themselves to sleep. Finally, sucking in a breath of confidence, Tommy spoke up.

“So, since festival week is in a few months, wanna help me plan our outfits and hand out fliers?”

#tommyinnit #hermit!tommy au #memories in the stars #memories in the stars au #I really need to think about other tags to put on these lmao #Grian Wilbur and Techno are triplets au #Grian is an Antarctic Prince #Grian Wilbur Techno and Tommy are brothers au

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ontheblock · 3 years

Note

BABE U WRITE FOR SALLY FACE?? Anything with Travis (male s/o with him obviously) or Sally please :O your writing is amazing!!

YES I DO !! i used to have a bunch of wips i still haven’t finished but i figured i can still add sf to my list since it was such a comfort game when it came out haha. as per usual, this isn’t beta read, i fucked the formatting up twice but just squint when you notice any errors- also thank you love <3 i‘d give you a free bologna sandwich for requesting trav ily. 100% beef obviously /winkwonk

fabric

•warning: abuse, religious guilt, homophobia and f-slur use, bad first kisses, badly written fluff, travis being travis

Travis was meant to live a life molded for him by his father. The pattern was already placed on the fabric when his first cry shook the hospital room at 6:33am. He was supposed to be cut from his father‘s mold but Travis‘ fabric was already old and frayed, the intertwining strings of muted tones that held him together felt lose by the time he could run. Sometimes he thought about the reason why he was incomplete. His fabric wasn‘t strong enough to hold his family name, not stretchy enough to bounce back from his father‘s reactions. Travis‘ mother patched him up every time there was another bruise on his back or face. She would cut parts out of her own fabric to cover the ripped strings her husband‘s belt left on their son. But she had only so much left when the beatings got worse.

Travis was in middle school, attending a christian summer camp a few hours away from Nockfell. He never noticed how different the air was at home but the sky was so murky compared to literally everywhere else. His father thought it was a good idea to let the boy out of town while he took care of the Ministry business which was code for something Travis shouldn‘t stick his nose into. He never asked but someone went missing while he was gone. Tragic.

Not as tragic as the camp counselor calling Travis home on their last day. The boy didn‘t know about that but they told his father about some inappropriate behavior his son showed with a fellow camper - a boy his age, Kenneth didn‘t care for the name or where he was from. All he needed to know was what his son did with that boy. The counselor tried to calm the angry parent on the phone but as soon as the information was exchanged the line went dead. He didn‘t want to hear the washed up excuses. His son was young and it was best to get these urges out of his system before they could even develop - dig for the deepest root you could find and rip it from the still fresh ground before it bloomed into something ugly, even if that meant that the garden would never bloom at all. Kenneth was a man of action after all.

That evening Travis came home clueless while his father already stood in the hallway with his wife behind him, holding onto his hand and uttering whispered quick prayers but his thick fingers already curled around the leather painfully hard. The strain it caused in his hand only fueled the need for a release as he charged for his son who didn‘t even have the chance to slip out of his worn sneakers.

That evening his mother didn‘t stay when Kenneth told her to go to bed early. Travis asked himself if it pained her the same way it pained him when his skin split under the force his father put in his first few strikes.

“You want to hold hands with boys now?“

“My son isn‘t a faggot, is that clear?“

“I gave you a place in this filthy town. You will appreciate it and live a proper life!“

“You will thank me when you don‘t burn for being dirty.“

It wasn‘t meant for Travis to answer because by the end of the night he would not even think about a boy‘s hand to be soft and warm anymore.

Travis was older now but he never found enough of anything to mend the damage his father did that night. Travis didn‘t try to explain that he held onto the boy because they figured that they wouldn’t slip on the wet mud that way. Instead he kept quiet about it ever happening and his father was content with this as long as he pulled his son from the devil‘s path to sodomy.

And Travis thought so too until a thread of blue fabric pulled together a gaping hole in his fabric. It stuck out like a sore thumb - too vibrant but warmer than any patch his mother gave to him and when he sat on the grimy bathroom floor in school after Sal Fisher of all people gave him a fucking pep talk, it felt nice. The warmth let his tears evaporate so he could pull himself together for the rest of the day.

But it was short lived. The warmth spread through him so fast he felt like burning up whenever he sat in class with Sal. He tried everything to get that blue thread out of his life but pulling on it only felt like strangling himself and he regretted ever letting his bully persona slip in that bathroom just because Sal fucking Fisher found the note he threw away - the note that was about him but Travis never had it in himself to tell him that. He regretted his promise to be less of an asshole because he knew he couldn‘t. Not even three days later the heat in his belly was so hot that he boiled over when he saw Fisher talking to that ginger nerd by the lockers. He ended up calling him a faggot because how dare he be openly gay in the same town Kenneth Phelps lived? How dare he be happy like this?

Sal tensed at the insult. Did he actually think Travis could be better? And why was his freakshow friend not hurt at the insult when it still burned in his throat to say it? Why did it feel like the slur wasn‘t meant for Todd at all? Travis swallowed hard as he fled the hallway in such a hurry that the three folded up pamphlets in his barely zipped up backpack fell on the muddy vinyl flooring.

“Fuck, Phleps. Just wait. Travis!“ The boy in question tucked at his collar as he turned a corner just to slip into another empty corridor. They had a free period right after gym class and Sal Fisher was determined to finally talk to the boy who relentlessly bullied him to now avoid him like it was the other way around. “Jesus, I‘m not gonna pry but if your dad-“ Sally harshly bumped into Travis as he whipped around, finally coming to a stop. Shame crawled up the taller teen‘s neck when he didn‘t find the prosthetic nose digging into his sweater uncomfortable.

“Shut up! God, just stop!“ Sal was surprised that he would use his Lord‘s name in vain like that and if the situation was anything but this he would‘ve laughed. “Travis, I don‘t know how you feel but-“, Sal tried again but Travis was at his limits this time. “You don‘t and you never will, Fisher. Your dad would accept you being a dirty faggot but mine doesn’t!“ He tried to fill his words with venom but it all bounced back on the guy‘s mask anyway with how much his voice actually trembled.

There was a moment of silence that made Travis want to literally get struck by his God‘s angry lightning. He couldn‘t even leave. It was like all the root his father dug out slowly crawled back to feed on his shame and ground him in front of Sal who still had to react and maybe Travis should just tell him to fuck off so he wouldn‘t have to find out what he wanted to say next.

“Travis...“ Sal lowered his voice in a fake moment of privacy. “Are you-?“ Travis already shut his eyes as he clenched his fists. He didn‘t like where this was going but there was no more fight in him. “Nevermind. You don‘t owe me shit but I saw your back.“ Travis exhaled through his mouth until there was nothing left in his lungs. He knew where that question was headed. Are you gay, Travis? Are you the faggot and that‘s why you‘re so angry? He was glad that Sal changed his approach because even Travis himself was too scared to find the answer.

“So what, Sally Face? You‘re sticking your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. If you even have one under that stupid mask.“ Travis harshly pushed his index finger into the boys chest and the sharp inhale he made almost made him freeze up and apologize. But he couldn‘t. He was too deep to go soft now. The look in Sal‘s eyes was enough to make Travis finally stumble backwards and push past him.

He didn‘t follow him this time.

His verbal fights with Sal Fisher were like a damn wake up call for the teen. The rush of warmth it spread in his chest and the cold shiver in sent down his spine were shaking his body every time. He started noticing that Nockfell wasn‘t that murky. Travis used to really like yellow as a child because it reminded him of his mother’s favorite sunflower dress. She was a different woman now. The vibrant yellow was fading just like her hair. Maybe it was just Nockfell, maybe it was because of her suffocating husband draining her of her life and slowly unraveling her fabric. It didn‘t matter now but to make a depressing story short, Travis didn‘t have a favorite color anymore.

But the sky looked like a pretty shade of blue on some days. He never noticed but his bathroom tiles had blue specks in them. He always thought they were just a weird grey. There were tiny flowers blooming in the most vibrant blue behind the school and he wished that they were behind the church too but nothing ever grew around that building. But he would pluck them sometimes when he was skipping gym class. His last fight in the empty hallway was weeks ago and he hoped that Sal finally gave up on his savior complex. But why did his chest sting at that thought? His fingers slowly clutched his sweater as he stared at a withering flower by his foot. Travis jumped out of his thoughts when the metal door creaked open.

“Yo.“ Sal pushed the door closed with his shoe as he held up a hand to casually greet him. His face scrunched up. “What do you want?“ Travis lowered his head again. The boy obviously noticed the fresh shiner on his face already but facing him still felt like he exposed himself. “Just wanted to confirm that the church boy was skipping class.“ Uninvited, the teen sat beside Travis on the grass, with a healthy distance of course. “Shut up. My faith has fuck all to do with school“, Travis spoke lowly but his voice was tired. Sal just hummed in agreement before silence draped over them. Not uncomfortably like the usual strained void of reactions when one of them dropped something they weren‘t prepared for. It felt ok like this and it felt like a blanket. To Travis that blanket was soft and blue but before he could shake it off and stand up there were strings of the obnoxious fabric already weaving themself into his personal space.

“We don‘t have to fight all the time.“ Sal didn‘t look at him and neither did Travis. He really didn‘t have a reason to disagree. Not one that wouldn’t blow his cover at least.

“Maybe I could come to your little church and-“ Travis head snapped up. “Don‘t“, he blurted out a little louder than he meant. “It‘s a joke. I‘m not religious.“ Sal snorted, plucking a few pieces of grass. “Yeah, because you‘re a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. You f-“ Travis had to physically stop himself by biting his lip. Sal looked over at him and Travis wished he didn‘t. “Sorry“, Travis mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes, or eye since he was pretty sure his other eye never moved before. “I‘m trying to not call people that anymore.“ because all I hear is my father saying it.

“It‘s cool.“ It wasn‘t. “Why are you skipping?“ Travis huffed. It was weird to not let the conversation derail into verbal abuse. “I don‘t know. I fell. Hit my head on the door pretty bad. As you can see.“ Sal just hummed. “That‘s why you‘re limping, too?“ Travis blurted out a “yes“ a little too fast. Why was he nervous? His whole school life already revolved around cover up stories about the strange aches and bruises he got out of nowhere.

“Right.“ Sal let it slide, again. “You‘re acing algebra, Fisher.“ It wasn‘t a question so Sal didn‘t say anything. “Hmm.“ Travis cursed himself for never learning proper social skills but his father didn‘t like him bringing strangers into the house and his teen years were a constant feeling of push and pull of picking fights with boys that sparked an ugly tingle in his belly.

“You need a tutor?“ The silence seemed to be enough for Sal. Fuck him and his open fucking hand. “Maybe.“ Travis flicked a flower with his finger, dismissing the clear offer because his stomach ignited at the fact that Sal didn‘t hate him enough yet. “Maybe there is a tutor in Addisons Appartement, Room 402, who‘s free on the weekend.“ Sal couldn‘t help but smile under his mask as Travis huffed. “Fuck you, Fisher.“

Sal already forgot about his offer when lunch passed and his dad stood in the kitchen, washing their dishes, enjoying the background noise of his son watching TV with his cat. They were so engrossed in the VHS tape Sal put on that he didn‘t hear the door until his dad whistled from the kitchen. “Sally, door.“

“Huh? Oh. Yes, dad.“ He jumped to his feet, leaving Gizmo to the slasher movie he seemed to like. “Weird, Larry said he‘s busy“, Sal mumbled, opening the front door. “Oh.“ It was a knee jerk reaction from Sal because he expected everyone but Travis Phelps to knock at his door and truth be told, he looked like he‘d rather be anywhere else with the way his awkward greeting caught in his throat and died on his tongue as a huff. His eyes followed the way the blue strands hung over Sal‘s shoulders, the mask straps upsetting the smooth texture as a few chunks hung over the elastics. Travis hasn’t seen him with his hair down. He looked smaller in big sweatpants and a band shirt too.

“Travis?“ The boy‘s eyes snapped back to the mask in front of him. “So, algebra?“ Sal tilted his head a smidge. A small habit he picked up to better communicate what would otherwise be shown in his facial features. But it made Travis want to scream for a multitude of reasons as heat crept up his neck. “Obviously.“

Anyone else would‘ve told him to fix his tone or fuck off but Sal held open the door for him. It felt wrong but Travis took the invitation, rubbing his clammy hands on his pants. “Who is it?“, a deeper voice called and Travis almost jumped. He had to remind him this wasn‘t Kenneth. Mr Fisher wasn’t anything like his dad and he didn’t have to be on edge around the boy. “A friend“, Sal replied shortly, only getting an approving hum.

A friend. Did Sal see him as a friend? He couldn‘t dwell on it since he was pulled into the boy‘s bedroom that looked nothing like his. “Just sit anywhere.“ Sal wildly gestured into the room and Travis sat on the barely made bed as Sall dropped his books next to him.

Travis felt like there was something breathing down his neck the entire time they sat on Sal‘s bed. His shirt collar felt like it was about to cinch his neck closed, the dangling cross necklace he kept under his shirt felt hot to the touch like it burned the shape of Jesus into his chest with every sinful thought that crossed his mind as Sal explained the most bland and unerotic subject.

“Travis?“ The boy almost choked on his own spit.

“Romans 1:26-27.“ Travis stumbled over his own words but the verse was engraved into his head after writing and reciting it for a month straight under the stern eye of his father. There was a briefe silence for a moment.

“What?“ Sal looked up from the book in his lap.

“What?“ Travis felt breathless as he stared back at Sal. “Nothing“, he quickly added before Sal could even say anything else. “Explain that again?“ But he didn‘t. Instead, Sal pushed the book off his thigh, still staring the boy down. “Did you really come here for algebra, dude?“ No. “Yes.“ Travis fiddled with the hem of his shirt, not knowing if it was anxiety, anger or just bile scratching against his stomach lining to crawl out of him.

When Sal didn‘t say anything else Travis just reached over the boys lap to take the book himself but there was already a hand pressing against his shoulder. Travis hissed as he pulled his arm back, making Sal pull back just as fast. They stared at each other for a moment before Sal‘s gaze darted to his shoulder. “You fell pretty hard on that door.“ Travis clenched his jaw. “Shut up, Fisher, and back the fuck up.“

The boy shook his head, scooting away an inch. “Listen, you can say no because I would too but I can at least get you ointment for that.“ Sal gestured to his back and shoulder and something in Travis just crumbles as he lets his hands drop into his lap, staring them down to not look at Sal. “Ok. If it gets you off my back you parasite.“

Travis didn‘t plan this when he knocked on the apartment door. He expected to maybe stay 20 minutes before something would make him see red but all he saw was blue. Maybe he was cursed. All these years of plucking out the roots his father couldn’t reach were rendered worthless now that he sat on the rough carpet, holding his shirt up as Sal dug out the ointment.

How did he even get here? His heart beat in his throat when he felt a presence behind him. He felt the need to say something. He wanted to make it clear that this meant nothing to not make it weird but wouldn‘t that make it weirder? Wasn‘t this the same as his mother putting a bandaid on his cuts and whatever herbal mixture on his wounds? It wasn’t because he never felt the sick urge to kiss his mother.

“Ready?“, Sal asked, kneeling behind him with a glob of cool ointment on his index and middle finger. Fucking hell, why did he have to make it weird? He definitely had to say something now.

“It was my dad.“ Travis spoke fast enough to mutter his words but the long pause probably meant that Sal heard him anyway. He wanted to melt into the carpet, leave behind a stain on the boy‘s floor to annoy him just one last time. He didn‘t know what he expected him to say to that and he also didn‘t know why that was the thing he had to say. But Sal made it easy on him by just not answering at all. Instead, he dabbed the cream on the first bruise, making Travis inhale sharply but otherwise biting his tongue. Sal figured that Travis wanted to act tough by not showing that it hurt but actually, Travis didn‘t trust his voice under Sal‘s soft fingertips.

“Travis“, Sal spoke again. Travis wasn‘t sure if he hated the heavy silence more of the fact that Sal was the first to say something while he was rubbing little circles into his back. He didn‘t answer but that never held Sal back.

“Are you gay?“ His voice was so quiet that Travis wouldn‘t have heard it if they sat a little further apart but it had the same effect as screaming it for all of Nockfell to hear. Sal felt him tense up under his touch, already expecting him to jump up or at least yell at him. But neither of them did anything. Sal‘s fingers rested against the heating skin, feeling it rise with every ragged breath he managed to take. “Travis-“

“Fuck, Sal. What? Do you want me to tell you about the times my dad beat the gay out of me or do you prefer that time I wanted to kiss you in that gross fucking bathroom?“, the teen finally barked, letting his words sink in first before he hissed a quiet “shit“. The fingers on his back pulled away as Sal sat on his heels. “You wanted to kiss me?“, Sal repeated, slower than Travis but he just pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes until he saw shapes and felt like the pressure would crush his face. He heard Sal shuffle around the room, probably getting ready to throw him out like he should‘ve done a while ago. But the shuffling stopped in front of him and something told him not to look but cold hands were already on his wrists to peel his cramping hands from his face. Travis opened his eyes just in time to see that mask uncomfortably close but before he could say anything, there was an odd sensation on his lips with minimal pressure. Sal was kissing him and it snuffed the flame in his stomach for just a moment, allowing the torched butterflies to unfold their wings and fly high enough to even make his heart pump overtime. But the feeling was lost just as soon when Sal inched backwards, pulling his prosthetic back in place before Travis could even take any of this in.

“Sorry.“ Sal threw it into the room for Travis to interpret. But the gears in his head threatened to jump out of place already so he reached out to Sal who already flinched backwards, holding onto his mask. “You don‘t want that.“ Sal pushed his hand back a little. “How would you know?“ Travis furrowed his brows at him but he was thankful. He wasn‘t sure if he could take seeing the boy bare like that but he was craving that feeling his father tried to snuff so desperately.

Sal just shook his head as Travis inched closer. “I‘ll close my eyes.“ Now it was Sal‘s turn to hole up in silence, knowing that neither of them could handle the mask coming off. Something made him trust Travis‘ words as he opened the bottom clasp which was the cue for Travis to shut his eyes. He did and seconds later he felt Sal on him again. One hand clamping over his eyes just to make sure and the other fisting the front of his shirt.

This time Travis felt the cleft in Sal‘s lip and the scar tissue ripping up the soft skin. He leaned into the kiss. Where were his hands supposed to go? When Travis didn‘t find the answer his body moved on autopilot. One hand threaded through the surprisingly smooth strands as the other clung to the small of his back.

Travis should‘ve been grossed out by the drool pooling out of Sal‘s torn lip but he wasn‘t. He should be grossed out by Sal being a boy but he wasn‘t. When Sal pulled back he kept his hand over Travis‘ eyes while the other wiped the spit off his chin. The kiss alone was enough to patch up his murky fabric with bright blue strings that dominated the colors his father painted him in. Travis didn‘t know what would happen after high school. Hell, he didn‘t even know what would be tomorrow. But he didn‘t want the bright fibers to unravel him again.

A knock on the door startled both of them, making Sal pull his arm away and Travis rapidly blinking. He didn‘t notice the mangled face first as the unruly blue caught his eye. His hand did that. His heart beat in his throat again as he overheard Sal‘s father say something and Sal shooting a hum of agreement back. His prosthetic was already on his face again before Travis could catch anything besides the scar tissue crawling up his jaw and chin before splitting his lips and exposing teeth and gum.

Maybe blue was his favorite color.

#tw toxic family #tw abuse #tw religious trauma #tw slurs #sally face #travis phelps #sal fisher #travis phelps x sal fisher #travis phelps x sally face

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vintagedolan · 3 years

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hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question.

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.”

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine.

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places.

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways.

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa.

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago.

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least.

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue.

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him.

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef.

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him.

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef.

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad.

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed.

“I don’t know how to tell.”

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.”

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up.

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled.

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest.

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said.

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.”

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

#hiraeth #IM NERVOUS

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Just A Litle Bit of Your Heart (5)

Summary: y/n must make a decision

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 3211 words

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

A/N: apologies for taking over a year to finish this series! thanks for being patient. as usual, let me know what you thought.

The inspiration behind this part is credited to Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. More specifically, Naoko’s first letter. Some lines were used as is and others were paraphrased. The description of when Watanabe and Naoko had sex are also collaborated along this piece.

I’m really nervous about this.

____

Harry’s words echoed in Y/N’s head; she has never felt such conflicting emotions coursing through her body. Her heart twinged with the need to press her body closer to him because she loves him so dearly. A surge of logical capacities told her to extract herself from the situation--the toxic relationship that they built up to, on the other hand. Did she want to stay with him? Or did she want to leave? Harry was giving her the chance to call it quits right at this moment, to run away from him and start a blossoming relationship with someone else, instead of sticking around and be strung along as he picked up various women on the way to nowhere.

Nowhere.

This would lead to nowhere if she continued to act the way she did. It would be quite tragic to let their relationship strain, only to crash and burn because they didn’t know when to stop. Either she had to change to be more understanding and indifferent or he had to abandon his bachelor ways and return home to her. She didn’t know if both of them could cocoon themselves in a box that they’ve left long before.

That version of Y/N was long gone and she did not know what to make of it; if it was Harry to be condemned for taking advantage of the kindness of her heart, or was it her own fear of being left alone that lead her to being alone?

Y/N blinked sluggishly at him, lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks as she shifted her gaze away from his curious ones. She was hurting but she didn’t want to hurt him. Somewhere inside her heart knew that that love she held for Harry was too much--and too much love can kill you.

She didn’t know what to expect from it and Y/N thinks she might be experiencing it now. The subtleness of losing herself to the void, pieces of her that can never be brought back, that will never make another appearance because those were only brought up when he was still the Harry she fell in love with and they were still them. Withering away like a dried flower that hit its peak, the grace and standards Y/N held for herself, the things that made her the woman Harry fell for washed away in the midst of the chaos.

“I-I don’t know,”

Harry took a breath through his nose, nipping at his bottom lip, not knowing whether to release a breath of relief because she didn’t break it off or tense tenfold because the option of leaving him was still on the table.

“We can work it out. We can go to couples therapy, we can do something!” He insisted, frantically spewing out words he thought would alleviate his situation.

She stared at him, scrutinizing his loveable face, wondering if he knew the extent of what he was asking for. Admittedly, Y/N had her faults throughout. However, she wouldn’t say she was the biggest problem of what had occurred. Sure, it was her idea that got them in this mess in the first place, but it’s not like she wanted it to be this way.

Harry spoke words to her but it never reached her ears. Frankly, it gave her a headache.

“Am I the problem here?”

He paused his monologue, hand sifting through his curls. His body was burning in agony, wanting this conversation to be over so he could prove to her that his words were merely a representation of his actions.

“I can change,”

Harry’s confession fluttered Y/N’s heart-- to hear that he was willing to make this work so as far as to quit his usual habits shafted a glimmer of hope in her heart. He could charge forward right now, even as his heart writhed, slowly sinking in a swamp of near loneliness. Harry made a courageous gesture to hold her dainty hands in his own, looking deep in her eyes to see a reflection of him pleading for another chance. For a moment, his heart faltered, realizing that all this time she longed for him, and only him.

She shook her head quickly. There were multiple times when she would reach out with her fingertips to try and touch the light slithering towards her; a symbol of wishes, desires, and expectations.

She always came back empty-handed.

“My hands weren’t the ones that you wanted to hold. You weren’t searching for my warmth late at night when you were cold. You rather be in bed with someone else,” Y/N stated, strongly at first, then quickly wavering as her emotions led her to think to a place she rarely went to voluntarily.

His mind flashed back to the countless events where he witnessed her sleeping body draped over the couch living room, waiting for him in the late hours of the night in hopes of sharing a civil conversation with him. Harry could recall himself huffing in annoyance, having to grab a blanket from the storage closet to cloak on her. At that point, he didn’t know if it was decency that made him act that way or if there were lurking feelings hidden in his hard exterior.

“I feel like such a fool. I feel so guilty of being me because you would distance yourself rather than talking to me about it!”

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” His palms grasped the retaining warmth her hands left, having long since slipped from his hold to fist at her thighs in exaggerated murmurs. They sat on the sofa a few feet apart, an invisible string connecting them to each other.

“Waiting for you to call me because you needed me, because you missed me, because you wanted to hear my voice is one of the most painful things I have ever had to go through. At least let me know if you still wanted me around.”

“But I do want you around!” He retorted, almost offended that she said those words to him. Her head looked down at the carpet beneath her feet, silently mulling over the words she was to say next. “I still love you,”

Their cries turned into whispers as Y/N smiled sadly, peeking at him with silky eyes as tears threatened to escape her waterline. She shuffled closer, seeing his Adam’s apple bob in his throat in a difficult swallow. Her soft hands brushed the stray curls falling near his face, her thumb caressing his quivering cheekbones as Harry tensed and untensed his jaw nervously. Y/N tilted her head to the side, admiring his features with the most longing and loving eyes he had ever seen. His eyes burned through, she could tell that the curiosity was killing him.

The moment she made direct eye contact with him-- he felt a surge of warmth overtake his body, butterflies flying all over his tummy and his heart thumped a little faster. She felt like home to him.

“There was a time when I looked into your eyes and felt so happy,” Her breath hit the tip of his nose, the closeness intimidating him but it didn’t seem to affect her any longer.

His brows furrowed, “What do you feel now?”

She gave him a gentle smile, coldness slowly crawling up his spine.

“Sadness. Disappointment.”

A lone tear slipped down his cheek, the pad of her thumb flushing it away, making his skin glisten with the salty liquid. His eyes searched for a sense of reassurance aside from the deteriorating words she used to describe what it felt like to be with him. The desperation he held deepened, his eyes fluttering close in a stuttered breath. His eyelashes dampened with more tears, making it wet and uncomfortable.

“I thought we were gonna make it,”

Harry's throat tightened up, his esophagus constricting with a certain tightness that reverberated to his stomach which was swirling in coils of springing uncertainty and doubt. Truth is, the action of sleeping with other women never really satisfied him. There was still a hole in his heart aching to be filled, to feel complete was something never came easy to anyone, really.

“We can still make it,”

“Can we?” Y/N’s voice wavered as she blinked her eyes closed, a tear gently sloping down the curve of her cheek. Her lip was sore from being bitten by her teeth, a gnawing action that occurred from the inside to the outside. Harry’s chin quivered, a sob preparing to rip through the confines of his mouth. A strained cry, raw from the base of his throat and embedded deep within his chest.

------

Harry remembers the mornings after he willingly gave his body to someone else aside from Y/N: the sunlight stabbing straight through his closed eyelids, the dream-like haze bottling his thoughts and feelings in an enchantment that chanted ‘everything was going to be fine’, everything was going to be the same when he came home. Y/N would always be there with her arms wide open in a gesture for a much-needed hug. His head would pound as if it belonged to someone else because his thinking was muzzled to bits and pieces, barely knowing who he was anymore.

There was absolutely nothing to be gained from sleeping with one woman after another. Aside, from quelling the spurt of arousal taking over his body, the longevity of the action did nothing in the long run. It tired Harry out and made him disgusted with himself more times than he can count. Those women questioned his every touch, instructing him to touch them this way, to kiss them softer, to stop thinking and start feeling the caressing touches of skin-on-skin contact. The excitement of a stranger exploring his body while he retaliated the same conduct was once an idea that had Harry ready to bolt out of Y/N’s arms in a second.

He wished he could turn back time. Y/N never made demands; all she wanted was his attention, his affection, hugs and kisses and her body swarmed with endless grazes, tracing the stretches of skin that gleamed in the early hours of the morning. His fingertips pressured the imperfections of her body, hair tickling the calves of her legs as the sheets whispered a barrier between their bodies. His chest attached to her back, his lips pressing pecks along the valley of her shoulder, the base of her neck, nuzzling his nose at the nape where her scent was the strongest.

Harry missed when they explored each others’ bodies in the darkness. There was nothing to be said, no words needed to be spoken between the two of them when their mouths attached to each other in a dazed spell, alluring both of them to give everything they had to the person that meant everything to them. Harry was ashamed to admit that at one point, Y/N ceased to be the one that meant everything to him. For a moment, she was a silver trophy, forgotten and left collecting dust on the shelf. The second best. The back-up.

Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that he had ever heard and it slit his heart with thin slices knowing that although he was the reason for the pleasure coursing through her body, the pain was still floating like a soapy bubble encompassing her entire being, leaving her trapped to subdue herself with artificial happiness until Harry returned home to her. And it went on, the desperation fuming the atmosphere, Y/N’s hesitant hands trembling against the expanse of his stomach as if she didn’t know his body anymore. Her lips working against his as if inexperience littered the skin of her mouth because he changed too much and she didn’t know how he moved anymore. He was an unfamiliar person but her body reached out to him continuously. It went on until Y/N couldn't physically bring herself closer to his without recoiling a few steps back to avoid the stench of the sweet perfume wafting from his clothes, without her stomach gurgling with disgust at the thought of where his hands had been; Couldn’t help but wonder where his heart is now.

And Harry went on with the robotic schedule to routinely fuck her because he had to. Not because he craved the way she tasted or missed the way she folded herself for him, but because that was what couples did, right? They made time for each other, became intimate and made love while reassuring whispers were exchanged between them. That was the case until he stopped listening. Her wails punctured the hollow in his chest and he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stopped trying, he paused his efforts. He was only doing the bare minimum and without that-- they had nothing.

Harry didn’t want to but it was all he could do. His body was hungering for other people to fill the void, the lost love that vanished in a moment. Still, Harry thought about Y/N. Her silhouette against the blinding rays of sun catapulting past the curtain in the early morning, her naked body outlined by the moon in the darkness. The soft curve of her lashes tickling the patch of hair on his chin when Y/N looked up at him with so much love and adoration. The sound of the rain pattering on the rooftop, racing past the window and forming a puddle at the ground.

His heart melted with the knowledge of receiving a type of love that rarely ever occurred. A love that sheathed itself with blue cotton candy, clouds of sugary sweetness drifting up to his tilted nose. The softness of the treat skimming his skin like light footsteps, doing everything in its power to leave his heart beating calmly. Until water appeared and saturated their love, disappearing into nothing in a blink of an eye.

___

There was a lot that Y/N didn’t understand, a lot that she didn’t know. There were so many things that drifted in her mind, incoherent thoughts and incomplete ideas scattered along with her brain. It would take time to organize a million things in an orderly manner. And by then, she didn’t know if it would be too late. Harry hurt her but Y/N was not innocent. They hurt each other in order to fix something that wasn’t profoundly broken; just dented and needing a little tender loving care.

She wanted to dismantle his heart. Tear it. Crush it to bits until it sprinkled heartbreak over their shared bed. Until then, Y/N could finally breathe again. But she couldn’t get herself to do it; she loved him too much to hurt Harry intentionally.

What hell am I doing?

Y/N repeated the question over and over until it became a part of her. Previously, she wouldn’t have thought of doubting her actions. The confidence she carried herself with glazed the mountains of doubts blocking her path. Not once did she regret a decision she made because Y/N knew that she would learn from it one way or another.

The time she spent being with Harry was one of the most joyous moments of her life. Images of grandeur slipping past her lids to remember the laughter echoing between the two of them, the smiles being larger than life like two twin sunflowers dancing against the gentle breeze of the field.

With Harry, Y/N experienced heartbreaking pain and suffocating sadness. Tall, ocean waves submerging her in the twilight zone leaving her with no choice but to kick her feet up and try to escape but salty liquid drowned her all around. It felt like there was no escape until she accepted the reality and simply just floated. The buoyancy of her body guided her to a ray of golden light and she tried hard to ignore it because the pain and sorrow were something that she had gotten used to.

Without vulnerability, they had nothing. It was the base for connection. The part where fear and shame dissolved into thin air because acceptance was what everybody craved for.

With Harry, she let herself be seen. She was vulnerable and honest and skinned to the bone with secrets that she shared with him. Her heart was whole with the amount of love she gave and the abundance she received. She loved him until the end even when there were no more signs of reassurance that the feelings were mutual. She believed that she was enough until he decided that she wasn’t anymore and found someone else, taking her heart with him and crushing it in a fist.

With Harry, she practiced gratitude and leaned into joy, never having a dull moment in fear of good things ending because they do. Everything has an end; even the bad things.

With Harry, she learned to scream and voice out her thoughts, never leaving a stone unturned so that honesty was always in transparency.

With Harry, she stopped screaming and started listening. To him and his obvious need for distance. To him and his silent pleads to leave him alone. To him and his evaporating love, reeking into the air with bittersweet goodbyes.

Furthermore, she started listening to herself.

What did she want?

What did she deserve?

___

Her query was answered only a week later when she spoke to him again. Harry’s eyes were filled with the same unbearable sadness that she used to feel whenever Y/N stared at her reflection in the mirror

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders in a loose answer, smiling the slightest bit as the air started engulfing her lungs a little easier. “Maybe”

Harry shook his head in denial, curls sticking to his temples and damp cheeks while some strands followed suit with the direction of his head shaking, muttering soft ‘no’s’ in repeated action as if it would help him contain her from slipping past the opened door. But his hands were buttery and his fingertips were burned raw.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I’m just not ready,” Y/N answered in a rehearsed manner, having spent the previous days deciphering what she truly wanted to say. If there was anything that she would take from Harry, it would be the value of honesty. “The moment I do, I’ll reach out to you. Give you an update,”

Harry stood unmoving, feet planted on the entryway. He could do nothing but listen to her silky voice comforting the turmoil boiling in his belly and the missiles launching in his head. “P-please,”

“Maybe we can get to know each other better,”

Was that where their love failed? Was it because they didn’t truly know each other so well that their unknown differences slowly crept up on their seemingly perfect relationship?

As perfect as it gets, Y/N savoured the times when it was just them against the world; she never would have thought that her closest ally would betray her. She never would have thought that her own self would walk away when she promised him that she would stick it through.

‘Make it through the end’, whenever that is.

_____

whew.

_____

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Riding High

Ch1:Jodhpurs And Jeans

Chapter Summary: After a passing comment from his well-meaning neighbour, land-lady and friend, Frank decides that before he enrols her into school Mary needs to learn some social skills and pick up a hobby to help her interact with kids her own age.

Mary decides she wants to learn how to ride…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So yeah, this one’s been buzzing in my head for AGES now. As you all know, I’m a Brit so I’m REALLY sorry if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. As means of an explanation in the UK we have 3 main types of stables. We have Riding Schools (which focus solely on providing riding lessons), Livery Yards (which are places where owners board their horses) and Equestrian Centres (which do both). After a bit of research it seems that EC also translates across the pond and means the same thing so…just bear with me on this and run with it!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2017

“I’m holding you solely responsible for this.” Frank shot Roberta a glare as Mary bounced over to the truck, her blonde hair swinging slightly as she skipped.

“All I said was that it might be useful to have her interact with kids her own age before you throw her into a school, which for the record, I still think is a dumbass idea Frank.” “Input noted and duly ignored…” Frank rolled his eyes “She needs to go to school. Have some kind of variant on a normal childhood.”

Roberta took a deep breath and simply shrugged “On your head be it.”

“Come on Frank!” Mary shouted, standing up on the ledge of the truck “we’re gonna be late!”

“It’s 20 minutes tops to Pinellas Park…” Frank looked at her “We got half an hour, chill out Stack”

“My name’s Mary not Short Stack…” she sing songed back.

“Don’t I know it…” Frank said, looking at her before he turned back to Roberta “I’ll see you later.”

“Hmmm” she nodded, and with that he rolled his eyes again and headed to the truck.

“You know you’re not actually gonna get to ride anything today right?” he asked, turning to his niece.

“No, but I’m still gonna see the ponies.” she said, smiling. “Why can’t we bring Fred?”

“Because a horse might step on him.” Frank shrugged, before he paused. “Actually, shall we take him?” Mary narrowed her eyes at him “That’s mean.” He chuckled, ruffled her hair and started up the truck. **** “Ok, now soften your outside hand…” Fliss called out across the paddock, as the woman riding the tall, black warmblood circled her “Yeah, you feel that. He’s taking the contact now, not leaning against your hand. So when you feel that softening, that’s when you need to push with your inside leg…and if is he isn’t listening a soft tap up with the stick…” She watched again from behind her Oakley wraparounds, smiling as the horse extended nicely down the long side of the school.

“Yeah, there you go!” she shouted encouragingly, “Now bring him round again and this time at the corner, pop him into canter…” She took a quick glance at her watch. She was running slightly behind, but what else was new? She would never leave a lesson, regardless, until her client had achieved something, even if it was what they dubbed a small victory. End on a high was her motto, and this was no different. Ever since Lucy had brought Captain out of his stable, Fliss could see the horse was in one of his awkward moods so she’d had to switch out her plan a little. It had worked and he’d settled after about 15 minutes of being an obstinate shit and he was working quite nicely.

“Good!” She shouted, pacing slightly “Now let’s see if we can extend this a little…” Lucy sat up tall, pushed through her legs and the horse bounded down the side. Fliss grinned, less than 6 months ago Lucy hadn’t even been able to keep the horse in a trot, now here she was producing an extended canter. Moments like this made her job so worthwhile…

“Ok, bring him back down…” she said, “And into trot…and walk…”

Fliss headed over to her client and smiled as she walked alongside her “That was really good Luce…you happy?” “I’m over the moon!” The teenager grinned “I can’t believe it…he went so well!”

“Yeah because you rode him well.” Fliss smiled “You know, I seriously think you should consider a Dressage Competition.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you don’t have a horse of your own but you can borrow Cap if you want…have a think about it.” “I will, thanks Fliss.”

Fliss smiled, gave the horse a pat and headed back to the gate.

“Joanne?” she called, and one of her grooms appeared. “Can you just supervise Lucy cooling him off. I’ve got someone bringing their daughter in at 11 am that should be here any time soon.”

“Sure.” Joanne nodded “Oh, they back barn has been mucked out but I’ve not had chance to scrub the water buckets out.” “It’s ok, you can do it after lunch” Fliss nodded. “the automatics are getting installed in a month or so which should make it a little easier.”

She patted Joanne on the shoulder and made her way into the office. Reaching for a file she dug out a Registration Form and a Liability Waiver and set them on the desk before she took a quick glance in the mirror. Satisfied that her auburn hair was tamed and there was no hay stick in it she nodded to herself and walked back on the yard, just in time to see a tall, well build dark haired man desperately trying to control a blonde haired girl who was looking around in glee and pointing.

“Hi…” she walked over, momentarily stuck by how damned good looking this guy was. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt which perfectly accentuated his tone upper body. His chiselled jawline which was covered in a short, stubbled beard, soft spikey dark hair, and he flashed her a smile that made the corners of his aviator covered eyes crinkle. A smile that made her clear her throat. “I’m Fliss, you must be Mr Adler.”

Frank looked at the woman in front of him, glad that his glasses hid the fact he was blatantly eyeing her up and down. Dressed in a pair of long riding boots, tight navy blue jodhpurs with a white belt around the top, and a tight pink polo shirt he could see every curve she possessed. But it was the smile she flashed him that made him feel like some kind of teenage school kid again. “Frank, please.” “Nice to meet you Frank.” Fliss smiled, noting how deep his voice sounded, it was much more gravelly than on the phone and there was a Boston twang to his accent. She shook his hand, his palm and fingertips slightly calloused against her skin, and then turned to Mary “And what can I call you Miss?” “Mary.” the little girl infomed her, looking up “Are all these horses yours?”

Fliss chuckled. “No not all of them. Eight belong to me. Two are my personal ones, then I have 6 that work in the riding school and the other six are boarders.” “Oh.” Mary pondered, looking around. “So which one can I ride?” “Mary…” Frank chastised her softly as he looked down at her, before glancing back at Fliss “Sorry, she’s excited.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “It’s fine, I love to see it.”

She turned to Mary and then in an exaggerated whisper so that Frank could here said “I’ll let you into a secret, I always put the new kids on Monty because he’s awesome and looks after everyone and he especially likes girls. He’s a ladies man. You wanna meet him?” Mary nodded eagerly and Fliss looked up at Frank, seeking his permission. He nodded and gestured with his head and she straightened up before leading Mary across the yard to the barn on the opposite side.

Frank stayed where he was for a moment, watching her ass as she walked before he mentally slapped himself and followed.

Fliss led them both into the airy barn, pushing up her sunglasses and down to 2 of the smaller stables at the far end. She stopped at one that contained a small, grey pony who gave a little nicker and stuck his head over the door.

“Monty, meet Mary.” she said with a smile as Mary gently reached up to stroke the pony’s soft nose.

“He’s really pretty.” Mary nodded, appraisingly.

“Yeah he’s awesome.” Fliss smiled, “And he’s a good boy too.” “Can I go in the stable?” Mary asked.

“Erm… if your dad says it’s ok?” Fliss looked at Frank who was tucking his sunglasses down the front of his shirt.

“I’m not her dad.” Frank shook his head “I’m her uncle.” “Oh, sorry.” Fliss frowned “I just assumed.”

“I get it a lot.” he waved her apology away “But I am her legal guardian so…”

Fliss nodded, studying him for a moment. There was clearly a bit more to that story but it wasn’t her business to pry.

“Can I?” Mary looked at him and he nodded.

“Ok so, Monty is really good and nothing scares him but with all horses you should always be quiet and not jump or shout.” Fliss instructed and Frank had to smile as Mary nodded seriously. He hadn’t seen her this engrossed in anything other than books for a long time. Maybe Roberta had been right.

Fliss unbolted the stable door and walked in, leading Mary in after her. She showed her where he liked to be scratched and Mary giggled as she rubbed at the spot on the pony’s withers and he began to tilt his head to the side, lips moving against Fliss’s arm as he nuzzled into her.

“What’s he doing?” Mary asked.

“It’s called grooming.” Fliss explained “So he is mimicking what you’re doing to him by doing it to me, see? It’s how they show affection in the wild. Sometimes they can get a bit carried away and they nip but they don’t mean to be nasty or bite.”

She looked over to Frank, keeping one eye on the small girl who was engrossed in petting Monty and looked at him “So, are you just after her learning to ride then or…” Frank nodded “It’s a long story but, she needs a hobby and this was the only thing that seemed to get her excited. Of course it would be the one that will milk me dry.” he raised his voice a little.

“Spend less money on beer when you go out tonight” she shot back, and Fliss gave a loud bark of a laugh as Frank, shook his head.

“See what I gotta put up with?” he snorted.

“You should talk to my dad about it.” She grinned. “I bled him dry due to horses as a kid, especially when I was up and down the UK competing!” “I was gonna say your accent isn’t local.” He said, smiling.

“Neither is yours.” she shot back “Boston, am I right?” He cocked his head, momentarily surprised. He didn’t think his accent was that strong considering.

“Yeah.” he nodded, “But I aint lived there in a while.” “I lived in Concorde” she explained, noticing his puzzled glance

“Huh, no kidding.” he smiled “Cambridge.” “Nice city.” Fliss smiled “I loved it.”

“What made you end up here?”

Fliss hesitated for a while. “Erm..” “Sorry, you don’t need to explain, I was just a little curious.” “No, it’s fine, just a long and complicated story.” Fliss scratched her temple “The abridged version is my marriage broke down and my mum and dad retired out here so I joined them.” She was avoiding his eyes slightly. Frank was smart enough to realise there was slightly more to it than that but he was tactful enough not to press. Besides, it was really none of his business.

“How about you? What you running from?” “What makes you think I’m running from anything?” he looked at her.

“Aren’t we all?” she looked at him, her deep brown eyes locked onto his.

He hesitated for a moment and then shrugged “Again, a long and complicated story but I wanted to give Mary a life away from hassle. And there was a lot of that in Boston.” He held her gaze and she simply nodded, before turning back to Mary.

“Ok Mary, how about we head into the office, get some forms signed and we can see about booking you in for your first lesson?” Frank watched as Fliss explained the importance of the kick-bolt on the bottom of the stable and showed her how to lock it before they three of them headed back onto the yard.

“Fliss, sorry to interrupt but do you want Cap and Bolt turned out?” a young girl with blonde hair approached them.

“Yeah, they’re not working today.” Fliss said, “But take them one at a time. Bolt’s taking to being a bit bargey. If he starts wrap the lead-rope round his nose.” “Will do.” “Thanks Jo.” she smiled, and the continued.

“What’s bargey?” Mary asked.

“Pushy.” Frank looked at her “Bossy.” “Like you?” Frank shot her a look and saw Fliss smiling to herself as she overheard.

“Or it could mean pain in the ass like you.” he shrugged. “Rude.” Mary shot back as Fliss opened the door to the office. Frank leaned over to hold it open.

“Thanks.” she looked at him smiling. He stepped in after Mary and they both stood, looking around taking it all in.

There was a large photo on the wall to the left, of someone, he presumed Fliss, on a horse jumping an obscenely high fence. On the wall at the back was a number of shelves, one containing files and the others a few more framed photos, one taken outside the gates to the yard of Fliss and a few others, he assumed her staff, and the other contained a number of trophies and a…

“Woah!” Mary said, scooting over “Is that yours?” “Sure is.” Fliss beamed, reaching up to retrieve the box frame. She led it flat on the desk and Mary scrambled up onto the chair to take a closer look.

The frame was split into two. On the right hand side was a photo of Fliss dressed in competition gear, navy jacket, red piping, white jodhs and a navy hat. She had a smile on her face that was literally ear to ear and round her neck sat the gold medal which was displayed in the left of the frame.

“London 2012…” Mary read the small plaque at the bottom “Frank, look…” “I can see.” he nodded, surprise evident in his tone. He looked at the woman “You were in the Olympics?” “Yeah.” she smiled “Only one though. Trained for years to get there…”

“Why only one?” Mary looked at her.

“Mary.” Frank groaned “Stop being nosey.” “It’s ok.” Fliss chuckled “A few months later at the World Championships later that year I had a nasty accident. I damaged my back and it took me nearly six months to recover. Sadly I lost my place on the team.” “Oh, that’s sad.” Mary looked at her.

“It’s a dog eat dog world kid.” Fliss shrugged “Not all bad though, I got into the training side of things which was great. Just my professional career didn’t work out.” There was a moments pause and Fliss replaced the photo and turned to Frank “Can I get you anything to drink?” “No, I’m good thanks.” he smiled.

“Ok, so…” Fliss said, “Mary I’m gonna need my seat back sweetie.” Mary obligingly jumped back down and Fliss took her vacated place, gesturing to the chair by the desk. Frank sat in it and Mary immediately jumped into his lap, her bare legs brushing slightly as she swung them to and fro.

“I have a few forms that you need to fill in and sign.” she said, apologetically “Legal stuff, contact details, waivers, that kind of thing. Safety is paramount at Sandybrook but, accidents to happen. Horse riding can be a dangerous sport…falls happen… as I know only too well.” Frank smiled and nodded.

“But I can give you those to take home, you can bring them with you when you come back.” Fliss reached into her desk drawer. She pulled out a glossy leaflet and opened it. “Our price list is here. I’m not a huge outfit, I don’t have more than 3 kids on a lesson at a time. Mainly because I don’t have the horses but I prefer to focus on the students, not the profit. I try to keep overheads down as much as I can to keep the costs low…”

She bit her lip, she hated this part of the job, the sales patter as her dad called it. “So it really depends on what you want to do as to how expensive it is. Group lessons are $20 for forty five minutes and individual lessons are $30 for thirty. I do always insist on an individual lesson first, but that’s discounted to $20 for the first one.” Frank nodded, it wasn’t cheap but they’d manage. He’d already explained to Mary that she wouldn’t be able to do it every week, but he could certainly stretch to once a fortnight.

“That’s reasonable.” he said after a pause.

Fliss smiled “I’ve only been open a year or so now, but I’m planning on starting up a few Own a Pony days where the kids can come down and learn how to care for the horses as well as just ride. But that’s all in the planning stages.” “Well you have a good set up.” he said, and she beamed back.

“Thank you, a lot of graft went into setting it up. My mom and dad’s retirement didn’t start out quite as quiet as they had planned!”

“I can imagine.”

“Ok,so…the real expensive outlay is gonna come at the start.” she said, turning to Mary “You’ll need some boots and a hat kiddo.” Mary grinned up at Frank.

“I do have hats I can loan for a few lessons but it is better if they have their own.” she looked at Frank. “It’s the one thing I don’t recommend getting second hand. But boots and jodhpurs etcetera you can pick up on e-bay and the like.” Frank nodded “And the hat?”

“There’s a great store not far from here…hang on…” she dug in her drawer again and produced a flier. “Here… the kid stuff is pretty reasonable to be fair, you’re probably looking at about $30 for a decent hat but they’ll help you out. If you take my brochure in you’ll get a 20% discount too.”

Mary took the flier from her and began examining it.

“That’s really it.” Fliss said, as she completed her mental check list “So all that’s left is to either book you in or you can call me…” “Please Frank!” Mary looked at him “Can we book?” Frank nodded “If you want.” “I do…” “Ok…what availability do you have?” Fliss opened the laptop and entered the diary and looked for a free spot.” “Does Wednesday at one suit?” she offered “I know once school starts you’ll probably want a weekend or evening but. whilst it’s the holidays does that work?”

Frank nodded “Yeah that’s fine. I can jiggle work around” Fliss tapped on the keyboard and smiled “All booked. If you want to leave me your number I send a text update out the night before just as a reminder.” Frank smiled, and gave out her number which she stored in the diary slot and then clicked saved “All done…guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” “Thanks.” he smiled “And thanks for showing us around.” “Not a problem.” she shook her head “Always important the clients get the tour of the place, to make sure they like it.” “Its awesome.” Mary looked up “Can we go here on the way home.” Frank sighed and looked at Fliss raising an eyebrow. She laughed.

“Yeah, get used to it. Once you get that horse smell on your hands it’s kind of an addiction.” “Frank hates animals.” Mary shrugged.

“I don’t hate animals.” Frank shook his head.

“You hate Fred.” “No, I don’t”

“You said before we should bring him so a horse steps on him.” Frank inwardly groaned as Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Fred is my cat.” Mary explained.

“Good name.” Fliss said “I have a few yard cats hanging around, they keep the mice at bay. And that reminds me, I haven’t seen Thor in a while…”

“Thor?” Mary looked at her

“Yeah, my dog…” Fliss stood up and opened the office door, giving a sharp whistle. “He never goes far.” As if on cue a large german shepherd came lolling down the yard to greet them. Frank eyed the dog, it was huge. Mary, right on cue jumped down off his lap.

“Can I stroke him?” “Go right ahead.” Fliss said, she looked at Frank and spotting his face she smiled “He’s a softie, looks the part though.” “Well I wouldn’t mess put it that way.” Frank snorted, standing up.

“Is he named after the Avenger?” Mary looked up “I love those films.”

“Sure is, he used to have a brother called Loki too but, well he died.”

Thor gave Mary a lick causing her to giggle before he flopped onto his side raising his paw.

“He wants a belly rub.” Fliss smiled, and Mary dropped to her knees to give the dog a tickle. His tail began to wag furiously on the floor and Mary laughed.

Frank watched the girl, smiling. He loved seeing her like this. She was so grown up and serious half the time, he yearned to see her acting like a normal seven year old. He was reticent to drag her away for that reason but he had work later that afternoon, a boat that needed finishing by Monday afternoon was taking him slightly longer than he had anticipated.

“Alright short stack, we gotta move…” “Do we hafta?” “Sorry kiddo.” Mary made a face.

“Do you wanna go to the store or not?” “Ok.” she said, jumping up and wiping dusting off her knees.

Fliss walked them to the truck which was parked in the car park and her eyes flew over to her horse wagon, a small 3.5 tonne box. Frank noticed her looking before she turned back to him

“Yours?”

“Yeah, I did have a bigger one but, well I don’t use it often enough now to warrant it. Maybe at some point I’ll get back into competing…never say never hey?” He smiled.

“Ok, so I’ll see you Wednesday.” she said To Frank’s utter surprise, Mary walked over to the woman and wrapped her arms around her, giving her waist as squeeze, her head pressing into Fliss’s stomach. Fliss bent over to give the girl a quick hug and smiled.

“It was nice to meet you both.” Fliss released Mary and gently ruffled her hair “I can’t wait to see you ride.” Mary headed over to the passenger side of the truck and stood on the sill so she could yank open the door. Fliss turned to Frank and looked at him, frowning slightly.

“Sorry, was that too much? I didn’t mean-” “Oh,God,no.” Frank stuttered, hastily shaking his head. “No, it’s just…well she’s never usually that affectionate with strangers. Not that you’re a stranger I suppose, not anymore but…” he shrugged.

“I’m flattered then.” Fliss said, her pretty face cracking into a smile which Frank couldn’t help but return. There was a moment of silence where he simply looked at her before he started suddenly.

“I should…” he gestured to the truck with his keys.

“Yeah, sorry. Have a good day Mr Adler…” “Frank…” “Frank.” she corrected herself with another gorgeous smile “I’ll see you Wednesday.” With a smile of his own and a nod he walked to the truck and Fliss turned and headed back to the yard.

He climbed in and turned to Mary who was looking at him, smirking in a smug way that was well beyond her years.

“What?” he demanded.

“You like her.” Mary snorted.

“She’s a nice girl, I mean woman…lady…”

Mary didn’t say a word, simply sat back as Frank reached around for her belt before doing his own and setting the truck into reverse. Sometimes she was far too observant for her own good. *****

“If she gives you any trouble just tie her up on the porch.” Frank said as Mary settled on the couch in Roberta’s trailer. Roberta snorted and Mary glared at him.

“The only one who gives me trouble around here is you Frank Adler.” Roberta shot back. “Now scoot, Mary’s gotta tell me all about this pretty girl at the stables she says you’re sweet on.” “Jesus…” Frank groaned “I’m not sweet on her, she was just nice.”

“He googled her.” Mary said.

“You googled her” Roberta intoned.

“I was curious ok?” Frank sighed “And you asked me to!” “She’s an Olympic Gold medallist.” Mary chanted, draping herself over the arm of the sofa, head hanging, hair brushing the floor “At London 2012 but then she had an accident in the World Championships later that year and she broke two vertebrae…she didn’t compete again. And she was married to a guy called John Stazaker, he was on the US team but they’re divorced now. He’s in prison…but Frank didn’t tell me why.” “Because it’s none of your business, and you don’t mention it to her.” Frank said sternly, cutting her off.

Roberta looked at him curiously “But you’re not interested in her,at all.” “Like I said, curious.” he shrugged “Especially if she’s gonna be teaching Mary.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Roberta dropped her hands to her hips “Whatever you say honey…” Frank sighed and then looked at Mary. “Be good.” “I will, see you in the morning…”

He nodded and then headed out. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the day had died down to an acceptable level and the ten minute walk down to the small strip of bars wasn’t as sticky as normal. It passed fairly quickly, he was lost in thought about the woman he had met before. It had made for surprising reading, a child star on the circuit the accident had cruelly robbed her of a future in the sport five years ago, and from the sounds of it her ass-hat ex-husband had stolen three years of her life too. Still, as he had told Mary, it was none of their business.

He yanked the door open to Fergs and headed over to the bar. Ordering his usual he perched on a stool and pulled over one of the papers, flicking it open. Taking a pull of the beer he was handed, he let out a sigh. Friday nights were always his time, his one night of the week where he wasn’t Frank with the Dead Sister and the child genius niece to bring up. He was just plain old Frank Adler, perpetual bachelor that might or might not get lucky, depending on how the night went.

Half an hour or so later he was another beer deep and completely lost in his reading. So much so he was barely aware of the body besides him as it slid into the space next to him at the bar. That was until they spoke.

“So how much did she sting you for at the store?”

Frank grinned at Fliss “Just short of a hundred. New hat, boots and a pair of jodhpurs.” Fliss giggled “Make sure she wears the boots in, they’re a killer for the first few days!” “I’ll bear it in mind.” he smiled “So, you hear alone or…” “Oh, no. It’s my Mum’s birthday so there’s a few of us out.” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Frank followed her eyes and settled on a table full of women who were all laughing. One looked quite similar to Fliss, same face shape and nose, who he assumed to be her mother. “If I’m honest it’s a bit boring considering they’re all over fifty but…” Frank laughed “Well I was gonna offer to buy you a drink but…” She laughed again “Thanks but, there’s a kitty going…” with that she turned to the bar tender. “Hiya, can I get 4 bud lights, a gin and tonic and a vodka soda please?” The bar tender nodded and headed off.

“Mary hasn’t shut up about Monty all afternoon.” Frank said and Fliss smiled.

“Like I said, once they get the bug they’re bitten.” “It’ll be good for her to have a hobby.” Frank repeated his earlier sentiment “She doesn’t get much interaction with kids her age.”

“Oh, what about School?” Fliss asked. Frank hesitated and took a drink from his bottle. Fliss let out a silent groan “Sorry, that’s really none of my business.” “No, it’s fine.” Frank shook his head, swallowing his beer. “She’s err, home schooled at the moment. My neighbour thought a hobby might be a good way for her to kinda do that before she goes to school.”

Fliss smiled “Well she’s not wrong. The kids I teach are great, I don’t stand for any crap, she’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

“Glad to hear it.” Frank smiled “Mary can be a litte…well, I suppose, odd is the right word. She’s old before her age.”

“Oh I know all about that.” Fliss smiled. “I spent most of my childhood training. Didn’t get chance to do much normal kid stuff. I was that focussed on my dream of gold medals…” “And you achieved it.” Frank nodded.

“Yeah, wish it had lasted longer you know, but what can you do.” she shrugged. “Hey, you never know, Mary might find a sudden hidden talent that catapults her into stardom…” Frank stiffened slightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by Fliss. She hesitated for a moment before Frank shook his head and smiled “Maybe, although that would really gonna fuck my bank balance…”

Fliss chuckled, eyeing him slightly. The man was a total mystery. At that the Bar Tender returned with a tray of drinks and she turned to pay him, waving away the change.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” she smiled “Bye Frank.” “Yeah, have a good evening.” he smiled and she turned and walked away. Frank watched her go, the tight jeans she was wearing accentuated her ass and her legs, helped by the white heels she was wearing. The loose white cami top rode up slightly as she bent over to deposit the tray and when the woman he assumed to be her mother caught his eye and gave a knowing smirk he hastily turned around.

“Another beer please pal.” he said, waving his empty bottle

****

“Who’s that?” Verity leaned over to Fliss as she settled in the seat next to her.

“Oh, that’s the guy I was telling you about.” she shrugged “the one who brought his niece up to the Centre this morning.” “I know you said he was good looking but…”

“Shut up Mum.” Fliss said, flushing slightly

“You’re old enough to be his mother.” Jane, one of the other women said and the table laughed.

“I wasn’t looking for me…” Fliss rolled her eyes “Seriously?” Verity laughed and placed her arm round her daughter, giving her a squeeze. “I’m just teasing Lissy, its just nice to see you talking to someone, that’s all.” Fliss smiled and grabbed her beer, taking a drink.

“Who the fuck was that?” John said, pointing across the packed bar to the man that Fliss had just smiled at.

“No one…” Fliss protested “Just a guy from work, that’s all.” “Right…” John said, the nerve in his jaw twitching. Fliss swallowed nervously and gently touched his arm.

“Honestly, he works at the stables. I was just being polite.”

“He’s eye fucking you.” “No, he’s not…” Fliss rolled her eyes and immediately realised what he had done when John gripped her chin painfully between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” he practically snarled.

“I’m sorry…” Fliss said, the tears springing forth “John you’re hurting me…” He let go and she dropped her head, turning back to the bar. She picked up her drink and took a long pull from the bottle, trying to compose herself. Her hand was shaking, she’d made him angry.

And she knew what that meant…

“Hey…” her mother’s voice shook her out of the memory and she looked up at her. “Oh Liss…”

“I’m ok…” she said, taking a breath.

Her mother looked at her again, and Fliss knew she was busted. “I was just…having a flash back that’s all.”

“He’s not here.” Verity dropped her voice “That fucker is where he belongs, behind bars and he won’t be bothering you again. Me and your dad promised you that…and we meant it.”

“I know, honestly I’m fine…” Fliss assured her mum who leaned over and gave her temple a soft kiss.

Fliss smiled back and shooting one last glance at Frank, who has his back to the table as he continued his reading, she turned to the women and threw herself into the conversation.

**** Chapter 2

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted fan fic #gifted

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laulink · 3 years

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A.N : This volume is gonna be full of angst, I just know it, especially for Nuts and Dolts. They had too many good moments in these first 3 eps, it’s hiding something. So, I’m going to give into the angst... then give it a happy ending because I want to make this story into a fucking fairy tale and no one can stop me.

The wind was blowind way too strong to be natural. Ruby knew that. A few hours ago, seeing this power, feeling its raw strength would have amazed her, but the situation had changed. Oh, so much.

In front of her was Penny. Her beautiful, cheerful, kind, patient, funny, enthusiastic, intelligent, wonderful Penny. Turned into a lifeless doll by that mustached bitch, on fucking Ironwood’s orders. Ruby would have punched them both if they were in front of her. Her right hook had gotten pretty mean after Ozpin’s training and feeling these two bastards’ noses break under her fist would have been oh so satisfying.

But they weren’t here and Penny was the one facing her. Her eyes had turned red from the corruption in her systems, reminding her of Yang when she was angry and her mother, Raven, when she saw her for the first and last time at the battle of Haven.

A familiar noise at her left alerted her just in time to dodge Penny’s blades and avoid being sliced in two. Her aura was low, it would have broken under the attack. Behind her, she heard Weiss talking to Pietro over her scroll.

“What do you mean you can’t access her systems ?! You did it just a few hours ago !

- Yes, when Penny was still functioning normally ! Whatever Ironwood and Watts have done to take control of her, it has blocked all remote accesses, I can’t do anything to break her out of it !

- There must be something we can do !” Blake screamed from her side, avoiding another of Penny’s attacks. Ruby semblanced her a bit farther away, out of Penny’s reach so they could take a breath while still listening to Pietro.

“I have tried everything ! I can’t get through to her ! This kind of control can only be broken from inside, either by connecting to Penny with a computer and running a counter program or getting Penny to break out of it herself. But I can’t do any of those things !

- What was that about getting Penny to break out of it ?” Ruby asked before ducking under yet another attack from Penny’s blades, semblancing behind her to try and cut the damn strings, and being pushed back by a blast of wind. Her ears were ringing, but she still managed to catch Pietro’s answer.

“Penny can break any form of control on her body. That’s something I made sure of when designing her. Earlier, in the operations room, she could have pushed me out if she had so desired. The same could be done here, but the program run to control her is complex. Watts really outdid himself ; without a strong stimulus, a mind breaking shock if you will, his connection to Penny will hold and she won’t be able to push him out.

- So what you’re saying is that we need to shock Penny into rebooting her brain ?” Weiss asked, disbelieving.

“Basically, yes. A strong enough emotion could do the trick ; there’s a reason people say that, under certain circumstances, their brains short-circuit. That’s what we need right now.”

Penny’s movements were getting more precise by the minute now. Watts was getting the hang of this, and Ruby wished he weren’t. If things kept going like this, they wouldn’t be able to avoid injuries, to them or Penny, for much longer.

“What can we do then ?!” she screamed in Weiss’ general direction. “What could possibly shock her enough to do that ?! We’re running out of time !”

Pietro was silent, probably thinking. Ruby felt someone’s hand on her shoulder and turned to see Nora looking at her, serious, but eyes sparkling in a way Ruby really didn’t like right now.

“I think you know exactly what we need to do, Ruby.

- No I don’t !”

But Nora’s cryptic words seemed to make it click for Blake, who’s ears perked up. She dodged a few more attacks from Penny, progressively getting closer to Ruby and Nora, who were retreating, protected by Weiss’ cover fire. When they were all close enough to talk without having to scream, Blake told Ruby :

“Maybe you don’t know, but you are what we need, Ruby. Or rather, what Penny needs.

- What does that even mean ?!”

Weiss seemed to catch on as well because she sighed loudly and gave Ruby a glare so withering that her leader could feel it even without seeing it.

“Come on, Ruby ! We need to inspire a strong emotion in Penny ! And we’ve all seen how you look at her ! Stop being a gay mess for two minutes and go get your girl !”

Ruby’s face turned as red as her cape. She turned around to face Weiss and deny, but Nora’s hammer deflecting an attack that would have otherwise turned Ruby into a hedgehog reminded her that she didn’t have the luxury to fight with her teammates. Instead, she used Crescent Rose to deflect Penny’s swords while screaming at them :

“Are you insane ?! Do you really think it’s the moment to play matchmaker ?!

- Actually Ruby,” Pietro spoke up, still on the scroll, “your friends’ suggestion is a good one. I believe that making your feelings known to Penny would provide a stimulus strong enough to break her out of Watts’ control. It’s worth a try.

- Have you lost your mind ?!

- No time to argue, Ruby !” Blake screamed while her clone was sliced in two where she was standing a mere second ago. “You have to try, now !”

She was right, they were at their limit : they wouldn’t hold much longer. Taking a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart, Ruby focused on Penny’s movements and semblanced her way between her blades, closer and closer until she was right in front of her and-

Materialising in front of Penny, Ruby screamed as she punched the girl, breaking her focus long enough to push her against a rock sticking out of the ground, trapping her with her body.

Taking Penny’s face in her hands with all the care and tenderness in the world, Ruby told her :

“I’m sorry Penny. I love you.”

Red eyes flicked back to green, then red, then green, then red again, almost too fast for Ruby to see. She was almost there, Penny was almost back, she just needed one last push... !

Letting her heart and instincts guide her, Ruby leaned up on her tiptoes and took Penny’s lips between her own in a deep, loving kiss, trying to convey all of her overwhelming feelings to the girl of her dreams. Her adoration for Penny, her happiness at seeing her again after so long, the warmth she felt whenever Penny smiled at her, whenever she talked to her, saw her face, the joy so enormous it felt as crushing as it was liberating when Penny hugged her or kissed her cheek... The love that invaded her entire being, unbridled and devastating, begging to be known, to be shown, unrelenting, whenever she so much as thought of Penny... She poured everything, her very heart, into this kiss...

... and almost broke it out of shock when she felt artificial lips start moving against her own and strong, gentle hands press against the small of her back, bringing her closer to Penny.

She should have taken a step back, checked that Penny was really there, free, ask how she was feeling... but the moment felt so perfect, Ruby couldn’t resist it : she sunk deeper in Penny’s embrace, her hands moving forward and around the Maiden’s head to rest on the back of her neck, cradling her, keeping her close, as close as she could while she prayed this moment would never end.

Alas, the world wasn’t so kind as to let them in their little paradise forever. The two girls eased back, just enough for their lips to part, but still close enough for their noses to brush and their breaths to mingle. They locked eyes, silver and green, no trace of red to be found, and their lips shaped into twin grins, so wide their cheeks started hurting. Ruby couldn’t help it, she pressed her lips to Penny’s again, and again, and again, even though the contact barely counted as a kiss since they smiled too much to properly give one.

Penny’s arms tightened around Ruby’s waist, bringing her impossibly closer, pressed flush against her love. Having regained some of her composure, though tears shined at the corners of her eyes, Penny whispered against Ruby’s lips :

“Thank you Ruby. I love you too.”

Melting both from the embrace and the confession, Ruby responded with a loving smile and the sweetest kiss she could muster. As Ruby buried a hand in Penny’s hair to keep her close while she deepened the kiss, they both heard someone coughing loudly, reminding them they were not alone. Blushing, both girls jumped away from each other and turned to face their friends who were giving them very pointed -and smug- looks.

Weiss was the first to break the silence :

“When this war is over, I’m commissioning Blake to write a fairy tale about you two.

- No problem,” smirked Blake, “this story will write itself.

- “The Rose and the Maiden : tale of a fated love”. This will be a best-seller,” Nora promised.

As their friends kept chatting about the hypothetic book, Ruby and Penny shared a resigned, but happy glance. Without so much as a word, their hands sought each other out, their fingers intertwined and a feeling bloomed in their hearts : the certitude that, whatever would be thrown their way, they would overcome it together.

A.N : End ! I know that kisses in RWBY always lead to absolute tragedies, so I wanted to turn it around and have the tragedy be dealt with by a kiss. We are in a show inspired by fucking FAIRY TALES, God damnit ! Give me some true love kiss saving the day !

This was a bit rushed, but I hope you enjoyed !

#my post #rwby #rwby8 #rwby spoilers #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #penny polendina #nuts and dolts #mechanical rose #no beta we die like Pyrrha #=P #I always see this kind of tag on AO3 #wanted to try it #my writing

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 3- The Swedish Job

Summary: After learning of Diego’s wonderful ‘cough cough ‘terrible’ cough cough’ plan to stop the assassination of JFK. And figuring out Sir Reginald is in the recovered footage, you, Diego, and Five went out to find him. Ending the night with Diego getting shanked by his own father. Now here you are in the aftermath trying to convince Diego, he needs to rest.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 If you want tagged just hit me up.

This is like 55% smut ngl.⚔️

To make a long story short, you didn’t end up talking it out with Sir Reginald Hargreeves, or find anything worth dying for either. No hidden notes or files were to be found. And all that you took away from this fun little adventure. A bleeding Diego, and a cranky old man in a 13-year-olds body who also happened to get scratched by an aggressive monkey. Who turned out to be baby Pogo, things have been weirder. So you took it in stride, and hauled Diego’s ass to Elliot’s house, while Five drove, you keeping pressure on the wound the whole time.

——

Getting some medical supplies ready, you glance at an unconscious Diego, who’s sleeping soundly on the couch. Shirt off and looking as handsome as ever, contrary to the bloody bandaid covering his injury that you applied earlier. So far he was doing fine, and that’s all you needed to know. You cursed yourself for not stepping up in time to prevent this little mishap. But how could you have known Diego would get stabbed? All that mattered was that he’s alive and not dead. Ben wouldn’t want anyone else hanging around Klaus most likely anyways. He deals with enough nonsense already, you assume.

While holding the steel medical instruments, one in each hand, you carefully position yourself next to Diego. Slowly bringing the utensils closer to his damaged skin, preparing to cauterize the bloody cut. A second later you make contact, hearing a gross sizzling sound and smelling the burning of human flesh. Disgusting. Instantly Diego’s eyes shoot open, gasping at the hot pain your causing him. Being dramatic and starting to get louder, sounding like drums in your ears. Not helping whatsoever.

“Would you quite yelling I’ve never done this before” You tell him honestly while concentrating on the task at hand.

“What happened?” Diego asks you, confused as to how he got here.

“I saved you...again.” You reply bluntly, still working on his wound.

“Did you even listen to the plans?” He mumbles sassily.

“Your plans were stupid and it was entertaining watching you get your ass kicked by your own dad, if I might add.” You reply while finally looking up at him.

Suddenly he goes wide eyed again, lifting his head up to better access the situation. “Where are my clothes Y/N?! The hell happened to my clothes?” He says distressed, trying to get up.

Frustrated with his lack of listening skills you push the cauterizing tool closer into his skin, listening to the sizzle once again. Diego looks down at the damage as he yells out loudly in agony, then abruptly laying down with a groan in defeat. Falling unconscious from the large influx of pain, and conveniently not moving again either. Good.

Focusing back on the task of playing doctor, Five sighs, walking into the room. “Oh. He isn’t dead.”

“Disappointed.” Lila asks, trailing in after him from some hidden corner.

“Oh, to see you? Always.” He jabs back.

“So much hostility in such a tiny package. How are you two friends?” She asks, glancing at you unamused by Five’s rudeness.

“He’s an added bonus for dating Diego.” You vaguely explain, smiling to yourself as she nods and focuses her attention back to Five.

“Did you cut yourself shaving? I could tech you to shave like a big boy.” Quips Lila bluntly.

Snorting in amusement at her banter with Five, you look over to him. Who’s holding up a cotton pad over his scratch marks. “No, just ran into an old family friend.” He says tiredly with a sigh.

Looking briefly behind him, he points to Elliot who’s still tied to the dentist chair, unable to properly speak. “Neither of you untied him?” He asks.

“I was preoccupied.” You shrug.

“I wasn’t told otherwise.” Lila says, while sitting down and reclining in a chair.

——

While you’re throwing one of Diego’s knives into the nearby wall for some pastime target practice. An annoying alarm begins to sound throughout the room, “Hey, we got one. Hey, one of those machines you asked for his going crazy.” Announces Elliot from across the room in his swivel chair. Five speeding past you to see what the commotions about.

“Which one?” He asks quickly.

“It’s the, uh, atmosphere radar.”

“Good.” Five adds.

“I don’t get it. What are they tracking? A hurricane? A storm front?” Elliot wonders, confused as to what his radar system is showing them.

“Sound waves.” They say collectively in realization.

Five starts to back away, you knowing exactly what he’s about to do. A flash and he’s gone.

“Wow. What...Hey, where are you going?” Inquires Elliot, not used to Five’s way of handling things. Which is usually alone.

Giving him a shrug you turn back around to throw another knife, hitting the bullseye with a thud, and splintering the wood in the process. “I wonder if he’ll actually find Vanya?” You think, pondering the possible whereabouts of the rest of your friends.

——

Halting your arm from throwing another dart, your ears prick, abruptly catching the sound of Diego creaking the bed from the other room. Oh that man is not about to get up, you thought, turning to Lila. “I’m gonna have to forfeit, wolfman apparently thinks he’s okay enough to get up.” You tell her while rolling your eyes, setting your spare darts on the table and turning to find Diego.

Walking into his makeshift room you watch as he painfully stands up from the bed, grimacing and trying to breathe steadily, as not to cause anymore pain for himself.

“So what are your plans now tough guy, by the way Elliot’s made mushy tuna.” You tell him while leaning against the door frame.

“No. It’s a tuna mold.” Replies Elliot while walking away with his tuna mold, half offended.

“Y/N, where’s my shirt?”

“Last I checked you had a stab wound, so if you can all of a sudden miraculously harness my healing powers. Your ass is staying in bed.” You tell him sternly, knowing he’s not gonna listen.

“What, no I can’t, this is all connected to JFK, and my Dad’s right in the middle of it.” He explains while putting pants on. “That’s why he attacked me last night.” Looking to your right you pick up a mop-less wooden stick, and decide to have some fun getting him to shut up. “Cause he knows that I’m actually getting closer to..” he doesn’t have time to finish before you poke him directly into his bandaged bloody wound. Earning a gargled yell from him in the process, he then falls directly onto the bed grunting in pain from your cheap shot.

“Yeah you look like you’re ready to throw hands, why don’t you fight me right now. And if you win I’ll let you go.” You tell him with a shit eating grin plastered onto your smug face.

He looks up at you slightly offended and very much frustrated. “What is wrong with you?” He exclaims from the bed, still in pain.

Throwing your arms up in irritation, you try and reason with his stubbornness. “Just going out on a limb here, but if I remember correctly, you almost got killed last night. Take a day off, D.” You tell him, setting your temporary weapon off to the side. Swiveling back around on one foot, you gracefully jump onto the bed, positioning yourself right next to Diego’s discouraged and mostly naked form.

Propping your left arm up to look down at Diego, he tells you sadly, “I can’t believe I got shanked by my own father.”

“Wild right. What a prick.” You say trying to comfort him with a little humor. “Listen, if it helps any, he didn’t know you were his son when he shanked you.”

“Still, he cheap-shotted me.” He says still looking sadly off into nowhere. “Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn’t stand a chance.” He tells you with hidden fight in his voice.

Not wanting to fully dampen his withering spirits to much but still wanting to tease him a little. You carelessly caress his skin, trailing up to push on his cut ever so lightly. Pulling forth a pained gasp from Diego, giving him a silent reminder that’s he’s in no shape to fight.

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” He asks finally turning to face you. Taking his statement into consideration, you lay down next to him on your back. Staring up at the ceiling, you can feel his eyes on you. “I trust you Diego, just not what’s always going on up in there.” Pointing to your head, referring to Diego’s own problem making skills. Breathing heavily you start, “I know what it’s like to die, it’s lonely and dark. You feel cold and weak, you can’t move, see, hear, or feel anything.”

Sighing you continue, “I remember the first time I died. Have I ever told you about it?”

Looking at you more intensely now he replies in a whisper, “Never.”

You glance at him for a moment before diving right back into your story, trying to make a point as to why he shouldn't be actively putting himself in danger. “I was 5 at the time, my heightened senses and all that other shit came to be before I figured out I was immortal. It was hard not understanding why I could hear so well. Or run in the dark through my house without tripping, unlike my parents, who couldn’t see shit without a flashlight.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling with a troubled expression crossing your face, letting the memories flood back into your mind. “A fire started late one night, mum had left one of her scented candles burning on a wooden table downstairs. She didn’t mean to leave it there, but the dogs were getting rowdy again, so she had to put them away in their cages. And dad was already in bed snoozing away. I could smell the smoke before I new something was wrong, then I heard my mother screaming and my dad yelling for her to calm down.”

“Shit” Diego whispered.

“The fire had burned so fast through our house, it had gone up the stairs and reached our hallway. Fortunately for my parents, their room was at the end of the hall, so their escape to freedom was easy. But unfortunately for myself, I was trapped, I couldn’t open my windows and the door handle burned to much to touch. I huddled in the corner of my room terrified, and then just like that, my door was gone and the flames shot in.” You tell him with a shaky breath as a lone tear runs down the side of your face and into your hairline.

“What did it feel like?” He asks softly, nervous as to what you’re about to say. Letting you take your time.

“It was excruciating. I’d never felt pain like it before. Sure I’d scraped my knee or walked into the wall a couple times when I was smaller, it happens. But this pain, this was like having boiling water poured over you all while standing on hot coals.”

“Jesus.”

“When the firemen found me, they thought I was a charred corpse. They picked me up and set me down in the grass, and that’s when I woke up. The guy fainted and my mother rushed over to me in hysterics.” You yawned, tired from the emotional roller-coaster you were currently putting yourself through. “After that they realized something was definitely up with me, and 7 years later they decided I was to much to handle and then ‘poof’ I was an unwilling member of the Umbrella Academy. The end.” You finish, turning your head to look directly at Diego, as he sits up on his right elbow turning to fully face you.

“I had no idea. Why haven’t you ever told me before?” He wonders.

Bringing your jaded gaze back to Diego, you go to explain. “It’s not like it’s that fun of a memory. And anyways you never asked.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath, and relaxing again.

“I guess we could stay longer...for a bit. I guess that’s okay.” He murmurs in that gravely voice of his that you’ve missed so much.

Sitting up on your left elbow to meet his dark eyes, faces inches apart, you start to contemplate where this close proximity may lead you. Smoothly hinting at your excitement you tell him while smirking, “I’ve spent one year and 7 months trying to find you, if you don’t kiss me in the next...” you don’t have time to finish before his lips come crashing onto yours for a sweet and hungry embrace.

Pulling away instantly you lightly slap him across the face, making him groan loudly and throw his hands up to his stinging skin. “What the hell, Y/N?! What is wrong with you woman?!” He exclaims muffled by his hands, until he pulls them away to reveal an incredibly confused expression littering his features.

Laughing for a moment, you smile while climbing on top of him, pinning him to the bed between your unmoving legs, “You didn’t let me finish.” You say lovingly, hovering over Diego’s shirtless body.

“Ow. Oh, oh, ow, ow, ow.” Diego suddenly says while flinching in pain at the sudden new pressure of your body weight on his torso.

“Oh, shit. Sorry love.” You tell him smiling as you lean your body onto your legs more, so you’re not completely crushing him.

Mock glaring up at you, Diego breaks out into a huge smile. “Just. Be gentle.” He says kissing you again. “God, you’re the most weirdest and fantastic person I’ve ever met.” He says breathlessly, staring deep into your beaming eyes. Not being able to hold yourself back anymore you lean down attacking his lips in a heated embrace. His hands instantly go to your hips on instinct, like he’s done it a million times before. You both begin exploring each other’s bodies like it was the first time all over again, wanting nothing more then to feel every muscle and curve both of you have to offer.

Breaking his lips away from yours, he quickly goes to tell you something important, as a fake pout falls to your face, “These have to go.” He says, as he reaches for the bottom of your white tank top and begins to pull it up, you helping him speed up the process. Taking your shirt in one hand he throws it, not giving two fucks as to where it could have landed. You also not caring in the slightest, just eager to get things rolling. Next you skillfully unclasp your bra, taking it off and flinging it off to the side. Diego stares at you with a giant grin spread across his face. Reaching out to gently caress the sides of your breasts, his hands slowly trailing up your body to bring you down to kiss him again.

“I guess I won’t be needing these.” You mumble in between kisses. Referring to your pants and underwear, annoyingly concealing the prize jewels. On both of you in fact. Awkwardly struggling to rip your pants off, you lay next to Diego for a brief moment finally getting your jeans and chucking them across the small room. Jumping back into action, you straddle him, hands roaming all over each other once again. As your lips make contact, savoring every second with him for as long as you can.

Moaning in deep satisfaction you take a breath to tell Diego, “As much as I’m digging you in white, these things gotta go.” You explain while kissing his cheek, sneakily reaching down to tug at his tight white underwear that now are concealing a noticeable bulge. “You first mi amor.” He purrs seductively in your ear, you just about die. As gracefully as you can muster, you tear your undergarments off accidentally kneeing Diego in the gut, thankfully not near his stab wound. “Oh shit.” You laugh breathlessly, as Diego grunts in pain but only for a moment, before flipping you over, pinning you to the bed. “I’ll let that slid.” He says smiling at you, kissing you again real quick before he takes off his own underwear. Revealing the true king jewels, you’ve been absolutely dying for, no pun intended.

Diego looks deeply into your eyes, opening up your legs and kissing your inner thigh. Sending shock-waves of pleasure and pure joy throughout your whole being. God it’s been a long fucking time, you thought. As agonizingly slow as ever, Diego gently kisses your stomach. Inching his way up to your mouth with light butterfly kisses that make their way up in between your breasts, then to your collarbone, neck, cheeks, and eventually arriving at your wanting lips. All the while he continues to feverishly feel you up, you not shying away as you do the exact same. In true Diego style, without warning he thrusts into you, making you moan loudly in pleasant surprise. His thrusts are slow and full of passion at first, both of you savoring the moment for as long as you can take. Until it’s not enough for you anymore, you begin bucking your hips into his, trying to get more friction. Diego takes your not-so-subtle hint and obliges by picking up the pace., pounding into you harder, perfectly hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Ah, fuck.”

He grunts while pushing you further into the mattress with that muscular heavenly body of his. He sloppily kisses the side of your opened mouth that’s quietly releasing satisfied moans with each new thrust of his cock into your soaking walls. To say that you are on cloud nine would be a severe understatement. It’s been way to damn long since you’ve had a good fuck, and there was no way anyone from the 60′s was getting anything from you while you patiently waited for Diego. The bed shakes as his sweaty body rocks you back and forth into the soft blankets, your hands hold onto his back for support while he continues to fill you up to the max as he pulls in and out of you like a madman. You suddenly let out a shaky gasp when his hard cock hits your sweet spot in the most perfect of ways. He leans his elbows onto the bed as he looks down at your pleased face with a smile, satisfied with his fruitful work at making you get this way, so completely undone, and all because of Diego. You bite your lip as a knot begins to form into your dripping core, you open your eyes to watch as Diego appears to mirror you, he begins to moan loader as he starts pumping even harder into you, teetering on the edge of oblivion, you about to do the same. A couple more deep thrusts from Diego’s angelic body sends you fully over the edge, screaming in ecstasy as your orgasm explodes throughout your entire being. Practically sending sparks of electricity racing through you, your walls tighter around Diego’s cock as you ride out your high. With one more ragged thrust, Diego moans as his own orgasm hits, loudly spilling into you with everything he’s got left to give.

Kissing your sweaty cheek, Diego pulls out of you, flopping on the bed to your right while making it shake for a second. “God I love you, Y/N.” He says tiredly, not sure if it’s from the blood loss or your goddess-like body. Turning to face Diego, you scoot in closer, cuddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you too, my hairy wolfman.” You tease him with a laugh. Closing your eyes you start to feel the weight of the past 24 hours hit you like a sack of bricks. Smiling in content and comfort, you reach down to pull the covers over your naked bodies, then throwing your left arm around Diego’s chest, hugging him gently before immediately dozing off. Diego lightly kissing your forehead, falling asleep shortly after.

——

Meanwhile.

“Hey, while those two love birds are busy I’m gonna head out, be back soon. Aight.” Lila tells Elliot, waving at him as she hastily slips out the backdoor, like a thief in the night.

Waving awkwardly back he watches as she leaves, hearing the sound of a projectile hitting the bedroom window. Causing him to jump, and grumpily walk downstairs with his tuna mold in hand.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch1: Jodhpurs and Jeans

Chapter Summary: Frank Adler is a single man in his early 30s, simply doing his best to raise his genius niece Mary. After a passing comment from his well-meaning neighbour, land-lady and friend, he decides that before he enrols her into school she needs to learn some social skills and pick up a hobby to help her interact with kids her own age.

Felicity (Fliss) Gallagher is a single woman in her early 30s. An British Olympic Gold Medal winning Showjumper who was forced into early retirement due to a nasty accident, she’s now settled in South Pasadena running Sandybrook Stables, an Equestrian Centre which provide both boarding and teaching services.

Mary decides she wants to learn how to ride… meaning the two of them meet for the first time

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me

As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

And yes, the woman in the photos in the cover banner on and with the Chestnut is me and my wonderful, wonderful old girl who I lost 2 years ago…

Chapter Song: Driftwood by Travis

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

August 2017

“I’m holding you solely responsible for this.” Frank short Roberta a glare as Mary bounced over to the truck, her blonde hair swinging slightly as she skipped.

Roberta took a deep breath and simply shrugged “On your head be it.”

“Come on Frank!” Mary shouted, standing up on the ledge of the truck “we’re gonna be late!”

“It’s 20 minutes tops to Pinellas Park…” Frank looked at her “We got half an hour, chill out Stack”

“My name’s Mary not Short Stack…” she sing songed back.

“Don’t I know it…” Frank said, looking at her before he turned back to Roberta “I’ll see you later.”

“Hmmm” she nodded, and with that he rolled his eyes again and headed to the truck.

“You know you’re not actually gonna get to ride anything today right?” he asked, turning to his niece.

“No, but I’m still gonna see the ponies.” she said, smiling. “Why can’t we bring Fred?”

“Because a horse might step on him.” Frank said, before he paused. “Actually, shall we take him?” Mary narrowed her eyes at him “That’s mean.” He chuckled, ruffled her hair and started up the truck.

******

“Ok, now soften your outside hand…” Fliss called out across the paddock, as the woman riding the tall, bay warmblood circled her “Yeah, you feel that. He’s taking the contact now, not leaning against your hand. So when you feel that softening, that’s when you need to push with your inside leg…and if is he isn’t listening a soft tap up with the stick…” She watched again from behind her Oakley wraparounds, smiling as the horse extended nicely down the long side of the school.

“Yeah, there you go!” she shouted encouragingly, “Now bring him round again and this time at the corner, pop him into canter…” She took a quick glance at her watch. She was running slightly behind, but what else was new? She would never leave a lesson, regardless, until her client had achieved something, even if it was what they dubbed a small victory. End on a high was her motto, and this was no different. Ever since Lucy had brought Jensen out of his stable, Fliss could see the horse was in one of his awkward moods so she’d had to switch out her plan a little. It had worked and he’d settled after about 15 minutes of being an obstinate shit and he was working quite nicely.

“Ok, bring him back down…” she said, “And into trot…and walk…”

“Yeah because you rode him well.” Fliss smiled “You know, I seriously think you should consider a Dressage Competition.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you don’t have a horse of your own but you can borrow Cap if you want…have a think about it.” “I will, thanks Fliss.”

Fliss smiled, gave the horse a pat and headed back to the gate.

“Joanne?” she called, and one of her grooms appeared. “Can you just supervise Lucy cooling him off. I’ve got someone bringing their daughter in at 11 am that should be here any time soon.”

“Hi…” she walked over, momentarily stuck by how damned good looking this guy was. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt which perfectly accentuated his toned upper body. His chiselled jawline which was covered in a short, stubbled beard, soft spikey dark hair, and he flashed her a smile that made the corners of his aviator covered eyes crinkle. A smile that made her clear her throat. “I’m Fliss, you must be Mr Adler.”

Frank looked at the woman in front of him, glad that his glasses hid the fact he was blatantly eyeing her up and down. Dressed in a pair of long riding boots, tight navy blue jodhpurs with a white belt around the top, and a tight pink polo shirt he could see every curve she possessed. But it was the smile she flashed him that made him feel like some kind of teenage school kid again. “Frank, please.” “Nice to meet you.” Fliss smiled before turning to Mary “And what can I call you Miss?” “Mary.” she said, looking up “Are all these horses yours?”

Fliss chuckled. “No not all of them. 9 belong to me. 3 are my personal ones, then I have 6 that work in the riding school and the other 6 are boarders.” “Oh.” she said, looking around. “So which one can I ride.” “Mary…” Frank chastised her softly as he looked down at her, before glancing back at Fliss “Sorry, she’s excited.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “It’s fine, I love to see it.”

She turned to Mary and then in an exaggerated whisper so that Frank could here said “I’ll let you into a secret, I always put the new kids on Monty because he’s awesome and looks after everyone…and he especially likes girls. He’s a ladies man. You wanna meet him?” Mary nodded eagerly and Fliss looked up at Frank, seeking his permission. He nodded and gestured with his head and she straightened up before leading Mary across the yard to the barn on the opposite side.

Frank stayed where he was for a moment, watching her ass as she walked before he mentally slapped himself and followed.

“Monty, meet Mary…” she said with a smile as Mary gently reached up to stroke the pony’s soft nose.

“He’s really pretty.” Mary said, appraisingly.

“Yeah he’s awesome.” Fliss smiled, “And he’s a good boy too.” “Can I go in the stable?” Mary asked.

“Erm… if your dad says it’s ok?” Fliss looked at Frank who was tucking his sunglasses down the front of his shirt.

“I’m not her dad.” Frank shook his head “I’m her uncle.” “Oh, sorry.” Fliss frowned “I just assumed.”

“I get it a lot.” he said, waving her apology away “But I am her legal guardian so…”

Fliss nodded, studying him for a moment. There was clearly a bit more to that story but it wasn’t her business to pry.

“Can I?” Mary looked at him and he nodded.

“What’s he doing?” Mary asked.

“It’s called grooming.” Fliss explained “So he is mimicking what you’re doing to him to me, see? It’s how they show affection in the wild. Sometimes they can get a bit carried away and they nip but they don’t mean to be nasty or bite.”

“Spend less money on beer when you go out tonight” she shot back, and Fliss gave a loud bark of a laugh as Frank, shook his head.

“See what I gotta put up with?” he snorted.

“You should talk to my dad about it.” she laughed “I bled him dry due to horses as a kid, especially when I was up and down the UK competing!” “I was gonna say your accent isn’t local.” he said, smiling.

“Neither is yours.” she shot back “New England?” He cocked his head, momentarily surprised. He didn’t think his accent was that strong considering.

“Boston.” he nodded, “But I aint lived there in a while.” “I lived in Concorde” she explained, noticing his puzzled glance

“Huh, no kidding.” he smiled “Cambridge.” “Nice state.” Fliss smiled “I loved it.”

“What made you end up here?”

Fliss hesitated for a while. “Erm..” “Sorry, you don’t need to explain, I was just a little curious.” “No, it’s fine just a long and complicated story.” Fliss said, scratching her temple “The abridged version is my marriage broke down and my mum and dad retired out here so I joined them.” She was avoiding his eyes slightly. Frank was smart enough to realise there was slightly more to it than that but he was tactful enough not to press. Besides, it was really none of his business.

“How about you? What you running from?” “What makes you think I’m running from anything?” he asked.

“Aren’t we all?” she looked at him, her deep brown eyes locked onto his.

“Fliss, sorry to interrupt but do you want Cap and Bolt turned out?” a young girl with blonde hair approached them.

“Yeah, they’re not working again today.” Fliss said, “But take them one at a time. Bolt’s taking to being a bit bargey. If he starts wrap the lead-rope round his nose.” “Will do.” “Thanks Jo.” she smiled, and they continued walking.

“What’s bargey?” Mary asked.

“Pushy.” Frank looked at her “Bossy.” “Like you?” Frank shot her a look and saw Fliss smiling to herself as she overheard.

“Or it could mean pain in the ass like you.” he said. “Rude.” Mary shot back as Fliss opened the door to the office. Frank leaned over to hold it open.

“Thanks.” she looked at him smiling. He stepped in after Mary and they both stood, looking around taking it all in.

The frame was split into 2. On the right hand side was a photo of Fliss dressed in competition gear, navy jacket, red piping, white jodhs and a navy hat. She had a smile on her face that was literally ear to ear and round her neck sat the gold medal which was displayed in the left of the frame.

“London 2012…” Mary read the small plaque at the bottom “Frank, look…” “I can see.” he said, surprise evident in his tone. He looked at the woman “You were in the Olympics?” “Yeah.” she smiled “Only one though. Trained for years to get there…”

“Why only one?” Mary looked at her.

“Mary.” Frank groaned “Stop being nosey.” “It’s ok.” Fliss chuckled “A few months later at the World Championships I had a nasty accident. I damaged my back and it took me nearly 6 months to recover. Sadly I lost my place on the team.” “Oh, that’s sad.” Mary looked at her.

“It’s a dog eat dog world kid.” Fliss shrugged “Not all bad though, I got into the training side of things which was great. Just didn’t work out.” There was a moments pause and Fliss replaced the photo and turned to Frank “Can I get you anything to drink?” “No, I’m good thanks.” he smiled.

“But I can give you those to take home, you can bring them with you when you come back.” she said, reaching into her desk drawer. She pulled out a glossy leaflet and opened it. “Our price list is here. I’m not a huge outfit, I don’t have more than 3 kids on a lesson at a time. Mainly because I don’t have the horses but I prefer to focus on the students, not the profit. I try to keep overheads down as much as I can to keep the costs low…”

She bit her lip, she hated this part of the job, the sales patter as her dad called it. “So it really depends on what you want to do as to how expensive it is. Group lessons are $20 for 45 minutes and individual lessons are $30 for 30. I do always insist on an individual lesson first, but that’s discounted to $20 for the first one.” Frank nodded, it wasn’t cheap but they’d manage. He’d already explained to Mary that she wouldn’t be able to do it every week, but he could certainly stretch to once a fortnight.

“That’s reasonable.” he said after a pause.

Fliss smiled “I’ve only been 6 months or so now, but I’m planning on starting up a few Own a Pony days where the kids can come down and learn how to care for the horses as well as just ride. But that’s all in the planning stages.” “Well you have a good set up.” he said, and she beamed back.

“Thank you, a lot of graft went into setting it up. My mom and dad’s retirement didn’t start out quite as quiet as they had planned!”

“I can imagine.”

“Ok,so…the real expensive outlay is gonna come at the start.” she said, turning to Mary “You’ll need some boots and a hat kiddo.” Mary grinned up at Frank.

Mary took the flier from her and began examining it.

“That’s really it.” Fliss said, as she completed her mental check list “So all that’s left is to either book you in or you can call me…” “Please Frank!” Mary looked at him “Can we book?” Frank nodded “If you want.” “I do…” “Ok…what availability do you have?” Fliss opened the laptop and entered the diary and looked for a free spot.” “Does Wednesday at 1 suit?” she offered “I know once school starts you’ll probably want a weekend or evening but. whilst it’s the holidays does that work?”

“Yeah, get used to it. Once you get that horse smell on your hands it’s kind of an addiction.” “Frank hates animals.” Mary shrugged.

“I don’t hate animals.” Frank shook his head.

“You hate Fred.” “No, I don’t”

“You said before we should bring him so a horse steps on him.” Frank inwardly groaned as Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Fred is my cat.” Mary explained.

“Good name.” Fliss said “I have a few yard cats hanging around, they keep the mice at bay. And that reminds me, I haven’t seen Thor in a while…”

“Thor?” Mary looked at her

“Yeah, my dog…” she stood up and opened the office door, giving a sharp whistle. “He never goes far.” As if on cue a large german shepherd came lolling down the yard to greet them. Frank eyed the dog, it was huge. Mary, right on cue jumped down off his lap.

“Is he named after the Avenger?” Mary looked up “I love those films.”

“Sure is, he used to have a brother called Loki too but, well he died.”

Thor gave Mary a lick causing her to giggle before he flopped onto his side raising his paw.

“He wants a belly rub.” Fliss said, and Mary dropped to her knees to give the dog a tickle. His tail began to wag furiously on the floor and Mary laughed.

Frank watched the girl, smiling. He loved seeing her like this. She was so grown up and serious half the time, he yearned to see her acting like a normal 7 year old. He was reticent to drag her away for that reason but he had work later that afternoon, a boat that needed finishing by Monday afternoon was taking him slightly longer than he had anticipated.

“Alright short stack, we gotta move…” “Do we hafta?” “Sorry kiddo.” Mary made a face.

“Do you wanna go to the store or not?” Frank shot her a look. “Ok.” she said, jumping up and wiping dusting off her knees.

Fliss walked them to the truck which was parked in the car park and her eyes flew over to her horse wagon, a small 3.5 tonne box. Frank noticed her looking before she turned back to him.

“Yours?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did have a bigger one but, well I don’t use it often enough now to warrant it. Maybe at some point I’ll get back into competing…never say never hey?” He smiled.

“Sorry, was that too much? I just…well she…” “Oh,God,no…” Frank stuttered, hastily shaking his head. “It’s just…well she’s never usually that affectionate with strangers. Not that you’re a stranger I suppose, not anymore but…” he shrugged.

“I should…” he gestured to the truck with his keys.

“Yeah, sorry. Have a good day Mr Adler…” “Frank…” “Frank.” she corrected herself with another gorgeous smile “I’ll see you Wednesday.” With another nod he walked to the truck and Fliss turned and headed back to the yard.

He climbed in and turned to Mary who was looking at him, smirking in a smug way that was well beyond her 7 years.

“What?” he demanded.

“You like her.” Mary snorted.

“She’s a nice girl, I mean woman…lady…”

Mary didn’t say a word, simply sat back as Frank reached around for her belt before doing his own and setting the truck into reverse. Sometimes she was far too observant for her own good. *****

“If she gives you any trouble just tie her up on the porch.” Frank said as Mary settled on the couch in Roberta’s trailer. Roberta snorted and Mary glared at him.

“He googled her.” Mary said.

“You googled her” Roberta intoned.

“I was curious ok?” Frank said “And you asked me to!” “She’s an Olympic Gold medallist.” Mary chanted, draping herself over the arm of the sofa, head hanging, hair brushing the floor “At London 2012 but then she had an accident in the World Championships later that year and she broke 2 vertebrae…she didn’t compete again. And she was married to a guy called John. He was on the US Equestrian team but they’re divorced now. He’s in prison…but Frank didn’t tell me why.” “Because it’s none of your business, and you don’t mention it to her.” Frank said sternly, cutting her off.

Roberta looked at him curiously “But you’re not interested in her. At all.” “Like I said, curious.” he shrugged “Especially if she’s gonna be teaching Mary.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Roberta dropped her hands to her hips “Whatever you say honey…” Frank sighed and then looked at Mary. “Be good.” “I will, see you in the morning…”

He nodded and then headed out. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the day had died down to an acceptable level and the 10 minute walk down to the small strip of bars wasn’t as sticky as normal. It passed fairly quickly, he was lost in thought about the woman he had met before. It had made for surprising reading, a child star on the circuit the accident had cruelly robbed her of a future in the sport 5 years ago, and from the sounds of it her ass-hat ex-husband had stolen 3 years of her life too. Still, as he had told Mary, it was none of their business.

“So how much did she sting you for at the store?”

Frank grinned up at Fliss “Just short of a hundred. New hat, boots and a pair of jodhpurs.” Fliss giggled “Make sure she wears the boots in, they’re a killer for the first few days!” “I’ll bear it in mind.” he smiled “So, you hear alone or…” “Oh, no. It’s my Mum’s birthday so there’s a few of us out.” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Frank followed her eyes and settled on a table full of women who were all laughing. One looked quite similar to Fliss, same face shape and nose, who he assumed to be her mother. “If I’m honest it’s a bit boring considering they’re all over fifty but…” Frank laughed “Well I was gonna offer to buy you a drink but…” She laughed again “Thanks but, there’s a kitty going…” with that she turned to the bar tender. “Hiya, can I get 4 bud lights, a gin and tonic and a vodka soda please?” The bar tender nodded and headed off.

“Mary hasn’t shut up about Monty all afternoon.” Frank said and Fliss smiled.

Fliss smiled “Well she’s not wrong. The kids I teach are great, I don’t stand for any crap, she’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

“Glad to hear it.” Frank smiled “Mary can be a litte…well, I suppose, odd is the right word. She’s old before her age.”

Fliss chuckled, eyeing him slightly. The man was a total mystery. At that the Bar Tender returned with a tray of drinks and she turned to pay him, waving away the change.

“Another beer please pal.” he said, waving his empty bottle.

“Who’s that?” Verity leaned over to Fliss as she settled in the seat next to her.

“Oh, that’s the guy I was telling you about.” she shrugged “the one who brought his niece up to the Centre this morning.” “I know you said he was good looking but…”

“Shut up Mum.” Fliss said, flushing slightly

“You’re old enough to be his mother.” Jane, one of the other women said and the table laughed.

“Who the fuck was that?” John said, pointing across the packed bar to the man that Fliss had just smiled at.

“No one…” Fliss protested “Just a guy from work, that’s all.” “Right…” John said, the nerve in his jaw twitching. Fliss swallowed nervously and gently touched his arm.

“Honestly, he works at the stables. I was just being polite.”

“He’s eye fucking you.” “No, he’s not…” Fliss rolled her eyes and immediately realised what he had done when John gripped her chin painfully between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” he practically snarled.

And she knew what that meant…

“Hey…” her mother’s voice shook her out of the memory and she looked up at her. “Oh Liss…”

“I’m ok…” she said, taking a breath

Her mother looked at her again, and Fliss knew she was busted. “I was just…having a flash back that’s all.”

“He’s not here.” Verity dropped her voice “That fucker is where he belongs, behind bars and he won’t be bothering you again. Me and your dad promised you that…and we meant it.”

“I know, honestly I’m fine…” Fliss assured her mum who leaned over and gave her temple a soft kiss.

Fliss smiled back and shooting one last glance at Frank, who has his back to the table as he continued his reading, she turned to the women and threw herself into the conversation

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan

#riding high #frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted fan fic #gifted

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promiseofthepremise · 3 years

Note

hey! i just wanted to say that i love your supercut series so much! i love the way you write dialogue, its funny and it flows really well, do you have any tips? mine always ends up really stuffy :/ thank you!! :)

oh my gosh 🥺 this is such a wonderful compliment, thank you so much!

i in no way claim to be an expert, but i also just so happen to really enjoy writing dialogue so although i feel very imposter-ish telling you how to live your life here we go!

A few things, some of which I know are obvious (but bear repeating) and some of which are blatant opinion and should be taken with a grain of salt lmao:

(I am.... so sorry this got so long oof)

1. For me personally, the number one way to learn how to write how people talk is simply to pay attention to the way people talk.

Yes, in the stuff you read/ watch/ etc, but mostly just in real life, you know? Just turning up your awareness for speech patterns and word choice and rhythm and emphasis will 1) make some of the stuff below this point super clear and 2) make natural dialogue start coming far more naturally!

2. Show Don’t Tell: perhaps the most widely recognized and cliche piece of writing advice you’ll ever get, but also a valid concern for pretty much any writing medium.

In regards to dialogue, though, I think it mostly comes into play with showing us how a character feels rather than having them tell us. Moments of pure, unadulterated vulnerability tend to be rare in conversation (not unheard of, of course! there will be moments when your characters have an open and honest dialogue about their feelings! i personally adore this!)

My point is more so that if a character is angry, they’re probably not going to say “I’m angry!” but instead they’ll show it in other ways. They’re more terse than usual, they’re speaking in shorter sentences or clamming up entirely, they’re quiet when they’re usually loud or loud when they’re usually quiet, they have an outburst, but it’s about something completely unrelated to what they’re currently mad about-- see where I’m going with this?

3. Keep long speeches few and far between:

this is one of those things that could be considered a blatant opinion lmao but I personally find that big bricks of monologues often times don’t add much to your story/ character and instead just gum up the pacing of a scene.

There are exceptions of course (is your character literally giving a speech? fair enough, friend!) but still, it’s an easy trap to fall into especially when you’re trying to get across exposition, which brings me to...

4. Avoid info dumping!

Do I love it when my friends info dump at me about the things they care about and are very knowledgeable about? yes! I adore it! But can this also, in writing, just serve to slow everything down and make it difficult to actually absorb the information you’re trying to tell your readers? Indeed!

Sometimes you can’t avoid a bit of exposition via conversation, but try not to give all the important information via conversation, because there are so many other fun ways for us to discover stuff about your story and world!

5. Context and Code-switching: Giving characters specific ways of talking that are all their own is really awesome and helps us differentiate between them in a conversation. But being aware of the context of who they’re talking to is also important.

For instance, a teenage boy calling his best friend “dude”? Absolutely-- tells us a lot about the Brand of teenage boy he is. But in most cases we probably aren’t going to see that same teenage boy calling his English teacher “dude,” and if we do that’s gonna tell us a lot about who this kid is and what his relationship is like with his English teacher (as will the English teacher’s response-- “Hey, kid! How about that game?” versus an exasperated “Get to class.”)

Along with this, letting your character fall a little bit out of character can be just as telling. A quick-witted, very smart character may be quick-witted and very smart, but she’s probably not going to be quite as on top of her game if, for instance, she’s hanging upside down above a tank of acid. This is an extreme example but the point is that how we’re feeling, where we are, who we’re with-- all of these things affect the words we use and how we talk! And if a character suddenly starts acting differently than we know them to, even if the situation is a bit more subtle of a stressor than a tank of acid, it’ll tell us a lot about where the stakes have been placed!

6. “Said” is not your enemy! You know how when there’s a fan on in the room and you stop actively hearing it after a few minutes? Said is the same way.

We as readers are gonna notice “she implored” “he exclaimed” “they argued” more than just “they said” because our brain tends to filter it out once we’ve read it a couple of times in a scene, so say “she implored” when it’s important to know she’s imploring, but maybe not all the time. (Of course, everything can be over used and repetitiveness can always set in, but the more you write and the more you listen, the more this stuff and the rhythm of it becomes second nature)

7. Don’t be afraid to start with the action:

starting a scene with “Hey, how’s it going?” is very polite but doesn’t actually move the story forward at all. Starting a scene with “You want me to do what?!” or “Get out of my way!” gives us some sense of 1) the tone of the scene 2) the level of urgency and 3) a reason to be interested in what happens next

8. How often do you address your friends by name?

Probably not terribly often! It’s such an easy thing to fall into, wanting to address characters by name in dialogue for the Drama of it all, but if you do it too much the drama sort of withers away and instead just makes the start of every new sentence stick out like a sore thumb, cutting into the fluency you’ve worked so hard to create

Okay, I could go on about this for hours and I know I’m gonna want to add to this later, but these are the things that came to the top of my head, so I’ll stop being terribly pretentious and know-it-all-ish now.

ps. if you read my writing and notice-- hey, prem, you break all of these rules constantly all the time? Yep! rules are arbitrary and also I’m not a professional 😌

thank you for your time have a wonderful day 💖

#prem stuff #it cannot be overstated how much i do not know what i'm talking about #also i apologize for being Like This #gonna shut up now #ask

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

Text

Fightin’ Back Chapter 4

Chapter Notes: I’d like to give a shoutout to @elegiesofemptiness for throwing suggestions my way for this chapter and helping me out of a rut.

We’re really in it now, boys. Scary-oke this time around, and the next chapter following this one takes place in my favorite episode in season two. >:)

AO3

“You have to promise me you’ll only use the journal for self-defense, and won’t go sniffing around for trouble.”

Dipper crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, but only if you promise that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town”.

“Promise” Stan replies, placing one hand against his heart and the other crossed behind his back. Dipper squints at him for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Promise”, Dipper echoes, and his tone doesn’t sound any more genuine than his own.

Maybe he should just hide all the black lights in the house so the kid doesn’t get any big ideas. For now, though…

“Oof, we have a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan pokes at his recliner with his foot. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?”

As if on cue, the zombified Soos wanders into the room from the kitchen, arms outstretched and eyes glossed over.

“Holy Moses!” Stan yelps, instinctively grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture to smash it over Soos’s head, before Dipper stops him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Wait! It says here there’s a cure for zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde”

“Ooh, and cinnamon!” Mabel beams, popping her head over Dipper’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Soos, let’s fix you up”

Mabel picks up one of the dining chairs off the floor and prods Soos in the stomach back towards the kitchen. Dipper’s about to follow her into the kitchen, but Stan places a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks.

“Not so fast, little man,” he scolds. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I saw that zombie pick you up”

“Are you...accusing me of being a zombie?” Dipper turns to face him, and Stan almost laughs that he looks more baffled than he does angry. “Wouldn’t my head have exploded while we were singing together if that were true?” He asks, and visibly cringes at the mental image.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you weren’t infected as quickly as Soos, but zombies don’t always gotta bite you to infect you. It’s about direct contact.” Stan grins. “Matter of fact, most zombies only bite cause they’re hungry! If they’re just looking to infect, they’re more likely to leave a nasty scratch” he offers out his hand. “Lemme see”

Dipper places his hand in Stan’s, and Stan tugs him a bit closer so he can get a better look at Dipper’s arm. His shoulder looks fine, which means it isn’t spreading as quickly as Stan expected it to. That’s a relief. He turns Dipper’s hand to inspect the other side of his wrist, and sure enough, there are three large gashes right on the spot where the zombie had grabbed him. It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding, but the skin surrounding the gashes are already turning a sickening grayish green.

Dipper’s face goes white as a ghost at the sight of it, and if Stan weren’t holding his wrist he’s almost sure the poor kid would pass out right then and there. Stan squeezes his hand, just to give the kid a grounding gesture to prevent him from passing out a second time. “Whoa, whoa. Deep breaths, kid. You said it yourself! There’s a cure for this. We just gotta follow your sister into the kitchen before she uses it all on Soos, okay?”

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay” he replies, and he takes three steps forward before he stops. Stan’s afraid he’s going to pass out again, but he turns back around and points a finger at him.

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

Dipper’s rubbing at his infected wrist, and the sound it’s making is akin to someone walking through a pile of dead leaves. “How did you know that zombies can infect someone without biting someone? All Journal 3 talked about was how to cure a bite”

...Shit. That must’ve been the first journal that talked about home remedies for monster attacks.

“W-Well I’ve lived here for over thirty years, y’see? You have to learn these things pretty quickly.” Stan straightens out his posture to better sell his lie, and gestures vaguely towards Dipper. “Look at you, kiddo. You’ve had the journal for...what, two months? And I see you going around every day like you own the place”

Dipper blushes. “I guess that makes sense”

Stan rolls his shoulders. “Of course it makes sense. I’m older and wiser, and all that”

Dipper chuckles quietly, mumbling something under his breath about I don’t know about wiser, but Stan’s too distracted by the fact that Dipper keeps scratching at his infection to bite back. “And speaking about older and wiser, I of all people would know that all scratching at that thing is gonna do is make it worse”

Dipper’s hand drops to his side immediately. “Right, right” he murmurs. Stan rolls his eyes, and places a hand on Dipper’s back to gently shove him towards the kitchen.

“Hup to. The last thing we need around here is a zombie with an irrational fear of himself” Stan slaps Dipper on the back and roars in laughter, who only responds with a roll of his eyes. When they step into the kitchen, Mabel and a dezombified Soos are sitting at the table chatting casually. Soos has an ice pack on his head.

“Oh, hey dood!” Soos grins. “Hey Mr. Pines! Sorry about the whole trying to eat your brains thing. I got like, way too into the character.”

“Uh, water under the bridge” Stan waves him off before he turns his attention to Mabel. “Listen, sweetie, you got any more of the formula?” He exchanges a quick glance with Dipper, who’s hiding his arm from his sister behind his back. “I, uh, wanna toss some of it around the yard. See if it doubles as a free fertilizer for the...dead flowers”

Mabel gasps, her eyes going wide. “Those poor zombified flower pixies!” She yelps, and gestures to a pot bubbling with oil on the stove. “Take as much as you need. I accidentally made, like, ten batches too many anyway, so if it works you could sell bottles of it in the gift shop and tell ‘em Mabel sent ya”

Stan laughs, and takes a moment to muss up her hair. “Ah, I knew my swindling skills would rub off on one of ya! Atta girl” he grins, and she grins back in equal measure before returning to her conversation with Soos. As soon as she has her back turned to him, Stan grabs the entire pot and walks as fast as he can towards the back porch without spilling any of the oil.

“Follow me”, he whispers to Dipper once he’s sure he’s out of Mabel’s earshot, and Dipper doesn’t hesitate to trail closely behind. He places the pot of oil on the ground beside the porch couch, and pats at the armrest. Dipper wordlessly complies and takes a seat, and Stan takes one last peek through the window to make sure Mabel hadn’t followed them out to watch him “revive the pixies” or whatever it is she’d said. Once he’s sure that she’s too engrossed in her conversation with Soos to notice they were gone, he takes a knee beside Dipper.

“Alright, lemme see it again” Stan says, and Dipper spreads his arm across the armrest. The infection seems to have spread to the base of his elbow, and the skin surrounding the initial gash in his arm has withered to a faded gray color. Stan sighs, and dips both of his hands up to his wrists into the pot of oil.

The smell of it makes Stan sick. It’s far from his first time dealing with formaldehyde, and a tiny little demon at the back of his head is screaming at him that Dipper could’ve been coming into contact with it for much, much worse reasons if he came up from the basement to help him just ten seconds later.

No. He squashes that thought down before it can get any worse, and begins rubbing the oil into the worst of the infection on Dipper’s wrist. It makes him flinch, and Stan’s not sure if it’s because of the smell or the burning sensation.

“Y’see, this is exactly why I tried keeping you and your sister away from the supernatural.” He flicks the excess oil off of his hands, but it’s a redundant gesture because he’s right back to sticking his hands in the pot anyway. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t heard you in time? Or if I’d looked anywhere else in the Shack for you first? I would’ve been forced to assume the worst”

He’s trying to sound strict, but damn these kids for tearing him down so much that it hurts his chest to even think about it. “I can’t have the people I care about aimlessly running around and throwing themselves into danger”

“I’m not being aimless!” Dipper whines, but hisses in pain when Stan accidentally rubs some of the oil directly into the gashes in his wrist.

“Mhm,” Stan hums. “And I’ve never spent a year in a Colombian prison”

“I’m not!” he squeaks. “Look, Grunkle Stan, I’m not just running around trying to hunt and capture every monster in the journal for fun, or anything! I’m so close to discovering the identity of the author that I have to follow leads when they present themselves! Nobody can really just...disappear out of thin air, right? He has to be around here somewhere”

Every nerve in Stan’s body freezes up at once.

I’ve been telling myself that for thirty years, kid.

“Look, kid…” he pauses. What can he say? You’re never gonna find him cause I accidentally pushed him through an interdimensional portal? Oh, and by the way, he’s my twin brother and your other Grunkle and he would probably love you and your sister to bits if he were still here? “...I get it. I do. But you have to understand that I’d never forgive myself if anything horrible happened to you or your sister.” He waves a defensive hand in the air. “I don’t mean to say that you can never go anywhere, ‘cause even I know that tryin’a strap you down and make you sit still would be like caging a rabid animal.” He wipes the rest of the excess oil on his pant leg, and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I just can’t have ya gettin’ hurt on my watch, ya hear?”

Stan can’t help but drift his gaze towards his wrist,

More than you already have, anyway.

“It’s not like that. Mabel and I can take care of ourselves”

“Watch it.” Stan points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re twelve. The last thing you need is a hero complex”

“What?” Dipper shakes his head. “No, Grunkle Stan, I mean, Mabel and I’ve already fought half of the monsters in the journal and won. You don’t need to worry about anything happening to us”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Kid, didn’t I just rescue you two from a hoard of zombies?”

“That’s just the thing! We’ve been chasing after monsters all summer, and this is the first time you’ve ever had to get involved!” Dipper’s beaming, and okay, someone better tell this kid to stop being a picture perfect replica of his brother before he finds out it’s his biggest weakness. “You saw Gideon’s giant robot the other day, didn’t you?”

Stan blinks. “You mean that giant pile of metal scraps everyone was crowding around?”

“Yeah!” Dipper backtracks. “Okay, well, before that, it was a giant robot.”

“You’re losing me” Stan huffs. “What could Gideon’s broken robot have anything to do with why I should trust you running off on your own?

Dipper blinks, like he’s in disbelief that Stan hadn’t already connected the pieces together himself. “We’re the ones who broke it”

If Stan had a drink in his mouth, he’d be spit-taking all over the place right now. “You two? Wasn’t that thing twice the size of the shack?”

“Oh, it was. As soon as the bus you put us on to go home pulled away from the bus stop, he tried chasing after us in it because he insisted that we still had something that he wanted”

Stan snorts. “Was he goin’ off about Mabel’s hand in marriage again?”

Dipper laughs, but then he shakes his head. “No, he just kept rambling on about Journal 1 and how bringing the journals together could, I dunno, end the world or something? And he wanted to bring them together so he could hold the world hostage, or something.” He shrugs. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I know the author’s missing, but I just assumed he’d been kidnapped by some...thing that didn’t like being recorded. I didn’t think it was some kind of superweapon”

Stan swears he can feel his blood turn cold. He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, and hopes Dipper assumes it’s because of the mid-summer heat.

“...But we didn’t have it!” Dipper throws his arms up in the air. “We tried telling him we had no idea what he was talking about, but he just kept getting angrier and calling liars. He had both of us in his...giant robot hands at some point, but then he decided there was nothing else he wanted from me and literally tossed me away”

Dipper’s hands are balling up into tiny, shaking fists. “He tried taking Mabel hostage. I wouldn’t have cared how much he insulted me, but...we’ve never been separated like that before”. He glances down at his shaky hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been the braver one between us. But next thing I know, I’m flinging myself off the train tracks”

“Train tracks?” Stan blinks. “Y’mean the ones up on the cliff?”

Dipper nods, blushing. “I just...went for it. I probably got a ton of cuts from the broken glass when I smashed through the eye of the robot,” he muses, pausing to give his own arm a look over. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline in my life”

Stan snorts. “You’re trying to tell me you punched the robot so hard that you knocked it off the cliff?”

“What? No, Gideon was inside of it. He was wearing one of those weird...motion control suit...things. The robot only lost its balance because I punched him in the face.”

Stan roars in laughter. “You punched Gideon in the face?”

“Yep!” Dipper beams. “Quite a few times, actually. I think with everyone treating him like he’s a god he tends to forget that Mabel and I are three years older than him.” He flexes an arm to show off his nonexistent muscle. “Remember that trick you taught me about punching someone in the face with their own fist?”

“Hah!” Stan grins. “That worked?”

“Knocked the robot’s head clean off!” Dipper grins back. “Or, well, it probably would’ve, if that wasn’t what pushed the robot over the edge”

Stan’s keeling over in laughter. He can’t believe how casually Dipper’s talking about this. Just a month ago, if Dipper had told him the same story detail for detail, Stan would’ve been sure that Dipper was describing a movie he’d watched the previous night.

“Not bad, kid!” he grabs Dipper into a gentle headlock, messing up his hair. “But what about your sister, huh? Don’t think I don’t see you trying to take all the credit”

“Oh, not at all!” He’s beaming again. “That’s the best part. Mabel’s the one who saved us from falling to our deaths. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I think the grappling hook is the best thing she’s ever owned”

Stan nudges him with his elbow. “Yeah, last thing we need around here is both of you having giant heads”. Dipper glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

Stan wipes a tear from his eye with his wrist. “Alright, kid. You convinced me. If you two can come out of fighting a giant sci-fi monster without so much as a scratch, I trust that you and your sister know what you’re doing”.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

Stan nods. “Really. But you have to promise me you’ll still be careful, okay? I can go back on my word and hide that book away from you faster than you can say journal. Got it?”

Dipper nods. “Got it.” and then, after a short pause, “I promise”.

#gravity falls #my writing #stan pines #dipper pines #team brawn

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