#and his whole thing is trying to find a way to feel less horrible right so thats (part of) why he decides to get rid of them

[fxllfaiiry]

─ callin' it quits now, baby, I'm a wreck ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: the aftermath of the argument with miguel.

✶ warnings: angst, hurt with comfort, occ miguel (for one scene only dw), shitty humour, one or two swear words, reader being slightly mean, mentions of death.

✶ notes: part two of "you're the sunflower" this part was originally 8k words long and i was like nope, so i had to cut it down, I'm sorry. I really hope this isn't bad ‼️

At first, you didn't quit the team. 

After the blow-up with Miguel, you thought about leaving the team for good, but yet you decided to show up, hanging around for a bit before quickly leaving. 

But slowly you stopped showing up altogether. The looks of pity were too much for you to handle, and frankly, you deserve an apology, you deserved better.

Every day was torture, and seeing Miguel only made it worse. No one thought this whole ordeal would go this far. 

Everyone noticed the changes, you were more serious, and your usual sunshine self was gone at this point. Everyone noticed the day you stopped coming in. 

You felt so lonely, sure, you had friends in your universe but yet, nothing felt the same. You sometimes wondered if they missed you or not. 

It had only been a few weeks and yet it felt like months. 

A part of you secretly hoped someone from the team would show up at your doorstep pleading for you to come back, but nothing. 

"You'll get used to it eventually" You'd tell yourself. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had been two whole months since you left. Nothing felt the same without you. 

"Does anyone else miss Sunflower?" Gwen said sadly. She missed your hugs, and your little girl talks with her, she missed everything about you.  

"We all miss her, kid," Peter sighed. Without you, he had no one to talk to about Mayday. 

"I hope she comes back soon," Miles said. 

"I think she just wants space right now," Pavitr replied.  

"This is all Miguel's fault y'know?" Hobie added bitterly, how dare Miguel take his friend away from him. 

"Someone should talk to him, maybe if he apologizes, she'll come back." Miles was hopeful, he knew you'd come back eventually. 

"Sure, kid. As if Miguel ever listens." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Miguel on the other hand was depressed. 

He'd gotten used to your presence and it felt odd without you.

He felt horrible about yelling at you but he was scared. The thought of you dying terrified him, and his way of dealing with that wasn't the best. 

He thought about apologizing many times, but he didn't know how to. The last thing he wanted was to cause more damage. 

"You know a simple "sorry" could fix this all right?" Lyla said, breaking him out of his trance. 

"It's not that easy, Lyla." He sounded so broken to his own ears. 

"Well, you gotta try, Boss." 

"Sunflower used to call me that." 

"You're joking, right? Wow, you really are pathetic." Lyla snorted. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Dude, you're in love with her. You are absolutely smitten." 

"Lyla, that's enough-" 

"No, you love her and that's why it's bothering you so much." 

"I don't-" 

"Nah, Lyla's right, you do love her." He turned around to see Jess standing in his office. 

"Jess, not you too, and where did you come from?" Miguel groaned, he did not love you. 

"The door…? Anyways, just try to fix things, the first step is you apologizing." Jess stated matter-of-factly. 

Miguel thought about it for a minute, these last few weeks had been pure torture for him, Jess was right, the first step is apologizing.

"Fine, I'll do it first thing tomorrow, but I don't love her." 

"Sure, whatever you say, man." Jess snickered. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You got somewhat used to your new life. It was the same old plain routine every day. You tried to throw yourself into other things. Finding new hobbies, jobs, literally anything. 

But eventually, it all started to feel okay.

Things were finally starting to look good for you. 

You thought about the spider society way less and finally started living your life to the fullest. 

You were moving on. 

Crime fighting was easy today. You got to hang out with your friends and an old lady gave you a cheerio, which is something. 

You swung around the city for a bit, enjoying the view and temporary peace. 

Soon it was time for you to head back home. You climbed in through your bedroom window and quickly changed out of your suit, slipping into more comfortable clothing.  

When you went downstairs to get some food, you weren't expecting to see Miguel O'Hara sitting on your couch. 

"Holy shit, what are you doing here?" You scared him, because he jumped violently at the sound of your voice. 

"I was here t-"

"Humiliate me further? Because I thought we were done with that." You felt bad saying that, but he deserved it. 

"No, I'm here to apologize." He looked down, ashamed. 

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" You chuckled bitterly, walking past him into the kitchen. 

"Just listen to me for a second." 

"I thought I was incapable of doing that." You muttered to yourself. 

He got up and strode towards you, but he received no acknowledgment of his presence. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of everyone; it was wrong and I shouldn't have acted so immaturely." 

"Uh-huh, it's fine. You can leave now, the door's right there." You weren't buying his ridiculous apology. Even a five-year-old could do better. 

"I understand you're mad, but please give me a chance." That was pretty much the last straw for you.

"I'm mad? You humiliated me in front of everyone! You made me feel like shit, you made me think I don't belong on the team! You're an asshole." You were screaming at him, taking out all the anger and sadness you felt in the past two months.

"I'm sorry." He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and for the second time in his life, he didn't know what to do. 

"The best you can say is I'm sorry? At least give me a proper explanation." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

"I'm in love with you." What? 

"Right, if you're here to joke around and mock me just leave okay."  You open up to him and he mocks you in return. Amazing.

"I'm being serious. I'm not mocking you or joking around, I'm in love with you. You want an explanation, so I'm giving you one." He breathed, looking at you hoping to receive some reaction. All he got was a small head tilt which he took as a sign to continue. 

"The reason I yelled at you was because I was scared. I thought you were going to die and that terrified me, I've lost everything, and I don't want to lose you too. I didn't know how to handle it, so I lashed out. I truly am sorry, Sunflower." You froze trying to process everything, was he telling the truth? 

"Lyla and Jess helped me realize my true feelings for you." He whispered. 

When you said nothing for a few minutes he started to get scared, he was ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. 

"Can you… say something? Please?"

"I can't forgive you just yet." He would never admit to what happened next but he started sobbing. All this was too much, being vulnerable was an unknown feeling to him. 

"Woah, wait hey, don't cry. Let me-" Before you could finish your sentence he fell to his knees, arms clutching your waist like a lifeline. 

You were beyond confused, you thought this whole interaction was some sort of weird dream. Miguel O'Hara down on his knees, for you? Wow, two months ago you would've scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. 

Nonetheless, you ran your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him. 

"Miguel, honey, listen to me. Just because I'm not ready to forgive you now, doesn't mean I never will." His face was still squished against your midriff, and his breathing was slowly returning to normal, with a few sniffs here and there. 

"So, you'll come back?" Seeing him in such a state broke your heart, you were still upset with him but were willing to give him a chance. 

"Yes, I'll come back tomorrow." At that, he smiled properly for the first time in weeks. 

He stayed there for a few moments, letting you comb through his hair gently, he would cherish this brief moment forever. 

"I should get going then. The multiverse needs saving." He said hoarsely, standing up, he was slightly embarrassed by this side of him. 

"Maybe use the door this time." He lightly chuckled at your statement, the warm feeling took over him once again.

Miguel did not want to leave, he wanted to stay here with you, but he knew that wasn't an option right now.

Before he left he had to get one last thing off his chest.

"Could you, not tel-" 

"Tell anyone about this? Don't worry, this stays between us only." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Everyone was surprised to see you back the next day. 

The second you walked in, everyone was all over you, hugging you and filling you in on everything you missed. It felt good to be back. 

"I'm so happy you're back," Gwen whispered, hugging you tightly. 

"I'm happy to be back, Gwendy. I missed you guys so much." 

"Hey quit hogging Sunflower, it's my turn to hug her now." Miles huffed impatiently. 

"Me next!" Pavitr bounced enthusiastically. 

"Hey, not cool. I called dibs, man." Hobie groaned. 

"Hey, Sunflower, I have some new pictures of Mayday to show you." Everyone was so excited to see you again, it was chaotic, but it felt like home. They were your family. 

Miguel watched the scene from afar with a smile, he was glad everything was okay now. 

"So you fixed things up with her, huh?" Jess said, popping up behind him, once again taking him by surprise. 

"¡Ay, coño! Jess, stop doing that." 

"Sorry, not my fault you don't have a spidy sense." Jess hummed. "So, how did you get her to forgive you?" 

"I have my ways." 

"You got down on your knees and begged her, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" Miguel whisper-yelled. That was supposed to be a secret. 

"I have my ways." Jess winked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

In a few weeks, everything was back to normal, you were back to your old self again. 

Except for the fact that you and Miguel were now closer than ever. That was new. 

You were always by his side, sticking close to him and he felt comfortable around you, always relaxed in your presence. 

He wasn't sure if you forgave him just yet, but he was willing to wait for as long as you needed. 

He did small things to show you he cared, sometimes it was bringing you coffee, other times it was giving you your favorite flowers. 

You knew he was sorry, and in your heart, you forgave him a long time back. 

So, you finally decided to tell him. 

You guys were in his office having lunch, he didn't like to eat out in the cafeteria. You both would usually sit in silence enjoying each other's company. 

"Hey, Miguel." 

"Hm?" 

"I forgive you." 

He raised his eyebrows in confusion taking a moment to realise what you meant. When he finally got it, his eyes widened almost comically. 

"Oh, you do?" He was trying to hide his smile but failed horribly. 

"I forgave you a long time back, but I just… needed some time." You nodded.  

"I understand that. Thank you for giving me another chance." 

"Actually, to forgive you fully, I want one thing from you." You declared, confidently. 

"I'll do anything, Sunflower." He'd indeed do anything for you. 

"I want you to go out on a date with me." 

His brain stopped working. You were asking him out on a date. 

"Miguel? Is that a yes or no?" You grew nervous at his lack of response. Did you cross boundaries? You thought he liked you. 

"I would love to." You quickly beamed at his response, after months of waiting it was finally happening. 

"So, how about tomorrow, at 7?" You giggled. 

"Sounds perfect." He sighed, softly smiling. 

He couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst

[fan-fantasies]

Fake It

Please comment and reblog! I’d appreciate it!

A/N: I apologize for my absence but life is roundhouse kicking my ass right now. But I’m super excited about this piece!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: smut! Dom!eddie, spitting, name calling (both sweet and dirty- slut), unprotected sex, daddy kink!, creampie, mentions of porn

“Maybe it’s me; maybe I’m broken,” you sighed to Robin. She simply rolled her eyes as she continued to sort through the return stack.

“It’s not you- guys just suck,” she said.

“Hey!” Steve yelled from the back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop then!” You yelled back.

“Maybe you guys should just speak louder!”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him,” you mumbled. “Seriously, Robin- is it to much to ask for a guy to make me feel good? He doesn’t even have to make me cum, just make me feel something!”

“Eh-hem.” The sudden clearing of a throat made you jump as you whipped around to see a flustered Eddie Munson standing awkwardly at the counter.

“Shit!”

“Munson! What’s up, man?” Steve said with a smile, emerging from the back.

“N-not a whole lot. Looking to see if you got any new releases in,” he said, his eyes not leaving you the whole time.

“(Y/N) definitely hasn’t,” Robin mumbled. You threw an empty case at her which she easily dodged.

“Um, yeah, let me check the back. I think I did see some new titles.”

Steve wandered to the back, leaving you flustered in front of Eddie. He stared at his shoes and rocked back and forth, not really sure what to say to you.

“I think I’m gonna go help Steve,” Robin said before heading off. You tried to catch her attention and tell her no but she purposely didn’t look back at you.

She was the only one that knew about your crush on the metalhead, although she claimed it was obvious by the way you became a flustered mess any time he was around. Despite him being one of the kindest people you had ever met, you were always too scared to make a move. So that’s why you settled for less than mediocre dates with far less than mediocre guys.

“So, uh, any plans for the weekend?” You asked, trying to break the horrible tension.

“Just gonna hang out and watch some movies,” Eddie answered.

“Right, right. Of course,” you mumbled, mentally facepalming yourself.

“Why do you ask?” He asked.

“Just curious! I think I’m gonna go see what’s taking those two idiots so long.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, you booked it to the back. You crashed into Robin and Steve who were listening behind the curtain that closed off the back room from the counter.

“What the fuck is taking you guys so long?” You whispered.

“We we’re having too much fun listening to you crash and burn out there,” Steve snickered. “I’m sure if you asked him to hang out, he would say yes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You have Robin a death glare but she threw up her hands.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, it’s just really obvious,” Steve chuckled. “Here, bring him this.”

Steve shoved you back out there with the tape in your hands.

“Did they get lost or something?” Eddie asked with a small smile.

“Pretty hard to find things when they have their heads shoved up each other’s asses,” you said loud enough for them to hear.

Eddie let out a loud laugh and it made your heart jump up your throat. He looked down at the tape in your hand and reached for it.

“For me?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You rang him out and handed him the tape. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m counting on it,” he smiled.

—

“Why are the guys around here so boring?” You asked to no one in particular.

“I’m not boring!” Steve scoffed.

“Yeah okay,” you laughed. “What’s the most adventurous things you’ve done in bed?”

“Well…I… I’ve used a scarf?”

“A scarf?” You repeated.

“Were you cold?” Robin asked.

“No, I wasn’t cold! We used it as a blindfold,” he said sheepishly.

“I highly doubt you’ve blindfolded a girl,” you challenged.

“I never said she was the one blindfolded,” he said with a smirk.

“Harrington!” Robin gasped. Steve wiggled his eyebrows as you fake gagged.

“I can be a…what’s the new term kids are using these days…oh right, I can be daddy.” Steve tried to purr but failed miserably.

“You give off more of a mommy vibe,” you said. “You and your scarf of mystery.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly kinky, Steve. Grandparents are using blindfolds these days,” Robin added.

“Yeah, why do you think they like knitting so much?” The three of you jumped when you heard the voice interrupt. Eddie stood there with a very amused expression on his devilishly handsome face.

“That’s gross,” Steve scowled.

“Thought it was kinky?” You laughed. Steve rolled his eyes before turning back to Eddie.

“(Y/N), here, was just saying how all the guys around here are boring in bed. Care to weigh in?”

“Steve!” You smacked his arm. “That’s not exactly appropriate to ask a customer.”

“A customer? Ouch. And here I was thinking we were friends,” Eddie said, holding his hand to his chest.

“We are friends,” you mumbled, rather embarrassed.

“Good,” Eddie beamed. He slid his return across the desk. “And I can promise you that not all the guys in this town are boring.”

Eddie sent you a wink before heading back out the door. Your jaw dropped as his words spun in your head. Robin ever so gently closed your mouth for you.

“Didn’t want you to catch any flies,” she chuckled.

“I bet he’s never used a scarf,” Steve grumbled angrily. “Maybe I should take up knitting.”

—

The next time you saw Eddie was at a small get together that Steve and Robin threw together last minute. You weren’t expecting him to be there but he was a part of the group now so you didn’t know why you didn’t think of it.

You sat in the kitchen with Nancy and Robin, lamenting about your recent and pitiful sexual conquests.

“Two dates, two duds- I literally have the worst luck!” You sighed. “I mean, is it too much to ask for a guy to eat me out and spit in my mouth?”

Nancy’s eyes widened as she looked behind you. You froze in your spot, not wanting to turn around.

“H-hey, Eddie,” Robin tried to smile awkwardly. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath. Why was it always him?

“Hey, ladies,” he coughed. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“Go for it,” Nancy said.

Eddie moved around you and reached across you to the drinks you were sat in front of. His eyes dropped down to your lips for a split second before moving back up to your eyes.

“Hi, (y/n),” he said loud enough for only you to hear. You swore you saw a smirk on his lips but your mind went into overdrive and you had to focus solely on breathing and not passing out.

“Earth to (y/n)? Can you move so we can grab a drink?” Dustin yelled from behind Eddie.

“I got it, man,” Eddie said, reaching across you again. His body was pressed to your side as he poured a couple drinks for his friends. His scent invaded your senses as you felt the heat from his body blanket your own. You didn’t realize your fluttered closed until he cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered.

“You sure? I could bring you home if you’re not feeling well,” he offered.

“No! I’m good, I swear.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled. He gave you one last look-over before he finally retreated to the other room and you thought Nancy and Robin were going to double over in laughter.

“You know…Eddie might just be the solution to your little problem. He’s probably a freak in more places than just the streets,” Robin said with a wink.

“You’re insane!”

“She’s right! He’s totally into you and everyone knows you’re head over heels for him-“

“What do you mean everyone knows?” You shrieked.

“I’m just saying, you don’t exactly hide it well,” Nancy said. You rolled your eyes at your ridiculous friends and went back to sipping your drink.

You couldn’t get the image of Eddie out of your head for the rest of the night. By the time you got home, you were a mess, and not the kind you wanted to be. You settled into your bed for a long night of frustrating attempts to seek a release, one that never came.

—

“It has to be me; I’m definitely broken. If I can’t even fuck myself how can I expect anyone else to?” You sighed to Robin on the other end of the phone.

“Sounds like there’s something blocking that part of your brain. It’s probably that fact that you’re lusting over a certain metalhead whom you refuse to make a move on,” she said. You groaned and threw yourself back on your bed.

“He doesn’t want me,” you told her.

“You never know until you ask.”

“Yeah well I’m never gonna ask so just drop it. Please?” You pleaded.

“…fine…I’m gonna bring a care package over to your place later and we can hang out and take your mind off of things, okay?” She said.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”

You hung up with your friend and stared at your ceiling. You needed to figure something out soon or you were going to combust.

Hours passed and you almost forgot Robin’s promise to stop over. You were in nothing but an oversized tshirt and your panties, not shy in front of your lifelong friend. When you heard the doorbell ring, you thought nothing of it as you bounded down the stairs toward the front door.

“Rob- oh my god!” You froze as you saw someone who was definitely not Robin Buckley standing outside your door. “Eddie?”

“Sorry…I thought Robin told you I was coming?”

You looked at the bag in his hands, filled with some of your favorite items, and everything started to click.

“I’m gonna kill her,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing! Thanks so much for bringing this for her, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

You tried to grab the bag from his hand and close the door but his grip was tight and his stance unwavering.

“She also told me I have to stay here and make sure you relax sooo do you mind if I come in, sweetheart?” He asked, already pushing past you and into your house.

“Sure?”

“Folks aren’t home yet?” He asked, taking a look around. You stood dumbfounded in your doorway, his question snapping you back to reality.

“They’re out of town visiting friends for the week,” you answered. You closed the door behind you and went to grab the bag but he stopped you.

“Not so fast, beautiful. I need to quality check the items first.”

You didn’t think anything of it until Eddie started to pull out a wide array of items-

a box of your favorite candy, some lotion, a scarf. You were confused by the selection but nothing mortified you more than what Eddie pulled out next.

“Talk dirty to me, parts one and two,” Eddie said with a huge smile.

“Oh my god!” You snatched the pornos out of his hands and threw them back in the bag.

“Damn, when Robin said you needed to relax, I guess she wasn’t kidding,” he laughed.

“Okay, I’m thoroughly embarrassed and ready to crawl under a rock so you can go now,” you said, trying to pull him toward the door by his arm. He pulled you back flush against his chest.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. That’s no way to treat a house guest, now is it?” The deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“N-no,” you whispered.

“No what?”

“No…sir?”

“Good girl,” he smiled. He backed you against the wall, your heart beating a mile a minute. “Do you want me to help you relax?”

“Yes, sir,” you said without even having to think.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said with a faint smile on your lips. You trusted Eddie more than you trusted most people and you knew he would take care of you.

He grabbed the bag and led you to your bedroom. You were nervous, not because it was Eddie, but because part of you really did believe you were broken and you didn’t want to be a disappointment to Eddie.

Eddie must’ve sensed your nerves because he turned to you and grabbed both your hands, looking you in the eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know? We can just hang out o-or I can just leave…”

“No! No, don’t go. I’m just in my head a little, that’s all,” you sighed. He brought the back of your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

“I’ve got you; please don’t worry,” he said. You simply nodded before letting him grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. His eyes scanned your bare torso with nothing but adoration in his eyes. He left your panties on as he laid you down on your bed. You heard the bag rustle and the scent of lavender soon filled your nose.

“Just try and relax, baby,” he said softly. He rubbed the lotion together in his hands to warm it up before gentle squeezing your shoulders and running his hands down your back. He worked your tense muscles under his calloused hands, making you melt almost instantly.

The lower his hands went, the tighter the coil went in your stomach, just begging for release. He worked on your thighs, squeezing your ass in the process. His hands lingered on your ass for a minute before they slid back up to your shoulders.

You wriggled your hips uncomfortably, preferring he would’ve shown your aching pussy some much needed attention.

Eddie got impatient with your moving so he straddled your waist and pinned your hips down with his.

“Just try and enjoy this, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’d enjoy something else a lot more,” you groaned. He hit a particularly tense spot and you moaned as he massaged the knot. You felt him shift, pressing more into your ass. You let breathy whimpers fall from your lips as he started to grind his hips against you.

“Eddie, please,” you whined.

“Please, what, baby? Ask daddy nicely,” he said. The way he said that with no shame, completely confident and in control, made your mouth go dry. He stopped the movement of his hips- “I won’t ask again.”

“P-please touch me, daddy,” you begged.

“I am touching you, love,” he chuckled.

“No, I want you to fuck me!”

He moved back and slapped your ass, making you yelp.

“Watch the attitude before I fuck it out of you,” he warned.

“If you can,” you mumbled under your breath. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.

“What was that?” He growled in your ear.

“I don’t think you can fuck me that hard, daddy,” you challenged. He let out a dark chuckle.

“Of course you’re a fucking brat,” he laughed. “I should’ve guessed. Maybe that’s why no other little boys in this town could satisfy you. You needed a man to know how to handle you, baby. Is that it?”

His other hand snaked it’s way into your panties; he was delighted to find out just how wet you already were for him.

“Yes, please. I need you!”

“There’s your manners; what a good girl.”

“Mm, yes. I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl,” you mumbled incoherently as he started to rub slow circles on your clit.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smug smirk.

You were trying to grind against his hand, trying to get more stimulation but he wasn’t having it. You were flipped onto your back and panties were ripped from your body, exposing your slick pussy to Eddie. He reached over to the bag and grabbed the scarf that you were suspecting Steve had something to do with.

“Since you have a problem with holding still-“ he grabbed your wrists and tied them with the scarf, putting them over your head. “Don’t. Move.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered.

Eddie crawled down so he was eye level with your pussy and it was hard not to move with anticipation. You needed him to touch you, to do anything, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to dive in and eat your pussy like a starving man.

“Eddie!” You shrieked. Your hands flew down to his hair and he immediately stopped.

“This is your one warning, babe,” he said as he threw your hands back up.

He turned his attention back to your clit, giving it kitten licks with his tongue. He would tease it at your entrance, only to return to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He was quickly bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, faster than you’ve ever gotten yourself there.

“Fuck, please. Please make me cum,” you whined. “Use your fingers.”

“You’re in no place to be making demands, princess,” he chuckled, his chin glistening. “The only thing going inside you tonight is my cock.”

His words alone were enough to build a fire in your stomach. He gripped your hips and pulled you flush with his face and you were certain he wasn’t even breathing. He ravaged his pussy with his tongue. Your head was swimming but you tried your best not to move, terrified he would stop and wouldn’t let you come. What a cruel punishment that would be- the only man to ever even bring you close to an orgasm only to take it away because you disobeyed.

The closer you came to the edge, the louder you chanted his name. He focused solely on your clit, providing enough pressure to finally push you over the edge. Your body convulsed as a powerful orgasm crashed over you. He didn’t let you go however, continuing to lap at your pussy as you came.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he crawled over your body and you expected him to kiss you but he didn’t. Instead, he tapped your jaw and said, “open.”

Your eyes widened more than your mouth when he spit directly onto your tongue. He didn’t even have to ask you to swallow, just smiled with pride as you did.

“Somebody listens,” you said with a smirk.

“Of course. How else am I gonna please my girl?” He asked. Your brain short circuited when he called you that but you played it cool.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you sighed happily.

“Did you think I was done with you yet? I told you, the only thing inside you tonight is gonna be my cock. So if it’s okay with you, I’d like to feel just how well you take my cock,” he said with a devilish grin.

“Do I get to lose the scarf?” You asked.

“Only because you were such a good girl for daddy.”

He untied you and threw it to the side of the bed. He finally took off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his underwear. You could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric and it made your mouth water.

You reached toward the hem of his underwear and he let you take them off. You ran your fingers along his length, as if memorizing every detail.

You leaned forward and he stopped you. Your heart nearly stopped, thinking you did something wrong.

“I just can’t wait to feel your pussy, baby. That’s all,” he reassured you.

“Please, daddy? I just wanna taste you.”

“Are you questioning me? You take what daddy gives you and then you thank him.”

He lined up with your entrance, gathering your slick on his head.

“Daddy thinks quite highly of himself,” you teased.

“God, maybe I should fuck your mouth just to shut you up,” he growled.

“You won’t,” you challenged further.

Without warning, he slammed balls deep into you.

“You’re right. I won’t. Greedy little sluts don’t get what they want. You’re gonna get used however I want. I’m gonna fuck your pussy until you can’t even think of walking. You’re gonna milk my cock until I fill you with my cum.”

You were left breathless at his relentless thrusts but still managed to croak out a moan when he said that.

“Oh you like that, dirty girl? Of course you do. Letting me fuck you raw. You’re gonna let me cum so deep inside you, yeah?” His head fell into the crook of your neck as you raked his back with your nails.

“Daddy, I’m so close. Can I cum? Please, daddy, let me cum,” you cried. Literal tears formed in your eyes as you felt the coil tighten in your stomach once more.

“Shit, what a good girl. Fuck, didn’t even have to tell you to ask permission,” he grunted. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”

The tears flowed freely as your vision went white and all you could hear was static for a second before returning to reality. Eddie fucked you through your orgasm- trying so hard to keep his rhythm while close to cumming himself.

“Ohh fuck!” A few more thrusts and he was emptying into you, spreading a warmth throughout your entire body.

He pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak out of you, down your shaking thighs, and onto your now ruined bed sheets.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked, wiping the tears from your face.

“Yeah, sorry. That was just…I’m speechless. Phenomenal doesn’t even begin to describe it,” you said.

“You mean it?” He asked. His overconfident facade melted away and it made your heart swell.

“Eddie, that was everything I could’ve asked for and more.” You placed a gentle hand on his face and he leaned into your touch.

“I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he chuckled.

“Did you want to?”

“I would like to kiss you every day if I got the chance,” he admitted.

“I think that could be arranged,” you said before pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“You’re gonna have to learn to obey your daddy then,” he told you.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you laughed.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. That just means I get to punish you and fuck you ten times harder.”

“That better be a promise, not a threat.”

“God, you’re perfect.” He kissed you again and pulled you on top of his chest. “Get plenty of rest, sweet girl. Tomorrow we’re having a whole date day to make up for this unceremonious rendezvous.”

“We can return the scarf to Steve,” you chuckled.

“And you can thank Robin for setting this up.”

“Yeah…I should thank her…right after I kill her for embarrassing me so much.”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” He retorted.

“I guess it did,” you said with a smile. “Now that I know you can make me cum, I’m never letting you go.”

“I’ll make you cum every goddamn day if it means I get to keep you.”

———————

Taglist: @mellomadness @munsaniac @thebookbakery @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore @dootys @tiredwritersworld @lily-sinclair-2006 @dylanobriens-love @moonbeampillgoth @lady-hellfire-1985 @lagataprrr @whore-of-many-hot-men @crimsonsabbath @moldy-khunt @wheaty-melon

Sorry if I missed anyone! I was trying to rush!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things 4

[faerievampling]

Letting Go

Minors, DNI

Read on AO3!

Summary: Tav and Astarion work through some trauma together. (and Astarion is slightly jealous)

pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

Warnings: 18+, blowjob. handjob. cunnilingus.

Word Count: 1.4k

Making your way into Rivington had been draining work. Your party, although still on a high from curing the Shadow curse, were disheartened by the state of the hamlet. With refugees and orphans everywhere, the attitude of the party was dejected, but you couldn't help but be thankful that you were alive.

When finally making camp after a long day of being at that horrible circus, you and Astarion set up your shared tent. Ever since Astarion and you had been learning how to be together and be intimate with each other, Astarion had gradually wanted more.

Once finally settled in, you and the rest of your party sit around the campfire recalling various events of the day. You notice your beloved is missing, but you figure he is likely out hunting.

However, you realize that your rogue is closer than you think when you feel a cool finger brush the tip of your ear. 

“I need to taste you, darling,” Astarion whispers, his lips so close to your ear it makes you shiver. His words send a wave of heat to your core. Your lover disappears into the darkness of the night, leaving you desperate for more of him. Trying to play it cool, you excuse yourself to your tent. 

And when you enter, he is there, with nothing but a blanket draped over his middle. Astarion looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves; his perfect figure is statuesque. And you aren’t sure if it’s just because you’re in love with him, or if it’s just the lighting, but his smooth, porcelain skin seems to glow amidst the dark.

He chuckles at your eagerness, and next thing you know, you’re tangled up in him, and you are his.

Your clothes come off in a flurry, strong hands gripping at your exposed body as you two join in the flesh.

You lay on your back in your tent whimpering as Astarion’s lips wrap around your swollen core. He places a hand over your mouth to stifle the noise, but continues to work on the bundle of nerves at your mound, making it even harder for you to keep quiet. 

The tip of his tongue then lingers on your folds before he buries his tongue in your entrance, making deliberate strokes inside of you. His nose is pressed to your clit as he fucks you with his sweet, practiced tongue. 

You moan his name through trembling lips, and just as the crash of an orgasm is about to descend on you, Astarion pulls away, leaving you frustrated and desperate for more.  

“You must be quiet, my sweet,” Astarion whispers against your flushed skin. “We wouldn’t want any of the others to hear…or maybe we do.” 

“The others?” You manage to stutter before he inserts his tongue into your entrance once more, causing your walls to flutter around him. 

You’re at the edge again, and as you contract and squirm around your lover's tongue, Astarion takes all of you in his mouth, lapping at your folds, clit, and entrance like a starved man. As you writhe under his kisses, you cry his name as your release takes over your whole body like a possession. 

Astarion begins to trail fervent kisses up your body, littering you with them until you are face to face.

Astarion’s lips are so soft, so pretty, and covered in your juices. As his lips find yours, his tongue kisses yours, and gods does he taste heavenly.  

“Yes, darling. Don’t act like you don’t know,” He whispers tenderly between passionate kisses. And you do  know - a new batch of allies in camp had been coming on to you lately (namely Halsin, Mizora, and the fucking Emperor), much to Astarion’s dismay. You had turned them down, of course, but that didn’t mean Astarion was any less jealous.

“But after the way I just made you cry, right in the middle of camp, everyone will know that you are mine. Not to be shared.” Beneath his teasing tone was an apparent sincerity. Astarion kisses you again, cupping your cheeks as if you were something quite precious.

You smile as you both switch positions. He brushes his soft lips against yours once more before you lower yourself between his legs. Astarion moans with anticipation as his fingertips find the root of your hair, bringing your lips to touch the head of his cock. 

Your lips wet with his precum, and Astarion moans at the sight of you on his sex. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and with a flick of your pink tongue, you lap up the rest of his juices, your tongue stroking his sensitive slit. 

Astarion’s eyes roll back before finding yours again. You wrap your lips around his tip, bobbing your head as you gradually take him deeper in your mouth. Once his tip hits the back of your throat, Astarion whimpers, and you have to keep yourself from gagging. You close your eyes to focus on pleasing him. 

You enthusiastically slide your lips up and down his shaft, twirling your tongue on his skin and focusing on the area just under the ridge of his head.

As you work to please your beloved vampire, his hand goes to your jaw, and he whispers, “Look at me,”

You know he is feeling lost in his mind, because this is always what Astarion does when he needs you to bring him back to the moment. Astarion insisted your ‘safe word’ be something that fits the moment, something normal but knowing. 

And you were more than happy to oblige.

You release your lips from him and lean over, planting a kiss on his sweet lips. “You’re here with me, Astarion.” Your voice, soft but with a hint of ferocity, has you realize just how upset you are. Upset that Astarion even feels this way; upset about his enslavement, his torture, and gods, those scars.

Feeling his discomfort from underneath you, you sit back on your heels, giving him space to bring himself to a seat.

A flicker of emotion crosses his handsome face, but you can’t decipher it. You speak slowly, “I care for you. We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Astarion’s eyes are narrowed, hungry and wanting. “But I do want you.” He responds quietly. 

“And you have me.” You smile as you begin to slip your underclothes back on, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy and be respectful of Astarion’s needs. But he stops you, and you allow your clothing to fall to the floor. 

His eyes graze over your pert nipples and gorgeous figure. You feel a bit vulnerable in the moment with such a handsome man eyeing your naked body. But you’re safe with your pale lover, and you know this, so you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to go with Astarion’s flow.

“Just…just lie down next to me, all right?” Astarion says with a rasp as he lays on his side. You slide in next to him, on your back.

Astarion puts an arm around your shoulder, supporting your neck as he cups your breast with his hand. His eyes scan you hungrily. His cock is still hard, his balls still so tight. He grasps his member in his free hand, planting a kiss on your lips as he begins to stroke himself. 

His tender kisses deepen into something more feral as his pace quickens, and he growls at the sweet taste of your lips. He’s creeping towards his climax now and the little moans that escape his lips makes your cunt quiver.

He looks so devastating in this moment, and your cunt is so wet, and you know he loves the taste of you - but you contain yourself, keeping your hands to yourself. 

Giving a final moan, Astarion spills his seed onto your stomach, his ragged breaths loud in your ear. After you have both come back to reality, Astarion finds something to clean you up with before he takes you in his arms. 

Your embrace is deep, and you’ve never felt safer than with his strong arms around you. You nuzzle your face into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head as you both begin to drift off.

Astarion needs a lot of patience, care, and love, and you are more than ready and willing to provide. Your last thoughts are of the future, and what it may hold for you and your lover.

Masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion #Astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion smut

[solarmorrigan]

Hello there! I’m not entirely sure if you’re still doing the whole angsty-ish prompt thing, but if you are could please consider doing, “Shit, are you bleeding!?”, with steddie and Steve being the one bleeding?

Maybe Steve never actually took care of his bat wounds and they reopened or smth??

If not then that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore :)

THIS IS VERY LATE, I'M SORRY. I know you sent this request months ago, and believe it or not, I didn't forget about it! It haunted me. (Not really, but I did keep it in mind, and I finally managed to get a little thing out for it! I hope this is a little like what you had in mind?)

[CW: blood, mentions of injury]

-

They’ve done it.

They’ve actually fucking done it.

They pulled off the whole stupid plan, no one is dead (except for Vecna), they’re right-side up, the gate has resealed itself – it’s over.

They won.

And now, there’s just one thing left to do.

Nothing official, really, just something Eddie had promised himself he would do if he actually managed to survive (odds hadn’t seemed to be in his favor at the time, so he hadn’t expected to have to follow through, but he’d also promised himself there would be no more running away). In a way, he’d promised Steve, too, so he thinks he’d better deliver.

(At least, he hopes that’s what he’d communicated to Steve; he hopes that’s what that meaningful look and that significant nod that passed between them had meant and that he’s not about to get his ass kicked after surviving the siege of a bat tornado in a mirror version of his trailer in a fucked up alternate dimension.)

Eddie gives Dustin one last affectionate pat on the back, skirts around where Robin is babbling something enthusiastically at Nancy, who looks a little too shellshocked to do much more than listen with an almost disbelieving smile, and makes it over to where Steve is standing by the front door. He’s got his back to the group, hunched over a little as he fiddles with something beneath his unzipped jacket, but he perks up the moment he hears Eddie’s voice.

“Steve,” Eddie calls, more quietly than the last time, but with no less gravity, and just like last time, Steve turns back, his gaze falling heavily on Eddie.

Before he can talk himself out of it, and horribly aware that this isn’t really the best time or place (but then again, if not here, then where? If not now, when?), Eddie steps closer, steps right into Steve’s space, cups one hand to his ash-smudged cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

He barely even has a moment to wonder if he’s made a monumental mistake before Steve is kissing him back, tilting his head and pressing closer and moving his lips against Eddie’s like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. If the rest of the trailer has fallen conspicuously silent, Eddie doesn’t notice.

The kiss doesn’t last long (not as long as Eddie would like), but that’s alright; it feels like there will probably be more.

“Wanted to do that earlier,” Eddie murmurs as they pull apart. “But I didn’t want you to think it was some kind of last-ditch wish fulfillment because I thought I was going to die. Figured now would be better.”

“Now is good,” Steve says softly; his eyes are a little hazy, a little unfocused (and damn, had Eddie done that?), but they find Eddie’s without trouble. "Now is great."

And then it’s Steve’s hands on Eddie’s face, curled carefully at the edges of his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s only the feeling of something wet sliding across Eddie’s skin that distracts him and makes him pull back. Steve’s hands fall away, and Eddie reaches up to swipe over his jaw and looks down at his hand.

His heart thumps when he sees red.

“Am I–?” He reaches up again, rubbing his fingers across his skin again, but he feels no pain, finds no injury. “Are you–?” Eddie looks now at Steve’s hand, heart jumping again when he sees more of the same smeared across Steve’s fingers. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

Steve frowns, reaching up with his clean hand to try to swipe the mess away with his thumb. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but he sounds distant now, a little breathless in a way that Eddie can’t blame on any kiss.

Eddie reaches out and spreads his hands under Steve’s jacket, pushing it open to get a good look at him, and finds the damning dark spots spreading across the fabric of the t-shirt underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Shit, shit, Steve–”

“Might’ve pulled something,” Steve murmurs, “fighting Vecna.”

“You think?” Eddie is aware that he’s getting a bit shrill, but he thinks that he really can’t be blamed. “Wheeler!”

Nancy is there in an instant, and Robin is at Steve’s side just as he starts to wobble. She gets an arm around his back and he hisses, reminding them all that the bat bites on his sides aren’t the only wounds he’d sustained.

And then Nancy is barking instructions, and Robin is talking, quiet and rapid-fire at Steve as they sit him down on the couch, and Dustin is demanding to know what’s wrong (and if Eddie thought he’d been getting shrill–), and Eddie only manages to get him out of the vicinity by telling him to go call an ambulance.

“He’s gonna be fine, Henderson, but we need help,” Eddie says firmly, giving him a shove in the direction of the phone. “We’ve got him, he’ll be fine.”

And Eddie hopes to God, to Satan, to who-the-fuck-ever it is he’s supposed to be praying to at this point, that he isn’t lying to the kid.

He’s just gotten Steve – he can’t lose him now.

#kennahjune #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #Steve will be fiiiine I promise #solar wrote #answers from solar

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: You visit Eddie at the hospital after the demobats incident.

Warnings: just fluff

You peeked into the dark hospital room with a smile on your face, trying to hide the horrible sensation you'd been feeling relentlessly for the previous few hours, waiting for a doctor or nurse to come out to tell you if Eddie was going to be okay. If he was still alive.

You were really scared that he could have died, that you would lose him and you never thought you could feel this way about someone you've known for so little time.

"Hey" You said walking into the room towards his bed. He was wearing one of those awful sort of dressing gowns that hospitals usually supplied, part of his face was covered in scratches and he had a tired expression drawn on his face. Even if you couldn't see it, you were sure that his torso and chest were covered in bloody bandages. "How are you feeling?"

Stupid question, maybe, but "I'm so glad you're alive I could cry right now" seemed too profound.

He looked smaller than usual, without his leather jacket and jeans with chains, more vulnerable without the clothes to helped him keep up the tough guy facade. Some people would say he looked less scary that way but Eddie never looked scary to you.

"Good enough for someone who almost died" he replied when his big brown eyes landed on you, an almost surprised expression painted on his face "You stayed."

"Of course I stayed" You said "we all stayed but then it got really late and the kids had to go home and they needed someone to drive them, so now Steve is also a chauffeur as well as a babysitter."

"Late? What time is it now?" He asked and you caught on to the fact that he had no idea how long it had been since he lost consciousness.

"It's almost four."

"In the morning?" he asked incredulously. You nodded.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, go home, please, I-"

"I haven't waited all these hours for you to send me home, Munson." You cut him off in a tone a little too harsh. You absolutely didn't want him to think he was a burden, you stayed because you wanted to be there for him. You had the impression that not many people were there for him, usually.

"Can I sit?" You asked then, softening a bit and pointing to the space next to him on the bed, he just nodded before silence fell between you.

You're sure at some point you let out a sigh of relief, after all that had happened you were grateful to know that Eddie was going to be okay and that everything was going to be fixed, somehow. Now that Hopper was back you were sure that if you and your friends explained the whole situation to him he would help you and be able to prove that Eddie was innocent.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a few moments.

This time it was you who nodded.

"Why are you still here? I mean, you stayed even after everyone left, you're still covered in blood, you must be really tired and dying to sleep. So why did you stay?" He asked looking down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

You sighed. "We're friends. I care about you. I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. After everything that's happened to you lately, you don't deserve to be alone. You didn’t even before."

He just looked at you like you were something weird or saying the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"We are friends." he muttered, repeating your words as if you had said nonsense.

"Of course we are." You tried to read his expression but you couldn't figure out where he was trying to say.

Didn't he want you to be friends or wasn't he used to people treating him like one? Had anyone even told him they were his friends? Did anyone ever tell him he wasn't a freak and didn't deserve even half of the bad things that had happened in his life? you find yourself thinking.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. It's just that it's weird you know? A few days ago I never thought that a girl like you could even talk to someone like me and then everything happened and now you're here at tell me we're friends. It's weird, but it's- it's cool. Really. I'm glad you are here, Y/N." He finished the sentence with a chuckle.

You weren't exactly one of those considered "popular" at school, but certainly no one ever stopped you in the hallway to yell insults or you never found the words "freak" and "murderer" engraved on your locker.

Did Eddie really think you wouldn't be on his side just because he was considered one of the "outcasts"?

"No, you're right." You replied "I wouldn't talk to someone like you because there's no one else like you, Eddie. That's why I like you. The way people in Hawkins talk about you isn't fair. You are not mean or scary. You are not bad. Bad at school yes, but a bad person? No way. And you also almost died to save our asses."

He laughed and looked down. "It was metal though."

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head at his comment. "It was. But never try to do something like that ever again."

"Thanks Y/N." He added then.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being my friend. For staying."

You just nodded and reached out to grab his hand, his rings were a little cold against your skin, but you didn't really mind because as soon as you did that, a smile appeared on his lips.

Silence fell between you again -and probably also in all the rest of the hospital given the time- but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was calm, pleasant and somehow intimate.

The last thing you remember before sleep overtook you is Eddie's hand lazly playing with your fingers and yours drawing imaginary circles on the back of his.

"You think... that they're like together-together?" Mike asked Dustin the next day. Both were in front of the hospital bed, watching you and Eddie sleep next to each other. Eddie's arm was around you to hold you close to him, like he was afraid that if he didn't you'd disappear.

"Nah, they're just friends." Dustin answered with a note of doubt in his voice. He was a little mad at you for not calling to tell him Eddie was fine, but maybe now he understood why you didn’t. You and Eddie were like him and Suzie, just more disgusting.

"Mh, I'm not sure. Friends don't act like that, man."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #please be kind I wrote this in the doctor's waiting room :] #eddie munson fluff

[genderlessghoul]

Thinking thoughts of transmasc Phantom's first experience with trans tape and it goes horribly wrong. Luckily, a certain fire ghoul finds him in his time of distress.

IT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO GET THIS LONG WOAH.

Anyway, t4t Phantom and Dew fluff below the cut, with mention of trans Rain (everyone's trans, heck yeah) nothing sexual but they do be naked. Nothing graphic but Phantom do be getting scars in the long run.

This entire thing was a stupid idea. The idea of not having to wear an extra article of clothes to hide his chest had been very appealing, so was the thought of not having to reposition himself in a binder all day. He also had liked the prospect of getting to wear his binding equipment for a few days. But now it all seems like the worst decision he's made possibly ever.

He's on his second day with the tape on. It was fine the day before. It started being uncomfy during the evening but it didn't really bother him until that morning. He pulled through the entire day and every second he could feel the adhesive pull on his skin in the most uncomfortable way possible.

The decision was made right after dinner to take it off. His skin needed to breathe. The pull was painful when he entered the bathroom and now, 20 minutes later, it's unbearable. He needs the tape off yesterday. But he only got one tiny piece off and it felt like he was skinning himself alive. And he's supposed to do that for what, 7 more strips? He might just keep them on for the rest of his life, it's less painful than removing them.

He conciders it but he can't. He can't bare the feeling of anything touching his skin anymore. He tries to go back to removing the strips but it hurts too much, he's just making pathetic pained sounds while he pulls slowly, millimeter after millimeter. He's vaguely aware that his cheeks are wet but he doesn't know when he started crying.

Before long, he's on his knees on the cold bathroom floor, crying softly out of pain and frustration. Holding his head in his hands because he can't bare to remove the tape but he can't bare not to do it.

"What the fuck?"

Phantom about jumps out of his skin when he hears the voice. He turns around to find Dewdrop standing in the doorway. More like leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. The quintessence ghoul didn't close the door but he didn't think he'd have to, as the only way in is through his own bedroom.

"You scared the living shit out of me, what the fuck are you doing in my room?" he's trying to hide the obvious shake in his voice with a dry tone, scrambling to dry his face with his sweaty palms. The last thing he needs right now is for Dew to make fun of him.

"We share a wall, dumbass, I could hear your whining. Decided I'd come check out the situation for myself. Now what do we have here?"

The fire ghoul walks up to the other and offers a hand to pick him off the floor. Once on his feet, Dew grabs Phantom by his shoulders to gently coax him into turning to the right, then to the left, taking the time to examine the pieces of athletic tape glued to his side. Phantom knows he looks ridiculous. The tape is that wanna-be flesh tone colour that doesn't look real on any human, much less on a ghoul with such dark grey skin and such bright white patches. The job is uneven, he couldn't get both sides to matches. The tape is full of ugly wrinkles that make his skin itch. Truly a poor sight to witness.

"Tried tape for the first time? Not too bad I guess... There's a whole lotta wrinkles in it though, it's not gonna be a fun time removing it."

Phantom's eyes glue to the floor at that last part and the fire ghoul catches onto it. A concerned and puzzled look paints itself on his face as he turns the younger ghoul around one more time. There in his back, he can see a bright red spot right in the middle of one of the quintessence ghoul's white patches, directly next to the tape.

"You absolute idiot. Are... Are you trying to remove it raw?"

"I figured it was like a bandaid, I could just peal it off... Obviously not." he speaks softly. Dew turns him around one last time and grabs his face to force him to make eye contact.

"Why in all seven circles of Hell would you not ask me about it? Or Rain? You can't just peal it off, you're gonna take your entire back, sides and tits out with it!"

"I don't know, I just didn't think there was anything more to it."

The fire ghoul lets him go with a sigh.

"Okay just... Just stay there, don't touch anything. I'll be back in a couple minutes, okay?"

"Yeah okay."

Dew leaves and Phantom thinks he might start to cry again. The whole pack would know in a matter of seconds, they'd surely laugh at him in the morning for his pathetic attempt. He stares at the singular piece of tape sitting on his bathroom counter, the only one he managed to remove. He should have asked Dew about it, about the entire process really, but he was so scared of being made fun of for needing help with a task that sounded so simple.

The fire ghoul returns soon enough, he's armed with a bottle of some liquid and one of his own towel. There's a couple other things in a pouch that he sets on the counter top.

"Get in the shower, we're gonna oil you up like a rotisserie chicken."

"What?"

Dew rolls his eyes. "This is baby oil, it helps break down the adhesive in the tape. I don't wanna make a mess of your bathroom floor so get in the shower!"

"They make oil out of babies???"

Phantom looks completely horrified and Dew's thoroughly unamused. "It's made for babies, dipshit."

"... Oh."

He strips out of his pajama pants and boxers and slips into the shower. The fire ghoul follows suit after removing his own clothes. He jumps straight into his task, uncapping the bottle and lining the lip with the top of Phantom's tape, letting the oil soak through the offending material. He glides the bottle slowly over the entire lenght of one side of the quintessence ghoul's body, then repeats on the other side. Dew restarts the process a few times, each time lower on the tape, until every part of it looks soaked.

"I'm gonna work the oil into the tape, just to make sure it's completely soaked throught. Let me know if any spot hurts in particular, okay? You probably have a fair amount of blisters and raw skin under there, I don't wanna hurt you more than I have to."

Phantom nods and Dew discards the bottle on the shower floor. He starts gently massaging the tape, starting in the back and moving slowly towards the front. He sees the way Phantom winces when his fingers press into the very back on the strips and tries to soften his motions.

"You shouldn't stretch the tape so much in the back. The first and last inch of a strip serve kind of as anchor points, don't stretch them or you're not gonna have a fun time." Dew offers his quintessence ghoul some advice as he works.

"Huh uh" Phantom elects to rest his head on the other's shoulder, inhaling his scent to distract from the accidental self-inflicted pain. He smells like wood smoke and fresh cinnamon rolls, a lot sweeter than usual. Dew's fingers work over a few wrinkles.

"Put the tape on as flat as possible. Wrinkles will cause blisters. They can get really big and leave stupid ugly scars. They're also generally just painful so don't do that shit on purpose."

"Huh uh" Phantom knows there's no magic coming from the fire ghoul, nut he still feels like his touch makes his skin feel better.

Once he's done massaging all over the tape, Dew elects to run his fingers over Phantom's shoulder blades in a soothing motion for a while. The younger ghoul's head is still resting on his shoulder, his breath slowly stabilizing now that there's no immediate pain inflicted on him.

"When you want to remove it, you have to make sure you completely soak it in oil for a little while before. Any oil works, really, I just liked baby oil the best back then. Mount would scold me over using anything from the kitchen since you need a pretty obscene amount."

Phantom lets out a small hum as a reply and his hands move absentmindedly to Dew's own sides, his thumbs resting at the base of his scars. If getting himself in a stupid predicament is all it takes to get the fire ghoul's soft and caring side, he should do stupid things more often.

They stay like that for a little while longer before Dew's hands make their way back to the tape. "Let's try this again now, shall we?"

Phantom apprehends the pain when fingers lift the corner of a strip, but it never comes. It's removed slowly, without any real struggle. The other ghoul lets it fall at the bottom of the shower with a wet thump.

"See?" he says in a soothing voice. "It's a whole lot better when you do it right."

The fire ghoul whispers soft praises into his ear as he continues the job, slowly, piece by piece, until they're all sitting next to their fallen comrade on the shower floor.

Dew places a small kiss to the top of Phantom's head before detaching him from his sides. He discards the strips of tape to a corner with his foot and turns on the water, setting it to a comforting warmth.

"Now we just gotta un-rotisserie chicken you. Don't wanna get your sheets all oily."

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch if you scrub."

"Not gonna scrub I promise. Been there done that, never again."

He doesn't give Phantom a chance to argue before he's picking up the bottle of coconut scented body wash, squirting some into his hands and lathering it. He repeats his task of slowly working over the previously taped area on the quintessence ghoul's body. He's working as gently as he can but he still sees the way Phantom clenches his teeth whenever he reaches a blister or a spot of particularly sore skin.

Dew makes sure the ghoul in front of him is completely cleaned of any oil before he works the few spots where he got some on himself. The water is closed and he takes the other's hand to guide him out of the shower. Dew wraps him towel over his hips before grabbing another one and patting Phantom dry, still as careful over his sensitive spots.

The quintessence ghoul catches a glimpse of himself in the shower and only then does he realise how badly he messed up. Any white area of his skin that was covered by the tape is now red and inflamed, the darker parts no doubt just a bad even if he can't see it. There's blisters all over his sides and back, of varrying sizes but all with a disturbing yellowish undertone. The front of his body was miraculously spared that treatment.

"It's not as bad as it looks, I promise." Dew tries some reassuring words while he rummages through the pouch he brought. He takes out a small jar and a roll of gaze.

"You should've seen Rain's first try, I was patching up holes in his back for like months. He wasn't as lucky as you, I only found him after he ripped off all the tape by himself."

"Wait really?"

"Yeah that's why he has those dark spots there. He tells everyone they're really big freckles but... Don't tell him I told you."

Dew takes off the lid of his small jar. There's so sort of jelly-looking substance inside. He silently coaxes Phantom into lifting his arms up so he can apply a fair amount over his wounds and sore skin, wrapping his entire chest with gaze once he's done.

"There. That should help everything heal faster."

"Thank you."

"Oh, don't mention it. I wasn't about to let you skin yourself alive. Now you know how to not do things next time."

"I'm really not concinced I want there to be a next time."

"Hey," he takes Phantom face in his hands once more "we've all been there. Binding correctly, especially with tape like that, it's a learning curve. Especially if you have no one to teach you. Or if you decide that you don't need to be taught. Just ask us for help next time, okay?"

"Yeah, okay..."

Dew places a soft kiss on the quintessence ghoul's lips before letting go of his face. "Come on, I'm getting hella tired."

He grabs Phantom by the hand and all but drags him to his bed. The fire ghoul lays on his back and encourages the other to lie on top of him, on his stomach so that he's not squashing any blister.

Phantom's head comes to rest on Dew's chest, hearing the consistent beat of his heart. Warm arms wrap themselves around his middle and start rubbing at his lower back.

"Sorry I ruined your evening. You probably plans that didn't involve having to rescue me from tape, of all things."

"Don't worry about it, baby boy." he plants another kiss in his hair and Phantom kicks up a purr at the pet name.

"I'm just glad I didn't catch you with fucking duct tape or some shit."

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghost #ghost ficlet #ghost fanfiction #fanfic #ficlet #meerkat writes #everyone's trans because I said so

[fallinforerling]

LOVE ISN'T ETERNAL. chapter 10 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

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"So... You're back together with him?" Nikki whispered, looking at you neutrally. She was fighting her face muscles, so they didn't make any type of weird expression that may upset you. She was as sweet as it gets.

"God, no! We're just... friends. That's it." It made you uncomfortable to admit you forgave Jude after all the events of the past month. You were aware of how mad your friends were at him. "I know it’s a bit stupid to forgive him after…"

"After all the shit? We know. He’s not the brightest person around for breaking up with you for that reason." Mia leaned against the sofa, shrugging. "I swear to God, some men can’t talk about their feelings for the sake of their life." A tiny smile peaked from her lips. "We get you, you know that, right? It’s not easy to ignore all the feelings you still have for him… It’s been a month." 

"Hey!" You blushed rapidly, ashamed by Mia’s words. "That’s not the reason…" 

"Sweetie, we know you. You’re not going to fail yourself, us or anyone else just because you still love him." Nikki sighed. "And he’s kinda handsome…" Mia elbowed her, rolling her eyes. "What?! He is! Not my type!" She screamed immediately, looking at you with a worried expression. "Don’t take it as a hint of my non-existent attraction to your boyfriend." 

"He’s not my boyfriend!" You screamed as well, laughing. "We-are-friends." 

"For now." Mia shouted, giving you a knowing look. "If he plays his cards right… Baby, you’re going back to being his girlfriend in less than three months." 

"Or his wife." Niki giggled while saying it. 

"Very funny." It was your time to roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I love the support in case I get back together with him, but that’s not it. I’m still bitter about the whole situation, I just got tired of… I don’t know, the intense drama and both of us wanting closure. He’s my friend. We can be friends." 

"Are you trying to convince us or yourself?" Mia asked, patting your leg. "We get it, he’s an asshole. I’m not saying he’s innocent or that you should get back together with him right now, but… Girl, you’re in love, and so is he. He basically implied marriage." 

"You know what they say about drunk talk." Nikki added. 

"I don’t want to hear anything else about marriage. That’s the reason for our breakup… Besides, we’re going to his parents house tomorrow so he can tell them the truth." 

"No way! How did that happen?!" Mia laughed, visibly enjoying Jude’s future sufferment. 

"He said he was going to do anything in his power to make things right with me… Well, that’s the first thing I asked for: honesty. I need him to be completely honest to his parents." You crossed your arms. "It’s bad enough that he asked Jobe to lie about our breakup too. I can’t stand it anymore." 

"Sounds reasonable." Nikki agreed, smiling again. "He’s going to throw himself under the bus just to make his girl happy; how romantic!" 

The only answer she got from you was a pillow thrown directly at her face.

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If you were completely honest with yourself, you were as scared as Jude seemed. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You loved Jude’s parents; they were the sweetest people ever, and they always treated you like a daughter. That’s why it was horrible to lie to them, but it was even worse to confess it directly to their faces. 

"I’m nervous." You said after a while, waiting in the living room for them to arrive. Jobe was sitting on the opposite sofa, smiling from time to time while looking at his phone. 

"You are nervous? Mom is going to kill me." Jude took a deep breath, bouncing his right leg non-stop since he sat down. "Dad’s going to smack my head off after he finds out why I broke up with you." 

You bit your lip, feeling bad for putting him in this position. Nonetheless, it was inevitable. 

"Maybe you shouldn’t mention the marriage part." You said after a while, touching his arm. "It might be too much." 

"What? Yes, I do. What’s the point of telling them if I’m not going to be completely honest with them? You said I needed to hold myself accountable for my actions, that it was best for my parents to know what happened. So I’m doing it. If a scolding from my parents and disappointed looks are what it takes for me to regain a little bit more of your trust, then that’s what I’m doing." He rubbed his face, taking your hand between both of his. "I’m just a bit nervous, that’s it." 

You both looked at each other for a while, just silently studying the other. You felt a different type of happiness while replaying his words in your head. 

"Good, then." You squeezed his hand, smiling. "Do you want me to be here while you tell them?" 

He shook his head. 

"I need to tell them alone, it was my mistake after all." 

"Better gather your courage, because they’re here." Jobe said almost immediately, looking out the window. You didn’t even notice he got up in the first place. "Come on, let’s go somewhere else after you say hello, they need their space." He told you, grabbing his phone.

The three of you silently waited for them to arrive. When the door finally opened, your heart started to beat frantically. Would they hate you after this? Will they yell at Jude? Tell you to leave? 

"Don’t panic. It’s going to be fine." Jobe spoke, sensing your sudden fear. 

"We’re here!" Mark said, his voice coming from the hall. "Are we all home?" 

"Yeah! We’re in the living room!" Jude said, standing up. He looked at you over his shoulder, giving you a tiny smile. "It’s okay, just go with Jobe while I do this." 

"Hello, hello!" Denise entered the room first, smiling, as always. "Honey! I’m so glad you’re here! I bought all the ingredients for your favorite meal, so I hope you’re hungry." While she said all that, she gave both of her sons a kiss and a hug to you. 

"Hello, darling. Nice to see you again." Mark followed her, hugging you. "What’s up with all of you standing in the middle of the room?" 

"I…" Jude started to talk, his voice failing at the last second. "I wanted to tell you something. To the both of you." 

Mark and Denise looked at each other with identical expressions of suspicion. Then they looked at you, raising their eyebrows. The look they had on their faces was a mix of emotion and fear. 

"Okay?" Denise said, sitting on the nearest sofa. "Go ahead." 

"Uhm, it’s better if we’re alone." Jude said, looking back at Jobe and you. 

"We are… Going to be upstairs, bye!" Jobe was fast on fleeing the scene. He took your arm, dragging you out of the room and up the stairs. You gave Jude one last worried look before leaving.

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It’s been twenty minutes since both of you went upstairs. There hasn’t been one yell, any loud voices, or even any mumbling that was high enough for you to hear it. You were happy that it was a peaceful conversation, but the suspense was killing you. You sat on Jobe’s bed, paced around the room, fiddled with some funkos that were sitting on his desk, and even folded some clothes that were on a chair. He kept looking at you with an annoyed expression; you were going all over his room, so it was understandable. 

"Can you sit still for five minutes? It’s fine, they’re not going to kill him." Jobe looked up from his phone after you sat down and immediately got up for the third time, sighing. "Besides, if there’s no yelling, they’re not going too hard on him." 

"I’m just worried that they’ll be mad at him forever." Was all you said, sitting next to him on the bed. "Am I overreacting?" 

"Just a bit." He shrugged, looking at you. "I understand why you are worried, but don’t be. They love you. Of course they’re going to be a bit disappointed in Jude for being… Well, Jude. But it’ll pass. Just prepare, because they're going to work extra hard on getting you back together." 

"Why is everyone saying that? We’re friends now." 

Jobe gave you a side smile that did nothing to calm your anxiety. 

"It’s just meant to happen, darling."

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✉️ Jude: You guys can come downstairs, I’m still alive

✉️ Jude: At least

 The text relieved your stress a bit, but the idea of coming downstairs was still terrifying. What will Denise tell you? You didn’t want to make her upset after all, she was like a second mother to you in so many ways. 

 “It’s now or never, love. C’mon, it’s okay.” Jobe had to physically lead you through the hallway and down the stairs. You were so stiff it was uncomfortable to walk. “Stop acting like you’re walking straight to your death.”

 “It feels like it, Jobe. It really feels like it.” You whispered after walking around the corner and entering the living room. 

 Denise and Mark were standing by the sofa, where Jude was sitting with a blank stare directed at the carpet. He was pale, but other than that, his body language was still pretty good for a person who spent the last thirty minutes talking about a delicate subject with his parents. 

 “Oh, honey.” Denise said as soon as she saw you, walking rapidly towards you. She gave you the warmest hug you’d ever received from someone in a long time. “I swear I raised him better than that.” 

 “It wasn’t your fault, Denise.” You rubbed her back, smiling a bit. Your eyes wandered to Jude, who saw the hug with a tiny smile on his face. His eyes were tired, but he seemed content with what he saw. “It was just complicated.”

 Mark stood there, obviously uncomfortable and not sure about what to do. You simply smiled at him once Denise released you from the hug and gave him a little thumbs up. He seemed relieved by it; he just smiled back and pointed at Jude. 

 “I’ll make sure none of that happens ever again, I swear.” Then he looked behind you. “And you, young man, stop covering your brother when he does things like this.”

 “Dad, don’t shoot the messenger. I prefer to get scolded by you than choked to death by Jude.” 

 “Talking about drama queens.” You said, smiling when Jude seemed a bit more animated by your joke.  

“Well, I’ll take her to the kitchen for a while. She needs a little bit of peace.” Denise grabbed you by the shoulders with care, and you let her take you wherever she pleased because it was better than staying in the living room and being stared at by the whole family.

“My love, I hope you know I’m deeply sorry about Jude’s behavior.” She said the moment you were out of earshot from the boys. “I don’t know what got into him to act like that. I knew something was wrong this past month. He was unusually quiet, he never talked about you anymore, which was weird since he never shuts up about you or what you guys did. I thought it was a fight, nothing else.” She sighed. “I’m very disappointed by all this. And again, so sorry that you had to go through it because my son wasn’t capable of talking to you or us.” 

“Stop apologizing, it wasn’t your fault that he decided to manage the situation like he did.” You rubbed her arm, trying to make sure she saw you were sincere. “The good thing is that we’re on good terms and you guys know what happened.” 

“Oh, it’s such a shame… You guys were such a lovely couple.” She smiled. “It’s not because he’s my son, but… I wish there was a solution. I’m not defending him, he behaved very poorly and doesn’t deserve a second chance right away. I just know that you both love each other very much.” 

You knew you were safe with Denise to tell her the truth. 

“I do. I still love Jude very much but… I can’t just let him be my boyfriend this soon. I feel like… I’ll be disrespecting what I went through this past month trying to get over the situation.” 

“Your healing process it’s more important than my son’s urge to make things right. He can work harder to repair what he destroyed in the first place.” She gave you an understanding look. “Make him do an effort to save the relationship. You deserve it.” 

Your eyes felt suddenly watery. 

“Thank you for the advice…” 

“Anytime, darling.” She paused, giggling a bit. "And we thought you were pregnat, how naive."

That got you giggling as well.

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After the whole “confession session” you had at his house and a very awkward dinner, Jude decided it was a good idea to go out and eat dessert while exploring the city. You argued, saying people may recognize him and take photos while you two were walking, but he just shrugged and took you for a walk anyways. You followed along because you didn’t had enough energy to discuss; plus, you were craving something sweet.

So you let him walk you around Birmingham, like he always did when you visited his hometown. You didn’t know how, but he always took you to a new place, no matter how many times you did the same routine. Tonight, the walk stopped at a really tiny but beautiful ice cream shop; after some greetings, photos with two guys from the staff and very appealing cups of ice cream, you continued walking until you found a very nice bench far away from the dispersed crowds. 

"Were they too hard on you? Be honest." You asked between scoops of each other's ice cream.

"They were, but mostly because I blew it with you. They said that type of impulsive acts had been always a problem for me, and I agree. I always regret things I do from one moment to the other. But... It wasn't much of an scolding, but more of a large session of advices..."

"That's good. At least they didn't kill you."

He smirked, not replying but instead leaning over to steal the last bite of your ice cream but stopped at the last second.

“Wait, where’s your necklace?” His hand moved your hair away from your neck, revealing the absence of the gift that meant so much to the both of you. 

You stayed in place, scared to tell him the truth. What a way to ruin the mood, huh?

“Uh…” You coughed, awkwardly trying to move your hair back to your neck so his eyes were unable to see how naked it was. “I kind of threw it into a lake two weeks ago?” Yes, you did say that as a question. 

“What?!” He laughed afer a few seconds of blinking, surprising you with the absence of any type of anger. 

“I… I threw it into a Scottish lake, actually.” You paused, smiling when he started to shake his head, still laughing. “I was very upset. I wanted to get rid of it to get closure. Don’t judge me!” You smacked his arm. 

“I’m not! I’m just impressed by it!” He kept smiling. “Well, okay. It’s some new jewelry for the sirens, I guess.” 

“Shut up.” Your cheeks were red, maybe because of the whole ridiculous scenario of a siren taking your necklace or because he was very pretty while smiling. 

“I’ll never shut up about this.” He hugged you out of the blue, leaving a tiny peck on your temple before resting his head on top of yours. “I’ll get you a more beautiful necklace… Don’t worry.” 

“You don’t have to…” But you really wanted him to do so. 

“Of course I do, my love.” 

And when you felt the butterflies inside your chest trying to get out, you knew you still loved him a lot. What were you going to do to stay friends with him while your heart healed? No idea.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * TAGLIST

@mentalbaddie | @taintedstranger | @mrs-dasilvasantoss | @mbapbaesluvr | @erensfavgirly | @cinderellawithashoe | @yoitsmo07 | @seajjin | @kakuchosbff | @peterparkerbae | @alwaysclassyeagle | @itsjuspenny-blog | @lbsmainblog | @youngjayla | @freetimemachinequeen | @chaeryeongstuff | @lazyreadergirl | @trentismine | @ironmaiden1313 | @wavessmile | @jul1ettt | @daydream-er | @citrusjunosart | @pierre-gasssllyy

#jude #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #judebellingham #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x you #borussia dortmund #footballer fics #footballer fic #footballer blurb #footballer fanfiction #footballfics #jude x y/n #jude x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football fic #football fanfic #footballer x reader #footballer fanfic

[thatlovinfeelin]

Where Do You Go? | six | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Your husband died in a training accident, unexpectedly. So what happens when you find yourself leaning on his best friend and wingman, Rooster Bradshaw?

This is it Ladies and Gents, the final Part of Where Do You Go? I can't say thank you enough for all of the love and support this series had received. There were a lot of moments where I was very unsure if I would be able to tell this story, but you lot where right here with so many messages of encouragement, even though you didn't know that I needed them. SO thank you thank you thank you.

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five

“Mommy?” You question as soon as she picks up the phone, “I did something and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s all going to be okay, just tell me what happened,” Her voice is so soft and steady it makes you cry even more. 

“I slept with someone, and I really liked it,” You admit, almost horrified that you’re saying it out loud. 

“Well…honey that’s a normal thing-”

“It was Rooster, Kurtis’ best friend,” You inform her, “And now he won’t return my texts or anything. I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. And I’m afraid I ruined everything.”

“Oh,” She said softly, “I see…well, maybe it isn’t as bad as you think.”

“Mommy, I think I started to have feelings for him,” You admit, feeling your stomach twist, “And I feel like I’m cheating on Kurtis because I have feelings for another man, his best friend nonetheless and I feel like it just makes me a horrible person.”

“Oh honey, you’re allowed to move on.Kurtis wouldn’t want you to be alone forever. Maybe he would be glad it’s Rooster, out of anyone else, because he’d know him well enough to know that he would take care of you.”

“He made Rooster promise to take care of me,” You informed her, “And I took advantage of how we were feeling, how vulnerable we both were. God, he’ll never forgive me.”

“Maybe he’s just as confused as you are, sweetheart,” She suggests, “Maybe he needs space to figure it out, just like you do.”

It was another week before you got the courage to try to call Rooster. It went right to voicemail, like he declined your call. It makes you cry, thinking that you lost him too. You beg for him to call you back in the voicemail and apologize for ruining everything.

He doesn’t answer your call, or your texts. You go as far as texting one of the other members of the squadron to make sure he’s okay, at the very least. You’re told that he’s fine, just busy with training and to let up on calling and texting all of the time.

You feel your heart drop a little. He really doesn’t want to talk to you, or even see you. One night ruined everything. You hated it, because it was an amazing night, you didn’t want to regret it. You were tried of regretting things. But if that one amazing night cost you Rooster, how could you not regret it?  

You try to go about your days as normal, working and coming home to an empty house. You even look at dogs, but none of them seem to speak to you. None of them felt right to you, like you didn’t have a connection with them. You feel broken again, like a giant piece of you is missing. 

In a way, a big part of you is missing. Because Rooster became a big part of your life, a very normal part. You got too used to him being around and being in your house. Too used to him always being there with you. Too used to him holding you at night. 

You’re back to having a mountain of pillows again to try to make the bed feel less empty. You went as far as ordering a weighted blanket to try to help. You were willing to try anything, as long as it meant you could sleep again. Because sleep was avoiding you once more. 

You’re in the middle of cleaning a week later when you realized your period was late. Well, even later than it had been in the last few months. Your stomach churned at the thought. There was a whole stockpile of pregnancy tests in the cabinet underneath your sink in the bathroom, but the thought of taking one now….you couldn’t.

You couldn’t possibly be pregnant from one single night with Rooster. The universe couldn’t be that cruel to you, surely. There had to be some other reason that you’re extra late, the stress maybe? The fact you haven’t been eating a lot? 

Your mind is spinning with possibilities. So many of them it makes you dizzy. Surely you aren’t pregnant though, it’s got to be a fluke, some sort of coincidence. 

Your front door opening makes you pause, your body shaking like a leaf. 

“Hey, it’s me,” Rooster calls from the entryway, “Can I come in?”

When you can’t bring yourself to respond you hear the sound of footsteps getting closer. Rooster takes in the way you look, white as a sheet, shaking in the middle of your living room. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that you’d seen a ghost. It worries him. 

He came here to apologize for being so distant and explain himself. He came here to put himself out here, lay everything out on the table. Strip himself bare and let you know how he really felt, but now all he can do is rush forward and wrap you in his arms.

Tears burst from your eyes before you can even catch up with what’s happening. He strokes your back, shushing you gently. You clutch onto him, needing him to keep you grounded. You’re terrified, absolutely terrified. How would he react to what you have to tell him? How would he react to knowing he could be a father?

“What’s wrong,” He whispers, kissing the top of your head, “Talk to me.”

“You left,” You sob, “My period is late.”

He tenses, “How late?”

“Late enough,” Is all you can manage in response.

He swallows thickly, “Have you taken a test?”

You shake your head. You couldn’t take one all alone. The thought of what the results could be….no way you could’ve handled that without anyone here with you. There wasn’t anyone you could call to sit with you either, there was only Rooster. And until this moment, he was awol. 

“Do you have any tests?” He questions, brows furrowed. 

You nod slowly. 

“Okay, c’mon, you need to take one. We can figure out what to do once we know,” He tells you softly, pulling you towards your bedroom. 

“I’m scared,” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn’t hear you, “Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” He doesn’t know if you mean just for this moment, or forever, but either way, he didn’t want to leave you. 

His chest ached during the time he was away from you. He felt like he was missing a part of him. And the thought tore him up, because he felt like he was betraying his best friend. Kurtis made Rooster promise that he would look after you, not that he would fall in love with you. 

“How long do we have to wait?” He asks you softly, scared to speak any higher than a whisper. 

“A few minutes.”

He nods and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly for a moment, “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”

At some point he’s going to have to tell you that he received orders. That’s another reason why he stayed away, because he was going to leave and he didn’t know how to tell you. Just like he didn’t know how he was supposed to leave you behind. It wasn’t like he was staying close either, they were sending him all the way across the country. Back to Virginia Beach.

He wanted to ask you to come with him, and he would. If you were pregnant with his child, there was no way he would leave you behind. Even if the test was negative, he couldn’t stomach being so far away from you. It made him feel physically sick just to think about it. 

Your phone timer goes off a few minutes later. He holds you tightly as you flip over the test, brows knitted together as you struggle to read it. But there’s only one line, not two. Bradley almost lets out a sigh of relief, but your eyes are watering. 

“This is good,” You try to convince yourself, “We couldn’t- I-”

“It’s okay,” He assures you, kissing the top of your head. 

Because he feels the same way, both relieved and somehow disappointed. One day, maybe if you feel the same way, you could have a child together. He could imagine it, and for a moment he let’s himself see it. 

“I should be happy,” You try wiping at the tears, but more just keep coming, “Why aren’t I happy? Where have you been?”

“I needed time to think,” He admits, still holding you tightly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It feels right, having you here. It shouldn’t, but it does,” You tell him, turning in his arms so you can hug him back.

“I know it does, I feel the same way. Felt like I was walking around without a limb,” He laughs softly, “It’s wrong, but it feels so right to be with you.”

“Then stay,” You say simply, “Stay with me, Rooster.”

He swallows, “I got orders, I’m being restationed.”

“What?” Your heart drops, he’s leaving you, “Where?”

“Virginia Beach. I leave in two weeks,” He answers, “They actually gave a good heads up.”

“Oh.”

“Come with me.”

You look up at him, eyes still wet, “You want me to come with you? Are you just saying that because I thought I was pregnant?”

“Baby, I was going to ask you before that,” He promises, “I want you with me. We can start over out there.”

“My life is here,” You blink. 

“You hate your job, you’re always complaining about it. Your family is on the East Coast,” He explains, “What do you have to keep you here?”

You almost say Kurtis. But then you think about it. You’ve been to his grave only a few times since the funeral. You hate the idea of him being there, in the cold ground. You’ve never been the type to sit and talk to a big slab of stone. Because in your mind, he isn’t there, he’s just everywhere. He’s in the rays of sun that peek through the clouds, and in the cool sea breeze, he’s in the flowers. He’s everywhere, and yet he’s nowhere. 

“Okay,” You breathe out. 

“Yeah?” He questions, bending down so he can look straight in your eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Do you even know where you’re going to live?” You question, a laugh somehow finding its way out. 

“My folks had a house not far from base,” He explains, “I’ve kept it up and rented it out for a couple of years to other military families. The last tenants just got restationed too, so it’s wide open and ready.”

“Your parents' house? Like where you grew up?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “I was going to pack up a u-haul and drive it down next week.”

“You really want me to come with you?” You question again, trying to wrap your head around everything that’s happening. 

You went from thinking you were pregnant to suddenly agreeing to move across the country with your husband's best friend. Only, he’s more than that now. Because he means more to you now. He’s someone you’re falling in love with, and someone you never expected to love. It snuck up on you, slowly and steadily, until suddenly it’s all you could think about. 

Until all you wanted was to be held by him all day every day, and to talk to him and to kiss him. All you wanted was to be around him. The thought of him being all the way across the country from you made your chest hurt. You couldn’t imagine being that far away from him. You couldn’t say that you loved him out loud, it still felt too soon for something like that. But you did feel it, like a blanket wrapping around your heart. 

“Baby, I can’t imagine you being anywhere else,” He replies honestly, “I want you with me, everyday.” 

You lean up to kiss him. Softly, slowly, like you have all the time in the world. Because now you really felt like you did. If you were going to go with him, you’d have every single day to do this, for as long as you had him. 

“Okay,” You say again. 

“Yeah?”

You nod and kiss him once more, “Yeah. I’ll come with you. I want to come.”

Two weeks later you climbed the lush green hill towards the spot where Kurtis was buried. You were dressed in comfortable shorts and an old t-shirt that Rooster left behind before driving to Virginia. You take a deep breath and sit down, hand skimming the top of the tombstone.

“I’m not good at saying goodbye,” You sigh, “But I think you already know everything I’m going to say. I like to think that you’ve been keeping an eye on both of us. Maybe you gave him the push he needed to come back to me. Or gave me the push to admit how I felt about him. Either way, I blame all of this on you, Kurt. Playing matchmaker from the beyond.”

You take a deep breath and set flowers down, “I know it hasn’t even been a year yet. But he isn’t replacing you. No one could ever do that. You were my soulmate, I firmly believe that. But I’m not the same person I was when we got married, losing you changed me. It changed him too, and I think it changed us so much that we fit together now. I love him, Kurtis, and I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened.”

You wipe at a few stray tears. You never planned on saying goodbye to him twice. This time feels like closing the chapter on the two of you. A very final goodbye. Your chest felt tight, you wished Rooster was here with you, instead of waiting for you to make the drive across the country in his Bronco. You sold your car last week, with plans to buy something a little better once you got settled in Virginia. 

“I hope you’re happy wherever you are. I wish you were still here…I miss you every day. I’m not trying to replace you, because no one ever could. But I also can’t be alone forever, and I think you understand that. I certainly hope so. I leave for Virginia today. Rooster is letting me drive the Bronco, can you believe that? He didn’t even seem worried when he handed me the keys. I remember you used to joke that you’d know he really loved someone when he let them drive that thing….so, I guess that means he must love me too.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, “Thank you for being my first love, Kurt. I’m sorry you weren’t my last, I wish you could have been. You know I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always love you. But this isn’t home for me anymore, so I have to go.”

You lean down to kiss the tombstone, “Goodbye Kurt, I’ll love you forever.”

You’re in the Bronco, ready to start the vehicle when you pull out your phone and call Rooster. He picks up on the second ring, his voice putting you at ease almost instantly. You relax into the seat, smelling him all around you. 

“Are you on your way?” He questioned. 

“Leaving now,” You tell him, “I’ll call you at every stop, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you,” His voice sounds so happy, you can almost picture him smiling in the middle of the living room, “I can’t wait for you to get here.”

“Just a couple of days,” You remind him, “And then I’m all yours.”

“Do you have everything?” He asks again, for the millionth time today. 

“I triple checked,” You promise, “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” He says quickly, without even thinking. 

The admission makes you smile. You said it for the first time before he left, unable to stop yourself. You were afraid something might happen to him on his drive and you needed him to know it, just in case. He smiled and kissed you so hard you swore your lips might bruise, then he told you he loved you a million times. 

“I love you,” You laugh, turning the keys in the ignition, “I’ll see you soon, Roos. Stay safe.”

“Drive safe, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you again,” He sighs, “Been too long already.”

You laugh and pull away from the curb, “Soon,” You promise, “I gotta go. I’ll call you later tonight. Fly safe.”

“Always,” He promises, “Just come on home to me, baby. Come on home.”

#rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagines #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick

[thevelria]

Promise me something, Kitten (SFW/younger!Gojo x neko!fem!reader)

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Author's note: This was a lovely request I got on Wattpad. I have never written anything like this before, so please be kind lol Otherwise I hope you're gonna enjoy it. 

Warnings: slight angst in the beginning and spoiler alerts if you haven't watched JJK season2 yet, or you didn't read the manga. 

WordCount:1.8K

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Since Geto left Gojo tried to find his place in the world once again. He struggled and fought so hard but this whole situation was way new to the strongest sorcerer. His best friend wounded him in a way he never even thought it was possible. And even if Geto made big mistakes, made horrible decisions, still he missed him. He missed the laughs, the time together. Suguru was like a brother to him and he mourned their friendship after all these years just as much as he did in the beginning.

It's been 3 years, on this exact day, when he saw him for the last time. Gojo felt down and lost, walking home from a mission which wasn't a bother at all. It was as easy as mostly every other nowadays, he kept getting stronger and stronger. But he couldn't care less at the moment. It seemed the weather adjusted to his mood, big, dark clouds spread in the sky, threatening the possibility of a huge storm. Small droplets of rain started to form on the sidewalk. Satoru didn't bother about his infinity, he let the rain hit him. The cold, freezing feeling sent shivers down his body. He took off his sunglasses and faced the sky with a bittersweet smile on his face.

A soft whimpering hit his ears and he frowned immediately, putting his glasses right away back on and trying to find the source of the noise. It didn't take long for him to find a snow white little kitten shivering under a messy bush. It didn't take long for him to find you.

You looked horrible with your dirty fur, yet adorable. At least Gojo thought so. He reached his hand towards you, being completely unaware that you weren't a simple house cat. The way he smiled at you melted your heart. Somehow you felt safe, you felt a click, a tension, so you let him lift you up.

Gojo was holding you in one of his arms, while popping his umbrella with his other one. Even if his infinity could save him from the rain, he didn't want you to get wet either.

"Let's get you home, Kitten, shall we?" he kept admiring you.

On the way home he already decided to keep you. No matter what, you were his little furball now. As he passed a pet store he snapped his head at the window of the shop.

"Oh, you will need some things, won't you? Let's buy you everything you might need."

With four huge bags in his hand he walked out from the store. The second he realized he was going to need both of his hands to carry everything home. At least the rain stopped. So he zipped down his jacket. And gently placed you against his chest, zipping the jacket back up just as high as you could still pop your head out. You lifted your head up, blinking at him with your lovely eyes and he swore he saw you smile.

You were excited and tried to find the perfect spot on his chest. As you wiggled a bit and turned around, so now you faced his neck, you took a deep breath. His scent made you dizzy, he smelled so amazing. Like a light summer night with wild cherries.

"Stay still, Kitten. We are almost home." he smiled. At his words you started to purr and knead his neck softly, which caused him to chuckle. "What a cute creature you are."

His home looked cozy, but it definitely seemed like the home of a young man in his 20's. The first thing you spotted was the huge bookshelf with many many books on it. As he put you down the floor you rushed to the shelf. Almost forgot about your form. The living room became your favorite spot with the huge windows around. Gojo took out a huge box from one of the bags which was supposed to be a cat tree. He kept unpacking everything he got for you. A big, fluffy bed. It looked nice but you already knew you were going to sleep in his bed with him. Bowls for food and water, a pretty collar with a tiny bell on it. He even got a cute name tag "Kitten". Some stuff for your fur and you noticed a big plushie. Your pupils went wild and you ran to him immediately.

"You want it?" he giggled adorably before letting you grab the toy. As you held the ear of it and dragged it across the living room he kept laughing at you. "Alright, sweetheart." he stepped next to you and gently lifted you up by holding your tummy. "It is time for a bath." He wanted to hold you the way he brought you home, but before placing you against his chest he kept staring into your beautiful eyes. To show him how good he made you feel you leaned your head forward and quickly licked the tip of his nose. "Oh, fuck..." he laughed out loud "I'm already in love with you."

Gojo had no idea what to expect, he heard so many horror stories about bathing a cat. But not with you. You were such a good girl and let him bathe you easily, you even let him dry your fur with a big, fluffy towel. He kept rubbing your body, being very cautious and gentle.

"Look at you how beautiful you are." he kept talking to you. "Are you hungry, baby? Or maybe tired? Wanna play? We can do anything you desire."

Your heart was pounding against your chest, he acted so cute you could hardly handle it. After spending the afternoon together, you decided to take a nap. He started to build you the cat tree, so you laid down next to him and purred as long as you fell asleep.

Satoru carefully petted your head and back, causing you to wake up. "Princess, look, I finished it. Do you like it?" and once again he swore he saw you smile.

The rest of the day flew by and it was time for him to go to bed. "I'll take a quick shower." he looked at you. "Will you be a good, little kitty, yeah? Please don't destroy anything, okay?"

You almost rolled your eyes at his comment but instead you kept sitting straight, staring at him with soft eyes.

The second he walked out of the bathroom with only a towel loosely hanging around his waist your pupils went wild once again. His body looked incredibly hot, his broad chest, perfectly built abs, that V line and a tiny treasure trail made you drool.

"I swear, if you weren't just a kitty, I would say you were eyeing me up and down." he chuckled at his joke. Only if he knew...

During the night you made your way into his bed. He slept peacefully on his tummy, while you nuzzled on his lower back and wiggled into a comfortable position to sleep. From that on you spent every night in his bed.

Gojo talked to you as if you were a person, told you where he needed to leave and around what time he was going to get home. When you were alone at home you shifted back to your human form, wearing his clothes were the highlights of your day. But you were always aware to place everything back as he left it. You were not ready to reveal yourself just yet.

"Honey, I'm home." he cooed as he opened the door. You were running to him and the little bell on your sweet collar let him know you were on your way. "Come here, come!." he sat on his heels. "Did you miss me, hmm?" he pressed his forehead against yours as he lifted you up. You let out the cutest whine ever which made him smile.

He talked about his day, his mission. How he needed to fight more curses than he expected and how amazingly he handled everything all alone.

It became a tradition. He came home, you greeted him and he talked about his days. Sometimes he talked about his feelings to you. "I have no one to talk to, baby." he sighed, while you purred in his lap. His legs rested on the coffee table, the TV was on but he didn't care about it a bit. He played with the tip of your ear and sighed. The way he talked about Suguru almost made you cry. You wanted nothing else but comfort him.

"I feel so alone." he sighed. That was the moment you decided you were going to reveal yourself.

At night he was sleeping on his back only in boxers with you sleeping on his lower tummy. Out of nowhere you started to purr and knead on his abs. And slowly shifting into your real form. You turned into a beautiful woman with cute white ears and a long tail. As you kept purring your face nuzzled against his neck. One or two gentle licks woke him but still he was in a half asleep state.

"I'm so lonely that I'm dreaming about my cat turning human." he hummed a bittersweet laugh. One more lick before he frowned "Are you real?" he asked, as he rubbed your back up and down. He felt your bare skin against his.

"I am, 'Toru." you whispered. You bit your lower lip and the licks turned into little kissies on his neck. He let out a soft moan and turned his head to look at you. His mesmerizing blues always made you excited, so you stared back with huge pupils.

"Do you want me to shift back to my other form?" you asked, not knowing what his answer could be. Your lips were so close you felt his warm, uneven breath on your skin.

"Please, stay like this." his voice almost cracked.

The next you remembered his lips pressing against yours. His lips felt soft and sweet. He was eager to explore your mouth and the moment you let his tongue meet yours, he smiled into the kiss.

Gojo sat up, pressed his back against the headboard and positioned you on his lap. Your tail automatically hugged his waist as you kissed him once again. You lost counting how many times he kissed you before he pulled a bit back. Resting his neck on the headboard, admiring your true self. You didn't bother to let him see you naked, because you were already sure he was going to be your mate anyway.

"Promise me something, Kitten." his husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Anything."

"Don't leave me like everyone else does." he caressed your cheek.

"I'm yours for eternity." you rested your head in his palm. 

#jjk gojo #fanfiction #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #jjk geto #neko #neko girl #kitty #kitten #cat #neko reader

[saintsenara]

Do you think there’s any situation in which Sirius/Snape could work as a ship if James Potter was alive/around?

I love both Sirius/Snape and Sirius/James (platonic, romantic and everything in between) as ships so I’d love to see a universe in which the 3 of them have a lovely time together but I dunno if I can picture it. I can mainly see Sirius/Snape working with James and Lily dead and Sirius post Azkaban because it really brings him off his pedestal and leaves that shared grief and longing for that intensity of companionship.

I guess part of the problem is trying to imagine Sirius being able to even remotely care about or prioritise someone else with James in the picture, even if James is only giving platonic on his end. But then doubly so if that person was someone James had a massive rivalry with and doesn’t want near his wife. (Although if he knew Snape wasn’t interested in Lily like that maybe he’d chill out about it? Or would only child syndrome kick in and he’d hate him even more for trying to “steal” Sirius from him because it would be really shocking and maybe low key traumatic for James to have any less than 110% of Sirius’ attention…again even if they were only platonic… 🤔)

If it was going to work I could see it maybe more after Hogwarts when they’ve all grown up a bit and James and Lily are wrapped up in their family and Sirius is a bit adrift at adjusting to not being able to have all of James all of the time.

The closest I’ve seen to making something like it work was a fic where Snape was horribly tortured for killing Peter in front of Voldemort to stop him telling the secret and it left him vegetative for years and the Potters cared for him and eventually Sirius took over so they could go live their married lives. I was really interested in where they were going with it and pretty sold on that being a situation in which it could end up all happy families but unfortunately the fic was kinda preslash and stopped before it explored how things would go romantically for Sirius/Snape after Snape regained his consciousness.

Would love to hear your thoughts on any scenarios in which you think the 3 of them could get along swimmingly!

My other thought was maybe if Sirius had been put in Slytherin and James decided to talk his way into Slytherin to be together, they might eventually adopt Snape into their wider friendship group for his dry wit the way they did Remus. I feel like James was waiting his whole life to have both a best friend and his own gang and would make one wherever he was with the best of what he had available (lbr Peter is hardly a stellar pick), and without the “he’s evil because he’s Slytherin” divide they could potentially find the Dark curses Sev knows fun/useful against whoever else they decide to bully instead, might notice in the shared dorm how poor he is and get a pity thing going like they did for Remus’ werewolf issue (which Snape’s pride would hate but he’d probably milk knowing how he was with Lucius?), and if Snape was gay and as devoted to a crush on Sirius as he was to the canon one on Lily and therefore willing to do some wing maning for James with Lily to keep in James and Sirius good graces, it could really cement his value as a pal….and if Snape had other options for well connected friends who could get him out of Cokeworth (picturing Fleamont setting up summer internships for James’ unfortunate looking poor but impeccably mannered pal at Sleekeasys R and D department 🥹) I’m sure Snape would be happy to not bother with the blood supremacist half of his year who want his childhood best friend dead (unless we think he joined to be in with them as a way to keep Lily safe, but I think that would be more a rationale he’d give himself or her later to justify his behaviour) ……..but anyway even if all of this elaborate scenario could happen so that the 3 of them would be pally, I still can’t picture Sirius being able to love/fancy someone more than James if James is right there, even if it’s only platonic on James’ end.

Unless I guess we take a reading of canon that Sirius was so mean to Snape because he fancied him madly and was furious about it, or because he could sense the queerness in him he hated/was being told by family to squash out in himself. Then maybe they’d have a special type of connection that could be powerful in a way Sirius wouldn’t be able to share with a straight James? Would that be enough though for Sirius never see one without the other Black? 🤔

I do think if that was the friendship group and they made Snape the secret secret keeper instead of Peter James and Lily might have lived! (And Snape might have let himself get killed keeping the secret 🥲) …although that said if Peter had an inkling James Potter might go to Slytherin he probably wouldn’t have fought the hat so hard and would have still been in the gang too!

I’ve really gone on a tangent here but yeah so interested in any scenarios you could see it working, I think about this a lot and I love the way you think about HP things! 👏

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

this is a question which i've wondered about for a while, which i'm going to answer with a tentative... yes.

because i do agree with you that one of the things which makes snack-in-the-90s really work is their shared grief over the loss of james and lily [and their shared guilt and desire to punish themselves for the role they each played in their deaths] and how it contributes to them being one of the series' most interesting narrative mirror pairings.

but it's equally true that they're narrative mirrors even without the grief aspect simply because of their mirrored love - whether you wish to interpret this as platonic or not - for one half of james and lily, and the quiet devastation [even though sirius expresses this very differently to snape] they feel when the two pair off.

and so i do think - in a world in which both james and lily survive [i don't think it can be either/or] - there is the potential for snape and sirius to find themselves drawn together by a grief which is less profound than that caused by james and lily's deaths, but is still transformational in a way that i think is often overlooked in fandom: the grief of realising that the person you love doesn't feel the same way.

because i love platonic prongsfoot and platonic snily as much as the next girl, and i think that the grief i'm describing can apply just as much to platonic love as to romantic love.

but i prefer - and, indeed, i'm on the record as being convinced this is the text's actual intention - to read both snape's love for lily and sirius' love for james as romantic.

and - obviously - the intensity of this feeling prevents either snape or sirius getting a grip while they're in their teens [especially if they're both also grappling with the idea that they're not straight - i'm afraid i've never bought the fanon that the wizarding world is more enlightened when it comes to sexuality]. it makes perfect sense that - as you say - it's impossible for the nineteen-year-old sirius to imagine caring about someone the way he care about james, and to convince himself that the only way he can live his life is to spend decades pining nobly from afar, never letting on how much his heart aches.

but one of the great tragedies of the canonical snape and sirius is that they get stuck in a state of arrested development from their lives - essentially - stopping when they're both twenty-one. there's an inherent pettiness to their interactions in canon - the obsessing over schoolboy experiences, the fact that snape finds himself stuck at school and sirius finds himself stuck in his childhood home - which other characters clearly don't quite understand [dumbledore saying to harry at the end of order of the phoenix that sirius was too sensible to be goaded by snape seems dismissive in the context of what we - the readers - have seen, but it makes perfect sense that - from dumbledore's perspective - a thirty-six-year-old man wouldn't still care about playground beef from twenty years ago.]

in a world where james and lily live, snape and sirius get a chance to act their actual ages - and with that, sirius gets to learn how to accept that his role in james' life will change as his best friend settles into being a husband and father and snape either gets to learn how to stop pining for lily from afar or how to start trying to make amends for his treatment of her.

and james and lily also get to grow up too - to recognise how their priorities towards their friends will change as they form a family of their own and to see their school days [and their behaviour during them] more objectively the further removed from them they become. james at eighteen would rather die than have anything less than 110% of sirius' attention. james at thirty has other things to worry about.

i think that it would only work in a scenario where snape and sirius encountered each other again after having left hogwarts [i like the slytherin!james suggestion - and i'd be interested to see how you'd write it - but i personally think that there's no way on earth james is having snape anywhere near him until he's - for want of a better term "won" their rivalry over lily]. but i also think it would only work if that scenario was decades after they graduated, rather than years, and that the two don't meet again until they're - at least - in their early forties.

i think you could do something really quite interesting with james in that setting - as he realises, as his children reach adulthood and start to fly the nest, that sirius is chronically single and decides the project he wants for his middle age is to find his friend true love.

never expecting that his friend will bail from a date he arranges with a lovely woman and end up hiding in the leaky cauldron talking to snape - but then being mature enough [after some running around screaming "snape? snape?" at lily] to think that if sirius is happy, then he is.

and on this point, both sirius and snape canonically struggle to be realistic about how they see themselves and their worth - for example, in how they both refuse to believe that they could successfully atone for their roles in causing james and lily's deaths. when this is combined with the fact that sirius grew up in a community which is obsessed with blood and lineage - and how that blood and lineage is continued - and snape grew up with his primary masculine role-model being a violent man who was presumably also a homophobe, i do think that both of them would find it difficult to be open about their sexuality, especially since - in a world where they get to live normally after 1981 - they would be starting to understand themselves as queer during the aids crisis [which i refuse to believe doesn't impact the wizarding world, because i loathe the implication of canon that wizards are resistant to muggle diseases].

i think you can plausibly write them as both still in the closet in the 90s/00s - and for sirius especially to be worried about james' reaction if he found out he was interested in men. [which is a dimension often left out of things which examine sirius as queer and james as straight. lots of queer men worry - sometimes unnecessarily, sometimes, sadly, justifiably - that being open about their sexuality with straight male friends will cause those friends to back off from their platonic relationships due to a homophobic fear that queer men will automatically interpret platonic physical and emotional intimacy as romantic.]

but - whatever else he is - james clearly isn't a bigot. and i think he could once again get over the fact that sirius has shacked up with snape [snape?] in order to be proud that sirius was finally comfortable with who he is.

[and yes, i do genuinely think that sirius and snape's canonical vibe can be read as having some level of sexual attraction in it - they are both just so obsessed with each other that it's giving "why do i have this hyper-intense need to get in this other boy's face oh wait that's why"...]

#asks answered #asenora meta #asenora's opinions on ships #starprince #snirius #sirius black #severus snape

[gisellelx]

Twilight Advent Calendar, Day 10

Masterpost/Prompts

Dec. 10 - Pick one of the witnesses in Breaking Dawn. What was it like for them to stay at the Cullens' home for those two weeks? Who did they spend time with?

"Revolutionaries"

(~1300 words)

There was no question about it.

Carlisle’s family was weird.

He’d met them before, but in passing. Now, surrounded, Garrett understood that the meetings had been in the woods, on street corners, at night, not because that was normal for Carlisle’s coven, but for his benefit. He had heard Carlisle say the words “home” and call the rangy redhead his son, but it just hadn’t registered. He thought it was just language, that his old friend was making himself feel better about the state of affairs he lived in. But it wasn’t.

They had a goddamn Christmas tree. When it had been suggested that he go to the Cullen home, Garrett had assumed he’d find a coven playacting. Staying out of the way of the Volturi. Hiding from humankind. And surely, surely there couldn’t be seven of them as perfect in their records as Carlisle.

But, no, here they were. Half a dozen bedrooms, closets with clothes that weren’t purloined from victims. Carlisle, nerd that he was, had a whole fucking library on the second floor, with books he’d been toting for two centuries. Five bathrooms—for what? And a kitchen. Well, that was, oddly, going to use.

Garrett could hear her, humming to herself as she buzzed around, again making some sort of something for the werewolves who were sleeping on the doorstep, and realized he recognized the tune. Penny Lane.

Yep, he needed air.

There was a figure already on the porch when he exited, and even if the scent hadn’t registered before his eyes did, he’d have recognized the silhouette anywhere. The shoulders were slumped in a way that reminded Garrett of two hundred twenty years ago. The body of a man trying to convince himself he was happy, when he wasn’t.

“This is some endeavor, English,” he said, and the head whipped around. Garrett laughed. “Did I startle you?” Absurd.

A long sigh. “Oh, perhaps I was somewhat aware.” The face broke into a tired smile. “I’m just out here cogitating.”

Garrett cocked his head. “You do you know you sound like the most horrible snob when you use words like that.”

This, thankfully, elicited a smile. “Noted. What brings you outdoors?”

“Your woman was singing the Beatles; I had to escape.”

A questioning frown.

“I didn’t care for the first British invasion. I like the second even less.”

His friend’s bark of a laugh was familiar. Garrett grinned in return, and then joined Carlisle at his side, leaning against the thick railing.

“I will say, however, that her taste in music aside, Esme is quite the—”

“Garrett.”

“—lovely woman is what I was going to say,” he finished sweetly, flashing Carlisle a wide smile. His friend shook his head, rolling his eyes, but then they met gazes and Carlisle smirked. Both of them began laughing.

“I am a lucky man; I won’t deny it.”

“Hell yes you are, you bastard.” He punched Carlisle in the shoulder, and Carlisle looked down shyly, a wry smile playing on his face. “And here I thought you were going to go all eternity without ever doing the deed.”

Another laugh. “Truthfully? So did I.”

The moonlight glinted off Carlisle’s hair as they both fell into companionable silence again. They looked enough alike to pass as brothers; it had been something Garrett had liked all those centuries ago. Even though Carlisle was his elder by a century and then some, he had always struck Garrett as naïve. His hope, his steadfast confidence that if he just did things his way, it would all turn out right and well. It was as admirable as it was ridiculous.

And yet it was working.

Garrett didn’t have to work hard to make out the individual conversations going on in the expansive living room as he and Carlisle stared together out into the forest. The sisters—also gorgeous, talking with the Spanish woman. Her mate, locked in a quiet talk with Carlisle’s son. The weird kid, with her even weirder name, reading to her mother while Carlisle’s blonde daughter interjected every now and again. The lawn behind the house twinkled in color from the tree and the lights that went up the banister in the big room; the shadows cast by the roaring fire danced playfully across the porch.

“You succeeded,” he said finally.

“Mmm?”

He gestured widely at the house behind them. “You succeeded. At this. I thought you were bereft of your senses, with that diet and the doctor thing and everything but…you did it.” He turned, leaning against the rail. “Family life suits you. I don’t know why I am surprised.”

Carlisle made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “It’s not easy. At times, I envy your freedom.” He turned back to Garrett. “I wasn’t out here merely cogi—thinking. I was worrying, while Edward isn’t paying attention. I’m worried about Alice and Jasper, and I’m worried about Renesmee, and I’m worried what that will do to Bella, and what any of this will do to Edward. And then all of you…”

Garrett clapped a hand on Carlisle’s shoulder. “We chose to come. You can’t take that on.”

The brow furrowed again. “I feel responsible.”

“That’s your problem, not anyone else’s. No one is going to hold you responsible for”—he gestured widely in the direction of the field where the clairvoyant had indicated they would need to be—“whatever goes on out there. You’re responsible for this. This gathering. These friends. This…family. This is what you worry about. This is what you can control.”

They both glanced back in the doors. Someone had turned on Christmas music. The Spanish woman was slow dancing with her mate. One of the sisters—the prettier one—had accepted the offer of a a Santa hat. Muffled laughter. The sound of crackling, and the earthen scent of a fresh log beginning to burn.

“And which of you with taking thought can add to his stature one cubit,” Carlisle muttered.

“Huh?”

This elicited another chuckle. “The twelfth chapter of Luke, you heathen.” He grinned. “But it’s a welcome reminder. Thank you.”

The Bible. Of course. That hadn’t changed, either. Garrett stared. Carlisle’s expression seemed to have softened; the strange, amber eyes glowed differently. The two of them stared out into the blackness of the night, the moon glinting off the river so close to the house. They listened to this; the way the water pounded against what must have been much larger rocks further north, where the elevation was even higher, before coming whooshing through the woods behind the stately home.

It was a long while before Garrett got the eerie feeling of being watched. He turned back toward the hulking French doors. Esme standing there, her head cocked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“There’s a beautiful woman looking for you, English,” Garrett said, nudging Carlisle in the ribs.

Carlisle turned. “So there is.” He beckoned, and the door opened a crack as Esme leaned out.

“Your granddaughter wants to say goodnight,” she called. “They’re going back over to the cottage in a few minutes.”

Your granddaughter, Garrett mouthed. The words still felt strange on his lips.

Carlisle didn’t miss this. “It is amazing, isn’t it?”

Garrett stared back at the door. “Like I said. It suits you.” He nodded in the direction of Carlisle’s wife. “Go. Stop worrying. At least for the night.”

In the same instant that Carlisle nodded, he was at his wife’s side. He put his arm around her waist, and she tipped her chin up so that their lips met. It looked…familiar. Garrett watched the way their gazes followed each other’s, the way a hand around the waist slipped slowly over hips to become a hand in another hand. The way she smiled up at him. The blur of knee-high blue that was the little girl streaking across the living room for his knees. The way he lifted her into the air and how she giggled and squeaked as he tossed her before settling her, one-armed, onto his hip. That even amidst the worry, his face lit up as he pressed his nose to hers and she put her palm to his cheek.

He had thought Carlisle boring. Naïve. Even deluded. I envy your freedom, he heard his friend’s voice echo in his head.

But as he listened to the laughter on the other side of the door, and watched the way the colored lights played off the planes of his friend’s face, Garrett wondered if freedom was really all Carlisle imagined it was cracked up to be.

~~~~

Note: A more modern translation of Luke 12:25 reads “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” (NRSV). But I feel confident that if Carlisle is going to quote the Bible, it’s the 1611 KJV that he has in mind.

#carlisle cullen #garrett #my fic #twilightadvent23 #The only thing missing when I write these two #Is two bottles of Coors Light #but I try to imagine blocking that includes them cracking open a bottle #and keep that vibe

[dearestxiao]

Family dinner with Childe is hell because of his younger siblings. What are you going to do? Break his sibling’s hearts by saying all the horrible things their brother actually does to you?? Your beef is with Childe, not his family. These are innocent kids.

And Childe knows that you wouldn’t break their heart, which is why he can get away with a LOT more than he can when you’re alone

You’re stuck even more than you are when you’re alone. And you’re forced to smile and act happy and like you love Childe, because the alternative is even more pain all around for everyone. -Woof Woof

yes yes yes right!!! you dread family dinners with childe. they're the sole and only nights childe is able to completely back you into a corner and get you to play along into the role of a sweet, lovely couple. childe's whole family can just see how happy he is around you, and that extends to his precious younger siblings, who gleam up at you with bright innocent eyes filled with utter admiration. they've adored you since the very day ajax first brought you home. and he adores how they make you pull off such a good performance.

they're just so happy! they're not blind to just how in love their brother is, far from it. this is made especially so with how childe is able to get away with smothering you with as much love (sweet kisses, an arm constantly wrapped around your waist, big bear hugs, all of the things you'd usually pull away from) as humanly possible due to the fact you can't pull away, not infront of everyones watchful eye. it fuels their curiosity and adoration. they can't help but to ask you so, so many questions at the dinner table as everyone watches. they ask you about how you've met and how you two fell in love. they nail down how loving he is towards you and isn't ajax just the greatest? they ask if you plan to get married anytime soon and ask if you're going to be their sibling-in-law. they even exclaim that you two should be married under the tsarista, that way you'd never, ever be split away from one another.

you feel like a bug being inspected under a microscope, especially as childe is watching you carefully with a soft little smile on his face.

and you (forcibly) descend into an award-winning act while you chat with everyone, smiling and speaking in as gleeful of a tone as you could muster up while you try to hold back showing off your sheer discomfort. you answer every question as satisfactory as you can while still trying to perserve your dignity. the soft squeezes your hand recieves from childe as you speak serve as a motivator, a little reminder that he's listening to each and every word coming out of your mouth. you never stray even an inch away from the script because you know better than that.

they bring you gifts some of your visits, usually small crafts they've made specially for you. they make 'wedding rings' and 'bouquets' for you and ajax out of whatever materials they can find. they draw family portraits with you, their future sibling-in-law, included, little stick-men figures depicting you and childe and the rest of the large family holding hands. you thank them (sometimes awkwardly, usually begrungedly) for each and every little thing that they gift you no matter just how uncomfortable it makes you.

and truthfully, it all hits you right in the heart and hard. childe, of course, loves to take advantage of this.

because how could you possibly hurt them? how could you ever even think of removing those precious little smiles off of their faces by telling them the truth? how could you ruin their perception of childe, who they love and adore more than you could ever even begin to imagine? no, your grievance is with the man himself, not them.

you're less unsure of what to do in this situation and instead more aware that there's nothing that can be done. you wish, desperately, that you could tell any of them, even his parents, of the truth, show them who their son really is, but why would they believe you? he treats you so lovingly, he's practically an angel to you.

what's worse is that you know deep down that it wouldn't even matter if they did believe you. I mean, they haven't seen him this happy since before he had disappeared all these years ago. why would they ever want to take that away from him? the bottom line is, they'd give anything to keep him like that.

(also, truth be told, most of them have probably already catched on but simply do not care).

after the nights over, childe loves to give you a sweet peck on the cheek as he exclaims just how good you've done. but, truth be told, he can't help but notice just how bare that ring finger is. maybe his family is right. maybe he should hurry up and 'seal the deal' already. maybe his precious little siblings deserve a 'sibling-in-law' as amazing as you.

#also.... dont even get me started on the rest of his family #and DONT get me started on just how much worse itd be if you were his childhood friend that his family has already known for ages #thank u woof woof for seeing my vision hehehehe #june concepts! #yandere childe #cafe patron woof woof!

[moreespressoformydepresso]

TBOSAS where the thing that fixes the pain and suffering is the Capitol’s cruelty. Because I love positive irony like that.

Somehow, the zoo enclosure where the kids are kept is destroyed. Since it’s so unbearably hot in the books say something caught on fire and the tributes were taken out of the enclosure because there won’t be any games if all of them are dead. This conveniently sidesteps Brandy’s death because it happens either just before or right after she stabbed Arachne. If she did kill her bitch of a mentor the fire was so beautifully times that all evidence of her little crime was destroyed and nobody knows it was her. How convenient. One could almost say it’s divine intervention. Now, the kids need to be kept somewhere, and the zoo was sooooo annoying for the mentors, so the tributes are put in cages around the city. Near the academy so those poor oppressed rich kids who aren’t about to die don’t have to suffer even more for traveling 10 minutes to see the vile district scum. This… backfires horribly for the Capitol. See, the tributes are separated. For the sake of this story they’re all in separate cages on their own.

How does this lead to a fix-it? Well, it’s now much harder to not interact with the tributes. You don’t have to go to the zoo to see them, and you won’t have to pay money either. The tributes can’t hide in the enclosure, so everyone can see the discomfort plain on their faces as they try to cling to some kind of privacy. The cages have one side agains some kind of structure, so seeing these kids ducked agains the one solid part of their cage is very hard hitting because it’s impossible to ignore what they’re going through now. Even the biggest tributes look small, all alone and helpless.

And then the mentors get involved, and things really kick into high gear. All the tributes like Sejanus, and at first people thought it’s because he’s district. Now they can see it’s because he’s actually nice to them. The nicer mentors are trying their best to help their tributes, and the less amazing ones receive a bit of a cold shoulder. Several fights between different pairs of mentors and tributes happen, and all of them color in the kids’ perspective of everything in a way that’s undeniable. I feel like a big part of why the Capitol citizens had so little empathy is because they refused to see things from the tributes’ perspective due to not seeing them as people. But when massive crowds witness these arguments, it’s hard not to. When all you see is a figure deep in the enclosure and a face on a screen it’s easy to chalk their anger up to some irrational grudge or just vile beasts being their vile beastly selves without thinking about it too much. It’s a lot harder to do that when you have Facet screaming at Livia for treating him like a disposable object and shirking all her duties as a mentor, such as providing his basic needs, while pretending she’s done jack shit for him. When the citizens hear the raw emotion in his voice, it’s very difficult to not feel even the slightest bit of empathy.

And when they watched Lamina cry on a screen, it was easy to laugh at her for being so weak. But when this young girl is sobbing right in front of you, and you can see the pain on her face? Suddenly it’s a whole lot less funny. Even more so when she calls Pup over and ignores the food he offers her in favor of asking about her district partner. The crowd can’t ignore what they’re putting these kids through when they watch a clearly starving girl only accept food when she’s reassured a boy that has to die for her to live is being fed. When Lucy Gray sings for food it feels like the beggars in the city until she asks her mentor to bring more than half of what she got to Jessup and whichever tributes have gotten the least that day. And when all the tributes keep asking about each other with clear and obvious worry, even for the tributes from other districts who they’ve only known for days, suddenly the people find themselves stuck with the unescapable notion that these are kids who are being forced to perform like circus animals, who are about to be forced to kill each other, yet still find it in themselves to show empathy. It’s especially inescapable when the tough, strong tributes who everyone expects to be vicious are the ones doing this. Reaper and Coral for Dill and Mizzen, of course, but even more impactfully Marcus for Sabyn. Two of the stronger tributes showing concern for one another, despite neither having that underdog or innocent air the younger tributes have.

At one point, Treech is performing for a crowd and some of the mentors pass by, including Vipsania. As soon as they approach he stops what he’s doing and retreats to the one solid side of his cage. Vipsania calls for him, and he utterly ignores her existence. All he dignifies her with is a hateful glare. Then Pup comes into his line of sight, and he shoots up immediately to ask whether Lamina’s okay. It’s only when Vipsania gets huffy about this that Treech actually acknowledged and responds to her. Not nicely though. Rather, he goes “now why ever would I not want to talk to you? It’s not like you starved me so I’d perform or anything. Gosh, it’s such a mystery!” Before turning back around intending to sit down. Vipsania tries to defend herself and it goes about as well as you may expect. By which I mean, a one-sided screaming match ensues. More like Treech giving into the urge to start ranting and raving about all the shit he’s been through while finally telling Vipsania how he feels about her treating him like a toy to use and discard once he’s no longer of use to her. When she says she just wants to help him now, he reminds her that her “help” so far has come down to actively making his life harder for her own benefit. “You’ve done enough, Sickle. Go back to your prissy princess palace and leave me alone.” Very similar to Facet when he finally gave Cardew a piece of his mind, actually.

And slowly people start giving the tributes food, even when they’re not performing. Slowly they start to change their minds about the games, and once the interviews happen they finally realize all these kids have families and friends waiting for them in the districts. And only one of them gets to go home. But… they’ve seen how sweet these kids are to those that don’t treat them like shit. And honestly, nobody really wants to see them die anymore. And they realize if they don’t act now it’ll be too late. So they act. And long story short the games are finally stopped for good.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games #10th hunger games #hunger games #fix it au #treech tbosas #treech #tbosas treech #treech thg #thg lamina #lamina #tbosas lamina #lamina thg #lamina tbosas #brandy #arachne crane #let that bitch die #facet tbosas #facet #livia cardew #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #pup harrington #marcus tbosas #pliny harrington #vipsania sickle #this is a weird AU but I’ve had it in my head in several forms for a while now #so here you go

[possibilistfanfiction]

I love any AUs you write! I love any canon you write! Whenever you write anything I'm so happy :) I know things are busy in life always so I'm waiting patiently and with excitement. Thank you

this is so sweet, here's something a little silly.

/

summary: "ava is quiet for a while. 'do you think,' she whispers, 'that we know each other in all of them?'

it's late and ava is drunk and you say things you mean, when it's like this. when the rest of the world is asleep and there's ava's perfume and the mountains. you say the truth quietly: 'i can't imagine my universe doesn't have you in it.'"

[or: in every universe, there's a lot of love. 5 small AUs, + 1 canon]

ao3

//

this is the golden age (of something good & right & real)

this i can tell you: when i came to your apartment for the first time, i recognized it. i knew, without knowing how, that i would never leave. these were the bricks you had been laying without knowing it; this was the path my flares had been lighting. it was the beginning of a wobbly and joyful and occasionally gross carrying on, learning to come home to you, marked and myself.

— jordan kissner, 'backward miracle', from thin places

/

1

it hurts, to hold death in your hands.

there's blood all over your scrubs and there's nothing you could have done differently; your hands are fast and clever and so is your brain. you've trained for so long for this, practiced for years and years, and still, you can't save everyone.

it's what ava tells you, after you've called time of death and after you have to tell a family that their son is dead, that the damage was too severe even before he was on your operating table, even before you'd cracked open his chest and held his shredded heart; he had died with you saying a silent apology, a prayer, a blessing. it's what ava tells you when she finds you in the attending lounge, tucked into a corner of the couch, your hands stinging.

'wanna hear a horrible platitude, dr. choi?'

you tuck your head into her shoulder, take comfort in the familiarity of her rose perfume and the starchy laundry detergent the hospital uses and the softness of her fleece quarterzip, ava silva, md, phd, facs embroidered on one side, department of neurosurgery smaller beneath. you feel her pulse beneath your lips on her neck, less of a kiss and more of a measure: 74 beats per minute, you count, healthy and normal and real.

'when has me saying no to that ever stopped you, dr. silva?'

she grins. 'someone very wise once told me: you can't save everyone.'

you huff, but it's not with any bite, and you follow along when she puts a finger under your chin and asks, silently, for you to meet her eyes. there are things you need to do, now that you're out of surgery and your shift is, technically, over: pick up your daughter from her tennis lesson; remember to remind ava to grill the zucchini for dinner you both keep forgetting is in the fridge; fold the load of laundry that you'd left in the dryer the night before; take your dog to his weekly canine good citizen class. there are things you need to do but for right now the only important thing is your wife, small and beautiful and brilliant, running her hand through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly, stilling her hand comfortingly there, the back of your skull. she rebuilds spines and you save hearts, or at the very least, you try; her back aches, all the time, and you have more grey in your hair every year.

when you had started your residency program here you had known you would be excellent at surgical innovation, at quick, precise sutures, at research; you hadn't anticipated, at all, how ava silva — brash and loud and deeply caring — had made all of that seem minuscule in the face of listening to a patient carefully, every single time. insignificant compared to the way she loves you, the way she has since before she had been so brave and kissed you one day in the stairwell after you'd saved someone. it's always a miracle: stitching someone's chest up, whole; kissing ava like it's the only thing you've ever wanted.

'i wish i could,' you say, softly, an admission and a hope.

'i know, baby.' ava kisses your temple. 'that's why you're the best in the world. that's why you do save so many people.'

you want to tell her no, it's because you love me. it's because you've given me a life and a home and a beautiful child and endless patience when i can't quite catch up, can't quite love as big or as loud or with the same abandon. you want to tell her so much, all the time, but she just cups your jaw and looks you calmly in the eyes.

'i know,' she tells you softly.

'i love you.'

she smiles, easy and delighted, just like she had the first time you said it, all those years ago, in the middle of a rainstorm in the parking lot after you'd jogged after her at the end of a shift, when you couldn't last another moment without saying it, without her knowing for sure. 'oh, bea,' she says, 'i love you too.'

you don't bother to change out of your new pair of scrubs, and ava seems to decide that's fine for her too. she carefully folds your slacks and sweater and puts them in your duffle, then throws her nice clothes in a messy pile on top. you roll your eyes but just for posterity.

she fishes your wedding bands out from the small zipped pocket on the side and puts hers on, then grins when she runs her thumb along your tender wrist and slips it onto your finger. it's raining again today, too, and you open your umbrella as you leave, make sure ava is completely covered. your shoulder gets a little wet but you don't mind. ava takes your hand in hers, cold and slightly chapped and real — so, so real — and you hold it too, easy: life.

/

2

ava silva, you read on the report, and then the details about her arrest. she has no priors and there's a whole slew of cases just like this judge superion continues to dismiss entirely — much to your delight — in the wake of so many protests. your job has been monumentally chaotic lately, but you're glad for it, glad you're able to do something.

you take a deep breath and comb your fingers through your hair with its neat part and clean edges, straighten the lapels on your suit, and set your shoulders: you will win.

when you open the door, ava perks up. she's wearing a t-shirt that says ACAB on it, with a picture of pigs behind, and there's both a small palestinian flag and a small bisexual flag taped on the handles of her chair. her hair, just brushing her chin, is kind of a mess, and she looks exhausted, but, still she smiles.

'you're my lawyer?'

you're a little thrown off by the question: you're young, but so is ava; you'd passed the bar with one of the highest scores in the state a few years ago and have been excellent ever since, offered countless partner track positions at various firms, but instead you've chosen to do work you actually care about; you've been building a rock solid reputation as one of the most gifted attorneys at the aclu for awhile now.

but you nod, offer your hand. 'beatrice, she/her pronouns.'

'sweet. i'm ava — which i guess you already know — any pronouns.'

you nod and make a neat little note on the report.

'okay, before you judge me for what i'm about to say, please know that i haven't slept in 36 hours, and i think i might be getting a pressure sore on my hip because i've had to be in my chair this entire time.'

you frown. 'that's unconstitutional. they're supposed to make sure you have accommodations under the ADA.'

'yeah,' she says, ‘well, if the police state actually cared about disabled people, we probably wouldn’t be in this jail, would we?’

you bite your bottom lip. ‘we wouldn’t.’

she shrugs. ‘anyway. i was just gonna say you’re hot.’

'oh.'

'don't read too much into it,' ava says. 'i'm tired.'

'understandably so. would it be more comfortable for you to move somewhere else? i can probably arrange it quickly.'

'nah,' they say, dismiss the idea with a wave of their hand. 'let's just get this over with, right? i mostly just want to go home.' their shoulders soften. 'thank you, though.'

'of course.'

'you really mean that, don't you?’

you know the weight of it. 'yes, i do.'

ava's smile is bright, tired, easy, especially for all of this. 'do you want to hear my side, or do you already know what you're going to tell the jury?'

'there won't be a jury,' you say, seriously, and then laugh when you realize ava was kidding. 'i suspect, in fact, that judge superion will dismiss all charges immediately.'

'whew,' ava says, 'thank fuck.'

'i do want to know what happened, though. if you feel safe and comfortable telling me. i can pull in mental health support if that would be helpful.'

'oh,' ava says, but then shakes his head. 'that's okay. you're, you know, you seem cool. in addition to being hot.'

'ava.'

'sorry.' she grins and you're already helpless against it. she tells you what happened, and, just like you suspected, ava had done nothing wrong, and, just as you've always come to expect, the cop assaulted her, certainly not the other way around. she also tells you that she runs community outreach programming for a grassroots disability justice organization, that she's a mario kart champion, and that she has a cat named serena williams — not necessary, but endearing nonetheless, and you don't stop her. instead, you take notes carefully and put your pen down when it's clear she's finished.

'well, i feel strongly that your case will be dismissed without any issue, although of course i can't promise for certain.'

'poor form, i guess. makes sense.'

'unfortunately, you should change your shirt before we go into the courtroom.'

'damn,' ava says, shaking her head ruefully, although she laughs. 'can i keep the flags, though?'

you shrug out of your jacket; ava probably doesn't have any spare clothes, and it's easier this way. you want her to get to go home as quickly as possible. 'you can keep the flags,' you say, and hand your jacket to her quietly.

'damn, gucci? i — i can't wear this. like, for real, beatrice.'

'no worries.' she still frowns. 'genuinely. it’s due to be dry-cleaned anyway.'

she squints. your suit jacket is deep green, linen lined with gold silk. it had been the first thing you'd bought yourself when you passed the bar, when you were just settling into your skin: tailored suits and crisp button-downs, comfortable, soft sweaters and loose cotton pants on the weekends. you cannot think of a single other person in the entire world that you would so casually let wear something so special, something that holds a lot of comfort and pride.

ava still looks skeptical but he puts it on, lifting with his arms to tuck it properly around his waist, and then buttons it so that the majority of his shirt is covered. 'thank you, beatrice.'

you nod. 'let's go get everything taken care of, yes?'

and you do: it goes as you'd both hoped and expected, and soon, you're walking with ava out of the courthouse. it's bright; you get your sunglasses out of your briefcase and ava grins up at you.

'well, will you let me take care of your dry-cleaning for your jacket as a thank you, at least?'

'i — it's my job. no need to thank me.'

'you have a dry cleaner you like, huh?'

you grimace. 'i do.'

ava's laugh is bright. 'okay, fine. but, dinner?'

when you hesitate, he reaches to touch your hand, just for a moment.

'i'm trying to ask you out. so, let me? if you want?'

you open your bag and get out a business card, quickly write your personal number on the back, and then hand it to her. 'dinner sounds wonderful, ava.'

//

3

you button and unbutton the top clasp on your perfectly pressed collared shirt, then run a hand over your hair that you buzz every week, precise and just how you like it. you’re not supposed to fidget but it’s no use: you set to retying your apron for the fifth time, and then somehow feel regret for the one small, stupid tattoo of a pringle you got, just above your elbow, blackout drunk, on a dare on your twenty-third birthday, even though it's definitely not noticeable among the rest of the tattoos that fill out your sleeve.

lilith scoffs. 'chef,' she says, already a bad start because lilith never calls you that unless it’s at the beginning of an insult. she leans casually against the perfectly clean counter. 'you don't even have hair to mess with, your shirt looks gay, the pringle is admittedly funny, and your apron is as boring and perfect as ever.'

'i have never seen you in the kitchen in anything but a black apron.' it's both incomplete and petulant, unfortunately, and only makes her smile bigger, teeth bared.

'you have a crush.'

'i have never in my life have a crush.’

lilith raises a brow.

‘besides, i don't have time.'

she rolls her eyes. 'that's a shallow excuse. i'm sleeping with no less than three people at any given time.'

you pinch the bridge of your nose; you feel a headache coming on.

'fine,' lilith relents, easier than normal, probably because you both are exhausted; opening a restaurant — even though you'd been the chef de cuisine at superion's before this, with its three michelin stars — is more work than you could've imagined. 'well, i'm going to go do literally anything other than witness you continue to be terrible at flirting, especially with ava. don't do anything i wouldn't do.'

'don't think that crosses too much off the list,' you say, and lilith laughs.

'night, beatrice.'

you wave in her direction as she heads out and check on the stewed lamb you'd been simmering — delicate, full of your favorite spices and scallions and cilantro. it's not fancy, not something you would serve on the menu — not in the same way, at least — but it's comforting. it's cold outside, and you hear the front door bang open and then a shit, fuck, sorry from the woman who is pretty quickly becoming your favorite person in the world.

'i'm in the kitchen,' you call out, which is probably unnecessary.

ava pokes her head in, windblown and red-cheeked, unwrapping her scarf, her hair half-out of its bun — beautiful. 'wouldn't expect you to be anywhere else,' she says, grinning. ‘you do leave sometimes though, right?’

ava doesn’t bother waiting for your answer. he snags a piece of a carrot you'd so painstakingly julienned by hand and pops it into her mouth, still smiling, and then comes to stand beside you while you do your best to not burst out of your skin. he puts his hand on the small of your back and her chin on your shoulder to peek over at the pot. 'hi,' she says, leans into you a little more. 'this smells incredible.'

it takes you a second to find your voice. 'it's the cumin.' you settle yourself. 'this is one of my favorite comfort foods,' you say, not much but, still, not nothing. and, like always, in a measure of grace, ava lights up at the offering.

'i can't wait to try it. thank you,' she says, so sincere, 'for making it for me.'

'i'm sure you have very important chefs making you food all the time.'

you feel her frown against your shoulder. 'well, a tasting menu, maybe. but that's work.'

'this isn't work?'

'is this on your menu?'

you resign yourself. 'no,' you admit.

she stands up straight, triumphant. 'exactly. listen, getting your wine pairings right is really important to me, but i'm not — spending time with you isn't work, to me, chef.'

'you can call me beatrice,' you say. and then, a beat: 'you should. it's not work, to make food for you.'

it's love, you know, but you can't bring yourself to say it, not yet.

ava's smile is soft and she nods, backs up and hoists herself up onto the counter behind you. it's a health and safety violation but you aren't actually open yet so you don't say anything, instead just let her kick her boots back and forth in the air a few times and shake her hair out of its less-than-successful bun. you turn to offer her a spoonful of the stew to try, hold your hand carefully underneath it, and bring it to her lips. she closes her eyes and then moans. 'beatrice,' she says, 'i swear to god, who i believe in now that that's been in my mouth — don't make a joke about that, okay — that is the best thing i've ever tasted in my whole entire life.'

it's so exuberant and genuine you can't do anything but laugh. 'an insult to the rest of my food, then.'

ava laughs too, hops down from the counter. 'no,' she says, 'all of your food is incredible. this is just —' she shakes her head, easy curls around her face.

'warm,' you say. 'it feels warm, right?'

ava tilts her head, eyes bright and soft. 'yeah. yeah, it does.'

you feel untethered, so you turn back to your food: perfect, and perfectly timed — like always, like you've never allowed yourself to stray from. maybe one day you'll be at home with ava, after a sleepy morning when your restaurant is up and running on its own, after you've let her cut your hair for you, after you've said vows in a garden and laughed when you fed each other cake — maybe one day she'll kiss you in the kitchen and you'll burn the eggs.

but for now: 'i brought something.'

'hmm?'

she fishes around in her bag. 'okay, we definitely can't put this on the menu, but i brought something i've wanted to open for a long time.'

ava hands you a bottle of wine, deep red and rich, and when you read the label you have to force yourself to not audibly gasp. 'leroy domaine d'auvenay les bonnes-mares grand cru?' you read the entire thing aloud like some sort of prayer, but ava understands.

'the 1993.'

'ava,' you say, 'this is an eight-thousand dollar bottle of wine.'

'sure,' he says, shrugging like it's inconsequential, like it's an offering that she's never second-guessed. '$8716, to be exact. but it was a gift, no worries.'

'i can — should i make something different? i have a beautiful a5 wagyu ribeye —'

'you made me something warm you love.' she smiles gently. 'i don't want anything else.'

'you're sure?'

'a cab is perfect with lamb, you know.'

'i do — yes, i know that.'

ava laughs at how seriously you confirmed. 'plus, i want to share it with you.'

all you can do is smile, really, small and private and into the collar of your shirt. you get down your favorite bowls — you had picked every single one by hand — and then carefully ladle some stew into them. you dress your favorite light fall salad and get out wine glasses and a bottle opener.

'do you want to sit in the restaurant, or just eat back here?'

'my back is solid today,' ava says, 'so let's eat in here. i know you like it, you weirdo.'

you roll your eyes but really you just want to kiss her. she chatters on about her day and very unceremoniously uncorks the wine, your heart skipping a beat because — 'is this going to be the best wine i ever have in my life?'

'i sure hope not,' ava says, grinning at you. 'because that would mean i've really got a very long, very boring career ahead of me if i max out now.'

you grant her a nod: it's how you feel about getting to eat some of the best food in the world.

she pours the wine and then hands you a glass; you watch, mesmerized, as she holds the glass up and looks at the deep, perfect red with a little bit of awe on her face. she brings the glass to her nose and you follow suit.

'the body on this is so beautiful,' she says. 'do you smell the peppercorn?'

you don't, not really, but she's so incredible you just nod.

'alright,' she says, smiling at you, and then raises her glass to toast. you do with a quiet, careful clink. 'to you, and this wonderful place.'

her kindness — constant, gentle, overwhelming, always welcome — fills you up. you both take small sips of the wine, and she swirls it around her mouth and then swallows. her eyes flutter closed and, even though this is definitely the best wine you've ever had in your life, you can't even think about it, can't look away.

she puts her glass down and wipes genuine tears, then laughs. 'okay, on to the lamb, then!'

you let yourself laugh too, let her feel emotional about something she loves without any judgement or recourse; you've cried over food more times than you can count, even lilith's — you're taking that to your grave.

ava takes a large spoonful of the stew and then groans when she swallows, wipes her mouth with a perfectly starched white napkin. 'holy shit, bea.'

the stew is wonderful, although you'd never say that aloud. 'yeah?'

'god, yes.' she lays her hand on top of yours — hers, with its smooth skin, unbroken; yours, scars from years spent in kitchens, one tattoo stretching up from your wrist. 'you're incredible. i hope you know that.'

you look down at your fingers, twine them together. you haven't even kissed her so you swallow down the words — but even that's warm, like the wine and stew, because one day you'll get to say them. you mean them already. 'thank you, ava. it has been — it has been a genuine gift to get to work with you.'

'not many can elevate your food so fantastically, can they?' she says, taking her hand away and pouring you both more wine, groaning again when she takes a bite of her salad.

you scoff but it's with a smile you can't wipe off your face. 'who even gave you this wine?'

'the pope.'

'no way.'

she laughs, loud and bright. 'definitely not, but i bet that threw you for a loop.'

you're sure you're flushed — from the wine, from the food, from ava — but you don't dignify that with a response.

'dominique crenn, actually. i helped with her wedding.'

'no fucking way.'

'better than the pope, huh?'

'way better.'

'don't you know her?'

you do, but — 'still way better.'

ava laughs. 'i think she had a little crush on me. i'm charming, what can i say?'

you roll your eyes. 'do all the chefs have a crush on you?'

ava grins. 'depends.' she leans forward, into your space, and you can't breathe. 'do you?'

you won't admit to having a crush, not aloud. you've worked all over the world in some of the most prestigious, intense kitchens. your hands have always been steady.

they shake now, but it doesn't matter when you bring one to ava's jaw and close your eyes and kiss her. she smiles into your mouth — you can feel it — and you taste the spices in the stew and the peppercorn in the wine and it's warm, everywhere.

//

4

'jesus fuck, beatrice,' ava says, her hands tugging on your hair as you settle between her legs. you kiss up her thigh and she squirms. and, like, maybe it's not the most ethical thing, but your clients are in europe and the kitchen ava designed really is beautiful. you'd put in the marble earlier this morning, finally finishing the toughest room of the project, and ahead of schedule at that.

when ava had come to see, you'd already sent the rest of your crew home for the day — admittedly, in a little bit of the hope that ava would, in fact, want to do exactly this — and so when she'd seen you in your cutoff tank and toolbelt slung low on your hips, you'd known exactly what you'd hoped for was, in fact, probably (definitely) going to happen.

'god,' ava says, her fingers in your hair verging on painful, desperate for you to stop teasing. she loves it, though, and so you pull back and shush her.

'be good for me, baby. be patient.'

'you saying that to me is not going to help,' she says, her head thrown back, and you can't help but laugh.

'this house is so gorgeous.'

'yes, yes, i'm a brilliant architect. let's revisit that after my orgasm.'

'you've already come three times.'

'you're my fiancé — don't want you me to come for a fourth?' she relaxes her hands, though, and smooths one through your hair, rests it along your jaw sweetly.

'i do want that,' you say. 'i also know how much you love teasing.'

she groans.

'but, for you, i'll make this concession.'

you redouble your efforts and ava is so sensitive it doesn't take long before she's coming again in your mouth, quiet this time, a release. she tugs you up after a few seconds and then wraps her arms around you; you settle between her legs and she rests her head on your chest.

'we should do that more often.'

you laugh. 'we have sex fairly often.'

'sure, but we're used to our kitchen. this was fun.'

'this was fun,' you say, back up a little so you can brush some hair from her eyes, sweaty strands from her forehead. you soothe a thumb over her cheekbone and lean to kiss her softly.

'can you believe we're going to be wives soon?'

it's been four years of loving her, since the first time you got hired onto one of the houses she'd designed; the first time you worked up the courage to set up a small picnic in a half-finished living room, timbers around and the sunset quiet and orange in the background, it had felt like all the disparate pieces of your world slid into place — ease, and peace, and happiness. you work with your hands all the time, rough with calluses, but you know have always wanted to be gentle. ava's smile lights up the room; it always has.

'yeah,' you say, 'i love you. i can't wait to marry you.'

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your pulse point, and sneaks a hand down your chest, your stomach, to unbutton your work pants. 'i can't wait to marry you either,' she tells you, voice low and full of want, as her fingers brush the waistband of your boxers.

you nod, whisper the most coherent yes you can muster, and then she's touching you just how you love. the room is bathed in light.

//

5

you hop the fence easily, landing quietly on the other side and rolling to your feet, shooting ava a thumbs up that she may or may not be able to see in the dark. you set your bag down near the edge of the pool and then hurry to the gate, open it as quietly as you can so ava can come through.

she does, not bothering to be quiet at all, laughing delightedly. when you shush her, she just rolls her eyes. 'don't be such a buzzkill, bea,' she says. 'you, like, superhero scaled that fence. have a little fun.'

'i don't want to get in trouble.'

she looks at you skeptically. 'then why are we doing something illegal?'

'you're a bad influence.'

she scoffs, pushing her chair close to the edge of the community pool. it's the middle of the night, so there's no one around, no guards or security. 'i'm a wonderful influence.' she glances over her shoulder, motions for you to come closer. 'plus, you're, like, perfect. not even mother superion has any grounds to fuck with you.'

it's an unspoken truth, then, maybe: you don't want ava to get in trouble. but she genuinely doesn't seem worried about that. instead, she just takes her shirt off and then lifts herself to take her shorts off too, leaving her in her underwear. she waggles her brows at you and you do your absolute level best to not look at her chest, or the apex of her thighs, the soft skin and dark hair there. but you're only seventeen, and it's really hard not to, so you busy yourself with taking your shirt off too, try to fight down any embarrassment or discomfort you have in your binder.

but ava just smiles and squeezes your hand. 'i know you promised me skinny dipping, but why don't you leave your binder on? it counts.'

you don't want to fucking cry on this intrepid — and definitely mildly illegal — adventure ava had begged you to go on for her birthday, so you just duck your head. 'yeah?'

'definitely,' ava says. 'like, it's who you are, first of all, and anyway, when we're older, and you've had surgery, then you can take your shirt off, you know?'

'we're still gonna be skinny-dipping together then?'

'of course,' ava says with a laugh, as if there could be no other option for the rest of your lives but to spend them with one another, two years from now right after you’d had top surgery; twenty years from that — it doesn’t matter. you're young, and you've been hurt; you had nowhere to go a few months ago, when your parents had kicked you out with one duffel bag of your stuff. you had spent a few nights sleeping at the park but eventually you needed to shower, and you needed food. when you had — with a deep, deep cloud of shame — talked to your school advisor, shannon, who you trust implicitly with everything, she had directed you to this program, a group home for unhoused queer and trans youth. ava's been there a while, getting out of a horrible foster home she'd been in, and mother superion — kind without any pity; stern — had shown you your bed on the side of your shared room. you had smiled because ava had made you a clumsy little sign with your name on it and some stickers. you'd talked all night, and it wasn't hard to notice that she was beautiful, and funny, and really, really smart. it wasn't hard to want to be her friend. it wasn't hard, not at all, to love her.

you nod and steady yourself, take off your jeans without tipping over. 'i'd like that.'

ava grins. 'good,' she says. you help her, quietly and without any fanfare, transfer out of her chair to sit on the edge of the pool; you'd been practicing for weeks. she's had hard days, where her hands are cramping badly, or when her body wasn't regulating its temperature properly, but mother superion had been careful and urgent in making sure ava got everything she needed. ava had asked you one night, after a bad day, if you saw her any differently after it, and it was easy to tell her no, to tell her that she is who she is, and the person you've grown to know and love is whole and complete and annoying and amazing. they were easy words to come by, even if you were a little worried you'd say something wrong: you needed to say them. she needed to know.

the trees around you sway in the warm late spring breeze and the night is dark and full of stars. you spend a lot of time doing nothing with her, and it's fuller than your life has ever been. you watch, mesmerized too much to hide it, as ava unhooks her bra and lets it fall from her shoulders. her eyes are big and inky-dark when she looks up at you, and your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. you do the only thing you can think of in the moment, which is to canonball into the pool as forcefully as you can, which feels absolutely ridiculous halfway through but when you come up for air, ava is laughing and smiling and beautiful.

'that's your reaction to my boobs?'

'shut up,' you say, ducking under the water in your embarrassment. but when you inevitably have to resurface, ava is looking at you so softly. she holds her hands out and you swim over to her, make sure you're only in the shallow end so you'll be able to hold her up without any problems.

it's too much, when her body is pressed against yours and there's the moon and the way her teeth look. you feel her, everywhere, and you're horrified you might start crying, which you'd never ever live down. but ava can tell, and so she splashes you and then you're splashing each other, leading her over to the steps so she can sit and you can swim a little. eventually, you both tire, and you go through a practiced plan of making sure you can safely get ava out of the pool too. it goes off without a hitch and you dry off and slip your clothes back on, then sit at one of the small rickety tables set up by the pool, grass wet under your feet. you fish out a cupcake from your bag, slightly squished but red velvet, so ava definitely won't care. you get out a 1 and a 6 candle and put them in the top frosting, and then a light them with a match from a matchbox you'd gotten from lilith, which cost you two lunches and bathroom duty for a week but, for this moment, the way ava's face lights up in the small flames, it's worth it. it's so, so worth it.

'make a wish.'

ava closes her eyes, tight, for a few seconds, then blows out the candles. you insist she gives you the smaller half of the cupcake, and then you eat with your fingers, frosting everywhere, ava laughing the whole time.

you sit back and look up at the sky. 'i'm so glad i met you,' you say.

she's quiet. 'thank you, for this.'

i love you, you want to say. i think i'm too young to love you this way but i don't care. i will love you this way forever. thank you for loving me. i want to kiss you so bad i think i might die. 'happy birthday, ava.'

she winds your fingers together and it all smells like chocolate and chlorine. she kisses the top of your hand and then smiles, soft and only for you.

//

+

you hear ava from down the street, up the stairs, in the front door, and, finally, poking her head out the window where you're reading on the fire escape. you'll have to work more on your stealth training, you make a mental note.

'why are you up so late?' she asks, squirming out and then pestering enough that you scoot over so she can sit too. you can hear the halo's faint hum from here, which means that ava is probably a little drunk. she's so close and she smiles at you like you're the only person in the whole world.

you can't tell her that you can't sleep when she's not here, that you don't give a fuck about the halo most of the time other than that it's what's keeping her alive, it's what's needs to be kept safe so she can stay that way. you can't tell her that you missed her, even though she drives you crazy all day. you can't tell her any of it.

she doesn't mind, though; she's had too many shots and is also just too fond of you to be upset. she puts her chin on your shoulder. 'what are you reading?'

you flip to the front of the book so she can see the cover.

'oh, space. cool.'

'you can read it after me, if you like.'

'thanks, bea.'

'sure.'

'thought you might not believe in all this stuff, you know.'

'what stuff?'

she shrugs.

'science? space?'

'well, the beliefs you do have to hold are pretty weird. you're a gay nun and i'm like, i don't know, hot bi jesus. and there are demons? anti-angels, or something? wild.'

'i can't not believe in space, ava. that's impossible.'

ava just grins.

you sigh. 'i care to know how things works, and i care to know where harmful systems of people and power have told us otherwise.'

ava puzzles through it for a second. 'this is about you being gay?'

it's said so genuinely you can't do anything other than bark out a laugh, which makes ava dissolve into a fit of giggles and then hold up her hand. 'sorry, sorry. i'm drunk but i really meant, like — i care, you know. it's not a small thing.'

you shake your head a little, will the tears burning your eyes to not fall. you clear your throat and turn to a page you'd read and reread.

'there’s a variation of the ever-popular multiverse idea in which the multiple universes that comprise it are not separate universes entirely, but isolated, non-interacting pockets of space within one continuous fabric of space-time—' you read to her 'like multiple ships at sea, far enough away from one another so that their circular horizons do not intersect. As far as any one ship is concerned (without further data), it’s the only ship on the ocean, yet they all share the same body of water.'

she's quiet for a while. 'do you think,' she whispers, 'that we know each other in all of them?'

it's late and ava is drunk and you say things you mean, when it's like this. when the rest of the world is asleep and there's ava's perfume and the mountains. you say the truth quietly: 'i can't imagine my universe doesn't have you in it.'

she swallows and it's not fair, to love her so clearly. but she soldiers on: 'because i'm so cool and, additionally, hot?'

'something like that.'

'i bet in another universe you're, like, a chef or something.'

it's a shift, and a bright one, pulling light out of nowhere like ava can always do. you think the halo chose her because she's the brightest person you know. surely god knew too. surely god has felt her. 'why? i'm horrible at cooking.'

'yes. you're also horrible at using your imagination.'

you roll your eyes.

'well, honestly, you're good with knives but mostly i think it would be hot. yes, chef, and all that.'

you can't do anything but laugh. 'you're certainly a troublemaker in all of them.'

'yeah, fuck the cops. fuck the state. fuck the man. anarchy forever. god is trans.'

'see?' you say. 'exactly.'

ava grins. 'good trouble, i'm sure of it.'

you feel it: kids and jobs and weddings to stress over and marriages to love, the whole world to learn. you feel her, everywhere. it’s faith and it’s truth: 'i'm glad we have good, exciting lives in the other universes.'

'of course we do.' she leans her head on your shoulder. 'and, right here, i have you, and this horrible little apartment, and all these stars.'

you kiss the top of her head, then clench your jaw. it doesn't work to stop your tears this time, and ava picks up her head and wipes them tenderly with her thumbs, her face close enough you can take in the little scar over her eyebrow, faded, and the perfect bow of her lips.

'ava, i —'

'yeah,' she says. 'i know, bea.'

'maybe someday, in this life. we'll live by the beach and hang out in the sun.'

'hang out?' she says, but she's crying too.

you shrug. 'time, with you. in all of the places i exist, that's all i want. i'm sure of it.'

ava brings her arms around you to wrap you in a hug. 'in this life too, yeah?'

'yes. in this life too.'

ava sits back, her grace evident even now. 'even when i'm using up all the hot water?'

'yes, ava. even then.'

she starts to fade, clearly, and so you help her inside and then quietly get ready for bed together. you climb in, the sheets cool against your skin at first, and then warm. ava has always been braver than you; she turns so that your faces are close. 'time with you is all i want too, by the way.'

you nod, stretch your hand out, palm up — supplication — and she rests hers on top of it. 'goodnight, ava.'

'sleep well, bea.'

you stare at the stars outside the window, infinite. ships in the night. you hold her life in your hand as you fall asleep; you dream:

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #my babies. all of the worlds #multiverse? i guess!

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, episode 7. If my Latin serves me, that must mean star traveler

Finally made it. Ticked that box. Doubled Cape Fear. I deserve an ice cream, I suppose.

To be honest, I was expecting way worse. And it ends much better than it started, despite SS moaning like a banshee, despite the chopped editing, despite that finger-in-mouth failed transplant (I shall not thank thee, Vanessa Woman) and despite an almost unreadable storyline for us, show-onlies.

A few words on this season's Lallybroch set. I know the Eighties were dubiously fond of shrieking orange shades, diarrheic golden browns and horribly impractical furniture, of course. But am I the only one that feels modern-day Lallybroch is tacky and kitschy AF, as compared to the wonderful, really perfect J&C& the Murrays' timeline? I also find it disturbingly confusing, a failed hybrid between a Texas ranch and a Brittany gentilhommière. To bear the shock, my gaze needs the active help of details with a story and a destiny, such as the Jacobite 'Nemo me impune lacessit' saltire I've noticed ever since Mrs. Graham was reading Claire's teacup, in season 1 - now almost an afterthought. Therefore, the overall result feels like J&C's shrine has been colonized by anachronistic hipsters, not to mention that horrible caravan. There is a complete lack of coziness to a space that did not have the time to become a real home. That only makes things worse when #Broger try their best at mimicking a functional, credible marriage, sex included.

Let's be done already with the Phil Collins moment. And go tell it on the mountain that, despite the multiple warnings received recently, my reaction somehow managed to surprise myself. Reader, I HOWLED, which is beyond redemption and potentially much more cruel than a heavy disappointment. The hydraulics were shaky. The afghan was mustard. She was indescribable and he was elsewhere. I shall only add that my brain refused the connection with In the Air Tonight and went instead for I Can't Dance. If there is any truth in that old symmetry between dancing, driving and canoodling - go figure. Enough said.

The two people who totally slayed this episode were Buck Mackenzie and Vandervaart - I know, indulge me, I am a poor woman of feeble mind. I do not intend to insist on young William, simply because I don't think it's savvy to shamelessly fangirl two days in a row. He shines in that very difficult battle scene, and yes, it reminded me of Culloden J sans the kamikaze touch. And yes, by the end of Saratoga 1.0, William is easily ten years older: the whole world's burden weighs on his shoulders and there is a taste of ashes to that Pyrrhic victory.

Spoiler: [looking at Jemmy's toy plane] Of all the things I have seen... have you been inside one? (...) My Jeremiah would love this. Buck is phenomenal. He is versatile enough to seamlessly transition from a hungry animal to the 18th century lawyer to the unwanted, macho cousin-ancestor to the father who misses his children, all of this in less than an hour. And even if I shall never forgive Herself for not bringing You-Know-Who through the stones, this could be as good as it gets, in terms of a second-best narrative solution. Still, unfair, Herself. Unfair to bits.

Spare the cosmic booing in the air these days, the J&C/S&C PDA issue has also been debated at length, in quite tired terms, to be honest. What I did see was a couple sure of itself and completely at ease with one another. And if you think S&C were nowhere to be found, think again about C's chuckle just after J cheekily tells her she needs spectacles, with a very 21st century flirty-coffee-in-town attitude that is not J.

I believe the next and last episode is on August 11th. That should be the one with the blue light mojo, right? Right.

I can't wait.

Credit given again to @flllk. Of course.

#jottings

[forgottenfourr]

i saw you in a dream - university smau

---------------

chapter thirty three - be okay

---------------

jisung’s pov:

he can’t remember the last time he saw you look so… drained.

even before, with the lack of sleep you get, or when you have too much school work on your plate. he’s never seen you look less like you.

and the fact that he and the others are the reason you are in such a horrible state is completely breaking him.

throughout the whole time he has been at jeongin’s apartment to work on the production assignment with you, you’ve maybe said a total of 20 words.

he knows that in some way, you did this to yourself. you were the one to push away everyone as soon as you found a boyfriend and new friends. even though he’s sure you didn’t mean to, it hurt nonetheless. he needed his best friend. he needed you. and you were suddenly always too busy for him.

but as much as he wants to be upset with you, he misses you. and even though you’re with him right now, it feels like you are lightyears away. and he is sure that you think that is what he wants. he doesn’t want you gone. he doesn’t want you out of his life. he just wants his best friend back.

he was never angry with you, unlike seungmin and especially beomgyu. he was just… hurt? disappointed? felt betrayed?

he couldn’t handle the silence anymore.

“hey yn, are you doing anything after this?”

you practically perk up at his words, the light in your eyes brightening once again.

you clear your voice nervously, “uh, no? not that i can think of.”

he smiles at the newfound happiness in your voice. “do you want to go get something to eat together?”

his question takes you by surprise, “i- i thought that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

your words made his smile instantly fade. the shock in your voice mixed with the confusion laced all over your face completely broke him.

“i miss you ynnie” he proclaims with a slight quiver to his lip.

“i thought you hated me hannie. everyone else does.” you say completely defeated.

he could hear the crack in your voice. which simultaneously caused a crack in his heart.

“i don’t hate you yn. none of us hate you. we are just hurt. especially gyu,” he says hesitantly. “the others might be still upset with you but i can’t be any longer. i miss you. i miss my best friend.”

he watches as a tear falls down your cheek at his words.

“i miss you too ji. i miss all of you so much.”

he wraps you in a tight hug as the two of you finally take a deep breath.

for you, knowing that you are on the right track to having your friends back.

for jisung, know that he is able to call you his best friend again.

things will be okay. that’s one thing you’re sure of.

---------------

yn’s pov:

the next few days went by in a blur. jisung had convinced seungmin and beomgyu to let you back into the apartment. which you’re still trying to figure out how much he paid them for that.

even though you’re back in the apartment, you have barely seen them. it’s been a little over a week and you’ve probably seen them a total of 10 times.

you miss them, and you want to talk to them, but you don’t want to push them.

seungmin has been slowly warming back up to you, but beomgyu still acts like you don’t even exist. if you bump into each other in the kitchen or while leaving the apartment, he won’t even turn his head towards your direction.

at least seungmin acknowledges your existence. he will look towards you and share a greeting once and a while. recently, he’s been more willing to continue the conversation instead of just saying a quick ‘hi’ and walking back to his room.

soul started talking to you again, mostly because keeho kept mentioning your name and going out with you and the others and he felt left out.

so you spend most of your free time with jeongin, jisung, minho, and soul.

you 5 have started going out to different cafes around town to see if you can find your new ‘spot’ because minho as declared that ‘the old spot won’t feel the same with all of the new additions to the group.’ whatever that means.

jisung likes calling them double dates plus soul, which minho quickly shuts down and then continues to bicker about it for however long you let him go on for.

watching the 3 of your friends connect with jeongin and the others so well makes your heart swell from joy.

they all really like jeongin and the others that seem to follow him everywhere. somehow, he even got approval from minho. which you thought would be impossible.

minho even started calling jeongin his ‘mini me’ which to be honest, terrifies you to a degree.

there is still this sinking feeling inside of you whenever you go to make an inside joke with seungmin or laugh at something stupid soul does with beomgyu. you wish they were there with you guys.

you'd do anything to get them to talk to you again, at least more than they are now.

they were your home and even though you have people to rely on and who love you, seungmin and beomgyu were there first. and it doesn't feel the same without them.

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