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a-b-riddle · 4 days

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Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

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dreamofbetterthings · 10 days

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No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI.

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room.

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun.

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs.

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom.

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times.

So why did the room suddenly feel hot?

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away.

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah."

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers.

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes.

"Then I won't."

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts.

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch.

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up.

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bad omens band #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #bad omens x reader

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lovebugism · 1 year

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Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling.

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun.

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants.

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it.

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you.

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart.

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter.

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies.

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business.

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later.

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down.

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely.

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow.

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.”

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it.

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it.

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him.

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep.

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear.

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run.

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from.

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too.

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #st drabbles #stevie drabble #eddie spaghetti drabble

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sorchathered · 3 months

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Something in the Orange

Happy Valentine’s Day babes! Just a little Bob one shot to celebrate the day.❤️

Pairing- Bob Floyd x reader

Warnings- Drinking, language, smut

Summary- North Island’s new medical officer seems to have caught everyone’s eye, but she has her sights set on a certain WSO.

————————————————————————-

Knuckles rapping against the shitty cafeteria table startle you out of your thoughts, looking up you audibly groan at who has decided to grace you with his presence. Jake Seresin, or Hangman as you know him has sidled up to the table of aviators and medics with a cocksure smile and flirty demeanor almost every day this week and to be frank it’s really starting to get on your nerves. Being the head medical officer for the dagger squad isn’t a boring job by any means and sometimes all you want is to just eat in silence, today unfortunately no one is giving you that opportunity.

“What’s up doc?” He says while wiggling his eyebrows at you, and you roll your eyes, he has got to be the cheesiest man you’ve ever met and you still don’t know how any of his lines get him a date.

“Just living the dream Hangman, trying to catch a break and hoping one of you doesn’t wind up in my infirmary today.”

If he gets the hint that you aren’t interested he doesn’t acknowledge, just makes himself at home in your space and swipes a chip off your plate.

“Hard deck tonight, everyone’s going, you gonna tag along? I’d love to buy you a drink.”

You had in fact planned to go, but not to spend time giving Seresin any more attention than his giant ego needed. You had your eye on someone else entirely, but being the shiny new toy in fightertown (single, under 40, and hot) meant that every available guy (and some girls) on the squad had been vying for your attention the past few weeks since your arrival. It was becoming tedious, you knew you would need to set up some boundaries but you’d been testing the waters and just trying to make some friends, not looking for anything serious yet. Well unless a certain someone wanted that but that was a whole other can of worms.

So you just smiled up at Mirimar’s golden boy and told him you’d see him later that evening, not missing the glare a certain bespectacled WSO had directed in his teammate’s direction. You’d unpack that later.

Bob Floyd had been your one serious boyfriend in your navy career, you’d both been stationed together in Maryland in your mid twenties and had gotten on like a house on fire. But you both were young and not ready for anything substantial so when he moved to Lemoore you both agreed to stay friends and see where life took you. It was hard and you were heartbroken but you knew now it had been for the best, neither one of you were ready for marriage at the time and your careers kept you both on opposite sides of the planet which made things even more difficult. But now you were here, seeing each other every day and it was slowly driving him insane having to watch every one of his squad mates flirt with you on the daily. He knew you probably found it hilarious how it got under his skin, he didn’t have the right to say anything about it anymore and that was what frustrated him the most. He’d been the one to break things off, he’d put you both in the position you were in and he couldn’t stand it. But you two had barely spoken since you’d joined the team, and who knows if he even still had a shot in the first place?

———————————————————————

Hard Deck Fridays had become a commonplace for the Dagger Squad and their crew, and tonight was no exception. The bar was packed to capacity, everyone tossing back drinks and toasting to the weekend, congregating by the pool tables near the jukebox while Hangman and Coyote ran the dart board. You finally squeezed your way through the crowd after getting a beer for you and your medic buddy Carrie, grateful that she had claimed a table with Phoenix and a few of the other girls in your group. You all chatted and gossiped over the news of the week and you could finally feel the tension release from your shoulders, it really had been a good idea to get out tonight you hadn’t realized how much you’d needed the girl time.

“Uh oh girls, Rooster’s headed this way”

You all craned your necks to get a good look, there was no denying that Bradley Bradshaw was hot, but he definitely wasn’t your type. He’d made it known more than once that he wasn’t a commitment kinda guy and you were perfectly fine with viewing him as eye candy and letting that be that. But he had his eyes set on you tonight and his heated gaze raking over your body had you feeling some kind of way. “Down girl, it’s been a while but damn you need to get it together” you thought as he made his way over, one night in the sack with Bradshaw wouldn’t be worth the weeks of awkwardness that would be sure to follow and the repercussions were enough to keep him at arms length.

“Evening ladies,” he said with a lopsided grin, sunglasses still perched on his nose despite being indoors, which should have looked stupid but on him it was definitely working.

“Y/n wanna take a walk outside with me for a bit? I’d love a chance to get to know our new medical officer a little better.”

Well he certainly took the direct route, you had to hand it to him. He knew what he wanted and went for it, you could respect that. But as your eyes flicked up to make your response you noticed Bob at the table across from you with Fanboy, eyes boring into yours with a look you knew all too well. That I know what you look like on your knees kind of look, and damn it you were turned on just at the memories of him. So you smiled sweetly at Bradley and politely turned him down, making your way towards the bathrooms with a slight nod of your head in Bob’s direction. He slung back the last of his whiskey and made an excuse to leave the group, no one the wiser at what was transpiring.

In the dark hallway by the restrooms he found you, nervously playing with your bracelet and eyes darting all over as you looked for him. You sighed in relief when you saw him and he reached out for your hand to take you through the back exit into the balmy summer night.

You felt like every nerve was on fire, you’d been avoiding him the past few weeks, afraid to ask how he was or how things had been. What if he was in a relationship? What if he was over you and wasn’t interested anymore? You’d spent way too many nights with your hand hovering over his contact in your phone, way too chicken shit to make the call. But now he was here and holding your hand and you might explode just from the proximity alone. He had bulked up since you’d seen him last, muscles stretching that white tee just right and his hair was lighter from all the days in the California sun. Freckles covered his nose and cheeks and you wondered if they were along his shoulders and back as well, wondered what it’d be like to be in his arms again, in his bed, listening to him sing to you as you fell asleep like he used to. You needed to know if you had a shot, it was right on the tip of your tongue and you couldn’t bury it anymore.

“Robby, uh I know it’s been a while but-“

“I missed you.”

You blinked up at him with shock now, how much time had you wasted the past few weeks avoiding him? Regret flooded you at the realization that you should have had this talk sooner.

“I missed you too.”

He didn’t wait for you to say anything else, crowding you up against the weathered wall of the bar and leaning in to cup your cheeks with his hands. He rubbed his nose along yours and you let out a shaky laugh, he’d always been so good at rendering you speechless, drunk on the smell of his cologne and heat of his body pressed against yours.

“Can I kiss you sweetheart? Wanna make up for all that lost time we wasted.”

You nodded maybe a little too enthusiastically because he huffed out an amused laugh but pulled you impossibly closer, lips molding to yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed. God you’d missed him, no one had ever filled the void he’d left in his wake no matter how hard you’d tried. The two of you a tangled bunch of limbs and tongues in an all too familiar dance that had your hands roaming and bodies grinding into each other, barely aware that you were in a very public space. The bar door flung open and startled you both, Phoenix peeking out into the darkness to find the two of you still pressed together, chests heaving as you gasped for air.

“So I see you two have kissed and made up” she said with a laugh, and Bob hid his face in the crook of your neck, giggles pouring from him which brought on a round of them from yourself. She smiled knowingly and with a wink waved you both off, of course Bob had told her everything about the two of you, it wasn’t a surprise at all in her mind that she would eventually find the two of you like this; it had only been a matter of time. “I like her” you said as you fixed his crooked glasses. “Yeah, she grows on you, like mold” which sent you both into a laughing fit, it felt good to be with him like this again. No more tension between the two of you and it had you craving domesticity with him even more.

“What does this mean?” You whispered up at him, you didn’t know if you could bear it if he didn’t want to start over and the uncertainty in your eyes broke his heart.

“I was stupid, so so stupid. I love you, I never stopped. I won’t screw it up this time baby, I swear it.” He reaches for your hand and sticks his pinky out, knows your affinity for pinky promises and that they are law in your heart. It’s binding, if you two cross this bridge and he makes this promise there’s no going back.

With a shaky breath you link yours with his and blink back the tears that blind your eyes, he really does mean it. He won’t break your heart again.

“Let’s go inside before Phoenix comes back, she’s relentless and it’s time I introduce you to her properly. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He pecks your lips and then helps you fix your hair and dress, leading the way back to your table. To say the group seemed stunned was an understatement, no one but Natasha had known you even knew each other and now here was their quiet WSO with the new girl in his lap kissing her like they’d known each other for ages. Bradley turned to Jake who gave him a flabbergasted look as well, how the hell had Baby on Board managed to snatch you up when they couldn’t even get a second glance from you? Coyote ever the nosy gossip of the group sidled over to the two of you pulling you both from your conversation, Bob giving him an eyebrow raise clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

“Ease up Bob, just curious about how you two kids know each other, you two look awfully cozy.”

You patted Bob’s cheek and smiled, the rumor mill would swirl regardless so why not get ahead of it now? You leaned in to give Bob a quick kiss and then turned all your attention to the group who clearly couldn’t mind their own business, eavesdropping on your conversation and failing miserably at hiding their interest.

“Not that it’s any of your business Lieutenant Machado but Bob and I go way back. Now if you’ll excuse me I think I’m going to have my boyfriend take me home and fuck me senseless so if you’ve gotten your answers I’d suggest you find somewhere else to be.” You smiled a saccharine sweet look at him, laced with a bit of venom as you dared anyone to say anything untoward. You knew the guys liked to pick on him and you wouldn’t have it happening on your watch anymore. Coyote gave an incredulous look but got the hint and with a fist bump to Bob made his way back to the group. Everyone else seemed awestruck until you glanced over the room, then they magically all had something else to do or look at that wasn’t the two of you.

Bob and Phoenix choked out a laugh and he squeezed your side, when you looked at him his eyes were hungry, heat pooling in your stomach at the look he gave you. It’d been so long since you’d been together but you would never forget what that look meant and you gasped for air, squeezing your eyes and legs shut at the same time as he leaned in to nuzzle next to your ear.

“Think we should get out of here pretty girl, what’dya say? Time to go home so you can get fucked senseless like you put so eloquently?” He huffs out a laugh, he’d missed your smart mouth and zero tolerance for bullshit.

Your response gets lost in your throat somewhere, but you follow him out of the bar as he waves everyone off, they’ll no doubt have plenty to ask you both on Monday but he didn’t give a shit, you were here and he’d been an absolute fool to let you go. He wouldn’t do it again.

He’d tried to move on countless times over the past few years, if he was honest with himself he looked for you in every woman he dated but no one seemed to fit the bill. You two had kept in contact over the years and he knew you hadn’t settled down either, hope always in the back of his mind that you’d find your way back to each other.

He’d barely made it in the door before he was on you, wrenching your tiny dress over your head to find you in nothing but the tiniest scrap of underwear he’d ever seen. You were grinding your body all over his and whining deep in your throat as he ran his knuckles up against your nipples. Scooping you up and tossing you over his shoulder he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, peals of laughter leaving you and he swatted your ass, God he’d missed this. He’d never had this kind of intimacy with anyone else. It was easy, like breathing when the two f you were in bed, always talking and laughing while also rough and dirty, the sex was always hot but the partnership you shared was something neither of you could find anywhere else.

You bounced backward as he plopped you onto his bed, and you were suddenly very aware that he had too many clothes on. You needed him now, there would be plenty of time to talk and take time relearning each others bodies but in this moment you wanted him inside you.

“Robby, please. Please fuck me, need it so badly missed you so much.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling his shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the dark. Pants made it just below his ass before he was pulling himself free and sliding into you. You gasped as he manhandled you, grasping his face to lick into his mouth as he slammed back into you with a sharp thrust, you had been soaked the minute you two got in the car and were more than ready to let him have you. It was animalistic the way he was fucking into you, sucking and biting whatever skin he could reach as he grunted praise in your ear, how tight your little wet pussy was and how badly he wanted to mark you up, keep you stuffed full of him every second of every day, needed to fuck you until you couldn’t walk anymore and you clenched down on his cock, it was too much and not enough all at once, you needed him like oxygen, so many nights you’d spent pretending your fingers were his cock but nothing could ever substitute how good Bob could make you feel.

He needed you to cum, his resolve was crumbling but he couldn’t let himself finish without you letting go first, needed to see you come undone and watch that fucked out stupid smile on your face he’d missed so much while he took what he needed from your spent body. He snaked a hand down to your throbbing clit and swiped slow circles to build you up, watched your chest and neck flush as you began to wail and thrash in his arms, pussy pulsing around him and he couldn’t hold it in anymore, biting down on your shoulder as he came hard, painting your walls in his release as you cried and bucked into him, still coming down from your high.

Finally the heaviness in his chest he’d had since you arrived felt bearable, he took a deep breath that he swore he’d been holding for days and appraised his handiwork as you sucked in deep breaths. Your chest was littered in what would be dark hickies before the weekend was through, bite mark on your shoulder would definitely cause some looks but you looked like an angel from the orange glow of the hallway light, and Bob finally felt himself relax.

You giggled into his shoulder as he melted into you, broad heavy body crushing you into the mattress and you felt like you were floating from the afterglow.

“So, is it safe to say we’re back together?” He said with a sheepish grin and you slapped his ass causing him to yelp and rub his stubble into your cheek.

“Might have to keep my options open, apparently I’m a hot commodity these days” you cackled and he pulled back to pin you by the hips to the bed, attacking you with tickles as you kicked and fought his advances. The two of you would spend the whole weekend wrapped up in each other, and Bob would spend every day proving to you he was in this for the long haul.

Monday morning came too soon, and when the time came to change in the locker rooms the guys were treated to baby Bob Floyd covered in hickies and scratch marks, needless to say they didn’t pick on him again about his lack of sexual prowess, and the incessant flirting from Seresin and Bradshaw miraculously stopped. You were Bob’s girl, off limits and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tagging- @attapullman (thank you for clearing the writer’s block a little!)

@bobgasm

@mamachasesmayhem

@roosterforme

@sailor-aviator

@sebsxphia

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #top gun bob #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob fucks #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #happy valentine's day

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fayes-fics · 6 months

Text

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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barcaracing · 1 year

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Hii can u do gavi having a crush on actress reader and he reveals it after being asked abot his celeb crush in an interview :))

interview crush | pg6

pairing: pablo gavi x actress!reader, honorary guests: pedri gonzalez and eric garcia

a/n: my first gavi fic!! exciting stuff

──────── ⚽️ ‧₊°

“Favourite movie?” the interviewer asked the three Barca players in front of her.

Eric glanced at Gavi with a soft smile. He knew how nervous the younger teammate got during interviews, so he and Pedri had tried to discreetly answer the more loaded questions, leaving the mostly harmless ones to Gavi. It had worked well so far, so Eric expected him to answer this one as well but to his surprise, Pedri spoke first.

“I know which one Gavi likes,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. Eric looked at him questioningly, but Pedri didn’t notice. He was too busy smirking at Gavi as his cheeks tinted a deep shade of pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gavi mumbled, eyes stubbornly fixed on the ground. Eric looked between his two teammates, obviously feeling like he was missing something.

“What is it?” The interviewer asked, her eyes shining with curiosity. Eric spared her a glance, having forgotten that she was there for a brief second. He turned back to the boys.

When neither of them answered, Pedri nudged Gavi playfully in the ribs and turned back to the interviewer. “We were watching this movie last week and Gavi was crushing hard on the main actress–”

“I wasn’t!”

Pedri only shot him an amused look and continued like he hadn’t spoken. “He wouldn't stop talking about her, so I told him I know her through a friend and I could easily set them up, but he refused and told me...what you did say? Oh, right, he told me he would not pass me the ball in our next match if I introduced her to him. You would’ve thought I was threatening to kidnap his family.” He chuckled and the others laughed while Gavi rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I just thought her character was pretty cool,” he said, still avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Of course.” Pedri raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you’ve seen the movie only about seven times since.”

Understanding dawned on Eric and he quickly put a hand on Gavi’s shoulder to make him look at him. “Is that what you've been watching on your phone?” The boy continued to avoid his gaze, so Eric turned to the interviewer with a wide grin. “He’s been walking around with his phone in his hand and I thought he was watching a video or something. He never wanted to tell me, but now it all makes perfect sense. Our little Gavi has a crush on–”

“Nobody!” Gavi cut him off, sending him a wide-eyed look, but Eric only laughed and held up his hands in front of him. He had never seen him look so distressed before. It was hilarious.

“Alright, fine.” Eric's eyes twinkled. “Nobody.”

“Oh, come on,” the interviewer said, not ready to let this go, “we want to know! Give us a tip, at least.”

Gavi crossed his arms and put on his best smile, praying that no one could tell that his heart was pounding like crazy. “The tip is that you’ll never find out.”

Pedri snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s Y/N.”

“Pedri!”

Eric bent over, laughing hard.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Interviewer was almost giddy as she looked at them.

“Yeah, her,” Pedri replied, grinning when Gavi put his head in his hands.

His voice was muffled when he spoke. “I’m never going to pass you the ball again.”

Eric almost fell out of the chair from how much he was laughing.

*******

this one’s pretty short but i told myself that i can only allow myself another sideblog if i actually write on it, so it’s short fics or nothing lol stay hydrated friends!

#gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi one shot #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fanfiction #pablo gavi imagine #gavi imagine #pedri imagine #pedri fanfic #pedri fluff #Pedri Gonzalez #eric garcia #eric garcia fanfic #fc barcelona fanfic #fc barca fanfic

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ibijau · 11 days

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Sins of the fathers p3 / On AO3

The morning after Jin Ling had that talk with his mother, Jin Ruyi came early to her brother's door to pick up her brother-in-law. She was pretty cheerful about it, even when it turned out that Wen Yuan had failed to wake up at the agreed hour.

This was all part of Jiang Yanli's plan to help her son-in-law feel more comfortable in his new home. Wen Yuan might have turned down all of Jin Ling's attempts at cordiality, but he hadn't dared be that rude toward his mother-in-law. So it had been decided that from that point forward, Wen Yuan would join Jiang Yanli and the children for breakfast and then spend the day with them. Jin Bai was still young enough that he was in class only half of the day, and the twins's lessons were also fairly short, because the Jin sect currently didn't try hard to educate female disciples. With those three as company, in addition to Jiang Yanli and the baby, Wen Yuan wasn't going to stay shy very long.

Still, that first morning was a little difficult. Mostly because Jin Ruyi didn't like to wait. She must have been warned to be forgiving with her brother-in-law though, so instead she scolded Jin Ling for not waking his husband.

“I've tried,” he retorted, rolling his eyes as he often did around her. “You go and see if you can do better!”

“Of course I can,” Jin Ruyi claimed, confidently walking into Wen Yuan's room.

Watching her go, Jin Ling almost pitied his husband. Jin Ruyi was an annoying brat with more ego than brain, who hated to lose and didn't care much about being rude. Some people said she was very much like Jin Ling, for all that her twin and her had their mother's gentle face. Jin Ling himself found no resemblance between them. Jin Ruyi was just supremely annoying most of the time, though he couldn't deny they made a good team whenever they were angry at the same thing.

At the moment, Jin Ruyi being rude and annoying was an asset. She really managed to get Wen Yuan to leave his bed and get ready much faster than Jin Ling could ever have managed. She then dragged him out of the house, and Jin ling didn't see him again until dinner in common with the rest of the family.

The same thing repeated the next day, and then the one after, until that became the new habit.

After about a week, Wen Yuan was used enough to this new rhythm that he no longer had to be dragged out of bed. If anything, he was regularly fully dressed before Jin Ling woke up, and waiting for one of the twins to pick him up. Jin Ling took that as a sign that his husband was happy with the new way his days went on. Wen Yuan never confirmed it, but his eager wait for the girls, and the way he finally started putting on some weight, were good hints of his enjoyment.

There were apparently more overt signs of Wen Yuan's improved happiness, but Jin Ling was not privy to those. Around him his husband remained perfectly silent and closed off, the same he'd always been. But according to Jin Bai and the twins, he was very different with them and Jiang Yanli.

“He always plays with us when we asks,” Jin Ruyi claimed when Jin Ling caught the twins and Jin Bai one day to interrogate them. “And he laughs at all my jokes.”

Jin Ling nodded. That was fair. Jin Ruyi was annoying, but she could also be pretty funny when she wanted (although never as much as Jin Dongmei, whose subtle remarks could be as dangerous as they were hilarious, especially when she felt like being insolent to their grandfather without him ever appearing to realise it)

“He also laughs at BaiBai's jokes too,” Jin Ruyi added.

Jin Ling raised an eyebrow. His little brother, aged ten, was sweet and adorable and nearly perfect in many ways, but he couldn't tell a joke properly to save his life. He was too much like their father for that.

“He also likes mom a lot,” Jin Ruyi went on.

“Everyone likes mom,” Jin Ling immediately retorted.

“But he liked her even before he met her!” his sister insisted. “His dad had told him about her. Stories about when he was little, and she took care of him. They talk about that a lot. I had no idea mom had so many stories about Wei Wuxian!”

Jin Dongmei nodded quietly when Jin Ling looked at her for confirmation. Jin Ruyi was known to sometimes exaggerate her stories, but Jin Dongmei was usually a trustworthy source, unless she felt like supporting her sister’s boasts for a laugh.

“It must be a shock for him to learn that the Yiling Patriarch used to be a funny kid,” Jin Ling said.

Unlike his sisters, he’d heard many stories about Wei Wuxian when he was younger. At the time, there had still been hope that Yiling might turn into a normal sect. Even if Wei Wuxian had been unable to come to Jin Ling's hundred day celebration for reasons unknown to him, in secret good relationships had been maintained for a while. But a couple years after the twins were born, the Burial Mounds had stopped all communication with the rest of the world. Everyone there might as well have been dead, except for Wei Wuxian and his Ghost General going into town sometimes to exact violence onto men who had claimed links to the Yiling sect to terrorise ordinary folks. After that, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng had stopped sharing stories about their childhood friend, so the twins and Jin Bai mostly knew Wei Wuxian as a boogeyman of sorts, the same as every other children.

“No, he’s never too surprised,” Jin Ruyi replied. “He said the Yiling Patriarch is still kind of like that, and still likes to laugh and joke.”

Again Jin Ling turned to Jin Dongmei, who nodded solemnly.

“He really said that,” she confirmed, before pouting pensively. “He said when he was little, one time his father buried him and told him he’d grow like a radish if he was watered. But then… he stopped talking for a while, and he looked sad.” She paused, looking concerned. “I think he misses home.”

“Why would he miss home?” Jin Ruyi scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Here we have all the good food he can want, and pretty silk clothes, and we have flowers, and birds… Ge, he was so excited when we showed him my birds! He said birds don’t sing like that in Yiling. If you’re a good husband, you should get him some birds, it’ll make him happy for sure!”

The twins had received a pair of birds from Nie Huaisang when they’d turned seven. Jin Dongmei hadn’t cared too much, but Jin Ruyi was obsessed with them and had obtained more in the years since. It was her opinion that everyone should have birds, so Jin Ling never listened when she suggested that. He was more of a dog person anyway, and didn’t see the point of pets that did nothing except sit in a cage all day. Still, he was willing to reconsider, if it could improve his marital life. He made a note to ask his mother. If she also thought it might make his husband dislike him less, then Jin Ling would spend all of his allowance on really nice birds.

He’d never have admitted it, not even under torture, but it was starting to annoy him that Wen Yuan was apparently opening up to everyone in the family except his own husband. Well, his own husband and of course Jin Guangshan and his wife, but nobody who joined the family was ever expected to like them, anyway. And maybe Wen Yuan was not really warming up to Jin Zixuan either, come to think of it. But he was getting on really well with his mother-in-law and Jin Ling’s siblings, and it was so frustrating.

Jin Ling knew Wen Yuan and him didn’t need to like each other. His grandparents had ensured he knew that much about married life. But since Wen Yuan and him lived together and would continue living together for years to come, he thought it’d be more comfortable if they could get along. His grandparents’ example had also taught him how unpleasant the alternative could be.

So Jin Ling tried. He did! He made sure to ask Wen Yuan about his plans in the morning, and asked him about his day in the evening. When they ate together, Jin Ling tried his best to notice which dishes Wen Yuan liked best, and he’d make a show of eating those first, so his husband knew these weren’t poisoned. Nothing worked, though. Wen Yuan never replied to his questions, and if he noticed what pain Jin Ling took to eat things he personally sometimes hated, all for his sake, he never thought that was worth even a ‘thank you’.

It was quickly becoming exhausting, and more than a little frustrating. There were evenings when Jin Ling wanted to shout at that cold husband he was stuck with, especially on days when Jin Chan had been particularly nasty. Or if he’d seen Wen Yuan smile at his siblings, his face so bright for a moment that he became really pretty, only to turn to ice at the sight of him. Sometimes Jin Ling felt like he might explode, except he wasn’t allowed to be angry like that. His mother had said she was proud of him for the way he’d dealt with everything. He wanted her to remain proud of him. He didn’t think she’d really stop loving him if he disappointed her, but he also didn’t want to risk it.

After all…

It was a very stupid thing to worry about. But one day, about a month after Jiang Yanli had started taking active interest in her new son-in-law, Jing Ling had overheard his cousin and some other boys talking in the gardens.

At that moment, he’d been crouched behind a bush, looking for some small wild flowers that occasionally grew around. The disciples in charge of the gardens would destroy them on sight, but Jin Dongmei found them pretty, so Jin Ling sometimes collected them for her, so she could replant them somewhere hidden. When he’d heard people coming that way, Jin Ling had been worried they’d seen him and mock him for doing something so silly and he'd tried to stay hidden to avoid explaining. But when he heard their conversation, he froze entirely.

“I hear she's sleeping with him, you know,” one boy was saying, an older teenager who had poor cultivation but rich parents. There were more than a few of those in the sect. ”Since Wen Yuan is the son of her first love!”

Jin Ling almost revealed himself by laughing. It wasn't the first time people accused his mother of once loving Wei Wuxian. He’d had that thrown at his face since before he could understand the insult. Whether that was true or not, he knew for a fact she would never betray the husband she had now, so he’d learned to ignore it. And as for having that sort of relationship with Wen Yuan… how could she, when the twins and Jin Bai were always around?

“No, you've got it wrong and it's worse than that,” Jin Chan claimed, and Jin Ling grimaced. Of course if someone was trying to badmouth his mother, his cousin was first in line. “He's not her lover. He's the son she secretly had with Wei Wuxian, before her marriage. Why else would she care so much about his education? He's her true first born… And she seems to like him more than the official one, not that I blame her. Even that half ghost kid is less of a pain in the ass than Jin Rulan!”

The boys started laughing as they passed by the bush where Jin Ling hid. he almost jumped in the middle of them to beat them up. His mother wouldn't…she hadn't! She would never! And even if she had, only the worst sort of monster would push one of their children to marry a half sibling!

Even if it was the only way to have him near, even if…

Anyway, Wen Yuan didn't look anything like Jiang Yanli, or Jin Ling, or any of Jin Ling's siblings, not even his youngest brother Jin Hui, a baby who everyone said took so much from the Jiang side. Jin Chan had to be blind if he couldn't see that. Or maybe he saw and didn't care, as long as the story made his friends laugh, as long as it made Jin Ling sound stupid.

And it wasn’t true either that Jiang Yanli liked Wen Yuan better than her eldest son. It couldn’t be true. Even if she barely had any time for him these days, hadn’t really had time for him in a long while, with four younger kids to raise and all the duties of a sect leader’s daughter-in-law. Even if she had made that time for Wen Yuan, a stranger.

Even if…

She couldn’t…

Long after his cousin and the others had walked away, Jin Ling had stayed crouched by that bush, with crushed little pale flowers in his hands. His eyes had burned from trying not to cry.

He hadn’t bothered asking Wen Yuan about his day that night.

Why should he keep trying anyway, when the other party thought he wasn’t worth any effort?

#jin ling #lan sizhui #wen yuan #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #lingzhui #zhuiling #lingzhui arranged marriage #jau writes #I swear sizhui will get to be in his own fic at some point #probably at chapter 5 if I don't fuck it up

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triniteevee · 1 year

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Doin’ Time

(gym leader larry x gn!reader drabble)

tagging @cloudy-raudi thanks so much for the req 🌸

The first thing anyone would know about Larry is that he’s a busy man. He’s always having to cut conversations short and leave the other person wishing for more of his time. He’s not rude about it, no. He’s far too polite, to the point of it being almost comical. He gives everyone a heads up straight away, so that when he inevitably has to excuse himself, he can do so without much of a fuss.

Everyone who knows him is well aware, even those residing outside his city. The rule is if you know Larry, you just know he’s got little time to himself.

You are, however, not everyone.

You do know Larry.

You may not know the first thing everyone knows about him, but you know him.

You know what books he’s got on his shelf that he’s been meaning to read. You know that he hasn’t worn his brown shoes in two weeks because he hasn’t cleaned them yet when he got caught in that downpour. You know he’s got an annoying little tune stuck in his head since the other day because neither of you could remember what song it was. You know his coffee order remains a simple black coffee with two sugars, but honestly he’d like to try a coffee milkshake sometime. You know he’s too shy to ask because the barista always has his cup ready by the time he comes in. You know he texts with kaomoji, because to this day he still sends ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ instead of hi like a Normal person. You know he doesn’t go to sleep until he knows that the friends he went to dinner with had gotten home safely. You know his upper lip twitches when someone cracks a lame joke he secretly thinks is hilarious. You know he makes beautiful paper cranes because a thousand of them are currently in your room. You know the code to his apartment because he lets you hang out there when you get bored. You know he cares more than he lets on.

You don’t know the first thing everyone knows about him, because he never seems that way with you.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #gym leader larry #gym leader larry x reader #ooc? idc #i want soft larry

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basedkikuenjoyer · 1 month

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Bases Loaded

No I will not go one step further until we address this. Gnawing a tree down into a big baseball bat is one thing, I can understand that. The hair aviator goggles were pretty believable. Did...did this mofo just conjure paint and a batter's helmet? This is seriously the strangest G5 bit by far and that's saying something when we also had:

Getting the cuffs smacked off is my favorite touch. The baseball gag though, it's so funny and I love it but it really does feel like a new level of cartoon silliness. Trivia time! Where else have we seen a baseball theme? Baroque Works, Mr. 4 & Mr. 9. And I can't help but notice the more cartoon art style is leaking. The demon Gorosei are evil looking but it's still a very flowy family of designs. The giants do too, lighter and sillier. Even get some weird stuff like an almost Dutch Angle shot as they're running away. Noticed last night the anime is getting in on this too. It slowly escalated throughout manga Egghead, so if we're doing stuff like introducing sparkly transitions now I'm curious what Toei does with this leg of the arc.

For all that weirdness around the main scene though I don't want to miss this. Because it was subtle but if you've been following along you'll probably recognize the core thread. Jinbei arrives, Zoro has won but is wasting time because Lucci stayed on his feet. So Jinbei smacks the shit out of him. It's hilarious but he knocks Lucci right to someone he can report to. We saw this type of thing in the Onigashima Raid. It was nice to let Jinbei have his time to shine early in the arc and he was solid for going to grab Zoro...but it's kinda like Nami and Luffy. You can't quite reign him in. Think like Usopp making shoddy repairs until we got a proper Shipwright.

That's the type of thing I see as justifying the final role of a Quartermaster regardless of who it may be. It rings hard when it's Jinbei coming up short. But he is just the Helmsman. Like the other adults his arc should be lightening up. One of those big reasons Kiku at least works as a template is because there's someone who'd make sense to find freedom in being more of a fussy tightass.

Oh huh? Never mind all that...Robonosuke. This dude is huge! Like, my goodness I knew he was big but this mecha monstrosity looks primed to wreck shit. Good cliffhanger. Ready to see what he does. Sad we're going to have to wait a bit but I've gotten used to it.

All this though, it leaves us in familiar territory for Egghead. Feels like we just escalated again while still not changing the core issues. The Straw Hats are roped into stuff that doesn't concern them, they're taking their eyes off the ball, being a little too loose and carefree is causing all this to spiral. Definitely have to prepare ourselves for the real possibility we come back and launch into another cutaway segment. But we'll have a few weeks to chat about that sort of thing.

#one piece #chapter 1111 #post-wano musings #Robonosuke

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keanureevesisbae · 1 year

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endeavors #12 - insecurities

Summary: Grace is a little insecure after some comments, however August is right there.

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warning: Weight/weight loss mention, minuscule spanking, boob play, mention of making love - this is quite the tame chapter.

A/N: These two are so fucking blind, it's actually hilarious

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

August and I have this new arrangement, where I don’t wear my underwear in the house and only very short skirts or dresses. That last part we already did, but no underwear? I feel like my permanent state of mind is now… excited. Ready for him. Hungry. Horny. Desperate to be fucked.

I love taking him every second of the day. It doesn’t matter when or how and with me being unemployed again, I have a lot of time.

And on top of that, August praises me for how well I take him, no matter when, no matter where. And that has impact on me. If I wasn’t addicted to him already, I certainly am now, constantly craving him and the way he manhandles me.

We’re now wandering through the grocery store, deciding what to buy for the next few days. August nonchalantly pushes the cart in front of him, leaning with his elbows on it. But I can feel his eyes roaming over my body. I’m wearing a skirt and tank top combo—we’re outside and I am therefore wearing underwear—but this is one of his favorite outfits, especially because the jeans skirt is on the tighter side, just like the top.

Yes, I dress for him now too. Call me awful, but I like the compliments.

‘Okay,’ I say, as I skip the chips aisle. ‘Next up is some broccoli from the freezer.’

‘Where are you going?’ August asks me. ‘Come on, we always eat chips with a movie.’

I shake my head. ’No, I’m watching my weight a little.’

He glares at me. ‘Why are you watching your weight?’ August asks me. He then narrows his eyes. ‘Who said what?’

I walk back to the cart and I lower my voice as I tell him about what I overheard some of my family members say when I visited them the other day.

‘Is this so-called weight gain an issue for you?’ August asks.

I shrug. ‘Well, they are right. I kind of have a tummy and quite the love handles now and I can feel it a bit in my jeans.’

He scoffs. ‘Who needs to wear jeans when you can wear dresses?’ August asks. ‘It’s easy access.’

I smack his stomach. ‘I’m serious, August. I’m just going to watch what I eat for a few weeks and then I’m back in shape again.’

‘I think you look beautiful,’ August admits. ‘If you want to lose weight for yourself, then I am all in, but if you do it because relatives have the audacity to talk about your weight behind your back… Please reconsider and know that you are beautiful, Grace.’

I nod, my stomach turning because of his sweet words. ‘Can we go to the freezer?’

August places his hand on my lower back and whispers: ‘We can, but please Grace, don’t let their words get to you, okay?’

I almost melt into him, especially when his hands descend a little to the curve of my ass. But I don’t, fighting every cell in the process.

‘Promise me,’ he then says, his voice a few tones deeper and more demanding.

I smile sadly. ‘I promise.’

﹌﹌

In the car August had his hand placed on my leg and I kept thinking about what he said in the store. We still skipped on the chips and other things I shouldn’t eat, but I couldn’t shake off what he told me. I hadn’t noticed any weight gain either, but once I heard my relatives talk about it, I took a good look in the mirror and saw the imperfections immediately.

When I was with August, he made me feel confident and thanks to him I feel good in my skin. I don’t think I have ever looked better, so maybe I was being an idiot for listening to them.

We’re experiencing some traffic jam and I look to the side. I lean over to press a kiss on his cheek. I normally don’t do that, but before he can think anything of it, I say: ‘Thank you, for the pep talk.’

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘For fuck’s sake, what an idiots. Talking about you like that. The audacity.’ He gives my thigh a squeeze and says: ‘I’ll go back later to grab some snacks.’

I chuckle, placing my hand on his. We look like a couple, I saw us in the reflection of the store, but it’s talks like this that make my feelings go into overdrive. It’s moments like this where I wonder if we would make a good couple.

By the time we get home and are safe and sound in our hallway, August holds out his hand and I know what to do. I step out of my underwear, before I slip out my bra. After placing it in his hand, he chuckles and together we walk towards the kitchen. We put away the groceries, however I could’ve and should’ve known that August would make it perverted instantly.

I mean, he did make me hand over my underwear.

He smacked my ass a few times and when I stood on a stool to put the groceries away, he placed his hand on my inner thigh, his thumb dangerously close to my already aching center.

Once everything is stored away, August stands behind me as I prepare the coffee. His bulge presses against my behind and I’m honestly getting way too excited. My nipple harden and August kneads my breasts through the thin fabric of my tank top. ‘You know,’ he whispers, his lips close to my ear, ‘I like these tight clothes on you. Show off all your perfections and your curves. What I don’t like is all those slimy bastards staring at you when you walk by.’

I lean against his chest and he nips my neck.

‘But little do they know that I am the one to make you scream, make you cum and begging.’

August has taken off my shirt a little quicker than necessary and turns me around. The coffee is long forgotten, as he leans forward and presses a kiss in between my breasts. ‘I love these,’ he admits.

‘What?’ I ask him, not knowing if I heard him right.

He smirks. ‘I love your breasts. They are really distracting when we’re out and about.’

His tongue teases my nipple and I gasp when he sinks his teeth it. I allow him manhandling my breasts in only a way he can, however I reach a limit. ‘Stop teasing me.’

‘Tell me, Grace, what do you want me to do?’

That is a first. He never asks me that.

Words are nowhere to be found.

‘You know what you want,’ August pushes.

I take a deep breath, because I do. ‘Can you make love to me?’

‘Make love?’ he parrots.

‘Or don’t you know how to do that?’ I joke.

He rolls his eyes with a smirk.

‘It’s just that… I never really properly made love with someone before and… I think you can show me how.’

He nods. ‘I can do that, Grace.’

﹌﹌

I knew August did sex. I suspected he also made love, though I was never on the receiving end of it. Sure, it was sensual from times of times, but there was always this roughness attached to it. However my stomach turns thinking back about what just happened. Deep kisses, softer touches and the everlasting eye contact.

I know there is no turning back now.

I am falling deeply for him.

August gets back in the bed again, holding a glass of water for me. I gulp it all down and he takes the glass from my hands once I am done. He smiles and asks: ‘What?’

‘August Walker is capable of making love.’

‘Of course I am.’ He tugs me closer. ‘Not with everybody though. I don’t let my guard down like that with everyone.’

I turn on my side and he does the same thing. ‘So, I should feel special?’

‘Well, most of the times women just ask me to fuck them, not make love to them. You were the first who asked.’ He places his hand on my cheek. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I feel good.’ I smile and whisper: ‘I feel beautiful.’

‘You should,’ he says. ‘You are absolutely breathtaking. You know… Ever since we started this, you have become more confident. You have blossomed. Despite losing your jobs, you bounced back from it and have only grown from that. From a shy lady to a confident woman.’

I curl up against his body, unable to say something.

‘Besides, you’re quite the slut being able to take me so well. I sure am a lucky guy.’

I pinch his nipple. He lets out a chuckle and I laugh as well.

‘Thank you, Grace.’

‘For what?’

‘For always trusting me.’

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x grace stanford #august walker smut #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill #asian ofc #grace stanford #endeavors

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qqueenofhades · 4 months

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Hi Hilary. I want you to know how much your writing is brightening a sad Christmas for me. If you're still taking requests I'd love to see Ivan and Fedyor coming back together after being parted for a long time.

Doesn't have to be the 'big' parting, just anything for a significant length of time. I miss the husbands, and I'm rereading all my fave old fics.

It has been almost a month on the road, slogging through the frozen wastes of Tsibeya after an especially ill-advised invasion attempt of eastern Fjerda ended in predictable failure, and Ivan is gaunt, cold, filthy, sporting an especially scruffy beard that he loathes with the fire of a thousand splendid suns, and otherwise more than ready for the comforts of home, in more ways than one. He's normally impervious to whatever discomforts the field can throw at him, but they're more bearable when he's with Fedyor, and they've spent almost all of the last year apart -- Ivan directing the northern theater against the Fjerdans and Fedyor tied up with operations against Shu Han in the south -- and since the tsar's never-ending war is going even more stupidly than usual and they have very little to show for it, Ivan is therefore most displeased at this enforced separation.

As the dispirited caravan creaks and clanks through the gates of Os Alta, Ivan and Kirigan riding side by side at the head of the column and trying to look like this is a triumphal homecoming instead of a humiliating defeat, Ivan turns his head in all directions. The southern campaign broke off several weeks ago at least, according to the spies, and they were also obliged to beat a retreat northward to the capital. Not that this is an outcome to cover themselves in glory either, but at least it means Fedyor might be home.

Ivan swings down from his saddle, issues a few terse replies to the assorted underlings who swan up with assorted idiotic questions (his purpose is to deflect them from Kirigan, but he sorely needs a hench-henchman whose purpose is to deflect idiotic questions from him) and looks around again as if his head is on a pivot, barely listening to anyone or able to offer any explanations or strategic advisements. Fedyor is here, right? The fucking Shu didn't pull some funny trick at the last moment and either delay their return or -- Saints forbid -- even worse? Bad enough to be returning from the imbroglio in Fjerda with nothing to show for it, but if something happened to Fedyor --

Just as Ivan is about to properly spiral off the handle, he senses a familiar warm presence in the alcove nearby, waiting for him to finish his duties and come to meet him, and flatly ignores the First Army lieutenant pressing for a detailed status update. Ivan shoves past him, then breaks into a run, ducking under the eaves. "Fedyor!"

Fedyor grins at him, dark eyes dancing and dimples doing that stupid thing they do that causes Ivan's heart to perform all number of absurd calisthenics. "About time, don't you -- "

Whatever else he's going to say is cut off as Ivan grabs him into a rough, hungry kiss, dragging Fedyor off his feet, whirling him around, and pushing him up against the back wall of the cloisters. He almost doesn't care if anyone sees them (besides, they're all too terrified to ever say a word), and takes his time about kissing Fedyor slow and thoroughly, until he is good and properly ready to stop (or rather, pause for breath). Then he growls, "Yes, I would damn well say it is."

They have had one too many close calls with nearly being caught by Kirigan and/or some other officious underling walking in on them when they didn't bother to get all the way to to their room first, so they do, though it's a terrible strain to keep their hands off each other that long. Then they slam the door, shed their keftas, and get around to reuniting properly. There is that one upside to being separated for so long, Ivan thinks dizzily. It does make the reunion especially sweet.

Afterward, they lie in bed curled up in a tangle of limbs, Fedyor's head resting on Ivan's chest and his fingers lightly stroking and Healing away the worst of Ivan's new crop of scars. He doesn't bother to ask how Ivan got them, but Ivan can sense his consternation in the particular ferocity of his touch. "It's all right," he murmurs. "I'm fine."

"You always say that." Fedyor sighs. "You are, I hope, at least back until spring?"

Ivan shrugs. It's a week until the Winter Fete, when combat operations are technically forbidden by the Faith and when everyone just wants to huddle up by a warm fire and drink hot kvas, but there's no way to say for sure. Still, he doesn't want to spoil their reunion with such talk. So he just rolls them over, puts Fedyor on his back, and takes his time about reminding him that they are here, now, together, alive, real. And that -- as ever, as always -- is all that truly matters.

#anonymous #ask #fivan #fivan ff #heartrender husbands #sab ff #winter prompts #and boo for sad christmas! nobody likes that!#sending you extra chocolate and/or hugs as you prefer

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marta-bee · 1 year

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Let’s talk about good and evil, Good Omens-style.

Pressing on with reading the book, I’m maybe two-thirds or three-quarters through the first chapter. Still not through! But War has made her first appearance, Aziraphale and Crowley are finally sobered p and decided to be god-parents, and I think I’m ready for another mental break. It’s hilarious. It’s harrowing. I am marveling at the sheer genius of the writing. And feeling for Aziraphale being stuck in his own goodness. He’s a cheeky bastard what with the bible-proof pages and all, but still so hemmed in by what he’s defined himself to be.

Mostly I think I need to take a break, because there’s some really interesting philosophy going on here and I need to unpack it a bit to really feel his weight.

Last week I’d stopped with Crowley and the Spanish Inquisition. Still feeling the *oomph* of that passage; but this week starts out with its flip-side, which had such an aura of hope to it, for me.

And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger.

That’s one of my favorite things about humanity, how we’re capable of what my human-bound sense of morality connects with goodness. We’re both. We’re potential. And I think for Crowley, that potential is almost more important than what we potentialize into. Maybe it’s that humans have creativity and a spark that lets them do things stolid heaven and decrepit hell just can’t conceive of. But there’s something very attractive to Crowley about this ability change, to make a choice and not just do or be what they’re predestined to do or be, that’s very attractive to Crowley. If anything connects to what I think of as morality in this world, I think that ability for growth is it. A capacity to surprise and spersede your programming, for lack of a better term.

There’s actually a really delightful exchange I’d forgotten about, on the concept of free will, leading up to that snippet I quoted earlier:

Aziraphale had tried to explain it to him once. The whole point, he'd said-this was somewhere around 1020, when they'd first reached their little Arrangement-the whole point was that when a human was good or bad it was because they wanted to be. Whereas people like Crowley and, of course, himself, were set in their ways right from the start. People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked.

Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can't start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle.

Ah, Aziraphale had said, that's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic.

No, said Aziraphale, it's ineffable.

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

Crowley reached down and picked up the car phone.

Being a demon, of course, was supposed to mean you had no free will. But you couldn't hang around humans for very long without learning a thing or two.

Angels and demons can’t change; except of course they can. That’s the whole point of Satan, as Crowley points out later:

"What will happen to the child if it doesn't get a Satanic upbringing, though?" said Aziraphale. "Probably nothing. It'll never know."

"But genetics-"

"Don't tell me from genetics. What've they got to do with it?" said Crowley. "Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you're going to go on about genetics, you might as well say the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he'll grow up to be a demon just because his dad became one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will give birth to tailless mice. No. Upbringing is everything. Take it from me."

"And without unopposed Satanic influences – "

"Well, at worst Hell will have to start all over again. And the Earth gets at least another eleven years. That's got to be worth something, hasn't it?"

Now Aziraphale was looking thoughtful again.

"You're saying the child isn't evil of itself?" he said slowly.

"Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality, waiting to be shaped," said Crowley. He shrugged. "Anyway, why're we talking about this good and evil? They're just names for sides. We know that."

"I suppose it's got to be worth a try," said the angel.

Satan can change. Satan did change. And Crowley, too, in the first passage; he decided to make a choice when that’s supposed to be very much a human thing. Even Aziraphale shows a real capacity to, not change his mind perhaps, but let himself be swayed, certainly That whole conversation between Aziraphale and Crowley over what to do about the antichrist reeks of motivated reasoning on his part.

"That's it, then," said Crowley, with a gleam of triumph. He knew Aziraphale's weak spot all right. "No more compact discs. No more Albert Hall. No more Proms. No more Glyndbourne. Just celestial harmonies all day long."

"Ineffable," Aziraphale murmured.

"Like eggs without salt, you said. Which reminds me. No salt, no eggs. No gravlax with dill sauce. No fascinating little restaurants where they know you. No Daily Telegraph crossword. No small antique shops. No bookshops, either. No interesting old editions. No" – Crowley scraped the bottom of Aziraphale's barrel of interests-"Regency silver snuffboxes . . . "

"But after we win life will be better!" croaked the angel.

"But it won't be as interesting. Look, you know I'm right. You'd be as happy with a harp as I'd be with a pitchfork."

He’s supposed to want good. He’s with heaven, that’s the definition of being heaven-aligned, to want good; and taking better as a synonym... yeah, probably if the win the Apocalypse (which they probably would), life would be more good. And that thought makes Aziraphale desperate; he’s croaking the words there, see? He’s torn between what he’s supposed to want and what he actually wants, and it’s all coming to a head.

Then Crowley said it won’t be as interesting, something else entirely, from the heaven- or hell-aligned, and that’s when he starts to crack. It’s a rebellion, or at least a falling (sauntering vaguely downward, if you prefer); because he’s choosing something here too outside what he’s supposed to be working toward: not better, but more interesting. And thank Someone for that.

Let’s go back to that first exchange, though, where Aziraphale and Crowley are discussing free will. Because Crowley makes a really interesting point, both narratively and in terms of real-world philosophy.

Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can't start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle.

Ah, Aziraphale had said, that's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic.

Aziraphale’s line is one I heard often enough from the Protestant-Christian side of my upbringing. Blessed are those who suffer for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. And Crowley’s right: it’s nonsense to think people who are fighting all day every day to survive will ever be able to do as well at this free choice sanctification scheme as people who have the luxury of a bit of breathing space. Free will, for one thing, is meaningless if you don’t actually have two options to choose from; and the space (mental and otherwise) to actually make a decision.

Personally this isn’t the interpretation of Christianity I’ve found most useful, or consistent with the way I read the (Christian) Bible. It’s not that suffering gives you more opportunities for growth; there’s a sense of to-whom-much-has-been-given-much-will-be-expected shot through so many of Christ’s parables (the Five Talents, for instance), and of course there’s the line that it’s easier for a rich man to pass through the Eye of the Needle than to get into heaven; if you know your Biblical archaeology, that’s essentially saying you have to be stripped free of your baggage, which is the one thing rich people won’t be able to do.

Put another way: those who suffer, those who are poor and week, are blessed not because their suffering lets them achieve more heaven-points, but because they don’t need them precisely because they’re small. Whereas those given more resources, more is expected of them. I don’t think Crowley would approve of that kind of valorizing of smallness, but intellectually at least it makes more sense than what Crowley’s been twisted to think is correct.

I’m more a fan of the Aristotelian approach, myself. There are virtues that ought to motivate actions, but at the same time it’s all tied up in what’s possible for an individual. So a person who’s, say, OCD and deals with excessive anxiety might show more genuine courage in crossing the street than someone without that psychology would need to run into a burning building. Of course there’s certain maladies that make it impossible to exercise true virtue and we should feel pity for those people even if we don’t think of them as virtuous. But at least within certain limits, courage isn’t just about doing the most extreme thing, even necessarily what the situation demands, because courage is being guided by fear in the right way so we behave courageously; and if you’ve got more fear to navigate you need better courage than most to do the navigating.

That’s a much better way of thinking about things to me. Afflicted people aren’t better than those with a better starting out point because they get more heaven-points (whatever form that takes) or reach some better external state than people with a more favorable starting point; it’s that to even get to the same result as other people, they need more oomph, more grace, more whatever, because of all they’re pushing back against. It’s not fair, but it seems at least a more generous interpretation of the reality we’re all trying to struggle through.

Getting back to the book, though, I find it really interesting that Aziraphale and Crowley think of good and evil in these terms. It’s a sign of the headspace Heaven and Hell drive them toward, I think; to the point Crowley says they’re just labels for our side, those words don’t actually mean anything.

But he’s still shaken by Barcelona. He’s still begging with Aziraphale- test them, sure, but not to destruction. He doesn’t want humanity to be ended, and it’s not for the more self-centered reasons that drive Aziraphale here, those lovely little bits of life on earth he finds so enjoyable. There’s a sense that he shouldn’t allow that to happen. There’s a should, an ought, a moral imperative still, even for a demon who’s been trying to tempt humanity toward his side for six millennia here. And while I don’t want to indulge on simple moralizing, there’s something at his core that won’t let him just let history do its thing. It may not neatly align with what heaven or hell is pointing for, that’s really the point, but there’s still an ought in play that’s somehow independent of all that.

Frankly, I find all that fascinating, not to mention a damned compelling narrative.

And War’s up next, I see. I need a readerly break, but when I get back, I think things are about to get fun.

#good omens #book good omens #marta read #marta rereads good omens #marta blathers

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footballffbarbiex · 8 months

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In This Moment

player: Andy Robertson words: 381 request: Andy Robertson - no pref - 250 - 500 - Fluff - Just her watching Andy play with their children on the pitch at the end of the season (or outside in general: piles of leaves or in the snow), being such a loving dad

The final whistle blowing had signified the end of a long, arduous season; something that she couldn’t say if she or Andy were more happy about. It had taken it out of both of them emotionally and even though Liverpool had never been in the title race, it had felt almost as draining as if they had. She’d tried to put a positive spin on it, saying how playing in the Europa League may take some of the pressure off unlike playing in the Champions League. It meant that they could concentrate on the actual league games and try and not replicate this season.

Some of the other players are out there with their little ones, so it’s no surprise to her when Andy approaches her with his hands out ready to scoop up the twins who excitedly run towards him. Just as they get there, she watches as they slap hands together and split off, each sibling moving faster than Andy can and go on either side of him while giggling loudly.

He moves slower deliberately, taking his time to pretend as though he’s fuming. He’s making threat promises of what he’ll do when he catches them - they’re going to have a pillow fight - and lose, they’re going be challenged to a marshmallow eating contest - and lose, but worst of all he promises, there’ll be no contest at all by the time he gets them both because he’s just going to make them clean up his dirty socks for a whole week.

Their cries of dismay at such a dirty threat is audible even from where she stands but they still try to give him a run for his money. Their little boy wriggles out of Andy’s grip as he tries to grab their daughter, something which is hilarious to the both of them as they once again split in different directions. Some of the other children have paused to watch, and once they’ve realised what’s happening, they join in to create a diversion.

“Oh they’ve got you good, baby. They’re too much like you to get caught,” she whispers to herself and for 10 minutes or so, everything that’s taken place on the Anfield pitch over the course of the season is forgotten and all that matters is this.

#Andy Robertson one shot #Andy Robertson blurb #Andy Robertson drabble #Andy Robertson fanfic #Andy Robertson fanfiction #Andy Robertson imagine

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moonylantsovs · 2 years

Text

RULES | 1.11: THE CALM

summary: the daughter of Marcus Kane gets sent down to the ground with 99 other teenage criminals and a fake guard on her eighteenth birthday, deciding to take charge of the camp along with the two people she never thought she'd get along with after her previous experience with authority and the privileged.

pairings: john murphy x fem!oc, bellamy blake x fem!oc ( slowburn ), raven reyes x fem!oc

warnings: best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, swearing, more jealous!bellamy, hints of wells x raven, fade to black sex scene

series masterlist

t had been almost a week since the bomb destroyed the bridge and there was still no sign of the grounders coming. Everyone knew that it was too good to be true, that the bomb only made the declaration of war more obvious. That was why Bellamy insisted he and Miller taught more delinquents how to use guns.

The grounders were coming, and they needed to be ready when they did.

For Gabriella this week has been nothing but stressful. She was either ordering stuff along camp or keeping watch and when she was not doing that she could not sleep. She tried to pretend it did not have anything to do with the inability to sleep inside of a tent with her cot right next to Murphy's - who kept ignoring her for a reason she was yet to figure out.

The cold shoulder he was giving her confused the shit out of her. When he came back, they had their sweet reunion followed by her constantly defending him against Bellamy, but after that...nothing.

He would come to the tent before her and pretend to be asleep when she got there (which he was not as subtle about as he thought he was( and he would not be there when she woke up most of the time.

Gabriella tried to talk to him, of course, but he did not budge. Maybe it had something to do with the huge amount of guilt she saw almost every time she looked at him, but she did not know what he was supposed to feel guilty about.

"First watch is over. Go relieve Monroe on the south wall. Keep your eyes open."

The Kane tore her eyes from the forest she was looking at when she was spacing out and turned around to see Bellamy giving a delinquent named Sterling a gun and dismissing him. When Sterling walked away, Bellamy flickered his eyes up and to where Gabriella was standing. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face and he swiftly made his way by her side, he looked in the same direction she was looking at before.

"Anything?" He asked curiously, his eyes flickering to the gun visible in the waistband of her pants momentarily before they connected with her blue eyes again.

"No sign of grounders." Gabriella huffed, "It's been a week. Clarke thinks the bomb on the bridge scared them off for good."

"And what do you think?" The male leader asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gabriella sighed, "They are either planning something big or they're coming soon, a lot of them."

Bellamy stared at the side of her face before tugging at her elbow as a signal to follow him further into camp.

"Jasper thinks he can cook up some more gunpowder if he gets some sulfur and Raven says she can turn that into landmines." Bellamy said before a teasing smirk appeared on his face as he looked at her from head to toe. "So be careful where you step, Bambi."

"Hilarious." Gabriella muttered in a deadpan tone and watched her co-leader spin around a tree with a wide grin on his face.

Originally, Gabriella was helping Raven and Jasper make bullets but once she and Raven had the conversation about Finn dumping her because he was in love with Clarke, she decided it was better to get out of her way and focus on leading the camp. Because if she knows anything about Raven, it was that it was not good to be around her when she was pissed.

"What I really need is a thousand more of her tin can bombs so I can roll into their village and blow those grounders to hell."

"Poetic." The blonde said, giving Bellamy an annoyed side glance.

"That's what they want to do to us." He quickly defended himself.

"Yeah, well we can't exactly do that." Gabriella tried to reason, "They have kids in there, Bellamy. We only attack them if they attack us first."

Bellamy sighed, staring at her thoughtfully before huffing and changing the subject, "Any word from The Ark?"

"Radio silence. Raven and I tried to connect our radio here with them again but no one's answering...it's like something's blocking us from them."

"Finally ran out of air." Bellamy muttered, mostly to himself but Gabriella still heard him and flinched at the thought of the people up there dying because there was no oxygen left.

Gabriella pushed her blonde hair out of her face. "Well, Kane was lucky. Dying in the exodus ship crash seems a hell of a lot quicker than Sinclair is going to die when they run out of oxygen."

"Well, that means no one's coming down to save us, Gabi. We have to survive whatever's coming on our own." Bellamy told her, his expression entirely serious.

"We have been doing that since we landed." She sighed heavily, "What's a little more work, huh?"

"Fire!"

Gabriella rushed out of the supply tent she was sharpening weapons in at the sound of a commotion and at the smell of smoke. Her eyes widened at the sight of the smokehouse on fire, her worry only growing once she saw that Murphy was carrying Octavia out of it.

Bellamy rushed past Gabriella and to his sister's aid, scrunching down in front of her with concern written all over his face "Are you okay?"

Octavia coughed, trying to catch her breath but managed a small nod. Gabriella squeezed the younger girl's shoulder and turned around to see if Murphy was okay, "Are you hu-"

He cut her question off by running up to Del with a murderous look on his face. "This is all your fault." He growled, gripping Del's jacket "We told you it was too much wood!"

"Get the hell away from me."

Murphy ignored him and punched him in the face. Gabriella's eyes widened and she was about to stop the fight when Bellamy beat her to it by stepping between the two delinquents.

"Hey, stop!" He ordered, putting a hand on each of the boy's chest, "Save it for the grounders."

"Well, now what the hell are we gonna do? That was all our food!" Octavia said, her question directed towards all three leaders but her eyes mainly set on her big brother.

Gabriella shared a look with Bellamy and Clarke before turning to a few delinquents who were watching them. She nodded towards the fire. "You four, get some water and stop the fire. Then we'll see what we're gonna do."

When the fire was out, Gabriella, Wells, and Clarke slowly approached Bellamy who was staring intently at the burned down smoke-house.

"Any idea what happened?" Clarke asked, looking down at Bellamy.

"Murphy says that Del kept feeding the fire, mostly because Octavia told him it was a bad idea." Bellamy explained, anger and annoyance dripping from his tone obvious.

Wells crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head, "And you trust Murphy?"

"I do, yeah." Gabriella's eyebrows rose at his words and Bellamy was quick to notice her surprise. He locked eyes with her and added. "Well you trust him, and I trust you."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Gabriella chuckled, giving her co-leader a thankful smile. He smiled back and looked down at the ground, tapping his foot nervously.

"We have some wild onions and nuts in the dropship." Wells stated, rubbing his chin in frustration.

"And that's only enough to last us maybe one or two weeks." Clarke added.

Gabriella looked over at the burning remains of the small building before looking back at Bellamy. "Anything good left here?"

"Nothing." He sighed, "It all burned."

"Then we have to hunt." Clarke decided, "Anyone we can spare goes out."

"Yeah because that sounds like a fantastic idea." Gabriella scoffed and put her hand on Clarke's forearm to stop her from walking away. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"With the whole grounder army out there?" Bellamy asked in agreement.

Clarke sighed with a frown on her face. "Look, we can't defend ourselves if we're starving."

Gabriella pursed her lips, turning to look at Bellamy to see his opinion, only to find his gaze already on her. Her shoulders fell in defeat. "I guess we're going hunting."

Hunting parties got almost too rare since the sickness took over the camp. Some of their best shooters and trackers ended up getting sick and then dying and most teenagers were too scared to go into the woods while there were grounders running around and trying to kill as many of them as possible. Gabriella could not blame them which was why nobody was forcing them to go outside the camp walls too often. But before, they had plenty of meat from previous hunts. Now they had no choice.

"Each group takes someone with a gun, and they're for killing grounders, not food. We don't have the ammo. Use the spears for hunting. Get what you can. Be back by nightfall. No one stays out after dark."

Gabriella nodded to herself after Bellamy stopped giving instructions and turned around to stop Wells from approaching Clarke. "You are not going."

"What?" He asked, taken aback by the command.

"As much as I would love for you and Clarke to get closer on the hunting trip, you have to help Raven and Jasper with the gunpowder." Gabriella told him, "And as much as I hate to admit it, you are smart and right next to me at the top of our Chemistry class which means that they could use the help."

Wells let out a huff of defeat before giving her a hesitant nod. "Fine. I'll stay."

The blonde nodded in satisfaction and watched him take one more look at Clarke, who was leaving with Finn and Myles before he brushed past them and out of the dropship.

"Hey, Ella?"

Gabriella turned around to see a much taller dark-haired guy with a spear in his hand. He looked at her with a somehow nervous look on his face and asked awkwardly, "I'm Philip. I was wondering if you had a partner...if you don't, would you mind going with me? I'm a good tracker and I could--"

"Hey, Bambi. Are you ready to go?"

Gabriella's eyebrows furrowed and she turned around to see Bellamy looking between her and Philip with an authoritative look that matched the tone of his voice. The mere sight of him made Philip wish that the ground would swallow him whole.

"What?" She asked in confusion, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You're my partner. I'm carrying the gun, you're carrying the ax. Let's go."

"I was actually gonna go with Philip." Gabriella snapped, annoyed he was trying to tell her what to do.

"Okay, he can come too." Bellamy rolled his eyes again, "Now let's go."

Philip looked down at Gabriella sheepishly before nodding at the leaders and following them outside of the camp walls.

Three hours later - a little bit after dawn - when Gabriella, Bellamy, and Philip came back from the most awkward hunting trip ever (that contained Gabriella and Bellamy bickering and Philip awkwardly pretending that they were not actually flirting), Gabriella directed the two boys to take the panther they caught to a new tent for rations.

After making sure they had everything in control, she made her way toward her tent to leave the unused bullets there. When she entered the tent, she came face-to-face with the sight of Raven sitting on her cot with her face in the palms of her hand.

"Everything okay?" Gabriella asked, emptying Bellamy's rifle and putting the bullets down on the makeshift table.

"I did something stupid..." The mechanic trailed off, her face scrunched up into a grimace.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." Gabriella shrugged, leaning on the table. She was the second smartest person that she knew, there was no way she could-

"I tried to sleep with Wells." Raven blurted out, looking up at the engineer nervously.

Oh.

Gabriella's eyes immediately widened and she stuttered, "Hold on, what?"

"He said some things earlier and I misread the meaning and thought that maybe he was into me, but of course, he's into Clarke. Because everyone just has to have a thing for Clarke."

"Rae..." Gabriella trailed off sympathetically.

"I mean it's not like I have feelings for Wells. I just needed a rebound, something to take my mind off of the whole Finn situation." Raven admitted and Gabriella could not help but jokingly suggest.

"You can always sleep with me."

When Raven did not laugh at her joke, Gabriella looked down to see her looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well..." Raven said hesitantly, "It would be a lie to say I haven't thought about it once or twice. We're both fairly attractive and it doesn't have to mean anything."

"So a one-night stand?" Gabriella asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If you're up for it." Raven quickly said, not wanting to push the closest friend she had to do something she didn't want to do.

Gabriella stepped away from the table and closer to the brunette, "I don't have a problem with it..."

Raven was quick to take her shoes and jacket, then stand up so she was face to face with the blonde, "I've never been with a girl before." She admitted and Gabriella nodded at her words, cupping the side of her face with her hand and leaning in to mutter against her lips.

"Well there's a first time for everything."

It was not that she regrets sleeping with Raven. She was most certainly the most attractive girl she had ever seen, with her long dark hair and stunning doe eyes. And she most definitely knew what she was doing even though she had never been with a girl before.

Something inside Gabriella felt at ease after the hook-up - probably her sexual appetite. She has not had a one-night stand since before she got arrested because everyone (except Bellamy, obviously) definitely had more important stuff to worry about down here. But a big part of Gabriella knows she only did that because Murphy had been ignoring her most of the time he was back, for a reason unknown to her.

"Did it help?" Gabriella asked the mechanic, staring at her sweaty naked back and watching as she swiftly pulled her close on.

"No." Raven said truthfully, "What about you?"

"No." The blonde sighed, laying her hand back and running a hand over her face as her mind immediately flashed back to John Murphy.

Raven pulled her hair in a high ponytail and watched as Gabriella got dressed slowly. She quickly pulled her eyes away from the naked fair skin of the blonde's legs when someone came barging into the tent.

Both girls' eyes widened at the sight of Wells, who looked between them in surprise, stuttering to find what to say.

"What is it, Charming?" Gabriella asked and nonchalantly pulled on her shoes.

"Clarke and Finn aren't back yet." He blurted out, his body shaking in anticipation.

While Gabriella's eyes widened in understanding Raven just rolled her eyes, "Who cares? They are probably at that bunker or something again."

"Myles was with them." Gabriella sighed, quickly pulling on her denim jacket and following Wells out of the tent, with Raven hot on her heels and fresh panic in her chest.

The two girls quickly followed Wells to the supply tent where the Blake siblings and Monty were already waiting.

"What are you waiting for?" Gabriella asked, picking up a rifle, "They have been out there for almost five hours, let's go."

Bellamy took notice of his co-leader's messy hair and Raven's flushed face but decided to brush it off and grab his gun instead "She's right. Grab a weapon and move out. Raven and Octavia you're going together. Wells and Monty, too." He then turned to Gabriella, "Gabi, you're with me."

"I thought you said you were going west. Where the hell are you?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the sound of Wells' annoyed voice through the radio. She could almost hear Bellamy rolling his eyes behind her when he put the radio to his mouth and ordered. "Just keep the moon on your left, and you'll find us."

There was more noise heard from the radio and Gabriella instantly rolled her eyes, thinking it was Wells again but relaxed at the sound of Monty's shaky voice "Is anyone else hearing this signal?"

"Just keep your eyes open." Came Raven's voice.

"𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘹."

"Damn it, Monty, pay attention." Bellamy said in irritation, making Gabriella stop walking and turn around to glare at him.

"Stop being an asshole and give me the radio." Bellamy glared back at her but did not hesitate to hand her the radio. The blonde put the radio close to her mouth and asked, "Do you see anything?" When she got nothing but the sound of static as a response, she spoke again. "Monty? Wells?"

"There is someone in the bushes." Raven said warily.

Bellamy and Gabriella shared a look in the dark before rushing to where Raven and Octavia were supposed to be at that moment. They did not expect to find Wells leaning over Myles' half-conscious body. He had an arrow in his right shoulder and another in his left thigh, an obvious result of a grounder ambush.

"Where are they?" Raven asked instantly, "Clarke and Finn, where are they?"

"Grounders took them." The boy said weakly, wincing in pain.

"Take it easy." Bellamy soothed, "We have to get him back to camp."

"Bell, what about Clarke and Finn?" Octavia asked, looking at her brother.

Raven frowned and got up, trying to keep the tears back. Bellamy looked between Gabriella, Raven, and Wells apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"We can't just leave them here." Wells said, in disbelief that they would even be considering that.

"I second that." Gabriella chimed in before remembering someone was missing and turning to glare up at Wells. "Wait, where the hell is Monty?"

"I don't know." Wells answered truthfully, "One second he was there and when I turned around, he wasn't."

"So you just left him there?" Gabriella asked, raising her voice slightly, ignoring Bellamy's hand on her back that was supposed to calm her down but unsurprisingly only made her more annoyed.

Gabriella Kane met Monty at engineer training when she was fourteen, they were the two youngest trainees so it was natural for Sinclair to put them together. They got along well and talked a lot, whether it was in the hallways before class or around work

Before Gabriella got sent to work with Kyle Wick at Raven's workshop (the shop the trio learned to share after the few months they worked together before Gabriella's arrest) because of her 'surprisingly good progress' the two expected to drift apart and not really talk much again.

After Gabriella and Monty got paired up in history with Jasper and Murphy they started to hang out as a group a lot more often, whenever they had free time. It did not matter whether they were getting high (which was a plus side of being good friends with Jasper and Monty) or doing something class-related. They were together most of the time.

It was no secret Gabriella felt extremely protective of all three boys, specifically Monty and Jasper who were too nice to stick up for themselves. Everyone in the skybox knew it and didn't even want to try to mess with them after what happened to Mbege when he insulted Jasper by mentioning his home situation.

So no, judging by how close they are, you could really say Gabriella definitely was not that pleased with Monty going missing too.

"He wasn't there. I didn't leave him." Wells defended himself, only irritating the blonde more.

"We need to make a stretcher." Raven said calmly and grabbed Gabriella's hand in an attempt to keep her from tearing off Wells' head.

Gabriella just scoffed and brushed past them to jog back to camp. She certainly did not give a flying fuck if Finn died or not. She did not need Finn. She needed Clarke and Monty alive. She needed to know they were safe so she could function normally. She could not bear to lose anyone else.

#the 100 #the hundred #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #john murphy #clarke griffin #bellamy blake imagine #john murphy imagine #raven reyes #octavia blake #wells jaha #raven reyes x oc #raven reyes x reader #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy x oc

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quietblueriver · 9 months

Text

Don't Ever Turn It Down (Ch. 4)

In which Ava learns a lot about Beatrice over the course of an afternoon.

Beatrice likes routine and has strong preferences. Ava likes Beatrice and likes to make Beatrice smile, so she has paid close attention to these preferences.

When they're out, Beatrice buys herself good coffee, black. At home, she grinds her own beans and has a ritual with her pour-over, which results in good coffee, black, in a glass travel cup Ava sees on her desk. If it’s from somewhere that does not rise to her bougie standards, she adds milk until it looks like something Ava might actually drink. That’s basically it.

So when Beatrice steps to the counter and says, “Medium caramel latte, please,” Ava is delighted. “And whatever she’s having.”

“Nope.” She pops the p. “You know it’s my turn.” She does not give her a chance to respond, just turns to the barista, who has a fantastically queer haircut, in purple, and is looking with obvious gay interest between them. “I’ll have the same, please. Also a chocolate chip cookie and,” she turns her head back to Beatrice, “Bea? What kind of cookie?”

AO3 or below the cut.

When Ava drops into her chair at 8:57am, she’s ready for a good fucking day. She had inhaled a truly excellent breakfast taco from the new stand near her apartment, and the line at her coffee shop hadn’t been outrageous when she got there. Even better, her favorite barista, Rachel, had bitten her lip and somewhat shyly presented Ava with her to-go cup without its lid, a very cute, only very slightly lopsided bear smiling up at her from the foam. A bear!

Ava’s effusive reaction, an immediate photo and amazement, had made Rachel beam and she’d told Ava she might get an elephant next week. An elephant! It’s all really too good. Beyond being adorable, the vanilla latte is perfect, as always, and Ava still has almost all of it left, sitting on her desk and ready to assist her in addressing whatever has happened in her inbox over the weekend. She takes the top off to admire the bear, still in shockingly good shape despite Ava’s less than gentle treatment, before stretching her shoulders.

There are somehow only a dozen new emails, three of which are junk and four of which are from people who decided to hit reply all entirely unnecessarily. She makes her way through four of the five remaining within half an hour because she’s killing it today, but she’s distracted from her final reply by a text from Beatrice, which she cannot help but open immediately.

Would you like to get coffee sometime today? My schedule is open.

She eyes the now quarter of her latte that remains, the bear’s left ear hanging on for dear life and the rest of him not doing much better, and does a lot of work to convince herself that it’s a bit much to go to Beatrice’s office immediately. Congratulating herself for exhibiting a seriously admirable amount of self-control, she texts back: Yes!!!! This afternoon? 3? I’ll come to you.

Ideally she can run out the day with Bea, maybe convince her to get a drink. She adds a dog emoji, a coffee emoji, and a purple heart for good measure.

Perfect. Looking forward to it.

Ava spins in her chair and smiles all the way through her call with the totally fucking insufferable dude from a client’s R&D team, biding her time.

“Fuck them, Beatrice.”

Ava’s hovering outside of Beatrice’s doorway, caught between not wanting to interrupt and not wanting to listen in to what is clearly a very personal conversation. Lilith sounds angry, and not in the hilarious game night way.

“Lilith…”

“No, fuck them. They don’t get to do this to you.”

“I know, Lilith, and I told them that, but as you’re well aware, my parents…”

And that’s enough. Ava knocks before Beatrice can finish the sentence, drawing the line. Two heads snap in her direction as she peeks her head around the cracked door and she tries to smile like she hadn’t just been eavesdropping like a dick.

“Sorry to interrupt. I can come back.”

Beatrice smiles at her, and it’s real even if it’s smaller than than normal, the worried little lines on her forehead still present.

“Ava. No, no. Please come in. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”

The first time Ava was at a meeting where an attorney for the other side spoke down to Lilith’s paralegal, her enraged expression and the corresponding takedown had made Ava both scared and, like, more than a little turned on. She’s seen the expression since, mostly when they’re out and anyone bothers Camila (who can and does handle herself while Lilith fumes as silent and terrifying backup), and she recognizes it now. She’s rigid in all ways—her jaw is clenched so hard Ava’s afraid for her teeth, and Ava can see the muscles in her arms straining as she clenches her fists at her sides.

It’s not directed at Beatrice, and, blessedly, it’s not directed at her, either. Lilith has already turned her eyes away from Ava, glaring at some distant point over Bea’s shoulder. Based on the conversation, she’s pretty sure the targets of Lilith’s rage are not in the room. She’s pretty sure they’re lucky not to be.

“I can come back, Bea. Really. No problem.”

She glances at Ava briefly, small smile still in place, and says, “No, we were finished anyway.”

Beatrice’s hand reaches out and grasps Lilith’s bicep briefly before tracking down to her wrist. Ava watches, a little entranced, as Lilith’s posture relaxes and her hand unclenches, her fingers twining with Beatrice’s. They have a silent conversation, then, and Lilith pulls Beatrice into a hug, roughly, but the whole demonstration is so ridiculously tender that Ava almost wants to turn away.

She looks at her shoes for a moment instead, white sneaks she somehow hasn’t demolished yet, and when she chances a look back up, they’re standing separately again, Lilith’s hands in her pockets as she says, “Call me later, Beatrice. I mean it.”

“I will.”

She passes Ava with a brusque, “Silva,” closing the door behind her, and then it’s just the two of them.

Beatrice turns toward Ava.

“I apologize. It’s been a bit of a strange day. Coffee?”

Ava doesn’t want to pry but she does want to be the kind of friend that Beatrice can talk to. She bites her lower lip, debating, and lands on: “Yes. Yeah. And, um, I want to hear about it. Your day I mean, if you want to tell me. But also, I have an exciting update on the saga of my neighbor’s parrot if you’d rather not. I mean, parrot debrief either way, obvi, but…”

She stops before she gets too carried away and rolls her eyes a little at herself but Beatrice’s smile is bigger, so whatever.

“Do you have time for a longer walk?”

Ava grins and says, “Yeah so full disclosure, I was hoping to convince you to take an early day with me. I have all the time you’ll give me.”

Beatrice laughs and grabs her cell phone from her desk before gesturing for Ava to lead the way.

“Perfect.”

“So.” she holds the door of their building open for Beatrice, who goes an absolutely perfect shade of pink at the hand that Ava very briefly places on the small of her back as they exit. Not the time, Ava. “Grumpy for you and I’ll get something that I’ll actually want to drink on the way?”

“Actually, I’m in the mood for something different today, if you don’t mind. There’s a place close to the park I think you’ll like?”

“Ooooh, an adventure. Love it. Lead the way.”

Beatrice checks her phone to be absolutely sure of the hours, which are, she informs Ava, “somewhat irregular,” and Ava doesn’t pretend to do anything other than watch her. She looks handsome, as always, navy trousers and a light blue shirt, tan brogues. Her bun is especially neat today, not one strand escaping.

Ava wants to mess it up. Fuck.

“Ava?”

She snaps out of it and Beatrice, bless, looks puzzled more than anything.

“Are you alright?”

“Yep. Good. Great. Success?”

“Open until 6.”

“Awesome.”

She matches Bea’s pace and waits, letting Bea steer the conversation.

“What’s happening with Macawly Culkin?”

Parrot it is.

“Okay, so he’s no longer yelling her ex’s name but he has started yelling ‘Daddy.’ Swear to god.” She fishes out her phone and pulls up the clip. “I recorded it for you but didn’t send it because I obviously wanted to see your reaction.”

As the bird’s call plays from her speakers, Daddy with some of his more common curses, Bea blushes faintly and says, “Well. I’m glad she’s getting over Mark. He seemed like an ass.”

This is based entirely on Ava’s reports. It’s also correct.

“For sure. Oh!” She pulls up her photo roll. “Lemme show you my coffee from this morning. Bea. It’s a bear.”

The coffee shop is cute, pale yellow walls with four little tables and a butcher block bar with stools across the front wall and windows. There’s a display of cookies that Ava will be exploring, but for the moment, she’s focused on Beatrice. She’s never been more excited to hear a coffee order.

Beatrice likes routine and has strong preferences. Ava likes Beatrice and likes to make Beatrice smile, so she has paid close attention to these preferences.

So when Beatrice steps to the counter and says, “Medium caramel latte, please,” Ava is delighted. “And whatever she’s having.”

She thinks about protesting. Ava can see it. But Ava raises her eyebrow and tilts her head and Beatrice says, simply, “Double chocolate, please.”

What a fucking day.

“And a double chocolate.” She taps her card and they wait, Ava leaning against the butcher block, Bea next to her with her always-perfect posture.

“Okay. Caramel? Does this mean I can bring you exciting drinks now?”

Beatrice huffs a laugh. “They’re an indulgence. I tend to save them for hard days and special occasions. I really do love good coffee.”

“Roger that. So I’ll only bring them like every fourth time.”

Beatrice rolls her eyes as they pick up their drinks and cookies. Ava winks at the barista, who places a hand on their forehead and mock swoons with a nod at Beatrice, who has already turned toward the door.

“I know, right?” She agrees under her breath, but very enthusiastically.

They find a bench in the shade and settle so that they can eat, and Ava closes her eyes and moans a little at the first bite. The edge is perfectly crispy and it’s just a little bit salty, exactly the way Ava likes.

When she looks over, she finds that Beatrice is breaking hers apart into neat bite-sized portions, although she’s currently holding a piece and staring at Ava with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. She shoves the piece in her mouth when Ava makes eye contact.

“Good?”

She nods, still chewing, and Ava lets her ankle drift over and press against Bea’s. Friendly affection, or whatever.

Beatrice picks up another piece but doesn’t eat it, just stares at it, hand hovering over the bag she had put in her lap for crumbs.

“My parents called this morning to tell me that they’re in town. Last night, they had dinner with friends of theirs who have a child interested in law school. They informed me that they had provided my contact information and that they might be coming by my apartment today or tomorrow.”

Ava doesn’t say anything but does scoot slightly closer, pressing a little more of her leg against Beatrice’s. Friendly affection, not whatever. Beatrice presses her leg into Ava’s and looks up at her.

“I don’t speak to my parents often. It’s not…I’m not exactly in a unique position. There have been a lot of problems in our relationship. I spent most of my life trying to please them, and when I stopped doing that, they decided they’d had enough of me.

“Coming out was the final straw. They had known already. When I was fourteen, they found my diary. Well. I think actually that one of my horrible cousins found it and gave it to them. My parents had no interest in my room beyond making sure it was as perfectly put together as the rest of our house.”

She looks at the tree across the pathway and sighs. When she turns back to Ava, she looks tired, her body sagging slightly and her lips pulled down. Ava wants to wrap her up. Instead, reaches over and tentatively rests a hand on her forearm. Beatrice brings her non-chocolate hand over to rest on it, squeezes Ava’s fingers before they both retreat.

“I hadn’t even kissed anyone. Certainly not a girl. I was just scared and confused, and I wrote about it. They responded by sending me away to Catholic boarding school. It was a socially acceptable way to get rid of me.”

Ava’s stomach roils with anger. What absolute clowns.

“Thankfully, Lilith was there, too. Her parents didn’t know about her. Her family just has a long tradition of sending their children away.”

She takes a bite of cookie and Ava copies her. It’s just as good but she’s distracted now, thinks maybe she should save the rest for later.

“Do you know,” a smile, “I considered becoming a nun?”

A startled laugh bursts from her, and she puts aside, for the moment, her rage against Beatrice’s parents, because Beatrice wants to pivot and because: “Holy shit. What?”

“Yes. I had a strong faith, at the time. I also…well, I had my own difficulties with being queer. I decided against it in the end, but my faith is one of the reasons I decided to go to university at Georgetown.

“Ironically, it was at Catholic university that I learned to accept myself. By the time I was a senior, I had come out to my small group of friends, and I had stopped making all of my decisions based on what they wanted me to be. They decided they’d had enough.

“I’m lucky…privileged in many ways. By the time they cut me off, I had access to a trust fund that they could not touch. I was almost finished with my degree, and I had secured a job at a firm in New York that had agreed to sponsor me for a visa. I had a plan to go to law school.

“Most importantly, I had Lilith. I always had Lilith.”

She smiles and Ava wants to kiss Lilith Villaumbrosia on the mouth. And yeah, okay, fine, it’s not the first time she’s had that thought, but this is different.

“Unfortunately for them, it has become rather gauche, in half of their social circle, to be outright homophobic, and it wouldn’t have looked good for anyone to know that they had cut me off.

“It worked well for them that I had moved to the States. They called every few months so that they could say they had spoken to me, and I generally answered, because for a long time there was a part of me that hoped they would change.”

She shrugs a little. “Silly, I know.”

“Not silly,” Ava says, fiercely, and Beatrice tilts one side of her mouth up, bright brown eyes sad in a way that makes Ava wants to punch someone. Someones. Two very specific someones.

“Thank you. Anyway, I started answering less frequently and they don’t like that, so they occasionally do something like this. Show up at my apartment unannounced and use me as social capital, give out my information to friends whose children want to go to Harvard or name drop my old firm.”

She stops and breaks off another piece of cookie and eats it, takes a sip of her latte.

Ava doesn’t know what to say, except: “Beatrice, I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

She puts her cup down next to her again and says, “I know that now, for the most part. And Lilith is always there to remind me if I forget. Camila, too. And now you.”

The smiles she gives Ava is a little shy and Ava reinforces immediately. “Yes. Literally always here to remind you how amazing you are.”

She laughs and Ava says, maybe a little too earnestly, “I’m not kidding, Bea. You’re amazing. And I’m even more amazed that you came out of all of that bullshit as you.”

Beatrice blushes, then, and Ava thinks she’s beautiful. Handsome. Perfect. She picks up her coffee and fiddles with the lid, stares down at it as she says, “I don’t talk about this often. Thank you for listening. And thank you for being my friend.”

And there it is. Beatrice is beautiful and handsome and perfect and her friend. And why the fuck would Ava risk that? Risk being one of the handful of people who Beatrice can talk to like this? Who can tell Beatrice she’s fucking incredible? It means something big to be one of those people. She knows that. She’s going to hold onto it.

“I’m lucky to get to know you, Beatrice. I’m so, so lucky to get to be your friend.”

Her cheeks turn a darker red as she looks up at Ava through her eyelashes, head still tilted down. Ava smiles at her as her chest clenches, and they sit there quietly for a moment.

Finally, Beatrice brings her cup to her lips and breaks the spell. She says, “I’m going to stay with Lilith for the next couple of days. My parents won’t show up at her place. She was in my office trying to convince me.”

”Good. Like, fucking absurd that you have to do that, but I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

Beatrice takes another segment of cookie and then says, “This is really good but I need to walk a bit, I think. I’ve been on edge.”

Ava puts her cookie back in her messenger and offers it to Beatrice who puts hers there, too.

“Let’s do it. Yours for the afternoon.”

For as long as Beatrice wants her, really.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun fic

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