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whorekneecentral · 6 months

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Miss Me, Miss Me

Ruben Dias x Stones!Fem!Reader

Warnings: fwb!ruben, jack and reader are besties, alcohol and the consumption of, kyle is always annoying her, teasing, a strip tease according to reader, finger sucking, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, fingering, orgasm denial, the use of 'whore' in a sexual/degrading context, penetrative sex (P in V ), big brother john is not having it.

Word Count: 2,952

Author's Note: this one is written solely for my pookie, that's also why ruben is so early on in this series lmao - all of these things are shit she'd eat up so pooks and everyone else, please enjoy :)

merry smutmas series

Your brother holds his annual Christmas party and you’re forced to spend the afternoon with the one person you had been avoiding all season but tis’ the season you guess.

Will they or won't they was the tagline for your relationship - if you could even call it that- with Ruben.

You had recently moved to Manchester to be closer to your older brother and your niece and nephew. You had gone to every home game you could and over the course of the season, you fell into a bit of a pattern with the Portuguese defender.

It was innocent enough at first, you two were friends who occasionally hooked up to relieve whatever stress you were having but over the years, it turned into more. Feelings got involved and it got messy so because of that, and for your brother's sake - despite him not knowing, you pulled away from Ruben.

It was never your intention to make things messy.

You hadn't seen Ruben face to face in weeks, if not months. You had still gone to games but you simply went for your brother and then left afterwards, not hanging around too long.

Ruben had a hold over you; you knew if you hung around him too long, you'd just end up in his bed again. That was the last thing you wanted.

Today was unavoidable though.

John was hosting his annual Christmas party at his place; old friends, a few of the boys from his time at Barnsley as well as his teammates and their families from Man City filled his house.

You were somehow, always on kid duty. You were in the room with a bunch of kids; Kevin's, John's, Phil's, Ederson's and a few others that you had no idea who they belonged to.

"Settle down," you tell them, trying to get them off the sugar rush to watch a movie. You tried to rock your nephew in one arm while you switched on the tv, the kids shouting 400 different movie titles all at once.

You huffed and your nephew began to cry just as you tried to ask which one they really wanted to watch but someone opened the door. Jack smiles at you, taking the remote from you when he sees how flustered you are.

He worked a miracle, getting them to quiet down enough for you to calm the baby and to be able to put on a movie for them. You sighed, sitting on the bean bag with the baby as the kids watched Finding Nemo.

Jack sits next to you, rubbing the baby's hand. "I heard the noise, figured I'd come check before they killed you," he whispered, making you chuckle.

"You're a lifesaver, Jack, really. You're good with them too, you and Sasha ever think of.."

"No," he laughed, shaking his head. "I mean, at least not yet."

You nod, smiling. "You'd be wonderful parents.. but you should go join the party, I'm okay in here."

"You're sure?" He gets up and you nod. "Go on, I'll come out in a bit." Jack smiles, nodding before he walks out and closes the door behind him.

It was about an hour later that Finding Nemo ended and the kids went looking for their parents. Those with kids ended up heading out, saying their goodnights before the party actually picks up.

You make your way into the kitchen to find Jack looking for something. "Missing something?" You asked, picking up a glass.

"Your brother said he had shot glasses somewhere?"

"Check the bottom cabinet, it should be in there. What are we drinking?" You asked, setting your empty glass back down.

"Whatever will get us drunk fast." He laughs and you smile, "you're just like me," you nudged his shoulder, reaching for the bottle of tequila on the counter.

Jack lines the empty shot glasses on the tray you found, letting you fill them up. The man picks one up before handing another one to you. "To.. the holidays!" He shrugs, tapping his glass to yours before you two down the shots, and two more rounds after that.

You send him on his way, the man dancing his way over to his girlfriend. You on the other hand, picked up the tray and made the rounds, offering shots to all of those who wanted them. Eventually, you find your way to the living room, the music playing in the background as some people danced and the others chatted.

"Pebbles!" Kyle shouts, his hand in the air to call you over. You roll your eyes, walking over to the group of men by the couch. "How many times have I told you not to call me that, walks?" You laughed.

Kyle puts an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You're pebbles cause Johnny is Stones and you're the little one!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Very original, Kyle. Anyone want a shot?" You offered, holding the tray out.

John takes one, passing another one to Ruben who you've yet to look at. Kyle grabs one for himself and you go to walk away but your brother grabs your arm, bringing you back. John's arm is over your shoulder now, pulling you into his side.

"Have one with us! You're grown up now, aren't you?" He teased, nudging you to take a shot with them. You and John were only a few years apart; he was 29 and you were 24.

You nod, picking up a shot glass. "Cheers!" Kyle shouts over the music, the 4 of you tapping your glasses together before downing the contents.

Some of the tequila ended up on your fingers during the toast, your finger instinctively ended up between your lips and you don't miss the feeling of Ruben's eyes on you. Looking up, your eyes meet his and you move your hand.

"Can I go now?" You asked your brother, and he nodded before kissing your temple. "You're free to go. Go eat something before you feel sick though."

"Should take your own advice, Stones." You tell him and he tosses you a glare. "Whatever, pebbles."

Kyle and John laugh at the use of the nickname and you flip them both off, laughing as you walk away.

The night turned out to be good, you ended up hanging out with Jack and Sasha for a bit before Kyle pulled you to dance with him. He was telling John he knows how to waltz, he just needed a good partner. You were confused as to what made you qualify as a good partner but you went along with it.

At this point, everyone had left and whoever was left, was drunk as fuck and on the verge of passing out.

You slowly make your way upstairs, you have just put away the leftovers and locked the front door for the night. You walked into your room for the night, unzipping your dress as you bent over to pull some pjs out of your bag.

The knob turns and then the door unlocked, someone steps in. "Hello, what the fuck? I'm changing-" you freeze when you turn around to see who it is.

Ruben stood by the door. "It's just me."

"Okay and?" You look at him, confused as to why he's in your room. "Just because it's you, doesn't mean that gives you a right to be in here."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, love." He smiles at you and you resist the urge to roll your eyes when he says that.

"Fuck off, will you?" You turn away from the man, your back to him as you went to get changed for bed.

Ruben doesn't take no for an answer; in life and on the pitch. He walks over to you, "don't be like that, y/n. You know I miss you," his hand rests on your hip, pulling you to him.

It was so easy for him - your mind is screaming no but your body's betraying you, giving into him before you could stop yourself.

"You don't miss me, Ruben. Shut up." You whispered, the man lowered his lips to your neck. A trail of kisses from the base of your neck up to your jaw, you're certain there's red marks all over your neck from his beard scratching on you.

Your hand instinctively reaches for his face, your palm's warm against his skin; there your body goes, betraying you again.

"I miss you, I do," he whispers against your skin, his hand sliding between the two of you, from your hip to your back. The fact that your dress was unzipped gave him free rein, his fingers running along your spine, finally resting on the curve of your spine.

"Rubes-" you breathe, feeling him suck on the sensitive spot on your neck. "We can't."

He nods, "we can."

"John could walk in."

The thought made Ruben chuckle. Yes, it'd be a mess, it would get both of you in a lot of trouble but the fact that you, at your grown age, were scared of your older brother catching you with his friend, was funny to him.

"John's passed out drunk on the couch, sweetheart. No one's coming, it's just me and you."

You turn to face the man, Ruben's chest to yours; the first few buttons of his shirt undone, the black fabric tight on his arms and the sleeve were rolled up to his elbows. Was he always such a slut or did he only recently become one?

He's already pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and you don't stop him, letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles.

Ruben's hands reach for your face, cupping your jaw. "C'mon baby, I miss you." He whispers into the quiet room, his lips ghosting over yours.

Hands wrapping around his wrists, "I miss you too." You admit, giving into him. You pull Ruben into you, kissing him.

It doesn't take long, the two of you stumbling back to the bed. Ruben ends up on top of you, your legs wrapped around him as he moves you to lay properly. He pulls away from your kiss and your wandering hands, earning him a pout.

"Why'd you stop?" You groaned, Ruben smiles at you whining as he stands, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt before taking it off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the man. "Mhm, all for me?" You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh.

"Everything's for you, baby. It always is." He tells you, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The words and his actions made your head spin, you were constantly swooning over the man and today was no exception.

Ruben's lips were soft, the faintest of kisses trailed up from your calf to your thigh and he let your leg hang over his shoulder as he pulled you to the edge of the bed. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Ruben drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

"Please," you mumble, looking down at the man. Ruben smiles, "not in the mood for teasing, sweetheart?"

"Fuck you Ruben," you groaned, dropping back into the mattress when he pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy but his hand reaches up, pushing two fingers in your mouth. He didn’t have to tell you, your tongue laps over his fingers.

“Taught you well,” he smiles, pulling his fingers away from your mouth.

He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

His fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling.

“Rube, please.” Your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach.

Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Ruben fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire. Everything about him made you want him, you couldn't explain the attraction.

It just made sense to you.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

Ruben knew you like the back of his hand, even with the time apart. Something didn't change and the way your hips buck, it's your way of saying you want more, who was Ruben not to give into you?

His fingers curl upwards once again and he glances up to see your head tossed back into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much.

Ruben pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.

"What the fuck?" You groaned, an arm over your face. If you looked at Ruben right now, you might kill him.

The clink of his belt gets your attention - maybe you'd finally get what you wanted.

Ruben scoots you back, getting on the bed, on top of you. He leans down, his lips over yours and you reach up, a hand on the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss; you can taste yourself on his lips. He lifts your leg, resting on your hip before he lines himself up with you.

The way the tip of his cock rubbed against you and the fact that you were already on the edge from before was enough to make you beg.

"Please, Ruben."

"Please what?" He looks down at you, smiling sweetly.

Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. "Ruben," you whined, lifting your hips towards him. "Please, fuck- god just fuck me already."

Ruben smiles, "those words really shouldn't be in the same sentence, you know." He tells you, pushing into you. You moan, ignoring his words at the moment.

Your hand wraps around his bicep, your manicured nails digging into his skin. He didn't mind the pain, especially if it was your doing.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, Ruben's thrusts were slow and deep- you can feel him everywhere, his hands, his lips, his touch. Everything about Ruben was consuming; he knew that and he loved it.

In some sick way, he loved watching you fall in love with him all over again, seeing the effect he had on you.

Ruben pulls your legs back up to his hip. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder.

How you wished you could scream his name right now.

His hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit; matching the pace of his hips. Your head falls back into the pillows when he hits the spot he was looking for. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Ruben leans down, his lips next to your ear; “you have to be quiet, you don't want everyone to know what a whore you are, do you?”

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. He holds you, managing to flip you two over so that you're on top and his cock is still buried in you.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure.

“Ruben, god-” you mumble, your hand tangled in his dark hair as you bounced up and down.

"Not quite," he whispers, pulling you down to kiss along your neck. Ruben's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back. "Mhm I love you." He whispers into your shoulder.

You huff, "shut up, don't ruin this for me." Ruben laughs, "whatever you say, baby. I do."

"I'm so thirsty," you get off of him, yawning.

Ruben looks over at you, "you want another round?" You roll your eyes, "not what I meant, you freak."

You get up, pulling on his shirt and a pair of shorts. Ruben lays in bed, watching as you buttoned it up. "Don't look at me like that." You tell him and he laughs, "like what, love?"

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I just did," he smiles. You roll your eyes again, something you did often in his presence. "I'm going to get water," you tell him before heading down the stairs.

When your brother hears the creaking on the stairs, he sits up, rubbing his eyes before looking over in your direction. "Y/n?"

"Johnny?" You freeze, looking at him.

"Whose shirt is that?" He asks and you look down at the black button up. "Uh, mine."

John nods, dropping down onto the couch once again. You grab the bottle of water, walking back into the living room to toss the blanket over your brother. You lean down, kissing his head before turning to head back towards the stairs.

He reaches out from under the blanket, grabbing your hand to stop you. "You better get Ruben out of my house before I get up, or I'll kill him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you tell him and your brother lets go of your hand, a sly smile on his face. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you two should shut up next time, or don't do it in my house? Perhaps don't wear a shirt that reeks of his cologne."

"Shut up, go back to sleep," you push him back into the couch before walking away.

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#ruben dias #ruben dias smut #ruben dias x reader #john stones x reader #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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updownlately · 8 months

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in your embrace (this crowded room doesn’t matter)

| leah williamson x reader

~~~

“You tired yet?” The soft murmur of words against your ear had you relaxing, the familiar voice automatically putting you at ease.

Closing your eyes at the feel of her breath on your ear, you hummed in thought, processing the question as music filtered in from the speakers near you.

Continuing to sway gently in the dim light, you tightened your grasp around Leah’s neck and pulled back ever so slightly, your eyes meeting blue ones.

“Not quite yet. Are you?”

“I don’t think I can ever be tired while being in your arms…”

Smiling shyly, you shook your head. “Half past midnight and your flirting just doesn’t stop huh?”, you questioned.

The cheeky shrug and teasing smile you received in response had you quietly laughing, you tucking yourself back into the crook of the blonde’s neck, letting her guide you as the song changed.

You both had spent the day celebrating love, having been invited to an old teammate’s wedding.

Partying hard through the better part of the evening and night, on the dance floor with friends and teammates, Leah had whisked you away a short while ago, just as the slow songs had once again come on, more than glad to finally get some time alone with you after the hectic day.

The pair of you had ended up tucked near the back, lost in your own world as song after song had played, tons of other couples rotating on and off the dance floor as you two stuck around.

“I can’t believe we managed to make it on time…”

The quiet statement had Leah groaning in playful annoyance, her grip on your waist tightening.

“Not my fault you’re a distraction!”

“Me? I was ready on time…hair and makeup both done long before Uber had arrived. And if I recall correctly, it wasn’t me putting on lipstick and blush in the car, love.”

Your hushed jest had the blonde hanging her head back, your pace slowing as she chuckled quietly at the memory.

“At least the music was decent this time.”

Biting back a smile, you followed Leah’s movement without thinking, mind occupied recalling the morning before the wedding ceremony.

Though the pair of you had woken up on time- a miracle if you were asked, considering it was a Saturday off- you had somehow managed to spend a tad bit (read: over an hour) too long in bed, more content with lazily cuddling as the time ticked by, you both blissfully unaware until your warning alarm had rung.

It had been a scramble to get ready in time for the wedding, the both of you running around the apartment grabbing all that you needed, you claiming the main ensuite and ushering Leah and her suit to the guest one so that you could both be ready to go.

Even with your strategic separation, the blonde had ended up over in your shared bedroom, eventually roped into zipping you up and helping you with your jewelry.

Somehow, helping you out had turned into a small make out session, and well, if Leah had to fight the bumps on the road as she sang along to the radio whilst sorting out the final touches on her make up as the result of the time lost, you definitely weren’t the one complaining, more than content with your finished look and the presence of the blonde beside you.

Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the familiar strumming of your favourite James Arthur song play, you pulled back to smile at Leah, the blonde returning the sentiment as she tugged you ever so closer, your faces mere inches apart.

Matching grins on your faces, you matched your steps with Leah, softly waltzing under the dimmer lights in the back, satisfied with the knowledge that you would likely not be bothered, more than happy to be consumed in your own world, in your love.

“…I’m so in love with you…and I hope you know…,” Leah sang lowly, just loud enough for you to hear.

Finishing her line, you smile grew as you continued the song. “…darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold…”

“…we've come so far, my dear…look how we've grown…and I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old…just say you won't let go…”

Voice dropping as you let the midfielder finish the stanza, you shook your head in amazement, blush coating your cheeks as your thought of how lucky you were.

Head tilting as the soft hue reflected perfectly off of Leah’s eyes, you took a second to admire the darker colour that they appeared to be, as well as the rest of your girlfriend.

“You look absolutely incredible in this dim light- the way it’s perfectly highlighting your jawline and cheekbones, you’re gorgeous. And it’s somehow making your eyes nearly look this ethereal navy colour. Never thought they could get prettier but here we are…” You let your voice trail off, the quiet murmur over the music disappearing as you traced over the facial features of the one you loved, noting the rosy hue that covered her cheeks at your compliment.

Rubbing your thumb comfortingly on the nape of Leah’s neck, you watched her wordlessly accept your compliment, her eyes not meeting your gaze telling you that Leah appreciated your comment. Picking up your pace once again and tightening your hold around her shoulders, you brought yourselves closer, picking up the pace to match the new song that played, an Ed Sheeran one this time.

Taking a second to break out of your bubble as the song faded out, you took a look around the hall, realizing you were the only couple left on the dance floor, even the straggling drunk folks having sat down or headed out.

Glancing up at your watch, eyes widening as you saw the time had nearly hit half past one, you slowed down your pace, looking around once more only to notice even the DJ wasn’t at their station, likely a playlist the source of the music playing.

Bringing Leah’s attention to the station as you stopped dancing, you cast the blonde a look of disbelief before bursting out into laughter.

“Leah, I can’t believe we’ve stayed out here that long…everyone else’s nearly gone!”

And as Leah’s head swivelled around in search for your friends, well aware that the newly-wed couple had headed out a little while ago, you held back your laughter, amazed at how the time flew by as you both had spent the nearly two hours dancing together, lost in each other’s embrace, completely blind to everyone else’s presence (or lack thereof) in the room.

Turning back to you with a shocked look on her face, the blonde just barely managed to sputter out her next words. “We surely couldn’t have been dancing for that long, right?”

“Leah, I really think we ‘J-Lo’d’ this and very much have ‘danced the night away’,” you responded, giggling at your horrible joke.

Shaking her head amusedly at the lame line, the blonde grabbed your hand, leading you towards your table.

“I wish we could’ve danced a bit longer…forever even…”

Wrapping your arm around Leah’s waist, you brought your joined hands up to your lips, placing a kiss on the back of her hand before stopping her in her tracks and nudging her to look at you, your voice just loud enough for you two to hear.

“How about this...at our wedding, you and I’ll make sure to dance until both our feet ache, okay?”

Looking up into eyes shining with unspoken love, you let yourself be pulled into Leah’s embrace, sinking happily into the emotion-filled kiss being placed on your lips- the unsaid agreement clear.

Basking in the pure adoration, you held on tightly to Leah, grip only loosening as Leah pulled back, her wiping the slightly smudged lipstick gently off your face. Blonde head nodding vigorously, her response was enthusiastic.

“I think I’d love that.”

Balancing on your tiptoes, you placed a final chaste kiss on the blonde’s lips as if to agree to the final decision before grabbing her hand and continuing your trek to your table.

Looking back as you walked ahead, you shot the blonde a wink and a sly smile, quickly grabbing Leah’s coat before speaking.

“Great! Then all that’s left is for you to propose!”

And as you left a wonderfully perplexed Leah at the table, you slowly began walking backwards to the parked car, a proud smile on your face as you faced the Englishwoman, a lovesick grin of disbelief shining from her.

You absolutely couldn’t wait to marry her.

#honestly think i could've wrote this much better but idk if i have it in me to edit it so here ya go. sorry #not proofread #it's much longer than i intended #too many tags as usual but fuck it #fluff #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community #my writing #blurb #iye

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in which crowley has a cold

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: like real people do—hozier

masterlist!

Spring was a wonderful time of year all over the world. It was when the sun peaked its head out from behind fluffy clouds and let the flowers bloom, washing away any gloom winter might have left behind.

Walkways suddenly became full of pedestrians meandering about in city's and small towns alike. Large puffy parkas were shed in favor of light jackets and shorts.

Shops were suddenly bustling with all sorts of people out and about, taking advantage of the beautiful weather to buy a coffee or new pair of pants.

But in Soho, London, one shop seemed to be an outlier.

If any of the passing foot traffic had taken a moment to peak into the glassy windows of said shop, an elegant sign reading Fell & Co hanging over their heads, they would have had the pleasure of seeing three very different people all talking to each other idly.

Even if the conversation was anything but.

"Really Aziraphale, you think he'd be a bit less chatty when sick. Peace and quite for once an all that."

A light gasp sounded from your left, prompting you to look at the angel next to you.

"That is not nice!" Aziraphale said your name full of disappointment, prompting an apologetic smile to spread across your lips.

"Sorry, mate. But I'm not wrong, am I?" You said while continuing to help him shelf books.

"Bite me." A lump of blankets behind you growled in response, a head of red hair poking out of one end.

"No, thank you, Crowley. I'll catch your cold."

It was supposed to have been a normal day. You had called and asked Aziraphale if this afternoon was a good day to pop in for a visit, only to be met with the sort of panic that could only be described as fretting.

Apparently, Crowley has never taken too well to the springtime. Who knew a demon could have allergies?

Each time he or Aziraphale attempted to miracle away the cold, it would just pop back up a few seconds later. It was as if someone had cursed him with a mild inconvenience. You wouldn't be too surprised if that was the case, actually. I mean, this is Crowley you're talking about. He's not exactly the best at making friends—even if he did manage to snag you somehow.

By the time you had arrived at the bookstore, swinging open the door as the closed signed clattered against it loudly, they had given up on any thought of magical remedies.

So here you were. Hovering over the sick demon with a concerned look. Er, well, Aziraphale was. You had opted for more of a quirked eyebrow, not willing to show how worried you were just yet. Lord, er Satan, or whoever the fuck knows Crowley wouldn't let you live that down.

"If anything Crowley—" You paused for a moment to flip the book you had been holding upside down into its rightful place before handing it off to Aziraphale, "—I'd say this is karma from all those times you yell at your plants."

"To hell with my damn plants!" He sniffled, sun glasses no longer on his face as he glared at your back.

Before you could get a word in edgewise, a sneeze sounded out from the couch. Without even looking, your knee-jerk reaction kicked in.

"God bless you."

You got two very different reactions out of that.

Aziraphale practically beamed at your words, and Crowley hissed as if physically hit, curling in on himself. It wasn't until you stopped to consider what you had just said that you realized your blunder.

"Sorry." You cringed. "Forgot about the demon stuff."

"Forgot? Remind me, angel, why do we even keep them around." Crowley spat, pulling yet another blanket onto his ever growing pile. You risked a glance back at him only to be met with slitted eyes. You simply let out a nervous laugh before scooting to a different bookshelf farther away from him. Better safe than sorry when it came to your demon friend.

"Because we like them, remember? They complimented my vest and your Bently, and then you asked if we could keep them." The angel responded. If he noticed how you choked on air at that last bit, he didn't choose to say anything.

"He said what now?" You coughed harshly at the same time Crowley groaned.

"Yeah yeah. A mistake in the heat of the moment." Was all he said before retreating further into the blanket burrito he had concocted. Somewhere in there was a quilt you were sure Aziraphale had knitted for him centuries ago, but you chose not to point out the tiny detail, instead filing that information away for later as a hidden smile played at your lips.

"As much fun socializing with you two is, I must admit you need to get some rest, Crowley. If we are to fix this problem without a miracle, the human way will have to do." Aziraphale turned to face his companion after you helped file the last pile of books away. You were quick to follow his actions.

Crowley opened his mouth as if to retort, but his eyes flickered from your face and Aziraphales for just a moment. With that he muttered something under his breath and turned over grumpily.

"Just—bugger off." His words were muffled by a dense pillow currently being smooshed to his face. You couldn't tell if it was that or something else, but his voice didn't sound as venomous as it normally did when talking to you.

"Alrighty then!" Aziraphale clapped his hands with a smile, none the wiser. "Ring if you need us, won't you?"

With that, he began to politely exit in the direction of the back of the store. Probably to go read a new series he just got in or re-read another.

You shuffled off behind the angel—only pausing at the entrance to the backroom after taking one more look back at Crowley.

Without saying a word, you took your phone out and set the volume just high enough to be heard. Setting it down on a nearby surface, you pressed play before quickly tip toeing out the room. As if that would stop the fallen angel from figuring out who left it there.

You slipped away just in time to miss Freddy Mercury's voice start-up. As well as the way Crowley smiled in spite of himself, starting to feel a little better already.

#good omens #good omens x reader #good omens x you #good omens x y/n #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x you #aziraphale x y/n #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley x y/n #crowley x arizaphale #x reader #drabble #fluff

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sserpente · 4 months

Text

After Christmas

“This wasn't the first time you ran from the police, was it?”

Eddie grinned. “Nah.”

Words: 1452 Warnings: fluff and… running from the police I guess?

“What do I do?” Flabbergasted, you stared at the game board before you, blinking as if their position would change on their own accord.

Your party had packed up and left about ten minutes ago and while Eddie was gathering his super-secret DM notes, you made no move to get going as well.

“They’re gonna save you,” Eddie replied matter-of-factly. “They have to. If you die, they’ll never be able to infiltrate the castle.”

Your character had been abducted by an NPC today, one you had thought you could trust because damn, Eddie was the best Dungeon Master you had ever played D&D with. The way he told the stories, described what was happening, set the scene and acted out the non-player characters… he was incredible, and it was hardly short of a miracle you’d quickly—secretly—developed a crush on him.

And now, one of the sexiest NPCs he had made up for your character to unintentionally drool over had kidnapped them and dragged them to their secret lair. A vampire… eager to turn you into their obedient and pretty little spawn.

“She’s gonna turn into what she hates the most!”

“She might not if your party saves her in time.”

“Eddie, what am I supposed to do in the next session? What’s gonna happen to her?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. She’s not lost yet. Strahd’s obsessed with her. He’s not gonna hurt her, he won’t let her die. He might, uh…” Eddie paused and gave you a timid glance. “He might take her for dinner and then hang out with her at Lover’s Lake, trying to win her over?”

“Are you asking me out right now?”

“Maybe?”

Your heart jumped. “Jesus, I’ve been waiting for you to do that since we first met! I was too shy to ask you…”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

“A-alright then…” he laughed, cheeks turning red. “What do you fancy?”

“I’m happy with a burger and fries. And then a beer after?”

Eddie nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.” He was beaming. And all of a sudden, his super-secret DM notes were all but forgotten. You were rather proud of that, truth be told.

Heavens, the boy was nervous. Gone was the dominant and confident dungeon master giving your characters a hard time—instead, Eddie tried his utmost best to be a gentleman. He opened the car door for you, insisted on paying for your burger and fries, and Jesus, the little touches he stole had you melt.

“Look what I got,” he said once you’d both finished your meal at Benny’s. He pulled out a small and crumbled plastic bag filled with two pre-rolled cigarettes.

“Is that what I think it is?” you asked, lowering your voice.

“Yep. That shit’s strong as fuck. Rick let me keep two for myself, for a special occasion.”

You smiled, tilting your head at him. “Oh? Am I the special occasion?”

“Yes. You are.” He called you by your character name, putting on his Strahd voice in the process. You giggled as if you were drunk. Drunk on him. God, you probably were.

“Hey, Eddie? What would happen if my character did end up turning into a spawn?” you asked as you walked back to his van and made your way toward Lover’s Lake. It was pitch-black outside by now, the street lanterns doing little to illuminate anything but the road ahead of you which made driving directly into the woods almost a little scary, especially with all the snow around you.

“Well… I’d be able to control her. She’d be bound to obey Strahd which means he could order her to turn on her own friends if he wanted to.”

“It’s starting to sound a little like Beauty and the Beast though. If Strahd takes her out for burgers and then a romantic get-together by the lake, I don’t think she’d mind being his spawn.”

“Oh, you say that now.” Eddie grinned as if he’d already planned the most evil campaign he could possibly think of. “I’ll keep her… I mean he… he’ll keep her all to himself.”

Blushing, you looked out of the window in an attempt to calm your rapid heartbeat. Mere moments later and before you could drown yourselves in silence, the car came to a stop. Eddie parked only a few yards away from the lake and shut off the engine before helping you climb out and then retrieved a picnic blanket from the boot.

“You came prepared.”

“A DM has to be ready for all eventualities.”

“Like kidnapping an elf princess?”

“Like kidnapping an elf princess and seducing her to stay with him until she falls in love with him.”

Soon enough, you were smoking together, cuddling, and watching the surface of the quiet lake glisten under the stars. You talked about D&D, music, dreams, love, and life… until you were pretty certain that you had found the one.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I never thanked you. When I moved here, I expected to be an outsider all over again. Let’s face it, society doesn’t like people like us. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you. You’re a hero, you know. A rockstar.”

Eddie smiled, his cheeks reddening. He looked absolutely adorable in the pale moonlight. What if you simply… leaned forward and kissed him? It would be so easy… you’d been wanting to do it for so long, and now that you were here, by the lake, in the dark, just the two of us… there was nothing stopping anymore, now was there?

“Munson? Is that you, kid?” Hopper. In other words—police. Damn it. Panicked, you scrambled back to your feet in an attempt to destroy the evidence of weed. But there was no way of course you’d be able to get rid of the smell before he reached you.

“Shit. Come with me. Run.”

Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him through the forest before you had properly processed his sudden flight instinct. But then again, it probably wasn’t the first time he got in trouble with the chief…

Through the trees you went, running until you were out of breath and giggling all the way until the sweet metalhead beckoned you into what you could only describe as a boathouse. Empty beer cans and tools were lying around, a couple of fishing rods along the side.

“In here, quick!” He pointed at the boat and pulled the tarp back so you could hide inside. You climbed in and watched how he all but jumped into the boat himself and then drew the plastic cover over the both of you.

Silence, heavy breathing. The scent of weed, cigarette smoke, and his leather jacket filling your nostrils…

It was a lot more comfortable than you’d expected. Someone—either Rick or Eddie himself—had loaded a shit ton of blankets in the boat, presumably to hang out in… or to do other activities. Either way, you weren’t going to complain. It was cosy. Cheeky.

“This wasn't the first time you ran from the police, was it?” You shuffled closer, smirking at him.

Eddie grinned. “Nah.”

“He’s gonna find your car eventually.”

“Yeah. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. Rick won’t mind if we hide out here until it’s clear.”

His grin turned downright mischievous—you couldn’t see it properly, of course. But you could certainly feel it instead, especially when he pulled out a green plant-looking object out of the inner pocket of his battle jacket.

“What’s that? More weed? It’s too dark, I can’t tell.”

“It’s a mistletoe. Stole it from our neighbour when she threw out her Christmas tree.”

“Wait… how long has that been in your pocket?”

“A few days. Guess I was, uh… waiting for the right moment.” He didn’t have to say it. That moment was now.

Smiling, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled him close for a kiss. His soft lips moved against yours almost timidly even though it became clear fast he had experience. You wrapped your leg around his hips, a sigh escaping you when he got a little braver and deepened the kiss by teasingly sliding his tongue across your lower lip.

“Damn…” Eddie whispered when you both broke away for air.

“Do you think he gave up?” You whispered. Your lips grazed his, his taste lingering in your mouth.

“Probably. But we should probably stay here… for a while… you know… just to be sure.”

You grinned. “I can think of a few things to pass the time. I hope you brought condoms too.”

“Damn…” Eddie said again. It was the last word either of you spoke for the next hours.

A/N: Damn, how is the year almost over?! Oh well! I've got one last New Year's Imagine planned to post on the 31st, you can vote which character I should write it for if you like! ♥

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn

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tashacee · 6 months

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How would all the hero’s in The Chain react to being flirted with?

OH MAN

okay

OKAY

this is hilarious.

okay. Let me think.

Here we go:

Time: blank stare. He was raised by a tree. He does not know what flirting is. It's a miracle he ever got married, this man accidentally got engaged to a fish when he was ten.

Legend: Screaming into the void and then telling them to piss off

Hyrule: does not understand. Even slightly. When someone explains he blushes bright red and then is very embarrassed. Tries to hide. Doesn't want to offend them but W H Y him.

Sky: Cheerfully laughs, has a bit of banter, and explains he's engaged.

Four: Everyone thinks he's a child cause he's so short so this never happens. He's very relieved. Last time someone flirted with him it was Shadow and we all know how that ended up.

Twilight: Flirts right back. Aggressively. It's fun and he likes to hang out! Never goes any further though because he's busy pining over Shad.

Warriors: Everyone expects him to be into it, but he just politely redirects them, usually towards Twi. Random flirting isn't his thing and he gets very awkward about it.

Wild: Doesn't matter which Wild it is, the answer is DEEP confusion. Flirting? What is this? Can I eat it? No? Hmm. No thanks, then.

Wind: Josha flirted with him pretty intensely once. He was very flustered.

BONUS

Fierce Deity: GREETINGS YOUNG WOMAN IN BAR, ARE YOU INTERESTED IN JOINING ME IN SMITING YOUR ENEMIES ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE? THIS IS THE NOBLEST OF CAUSES!

Random woman who just wanted to chat to a guy: uuuuuuh maybe not

Her friend, drunk: hell yeah, send him after your manager, Marjorie

Fierce Deity: MARJORIE THY DAYS ARE NUMBERED!

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. I love the universe you've created for ava and beatrice. I could have said Avatrice but the thing is you write them so beautifully as individuals, all their triumphs and losses, that it doesn't feel right not to acknowledge them as they are on their own as much as they are as a couple. Anyway! I pretty much have bookmarked all your work and I keep suggesting your fics on Twitter, I'm pretty much your unofficial publicist at this point, proudly so 😆

I just finished the multitude of loving and once again you made me laugh and smile and cry and you made my heart warm and for a while, my depression didn't feel as debilitating. So thank you. I don't know what you're gonna write next whenever inspiration strikes, but if you ever do another outside pov, would you mind writing one from Diego's? I guess I'm biased because aside from your fics, I've been obsessed with do a flip by sunsafe and it warms my heart to see Diego in fics because well, I think it's safe to say that he was the one who loved ava first, he was there by her bedside and all and so it would be lovely, to know how he feels and thinks about ava and beatrice, after all the years of living his own life, after all the years wishing to see his sister, his best friend, his... Ava, because there's no traditional title that really fits them, after all the years wishing that ava is okay and... Alive, more than just surviving because even when he was a child he knew, ava was meant for such a bright and grand life, just because she was all that herself.

Anyway, just an idea, of course. My rambling is not in any way meant to pressure you into writing it 😆😅 I hope you're having a good day wherever you are. Cheers!

[first of all i love do a flip!!!! 100/10 recommend if anyone hasn't read it!!

anyway, here's a little diego pov in the butch bea universe. he's like 18 or 19? idk. yknow just roll w it :) ]

university is busy as hell, and it's cool that they pay for your doctor's appointments and, when you actually started getting the care you needed, you were able to do basically everything in the normal, big wide world with regular meds and check-ins — but mostly you just want to play rugby and flirt with girls (not well, but you're 18 and always kind, so who cares your success rate) and pass all of your classes. when you got adopted it had seemed like a miracle, and so you don't take any of this time for granted — not the bright sun or the grass stains on your knees or how rachel plays with your hair when you hang out in her dorm.

you don't think much of it when you get a random email from beatrice gu-knight, partially because emails are a pain in the ass and partially because nico brought over a six pack of stellas and his nintendo switch — you're the mario kart champion, undisputed — but, in the morning, when you open your phone, you think your heart might stop in your chest.

Hello Diego,

I hope you're well. I know it might seem strange to get an email like this from someone you don't know and have never even heard of, and, if you don't wish to follow up or connect, please just let me know, and that will be the end of it.

But, in the hopeful chance that you do: my name is Beatrice (she/her), and I'm reaching out to you because Ava Silva is my life partner. We've been together for a few years now and she talks of you often, and fondly; I know from her stories you were an extraordinarily joyful and sustaining part of her life at St. Michael's, and, if nothing else, I hope you understand my deep gratitude for that. I work in tech, so I was able to find this email address for you in the hopes that you might want to reconnect with Ava. We live in Los Angeles, and she's, as I'm sure you remember, wonderful. Maybe even more wonderful now, as I hope you are too.

Again, if you are at all uncomfortable, please feel no pressure to engage in any way; I won't let Ava know, so don't worry about that. If you would like to reconnect, though, you can respond to this email, or call or text me at my cell listed below. Thank you.

Warmest regards,

Beatrice

it takes you a few seconds to get it together, because, what the fuck, first of all. second of all, ava — one of your favorite people ever, and someone you miss every day. who apparently has a very proper and seemingly kind partner named beatrice, and lives in california. ava is alive, and probably really happy. the last time you saw her she was scared and upset and you had thought she died before that. you had thought you would never see her again.

Hey, this is Diego, you text the number on Beatrice's email. you think about the time difference, and, sorry if it's the middle of the night for you

it takes a minute or two, but then your phone vibrates. Diego, wonderful to hear from you! I'm glad my email wasn't too intense.

and, like, maybe it was a little, but your calc III professor is a fucking nutcase, so you kind of have a high bar.

Ava works late sometimes, so don't worry about the time difference right now

it's sweet, you think, that beatrice doesn't work late, or, whatever, maybe she does, but she's up because ava is awake. because ava will be coming home, or finishing up in an office. you wonder about their life, what their home looks like and if ava's laugh is still just as awesome. and, like, what is ava's job? is she still paralyzed, or can she walk like she had the last time you saw her? you're glad for her, honestly, that her partner is a girl, because ava thought boys were hot but also seemed to like girls more — so, like, how did they fall in love? it's funny to imagine ava as a grownup, with a partner and a home and a whole life, but it's also the best.

do you want to facetime tomorrow or something, you text, because you don't really know what else to say, but you want to find out: about your sister, and the life she's apparently built. you think — if ava is anything like how she had been when you were younger — you definitely want to be in it.

I would love that, beatrice responds immediately. you work out the details and, eventually, you go to class and try to have a normal day. but ava is out there, happy, in california, with a partner who clearly cares about her. it feels like a gift, even to know. it feels like a gift, to get to be in her warmth again.

beatrice, when you answer the facetime call at exactly the second the clock hits 7 pm your time, is beautiful. it doesn't surprise you, not really, because you remember ava being pretty, and, even more than that, fucking awesome. beatrice is younger than what you think someone with that formal a name would be, with short dark hair that flops into her eyes, which are kind of gold in the light through the window of whatever room she's in. 'hello, diego,' she says, and, yeah, ava probably loves that accent.

it makes you laugh, but, like, in a nice way, to know that ava has a whole partner. a whole entire person who shares a life with her, who helps her with stuff and — beatrice is a saint for this — laughs at her puns.

'hey,' you say, feel awkward and a little sloppy in the face of the chic big oil painting behind her, the hoodie you know is expensive because your friend artur had had it marked on his stockx for, like, months now. 'uh, i'm diego. nice to meet you.'

beatrice smiles, and you see her freckles, and you realize, in a flash, a truth you know implicitly — that ava loves this person. ava picked this person to spend her life with. the world is cruel, you know better than most, but the world is also so, so kind.

'i'm so happy you responded to my email,' she says, less formal and with a slight laugh, mostly with joy. 'ava is the best, and i know that — she misses you. she loves you, a lot. i've always wanted to meet you.' you kind of don't know what to say, and you're relieved when she shakes her head. 'sorry, i'm being a lot again. believe it or not, this is my first rodeo with something like this.'

first rodeo sounds foreign from her, and it inexplicably makes you laugh. 'you're doing fine.' you realize that beatrice is just as nervous as you are, maybe even more: she loves ava. she has a whole life with ava. 'i — does ava want to talk to me?'

'i haven't told her yet. i wanted to see how you felt first, without any pressure, and i didn't want her to feel disappointed. but i know she will be... overjoyed, to have you in her life again, if you want.'

'yeah.' you think of ava's jokes and how full of life she was, even when she didn't have access to much of it herself. you think about the clumsy drawings you had made her, and how happy she was every time she got to go outside in her wheelchair. 'i do, want that. a lot.'

beatrice's smile is relieved and grateful. 'i can talk to her, then, and then maybe you two can set up a video chat? i know she'll be beside herself with excitement.'

'yeah,' you say, and you can't help but smile looking forward to it. it doesn't sound like ava's changed much, in the good ways, which is super cool. 'i'm excited too.'

your palms are clammy and you feel like you might throw up, but beatrice had sent you a link to a zoom and asked if the evening worked for you; you're so thrilled but also, like, what if ava doesn't like you anymore? what if she's way way cooler than you, or too grown up, or just bored by your life? it had been one thing, to lose her when you were young and confused, to have to grieve her absence so obliquely — but it would be an entirely different thing now, to know she's alive and has a life of her own and just doesn't want you in it. you don't really know how you would handle that. ava was your friend and ava was your sister, in the ways that really matter.

but, you realize very quickly, all of your anxiety was for nothing, because ava's face pops on screen — older, and her hair is shorter, and there are slight laugh lines settling into the skin around her eyes, but she mostly looks the same — and her smile is so warm and then she starts to cry and laugh and, yeah. if you do too, it's fine. no one else is in your dorm room anyway.

'hey,' she says, the first to get any words out. she's sitting up, and she waves, and you feel like you're seeing a real life miracle, right there on your computer screen. 'you look so old. i really missed you.'

'you look so old too.' she grins. 'i really missed you.'

it's a little stilted at first, probably because you're both overwhelmed, but then it's just... the fucking best. ava is a bartender, 'mostly for fun,' she says, which, whatever that means, and she still loves the beach. they apparently have a house right by the water. she starts crying again when you tell her you got adopted, that you're not so sick anymore because you have good doctors and caring parents, that you're in school to become an accountant.

'the family business?' she says, choked up, after you tell her that your adoptive mom is one too, and that she wanted you to be able to take over one day if you were interested.

it's as unbelievable to you some days as it seems to her, on bright mornings or when you get to go skiing in the cold snow, when your friends pass around a joint or when you get to go to a museum, whenever you want. 'yeah,' you say — a family; you learn ava has one too. 'it's pretty incredible.'

'holy shit, ava.'

she just laughs, letting you go in front of her into her house. well, her and beatrice's house, you guess. you'd facetimed and texted a bunch with ava in the past two months, so you had figured out they were kinda loaded, and they'd both picked you up from the airport in a very sleek, fancy volvo, but, like —

'this is nuts.'

you think you might immediately cry again when you notice, right away, how there's not a single part of the house you can see that isn't accessible for someone in a wheelchair. ava had told you that she can walk but some days has a lot of pain and a hard time with mobility, and that beatrice was awesome and she had a good chair and even a van and a service dog, but you never could've imagined this. their house is huge and beautiful, like something you'd see in an AD tour you like to watch when you're stoned. ava has a cane today, and beatrice trundles in with your bag — she had insisted, quietly, but with a look that told you it would be totally pointless to argue.

'your house is awesome,' you say, to both of them.

beatrice smiles gently. 'we redid it last year, for accessibility. i think it turned out great.'

'wanna see the best part?' ava says, using her cane to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and you have to clear your throat because you had known her for so long. you had loved her for so long, your best friend in the entire world, who was smart and funny and bursting at the seams to feel it all, to really get to live.

'dude,' you say, 'of course.'

'i'm going to put your bag in your room,' beatrice says. 'and then i have a work call. but i should be done after the hour, for whatever you'd like to do, if you want me to join.'

'of course we want you to join,' ava says, and beatrice blushes and then gathers herself and kisses the top of ava's head before she offers you a thumbs up — nerdy, and it makes ava snort — and then lifts your bag like it weighs two pounds or something. 'love of my life,' ava says. 'definitely doesn't have a work call, but she's been stressed all week about making sure she gives us time to ourselves but doesn't seem aloof. huge weirdo.'

'she's hot.'

'ew, diego.'

you shrug. 'all i'm saying is that, like, i get it. not for me, because she's, like, super gay, but you know. for you.' you take a breath. 'sorry, i'm just excited.'

ava laughs. 'bea is super gay, it's true.' she points to a button on the wall nearby and then floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the living space from the patio. 'now, check this out.'

it's pretty fucking wild that ava went from the horrible orphanage, and tons of abuse that you were too small and too weak and too scared to stop, to a whole house that opens up to a day bed and an outdoor kitchen and dining area and a hot tub, a small patch of grass, and then the sea behind — but in the best kind of way. the kind of way that makes you want to tell everyone you meet that things can get better. that good things will happen to good people, at least sometimes. at least ava, who is the best of all of them.

ava motions for you to come with and walks outside, and then it's, like, genuinely the best thing ever when a black and white dog — korra, who ava sends you pictures of all the time and has featured in multiple zoom calls — who was napping in the sun, perks her head up and you swear she, like, dog-smiles at ava. 'hi, good girl,' ava says, and then claps her hands once and korra obediently, and happily, comes to ava's right side and sits, leans her little head against ava's thigh.

'i can't spend this entire time crying,' you say, and ava laughs. 'can i say hi?'

'of course,' she says. 'she's not usually formally working at home, unless i'm having a really bad day. which, you know, i'm not, but they do happen sometimes.' she shrugs and you kneel down in the sun and pet korra's soft ears as she nuzzles your face.

'she's so cool,' you say, and then kiss the top of her head and her nose. 'hey korra! i'm your uncle, i guess?'

'yeah! uncle diego.'

it makes you beam, to sit on the patio with ava as she shows you some of the tasks korra has been trained to do, and tells you about her bar you'll go to later, and points toward their outdoor shower with a sly smile. you do her the courtesy of fake gagging, although you really are just mostly happy for her, with her partner and her dog and a house that was built just for her.

eventually, beatrice comes outside, carrying a very intense charcuterie board. she places it down on the day bed, between you and ava, korra happily snoozing at your feet.

‘hi baby,’ ava says and scoots closer to you, then tugs on beatrice’s hand until she sits. ava kisses her temple. ‘this is very extravagant.’

‘well, we have a guest,’ beatrice says. ‘there’s wine inside, if you’d like a glass.’

‘i know nothing about wine,’ you admit, ‘but if there’s one you think… pairs? well with, you know —‘ you gesture to the elegantly laid out spread of food in front of you — ‘then i’ll trust you and go with that.’

ava grins. ‘yes, beatrice. be our resident sommelier, please.’

beatrice rolls her eyes, again with a blush, but then stands, ignoring ava’s pout. ‘i’ll be right back.’

‘she’s, like, really nice.’

ava lays back with a grin. ‘well she’s on her i was raised by diplomats and nannies most proper behavior right now. i don’t get charcuterie boards like this… ever.’ she takes a bite of cheese. ‘but bea is wonderful. she’s brilliant and funny and so, so kind. she’ll loosen up. i’m really excited you get to spend time with her.’

‘i’m thankful she reached out. i — i’m so happy to be here, and to see you.’

‘me too, my dude.’

beatrice comes back out with fancy real crystal glasses and a bottle of wine she explains is a vintage napa chardonnay, which mostly just makes you think it’s expensive. it probably is, with the way she efficiently uncorks it — ava practically drools, annoying, and you elbow her in the ribs — but it’s, like, really good. at least compared to the cheap wine you sometimes have with your friends when you order greek food.

‘diego,’ beatrice says, measured and anxious and, if ava’s stupid expression is anything to go by, endearing, ‘as you know, i like to surf. although it’s quite early, i was wondering if you might like to join me tomorrow? one of my best friends is an excellent instructor and the wave report looks ideally calm. ava thought you might be interested, if you’d like to learn?’

‘yeah,’ you say. ‘of course. that sounds sick.’

beatrice grins, relaxing a little. ava squeezes her hand. ‘i find it quite fun. it can be hard at first, but it’s nice to be in the water.’

‘diego gets his astounding athletic ability from my side of the family,’ ava says, patting you on the knee.

‘your side of the family?’ beatrice arches a brow.

‘yeah, the orphan side,’ you say, an old joke coming back to you, and ava gives you a high five.

‘i —‘

‘don’t think about it too hard, beatrice. diego also gets his bisexuality from my side of the family too.’

‘now that i’m willing to believe.’

ava winks at you, and then settles back into beatrice’s side.

admittedly, you're exhausted, so the mezcal margarita — smoky and just the right amount of sour — is hitting harder than you thought.

'okay,' ava says, 'boys are easy to flirt with.'

beatrice rolls her eyes.

'they are, bea,' she insists, then looks to you. 'sorry, diego, but boys are just... simple. they see someone hot, especially me, and there's, like, no thoughts.'

you think of the way luis had kissed you one night at a party — with his strong hands and his strong jaw and the rough, delicious scratch of his beard — after you'd just offered him a drink politely, so. honestly, that tracks.

'girls, though, diego.'

you laugh.

'you know, people who aren't men.'

'yeah, of course.'

'difficult. i just — whew.'

'aren't you, like, basically married?'

'well, yes, we're domestic partners. but beatrice is horrible at flirting. she's just lucky she's brilliant, and beautiful, and handsome, and funny.'

beatrice rolls her eyes again, although a blush spreads across her cheeks. 'i think i have more women try to flirt with me than you.'

ava huffs. 'that's because you're just — ugh.' she turns toward you. 'bea has grown into being a lesbian magnet. i once was superior. plus, boys flirt with me too.' she claps you on the back. 'either way, between the two of us, we'll teach you everything you need to know.'

'they won't,' one of their friends says, sliding in next to beatrice, who smiles and kisses him on the cheek. he's maybe the hottest person you've ever seen, with tattoos down both arms and a neat fade, probably a few years older than beatrice. 'i'm keiko,' he says, and offers his hand. his handshake is so strong and you feel yourself blush. 'i own the dojo beatrice goes to.'

'my favorite sparring partner,' beatrice says. 'partially because i have never lost.'

keiko waves her off.

'uh, i'm diego.'

ava laughs, delightedly, at how flustered you clearly are.

'well, if you want advice on boys, i am quite successful.'

'i'm sure you are.'

ava gives you a high five, mortifyingly. 'that's my man.'

'i'm cutting both of you off,' beatrice says.

'one shot, bea, please. come on. all we have to do is walk home.'

beatrice sighs dramatically and runs a hand through her hair, and keiko nudges her in the shoulder. 'for once in your life, beatrice, have a little fun.'

it takes a moment, but she laughs. 'fine. one shot, and then home.'

you surf the next morning, early as fuck, but you’re kind of jetlagged anyway and it’s really beautiful to watch the sunrise while you rest on a board. you haven’t popped up and you got tired pretty fast, but beatrice’s friend, ray — and beatrice herself, obviously — are patient and relaxed and don’t seem to care at all. ava wanders out eventually, setting out a towel and drinking a to-go cup of coffee. she waves happily and blows a kiss in beatrice’s direction, who blushes. it had made you laugh, quietly, when she had put a special bucket hat designed for surfing on after she situated her wetsuit.

‘i don’t want to get sunburned,’ she explained, and then handed you a bottle of spf 100 sunscreen and a zinc stick.

eventually you ride a wave in on your knees, laughing, and then go sit by ava while you watch ray and beatrice and the rest of their little crew surf the next set, bigger on the outer break. you can tell beatrice shows off, for ava and, maybe a bit, for you. it's still early, and ava's happy to sit back in the easy quiet.

'hey,' you say after a while, during a break in sets, 'so, beatrice introduced me this morning as "ava's little brother".'

she turns to you, studies your features carefully, just like she always would when you were in the orphanage, trying to pay close attention. 'did that feel okay?'

'other than the fact that i'm taller than you —'

'— hey —'

'— of course,' you say. 'i love being your brother.'

ava scoots closer to you and bumps your shoulder with hers; you have your wetsuit down around your waist and she has one of beatrice's hoodies on, but you've mostly dried off by this point so you put your arm around her shoulders and tug her to you.

'do you, uh. sister? sibling?'

ava smiles. 'either is great.'

'okay.'

'thanks, diego.'

'nothing to thank me for there. i should be thanking you, honestly. all expenses paid trip to a bougie beach house in california to see someone i've missed so much? the dream.'

she sniffles. you don't know all the details but you know ava has been through some real shit after she — came back to life, you guess? 'i missed you too, so so much.' she clears her throat and wipes under her eyes. 'in the spirit of being your cool older sibling, what mild to moderately wild things do you want to do here. i don't want your parents to be mad at me so consider wisely.'

'tattoo.'

'do you have anything planned that you would want?'

'well, no.'

ava laughs.

'what? beatrice has cool tattoos.'

'she is a staunch believer that you should plan your tattoos in advance. but think of something and then next time we'll get you all set up with her artist, if you want.'

there's a level of maturity and care that's a little unexpected but, like, really cool? really nice. it's kind of weird and makes you a bit emotional, because ava is grown up. she's still an idiot, and constantly annoying, and very funny — but she's gotten to get older, and so have you.

'we could dye our hair,' she says, shrugging. 'easy to rectify, if it's a disaster.'

'i'm so in, man.' your hair is darker than hers, and you have no idea if she knows what she's doing, but you trust beatrice — with her neat hair and neat house and neat clothes and seemingly undying love for ava — to monitor the situation.

'maybe we can do the bi flag.'

it makes you laugh, imagining how silly it would look. 'what about just purple? like, a light purple situation.'

'i've done that before,' she tells you excitedly. 'loved it. definitely time to return.'

'deal. also, i want to try california weed.'

ava grins. 'we would have let you last night, you know, but you were actively falling asleep at the bar after one cocktail.'

'it's the time difference, i swear.'

'sure it is.'

'well, bea loves her edibles. she's very particular about them. i'm... much less particular about joints, but we can start off chill. maybe this afternoon. and then we can have tacos.'

'that sounds like a perfect day.'

she smiles. 'yeah,' she says. 'even more perfect because i get to share it with you.'

'gross,' you say, although you might suddenly cry. 'sappy.'

'yeah, yeah. whatever.'

you keep your arm around ava's shoulders and watch beatrice and ray trade tricks the next set, and then they both call it and walk, laughing, toward you. ava struggles to stand with a frown, and you offer your arm for her to take if she wants. she does, smiles quickly in thanks and then, you know too, moves on without a word. she kisses beatrice soundly on the mouth, then pushes her goofy bucket hat off her head, fastened around her neck and resting on the back of her shoulders, and then gratuitously unzips her wetsuit while ray rolls her eyes.

it's a whole big world, you learn more and more every day. ray joins you for breakfast and then ava takes you shopping while you're pretty sure beatrice just naps. ava uses her chair and brings korra, which is mostly just the coolest thing in the world to you, because she has a whole van customized too, and she just — you had known, when you were younger, when ava would get to go outside in her chair, that nothing was limiting her other than care, and access. you had been limited too, and you ached with it. you ache differently now, because ava navigates her day fully and independently: a wheelchair lift for the stairs, and a huge, beautiful closet and kitchen where she can reach everything without having to stand, and korra, who can turn on lights and open doors and brings you a juice from the fridge when you sit down and mention you're thirsty; ava grins with the command and then praises korra, and you scratch her soft head and even softer ears.

beatrice does supervise when you and ava dye your hair, but ava mostly knows what she's doing, and really gets distracted the most when she looks over at beatrice in lowslung joggers and a cutoff tank and a beanie, leaning against the doorframe quietly, a fond expression on her face. ava wears crop tops and wideleg pants and expensive sneakers and you both end up laughing when you have your matching lavender hair.

you eat edibles that make everything feel lush and slow and perfect, and beatrice laughs softly at ava's ramble about her arms, and she orders a ton of her favorite chinese food that you eat on the patio at sunset. you take some pictures on your film camera, at sunset, and beatrice takes a few of you and ava. you wish you could go back in time and tell both of you, when you were small and sad and scared and abused, that things would be this beautiful one day. that things would be this good.

ava and beatrice eventually say goodnight before they head inside to their bedroom. there's too much light pollution in los angeles to see many of the stars, but you know they're there all the same.

#wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#they just get to have such a good life #diego is just like ... wow ... !! ava is so stupid. i love her so much

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sonekwi · 2 months

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☆ ⸻ the white paladin, keith x reader

chapter one: team bonding

characters/pairings: keith, female reader

genre: fanfiction

summary: you and your friends happen to be in the right place at the right time. you end up rescuing the pilot of the kerberos mission from the hands of the garrison after he unexpectedly returns to earth.

word count: 3,871

links: next, wattpad, masterlist

a/n: this is one of the first fanfictions i have ever written, but the original version is from when i was in 7th grade 🥲 - so, that said, enjoy this revised/rewritten version!

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14, begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission," Lance announces, shoving the yoke forward. The aircraft groans as it dives towards Pluto's moon, and you plant your feet to fight against the inertia.

Your teammate, Hunk, whines from the back. "Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?"

"Relax. I'm just getting a feel for the stick!" Lance smirks. "It's not like I did this! or this!" he jerks the aircraft side to side, intentionally making Hunk feel worse.

"Okay," Hunk gags, "Unless you want to wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing, you better knock it off, man!"

You do what you can from your co-pilot position to help stabilize the aircraft. "You need to take this seriously," you warn. "This simulation makes up most of our final grade."

"Quit worrying," Lance says, "I got this."

"Do you?" you raise a brow, and he rolls his eyes.

"We've picked up a distress beacon," Pidge says, a small blip blinking on his radar.

"Alright, look alive, team!" Lance says, pressing various buttons in preparation, "Pidge, track the coordinates."

"Copy," Pidge says and transfers the information onto the main dashboard in front of you. A three-dimensional map of the terrain is generated and you frown. The signal originates from within a narrow ravine, and the surrounding area is a nightmare; large boulders, spikes, cliffs, and overhangs.

You wearily glance over at Lance, doubting his pilot abilities. Only a miracle could get him through the simulation without crashing the ship.

The aircraft rumbles and shakes, and Hunk groans again. "Knock it off, Lance! Please!"

"Oh, this one's on you, buddy!" Lance says and glares over his shoulder. "We've got a hydraulic stabilizer out!"

You sigh, muttering under your breath. "It wouldn't be out if you would just fly straight."

"I heard that," Lance growls.

Hunk grabs his monitor to fix the issue and the aircraft rumbles again. He gags, swallowing down whatever vomit had come up. "Oh no..."

The map on the dashboard glitches and buffers before going completely dark.

"We've lost contact," you say.

"The shaking is interfering with our sensors," Pidge explains.

"Come on, Hunk!" Lance exclaims.

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and removes his safety belt. He wobbles over to a gearbox for a manual fix, the excessive motion impairing him.

The map suddenly regenerates and the distress beacon pops back up. You are about a klick from its location and approaching fast.

"Never mind, fellas," Lance says. "Preparing for approach on visual."

"Not happening," you say. "We can't fly properly until Hunk fixes the hydraulic stabilizer."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, just before losing his lunch.

"It'll be fine!" Lance says dismissively and pats the dashboard of the aircraft. "This baby can take it!" It rumbles again, "See! She was nodding!"

"Lance, listen to us!" you argue. "We need to hang back."

"I'm the one flying this thing! So what I say goes!" he glares at you.

"Excuse me?" you gawk.

Lance turns to the comm-spec, ignoring you, "Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here."

You huff. Why does he insist on being so stubborn and cocky? Does he not understand the gravity of this? If you fail the simulation, you fail the class. But you decide to keep your mouth shut from now on. There's no use trying to talk some sense into him anymore.

You watch as Lance comes up on an overhang. Instead of flying above or around it, he attempts to thread through the small opening. He turns the aircraft as vertically as he can, but fails. One of the wings clips the overhang and tears off. The alarms blare as the aircraft pummels to the ground, and the lights go dark upon impact. On the dashboard, bold red letters glow and your throat swells with frustration.

SIMULATION FAILED.

"Nice work," Pidge sarcastically comments.

The door to the aircraft slides open with a hiss, and your commander beckons the four of you out. Reluctantly, you leave your seats and exit with your heads hung. You line up, mentally preparing for the berating lecture you'll receive.

"Let's see if we can use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you students," Commander Iverson's voice booms with disappointment. He glares down at you and your team. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made in the simulator?"

A student shouts from the back of the group, "The engineer puked in the main gearbox!"

Iverson turns to Hunk, "Yes, as everyone knows, vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems!" he criticizes. "What else?"

"The comm-spec removed his safety harness," another student says.

"The pilot crashed!"

"Correct," Iverson says, "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other!" he turns back to you, "Hell, if you're going to be this bad individually, you better at least be able to work as a team!"

It takes everything in your power not to look away in shame, but you keep your gaze steady.

Iverson continues, "The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astroexplorers, but these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Pidge clench his fists and scrunch his nose in anger. Your eyes widen when he takes a bold step toward Iverson.

"That's not true, sir!" he argues.

"What did you say?" Iverson growls.

Lance pulls Pidge back and slaps a hand over his mouth, "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head with all the shaking, but point taken!" he says, tightening his grip on the ginger as if asking what the hell is wrong with him.

Commander Iverson steps closer and your brother releases Pidge, cowering from the intimidation. "I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here is because the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out. Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns.

Lance looks away with dejection, his shoulders trembling slightly as he keeps himself from crying.

Then, Iverson turns to you, and your body tenses with fear.

"And you!" he barks, "I expected better."

⁀➷

At the end of the day, you storm back to the barracks and grumble to yourself. Once within the safety of your room, you grab a pillow from your bed and scream into it.

"What happened?" your roommate, Nadia, asks. She doesn't bother to look up from her textbook, though.

"Nothing," you huff. "I'm fine."

"If it's your brother, you can throw a shoe at him," Nadia says.

You aggressively tug off your cadet uniform. "I don't get it! He's so fricking dense and full of himself!"

Nadia points to the closet, "I have a pair of high heels."

"His skull is so damn thick, three people couldn't talk him out of it!" you growl, putting on some more comfortable clothes.

"Aim for the eyes."

"And why was I the fricken co-pilot!? I'm top of-" you stop when someone knocks on the door. You sigh, taking out your hair tie as you walk over. Placing it on your wrist, you repeatedly snap it against your skin.

You open the door and see Lance and Hunk standing there. Without a thought, you slam the door in your brother's face.

...But he jammed his foot in the way.

"Wait, (y/n)!" he says, smooshing his face into the cracked doorway. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't fix the problem," you say and lean against the door. You push against it a couple of times to get Lance to move his foot, but he keeps it there. "What do you want?"

"Do you want to hang out with us?" Lance asks. "You heard Iverson today, he wants us to bond as a team!"

"Hard pass," you hiss and push against the door again.

"Come on, (y/n)!" Lance begs. "It isn't team bonding unless everyone is there."

You roll your eyes. "No, I'm not letting you mess this up for me any further. Go bother someone else."

With one last push, Lance moves his foot and the door slams. You sigh and drag your hands down your face. You want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under the blankets, but...

"He's still standing out there, isn't he?" you look at Nadia, and she nods. Groaning, you grab a jacket and pull on your shoes.

You open the door and quietly close it behind you. Looking at your brother expectantly, you try to ignore his smug face.

"I knew you'd join us," Lance says, turning to head down the hall, "Let's go get Pidge."

You roll your eyes and follow him. Lance leads you and Hunk through the barracks, avoiding the hall monitors like he's playing a stealth mission in a video game. You shush his dramatic humming multiple times.

As you come around a corner, Lance stands. "Wait right here," he says, but as he moves towards the door it opens.

He scrambles back around the corner, and the three of you watch as Pidge exits his room. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and suspiciously checks his surroundings before running down the hall.

"Where do you think he's going?" you ask.

"Should we go after him?" Hunk asks.

You all share a look before agreeing to follow Pidge, and Lance takes the lead again. Carefully, you keep a short distance between you and Pidge so you don't lose him. You're confused, however, as he comes up on a maintenance stairwell. The three of you watch as he quickly types in the code to the door.

The roof..? You furrow your brows as he disappears through the stairwell.

Upon reaching the top, Lance opens the door to the roof slowly and quietly. He peeks out before waving you and Hunk closer and slipping through.

The ginger sits at the edge of the roof, surrounded by various pieces of technology. His figure is outlined by the glow of the screens. Your brother smirks at you before sneaking up on Pidge.

Lance grabs the headphones off of Pidge's head. "You come here to rock out?" he asks.

Pidge jumps and screams. He places a hand on his chest, breathing heavily. "Oh, it's you guys..."

"What are you doing up here?" you ask, walking closer.

Lance looks over the tech. "Where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech..."

Pidge smirks. "I built it."

"You built all of this?" you ask, and Hunk hums excitedly.

"Yeah," Pidge says, "With this, I can scan to the edge of the solar system," he explains.

"All the way to Kerberos?" you ask and pick up a small device. You move it around in my hands, admiring the work put into it.

Pidge hangs his head at my question and starts to pick at his fingers nervously.

Lance irks. "You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up! What's your deal?" he asks, and Pidge hesitates to answer. "Look, if we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets!"

"Fine," Pidge turns to the three of you. "The world as you know it... is about to change," he says ominously.

"What do you mean?" you ask, setting down the device. You notice the notebook sitting on the ground beside him, and your eyes linger on it. On the paper is a crude rendition of what looks like a Transformers robot.

Pidge continues, "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake," he says, "So, I've been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter."

"What? Aliens?" Hunk exclaims.

"Are we talking little green dudes?" you ask, your eyes widening, "Or something bigger and meaner, like Predator?"

Lance rolls his eyes, "You're insane," he says to Pidge.

"I'm serious," Pidge argues, "They keep repeating one word, Voltron," he grabs the notebook and holds it up. "And it's going crazier than I have ever heard it."

"How crazy..?" you ask wearily, and as the words leave your mouth, the Garrison's alarms go off. You suddenly feel your body tense and your gut knots with dread.

A voice crackles over the campus loudspeakers issuing out a warning, "Attention students and faculty! This is not a drill. We are on lockdown, security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

The message is repeated a few times, and you feel worse. There's no way this is just a coincidence.

Hunk stammers and points to something in the sky. "Is- is that a meteor?" he asks, "A really, really big meteor?"

You look up to see a giant object falling towards the earth, burning up in the atmosphere. Your heart climbs up into your throat and fear floods through you.

Pidge grabs a pair of binoculars and looks at the object. "It's a ship!" he exclaims.

Lance takes the binoculars, "Holy shit! I can't believe what I'm seeing! That is not one of ours!"

"No, it's one of theirs," Pidge says with awe.

You watch as the ship plummets, crashing just a short distance away from the Garrison. The boom reverberates through your whole body, and your nose quickly begins to burn at the smell of sulfur and smoke.

Below you, Garrison troops deploy and race to the crash site.

"We've got to see that ship!" Pidge exclaims, quickly packing up his stuff before running towards the roof exit.

"Come on, guys!" Lance says to you and Hunk.

You sigh, following your brother and teammates. "This is not what I had in mind for team bonding."

⁀➷

Perched on a ledge on the outskirts of the crash site, you observe the area. The Garrison had beat you to it and had guards upon guards patrolling, each one heavily armed. The alien ship, seemingly undamaged by the crash, was already loaded onto the bed of a truck. Off to the side, they had set up a quarantine tent.

You watch as scientists and high-ranking officers walk in and out of the tent. You wonder if they found something. Maybe an alien or strange artifact?

Pidge works on his laptop as Lance surveys the crash site with a pair of binoculars. While you and Hunk stand behind them, you keep your head on a swivel to make sure no one sneaks up on you. Things will only get worse from here if you're caught.

"Hey," Pidge says, "They set up a camera inside the tent and I grabbed its feed. Look!"

You walk over and kneel beside him, your eyes widening at what you see on his laptop. Inside the tent, a human is strapped down to a metal table, struggling against the restraints. A pair of scientists lean over him, performing a basic physical evaluation. Commander Iverson stands among them, supervising.

"What are you doing?" the man asks and jerks his body against the restraints.

"Calm down," Iverson says, "We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests."

The man shakes his head, "You have to listen to me! They destroy worlds!" he grunts, "Aliens are coming!"

Lance gawks at the screen. "That's Shiro! The pilot of the Kerberos Mission! That guy's my hero!" he exclaims.

"Where's his crew?" you ask.

One of the scientists grabs a syringe to draw Shiro's blood. "Do you know how long you've been gone?" he asks.

"I don't know. Months? Years?" Shiro says, "Look, there's no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon. They will destroy us! We need to find Voltron."

"Sir, take a look at this," the scientist says, "It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

"Put him under until we know what that thing can do," Iverson says.

"No, don't!" Shiro begs. "Don't put me under! There's no time!"

You watch with wide eyes as the scientists inject an anesthetic into Shiro, not heeding a single word that comes out of his mouth. Why aren't they listening to him? He's been gone for a year and was presumed dead. There's no way he's been alive on Kerberos this whole time. How are they not going to believe his story?

"We have to get him out," Pidge says.

Hunk sighs, "I hate to be the voice of reason, but weren't we just watching the security feed because there was no way to get past the guards?"

Lance frowns and rests his chin in his hand. "That was before we were properly motivated. We just got to think."

"I don't know," you say. "I don't think there's anything we can do..."

Lance shakes his head, "We need a distraction."

Bombs explode in the distance, their fiery heat blazing and kicking up dust. You scream and stumble back, your heart pounding. The noise nearly deafens you and you slap your hands over your ears in hopes of drowning it out.

Hunk starts to freak out, "Is that the aliens? Are they here?"

"No, that was a distraction!" Pidge says and points, "For him!"

Barreling towards the crash site is a hover-bike, and as it pulls up behind a rock your eyes widen. You recognize the hover-bike and its driver almost immediately.

"The Garrison is heading towards the blast, and he's sneaking in on the other side!" Pidge explains.

"Oh, he is not going to beat us in there!" Lance barks and slides down the ledge, rushing toward the tent.

"Lance! Wait!" you call out and follow him down, the gravel and dirt scraping against your bare legs. You curse yourself for wearing shorts.

"Who is it?" Pidge asks, shoving his stuff into his backpack again.

"Keith!" you shout to him.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, following after you and your brother.

"Trust me, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!" Lance growls.

By the time the four of you get to the tent, Keith is already inside. With the scientists knocked out, he cuts the restraints holding Shiro down, and sits him up. Barely conscious, Shiro can only manage to groan in response to Keith's questions as he slings Shiro's arm around his shoulders.

"No, no, no! I'm saving Shiro!" Lance snaps and grabs Shiro's other arm.

"Uh, who are you..?" Keith asks.

"Seriously? The name's Lance?" your brother says, but Keith remains confused. Lance frowns with a look of hurt and disbelief, "We were in the same class at the Garrison! We were like rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck?"

"Oh, wait, I remember you. You're a cargo pilot," Keith says, furrowing his brows as the memory comes back to him.

As they bicker, you exit the tent. You resume your look-out position from before and check the area. As your eyes move to wear Keith and set off the bombs, you spot the fleet of Garrison vehicles heading back to the crash site. Your heart leaps into your throat and you rush back inside.

"If you both want to save Shiro, I suggest we get moving. The Garrison is coming back and they do not look happy!" you say, urging everyone out of the tent.

At the sound of your voice, Keith's eyes meet yours and his face softens. For a small moment, you stop, a familiar feeling crawling out of the hole you buried it in. Neither of you has seen or spoken to each other since he dropped out of the Garrison. You were really good friends up until that point.

However, part of you is thankful that he never reached out. You knew the little crush you had would never live to be something more, so it gave you the time you needed to move on. But, as your heart flutters with excitement, you realize that you never did.

You force yourself to break eye contact and turn towards the exit. The group follows you, with Lance and Keith carrying Shiro out as fast as they can.

"Is this going to fit all of us?" Pidge asks as he hops on the hover-bike.

"No," Keith answers as he and Lance load Shiro onto the hover-bike. But once he's seated at the helm and everyone's on, he doesn't waste time. He revs the engine and the hover-bike roars to life, lifting a few feet off the ground.

Just as the Garrison comes around the corner, Keith makes a sharp turn and takes off in the opposite direction. From your seat behind him, you hold onto Keith tightly to avoid falling off.

The Garrison doesn't hesitate to pursue the group deeper into the desert, and Lance happily points it out, "Can't this thing go any faster? They're right on our tail!"

Keith rolls his eyes and jabs, "We can throw off some nonessential weight."

Expectantly, Lance looks around to see what he can toss off the hover-bike, but Keith's words were directed at the five extra people, "Okay, so that was an insult–"

"Big man, lean right!" Keith shouts over his shoulder and Hunk does so. As the hover-bike sharply banks to the right, it jumps over a small ravine. You make the unfortunate mistake of looking down mid-jump, and your body floods with fear.

"Not cool, not cool!" you exclaim and shove your face into Keith's back. You don't usually have a fear of heights, especially when you are piloting an aircraft from the safety of an enclosed space. Riding on a hover-bike with Keith at the helm, however, the risk of falling off is very prominent.

"Are you seriously scared of heights?" Lance asks, immediately noticing it. "You're a freaking pilot!"

"This is different!" you bark at him.

"Wait, guys," Hunk stammers as he points ahead of us. "Is that a cliff up ahead?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" Lance protests.

"Oh, yes," Keith grins and increases the speed, heading straight towards the cliff.

Everyone, except for Keith and Shiro (who is still very much unconscious), screams and clambers incoherently as the hover-bike dives right off of the cliff.

You feel your stomach float up into your chest and your butt lift off of the seat as you fall. Your entire body buzzes with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip around Keith. If you fall off now, there's no doubt you will be dead.

And flat as a pancake.

"What are you doing? You're gonna get us all killed!" Lance screams.

"Just shut up and trust me!" Keith shouts back.

"I trust you!" you say, burying your face again. You truly do, though. Despite him being a reckless risk-taker, you know Keith would never put you in harm's way... well, maybe he would with Lance.

You fall for what seems like an eternity before Keith rolls the throttle all the way, blasting the engines and maxing out their power. The hover-bike stops just before it hits the ground, and your butt smacks down on the seat.

That's definitely gonna be bruised...

With the Garrison having no way down the cliff, the group escapes.

#voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #fanfic #vld #x reader #reader insert #keith voltron

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anxious-witch · 3 months

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The color between my lines

Summary: The story of the Bojan and Kris is pretty simple. They liked each other, they dated, they broke up. Almost broke up a band over it, too. Really the fact that they are such good friends now is a miracle in itself.

Kris has kept a careful balance ever since. Letting his feelings get the best of him already got him hurt once. He will not do it again. Except, when Jere enters the equation and Bojan seems to be interested in the Finn, can Kris truly let him go? Or will he risk their friendship in an attempt to try again?

Pairings: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin

Warnings: mentions of bullying, an unnamed character getting his arm broken, homophobia, mentions of past bullying Kris experienced

Notes:

On AO3

Okay, so first and foremost, a big thank you to @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare for beta reading this and helping me iron some details, and to @reserved-fruit for letting me expand on one of the prompts she got, I am really thankful to you both <3

Second of all, I know this chapter is a bit short, I was getting into bokris dynamics for the first time and I wanted to give a bit of the backstory first. I hope I did them justice. This fic will probably have 2-3 chapters if I don't get carried away. So yeah, enjoy

Kris’ life, for the most part, was a carefully constructed set of rules. Like a sketchbook full of drawings. You were meant to color it, but there were specific colors you should use and you needed to color in between the lines.

Simple.

Or, it was, before Bojan slowly but surely pushed his way in his life.

Coloring his life over any and all lines, like he couldn't see them at all and breathing to life the colors Kris couldn't have even imagined.

It was a slow but inevitable dance they played, exchanging jabs towards each other. A push and pull, forever circling each other.

“That song doesn't have distortions.” Turned into “I still think you are annoying, but sure, we can hang out after school.” Then, “Please don't faint when you meet my dad.”

“I don't think I ever would have picked up a guitar if it wasn't for you.”

Was it truly a surprise for them to end up together?

“I don't think I ever felt this way about anyone,” Bojan said to him, his eyes wide and honest.

They were at the park, in the middle of the night, sitting on a blanket Kris sneakily took from the far end of the closet. He didn't like sneaking out at night, but only this late did they dare to be this close outside.

Besides, it was summer. It was warm and they had no obligations outside of band practices. Kris thought that for once, he could relax a bit and let himself be a bit more laid back.

Bojan passed his hand through Kris’ short hair and Kris pretended it didn't make him shiver.

“Because you had so many experiences with dating in the first seventeen years of your life?”

Bojan lightly slapped his arm.

“I had a girlfriend before!”

Kris snorted.

“Right. The one you dated for…what? Two weeks?”

“Three!”

“My mistake.”

Bojan pushed him on his back as Kris laughed and kissed him. It was a sure way to quickly end most of their arguments.

And even those were far and few in those first few months of their relationship.

Months were passing quickly, though and as summer melted into autumn and then the beginning of winter, things started to change.

It was on a particularly cold night, after a gig they did that they found themselves in Kris’ house. His parents knew about it by this point, and having expressed their approval, allowed Bojan to come over when he liked.

This was how they ended up lying in Kris’ bed, the post gig adrenaline slowly dying down. Bojan was always hit with the low especially hard afterwards, so Kris made sure he didn't leave him alone after.

“Don't you sometimes wish we could just…go away?” Bojan whispered in the dark.

Kris circled his arms around his waist, pulling him closer to his chest.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but here.”

Kris felt his heart squeeze painfully at the bitterness in Bojan's voice. He gently turned him so he'd face him.

“What are you saying? Why do you want to leave? I never heard you talk like this before.”

Bojan's eyes were piercing, even in the darkness of Kris’ bedroom.

“I just…don't you wish we could just hold hands in public? Kiss? Just, be ourselves?”

Kris carefully considered his words, his hand automatically intertwining with Bojan's.

“I mean, yes. But we have the time. It's not now or never. We are barely eighteen.”

Bojan huffed, turning his head away. Kris gently turned it back to him.

“Where is all this coming from?”

Bojan shrugged, but Kris could feel there was something deeper than that. So he waited.

“There is a guy from the same year as me, but in a different class. Someone broke his arm during recess today.”

Kris felt the chill sink into his bones despite being in a warm bedroom.

“Oh my God. What happened? Did they do it…on purpose?”

There was slight hesitation before Bojan nodded. Then, all at once, it clicked for Kris.”

“They did it because he is gay.”

It wasn’t a question, but Bojan nodded again. Oh Bojan, Kris thought.

“Are you…” Kris trailed off, unsure what the right word was. Scared? Angry?

“...okay?”

Bojan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m peachy, but I am not the one with a broken arm, am I?”

“Bojči…”

“Don’t.”

They fell silent, but the tension stayed, hanging heavily in the air. Too heavy for Kris’ childhood bedroom, too heavy than anything that hung between them before.

Kris thought of middle school where people called him a girl and a fag until he cut him hair. How he could have easily been the one to get his arm broken in slightly different circumstances. Yet, what could he say to all that? They couldn’t exactly just pack up and move away on a whim, could they?

Besides, they wouldn’t be in high school forever. For Bojan it was only a few months left, while for Kris, it was one more year. College would be different, they just had to bid their time until then.

There were so many things Kris could say, but Bojan looked so small and exhausted, Kris didn't want to push. When he was angry or felt something was unfair, he could be quite stubborn. Pressing the issue could only result in more argument.

“Alright, maybe we should just go to sleep and talk about this some other time, yeah?”

Bojan looked up at him for a moment, his dark eyes piercing. Kris let him, unsure what he was looking for, exactly. Then, after a moment Bojan simply nodded and wrapped around Kris tighter, as if he was trying to melt into him. Kris chuckled and pressed a kiss into his hair.

“Goodnight Bojči.”

“Goodnight Krisko.”

It didn't get better.

Ever since that night, Bojan kept pushing the issue. Saying how, if they stay, they'll cave under the pressure, get stuffed into a mold and then it'll be too late.

Kris didn't understand. They were still themselves and while certainly, the situation wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t dire either. They were only eighteen. Where would they go? And how?

Bojan didn't seem to have a definitive answer to that, so they stopped arguing. But Kris could tell it didn't leave his mind. Then, things got worse.

Bojan began pulling away. There was no other way of describing it. Not just pulling away from Kris, but from the band, too. Kris wasn't sure what shifted, but ever since Bojan got a new music teacher, he seemed to have completely shifted his worldview.

He kept missing practice and saying he just didn't have a clear idea on the new song they started working on.

Their dates became fewer too, although it did seem Bojan put more effort into maintaining their relationship than he did in maintaining the band.

Kris did wonder why he looked so tired all the time, though. What was he doing?

He came knocking at his front door one day after class and Bojan's mom greeted him. He saw a surprise flash over her face.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Cvjetićanin.”

“Kris, you know you can call me Snežana. But also Bojan isn't home yet.”

Kris made a split second decision to lie and find out what had been happening with Bojan lately. So he smiled, hoping he came off as sheepish and earnest at the same time.

“I actually wanted to come a bit earlier and surprise him, since he had been so busy lately…”

Snežana's face turned understanding.

“Yeah, of course. Come in. You can wait in his room if you'd like. Do you want anything to drink?”

After a bit of small talk with Snežana, Kris found himself in Bojan's room. It was somehow even more of a mess than usual.

What drew Kris in was a stack of papers neatly put on the table. Or well, as neatly as one could expect from Bojan.

When he picked one up, he found they were song lyrics. Not the song lyrics of the new song Kris had been begging Bojan to work on, though. No.

This was-this wasn't even the kind of song that suited the band. And the notes on it confirmed Kris’ suspicion.

It was a solo song.

Kris slowly sat on the bed, the paper still in his hands. He stared blankly, his brain trying to catch up to what he was seeing.

There was only white static in his head, his heart drumming in his ears. Then, the doors opened and Bojan was standing in the doorway.

Kris felt as if time slowed down. He looked up at him. Saw as Bojan's expression flickered between surprised, to fond. Then, his eyes slowly focused on the paper Kris was holding. His face paled.

“Kris, I-”

“Are you leaving the band?”

Bojan closed his mouth, then opened it, then closed it again. The pressure in Kris’ head grew, static turning into white-hot rage.

“Are you leaving the fucking band?!”

Bojan flinched back, his foot hitting the door behind him. Kris breathed in through his teeth.

“I don't know yet. But-probably.”

Kris closed his eyes. Tried to breathe through his anger and something awfully close to heartbreak.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Kris’ hand trembled as he dragged them through his own hair, nails scratching over the scalp, attempting to ground himself with the pain.

“Humor me.”

“Statistically, solo singers are more likely to make it in the industry.”

He bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. His breaths came out as labored. He couldn't bring himself to look at Bojan at all.

“So that's what this is about? You want so badly to get away from here, you are willing to leave all of us behind?”

“No!”

Kris finally opened his eyes to see Bojan walking towards him and kneeling down to take Kris’ hands in his own.

“You-you could come with me. If it all works out as it should.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. Bojan's voice sounded so small, as if pleading him to understand. Kris did understand. But understanding wasn't enough.

“How would that even work? We both agreed we'd have plan B. How do you think this will work with college? Besides, if we are not doing this as a band, how would I even go with you?”

Bojan didn't say anything, which was an answer in itself.

“Is this what your new music teacher told you? Is he pushing you to-”

“He is not pushing me to do anything! I want to do this!”

The black line, crudely drawn across all the other line and colors, cutting it in half.

“Well then,” Kris said, his voice coming out strangely calm, almost frosty, “I suppose there is nothing more to say.”

He saw the exact moment his words hit Bojan, his eyes widening and his face paling even further.

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me?”

Kris felt as if he was in some sort of trance, all his fiery rage turning to ice. He pulled his hands from Bojan's grasp.

“I guess I am.”

He stood up and Bojan did as well, grabbing on to his arms. Kris tried to shake him off, but Bojan held firm.

“No, wait-please listen to me!”

“What is there to listen to? You want to leave? Fine! There is nothing holding you back now!”

Kris began walking towards the door, but then Bojan grabbed him again and pinned him to the door. Kris exhaled shakily and then he was being kissed.

Bojan had never kissed him like this before. So desperate and full of despair. Kris kissed him back and cupped Bojan's face, finding it wet with tears.

By the time he pulled away, they were both breathless.

“Stay,” Bojan whispered, his hot breath ghosting over his lips.

“Only if you do.”

Bojan's face twisted up in pain.

“I can't, Kris I have to try. If I don't try, I'll always wonder what would have happened if I tried. I'm sorry.”

Kris’ ice shield broke and tears slid down his cheeks too.

“I'm sorry, too,” he said and pushed him away.

This time, Bojan didn't try to stop him. Kris walked past the kitchen and living room, hearing Snežana humming to the radio, blissfully unaware.

For the first time, Kris didn't say goodbye to her when he left.

He got out on the street and simply walked. Winter sunset painted the sky in beautiful orange and yellow colors, but Kris felt completely devoid of color.

Like a coloring book with pages torn out and discarded, all the colors uneven and ugly. For the first time he saw them all, but they held no beauty and no warmth.

He swore he would never, ever let Bojan break his heart again. He would never even talk about him ever again.

He was done.

#bokris #joker out #my writing #I really hope this shows up in the tag lmao #the color between my lines

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kinsey3furry300 · 1 year

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My (very late) take on Ricky “Jupe” Park from Nope.

So, when I was a small child, my sister and I were taken to a local museum by my father and it was a wholesome and fun day out for all the family EXEPT FOR THE BADLY TAXIDERMIED WHALE SHARK HANGING FROM THE CEALLING MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT THING?! It was huge, it looked and smelt terrible, the room was poorly lit and crowded and decorated to look like the bottom of the sea and you had this thing with it’s huge open maw hanging right over you all the time. I distinctly remember that I couldn’t look. I could not look. Between the, the ocean episode of walking with dinosaurs, the underwater segment of myst, and fucking books like this that were everywhere in the 90’s!

Fuck you Nigel Marven and Jasper James, Fuck you.

…both me and my sister developed a lifelong fear of being eaten alive by giant, aquatic-type monsters. And because it was advertised and a film about a brother and sister fighting off little green men, and not advertised as a film where 40 people get fucking vored by a flying Portuguese man of war, me and my sister saw Nope together in the cinema and ohhh boy 1, did I catch shit from her about it, to this day, and 2, while I love that film, it scared the shit out of me. It scared me so badly I tried not to think about it until I plucked up the courage to re-watch it this weekend. So I’m a little late to the party, but speaking on behalf of people terrified of being gobbled up by ever-present sky-sharks (you know they’re there prove me wrong!), I’d like to talk about Jupe.

How was this not a best Supporting Actor win? Give him all the awards!

I’ve seen a surprising amount of commentary say that he’s an idiot for endangering and getting all those people killed, and that he deserves his fate, and while there is a little element of truth to the first part, I can’t fathom the second. One, no, no one deserves that and two… Do, do you guys know how story strucure works? Jupe is a foil for OJ. His life and arc mirrors OJ to a surprising degree: they’re both people of colour working in a white-dominated Hollywood system who have been held back by, or are stereotyped because of, their race. They both witness “a bad Miracle” that’s starts with a strange popping/crunching noise (the balloon for Jupe, Jean Jacket regurgitating indigestible items above them for OJ), that results in death, where a seemingly imposable thing happens (a coin falls from an empty sky, a shoe balances perfectly on one end) and where they are spared death because they don’t look the danger in the eye (Jupe has the table cloth between him and the chimp, OJ looks around whereas Ottis senior looks up and so is hit in his unprotected eye), and are traumatized. Both deal with the trauma badly, and surround themselves with constant reminders of it (Jupe’s Gordy shrine, OJ’s horses and ranch. I mean he keeps the fucking coin!). Both try to commodify and sell their trauma for fame and fortune (the paid tours of the Gordy shrine, getting that “Oprah shot”). Both also want to use Jean Jacket to reclaim the heritage that the film and TV industry has taken from them (OJ wants to save the ranch and memorialize his family’s role in the invention of film, Jupe wants to be remembered for the Starlight Lasso and not just as that Asian kid who survived a chimp attack, for taming the beast, not just surviving it). Both unwittingly train JJ to attack humans (Jupe by teaching it to associate people and music with food, OJ by putting it off horsemeat by feeding it a decoy). Both are a bit greedy, and kind of disrespectful to the dead, and nether Get Out (couldn’t resist sorry) when they should. Both put their family, friends and strangers in danger to get their payday, and both get at least one person killed doing it.

So why does the film kill Jupe and his family in such a hilariously awful way, but spare OJ and Em (and Angel: we love you Angel)? What’s Jupes fatal flaw, that greek tragic hubris that dooms him and that separates him from OJ? Why is he the one who gets vored by an angry stetson? Is it a eat the rich narrative? A critique of the idea of Asian Americans as the “Ideal minority?”. Is it killing off the comic relif, or just done for shock value? No, I don’t think Jordan Peele would be that heavy handed or un-imaginative. I think it’s something far more clever.

It’s this: from an early age, Jupe was trained to perform, whereas OJ was trained to handle performing horses. OJ thinks about how to safely provide the spectacle, whereas Jupe was trained to be the spectacle. OJ communicates with Angel in clicks and gestures without realising: OJ’s internalised how to talk to horses, how to use body-language. But Jupe...His plan, upon finding out that there’s a UAP flying around his home is to build and stage and make it into a rodeo attraction. That’s not a sane person’s reaction, that’s how Homer Simpson would try and Monetize first contact with alien life. That’s how Peter Griffin or BoJack Horseman would treat ET…. That how a 90’s sitcom character, who never got over that one role, would treat the situation.

Every time a name is mentioned in the chapter titles of Nope, the living being it refers to dies… except the title card “Lucky.” The horse (so long as the final shot is real and not Em hallucinating) lives. It (and OJ) makes it out. But then again….

Jupe probably thought of himself as Lucky, after the Gordy incident. He was probably told time and time again that he was Lucky, until he internalized it. He learnt the wrong lessons from the experience, he learnt that he not only needed to perform, but that he was special. “You’re’ chosen.” He learnt that he needed to perform, to be a spectacle, to survive a horrible industry that swallows people whole and chews them up and spits them out and occasionally has animal control shoot its stars dead if they go of script. He was conditioned, and trained, from an early age to treat everything that ever happened to him as part of a performance, until he can only talk about his own trauma in terms of how good the SNL take on it was.

And like every other trained living being taken from their natural habitat and forced out on stage as spectacle in this film, his training fails him at the worst possible time.

He’s “Lucky”, and he’s tragic, and he’s just another victim of spectacle, and that’s the scariest part of the film. ...Other than the FUCKING MURDER PANCAKE IN THE SKY OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?

#nope movie #nope jordan peele #jordan peele #jupe from nope #Ricky Jupe Park #Steven Yeun #Jupe is my woobie and i would fight god for him #but i'm not fighing Jean Jacket sorry bro nope nope nope fuck that #nope spoilers

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

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Hold my Hand

Song- ‘Hold My Hand’ by Lady Gaga

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x aviator reader - callsign ‘Monarch’

Warnings: mentions of a jet accident, an almost panic attack, some descriptions of scars, angst to fluff. This one is really long!! But please enjoy, leave a like or reblog to share :)💕💕

Summary: Hangman and his wingman Monarch, embark on a mission that almost cost there lives. Now, in the aftermath of it all, will Hangman trust himself to let his wingman lead him back to the skies?

‘“Hey Hangman we got some trouble behind us!!”

“I can see that Monarch! Just hold on! We’re going to make it out of this!!”

“They’re at our tail Hangs!! Move it!!”

Hangman looked at his radar and in seconds it all shut off on him, making him go into panic mode as everything followed and shutdown as well. He shouted to his backseater who was his wingman, Monarch,

“EJECT MONARCH EJECT!! WE’RE GOING IN!!”

“HANGMAN ITS NOT PULLING!!”

The F-18 had already started going straight down, heading right for the ocean under them. The shots they had gotten previously from the mission they had completed successfully, was beginning to show its handy work because it damaged the jet completely, and went to shit in mid air. Hangman knew he shouldn’t of stuck around for so long after they had completed the mission, as his backseater had told him, ‘Let’s just do this and get out of here, no need to stick around and finish the rest.’ But Hangman being himself, wanted to prove that he could ‘Do it all’. And because of his boastful and cocky actions, it cost him the safety of his wingman and himself, they couldn’t eject, and the last words he heard was Monarch cries of desperation for not being able to eject, and they had finally hit the ocean, in seconds it went all black and silent for the both of them.

2 months later...

Tell me you need me

Hold my hand, everything will be ok

I’ve heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey,

Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms

I see that you’re hurtin’, why’d you take so long?

After the incident, Monarch and Hangman had ended up in the hospital, after being searched for for at least 3 hours. Once in the safety and comfort of the Navy Base Hospital, it was confirmed that both would live, but they both had suffered extended injuries; Monarch had a broken arm and a couple of ribs, and Hangman got a terrible concussion, along with a broken foot and ribs too. It was a miracle that they both had survived, the only thing that saved them was the fact that their bodies had been relaxed enough were the bones weren’t tense enough to break more, which could’ve caused a punctured lung or artery, making their survival less likely. Now, both aviators are in therapy on base, Monarch had gotten better quickly, she was on her feet in no time- (of course after severe clearing from her doctor and specialist) but she was already preparing for her first day back in the air sense the incident which was 2 months ago. Hangman on the other hand, was recovering very slowly, because his mind was focused on the fact, that because he was so eager to show off his skills, he had almost killed his wingman, his best friend, and not-admitted crush/lover. He couldn’t bare the thought of ever going back and causing the same accident, which could probably not promise surviving again. His therapist tried talking him into the fact it wasn’t his fault, he was just trying to finish the entire corse, but Hangman explained that his wingman had said to go back because they wouldn’t make it home after the hits they got, if they finished the corse, and she was more than painfully right in the end. Hangman had even distanced himself from Monarch, but not before he made sure she was alive and well, but after that, he hid away from her completely, not wanting to see the damage his ego had cost her. She sported the bruises on her soft, toned stomach and chest, and some stitches on her left arm, from the surgeons opening it up to take out the shards of glass that was in it, he hated to see it, it screamed him and he felt terribly sorry and guilty for it.

To tell me you need me?

I see that you’re bleeding

You don’t need to show me again

But if you decide to, I’ll ride in this life with you

I won’t let go ‘til the end

Monarch had done her best to reach out to him too and say it wasn’t his fault, but he pushed her farther away each time, refusing to accept her apology and forgiving heart.

But soon, it was clear that it all began to eat him up, of course he missed the skies and the jets, it was his life, being Hangman was someone he was born to be, but the guilt of what Hangman had cost, kept him away. His therapist and wing buddies hated seeing this once boastful, happy and griny guy, now looking like a dark cloud hovered him 24/7 with pouring rain, tears of sadness and regret. And because of it, it was affecting his recovery and it’s speed, so, his friends came up with a solution, and good one too, (Maverick and Rooster came up with it by the way ;) One day after Monarch had done her training, she was told that she could fly later that afternoon, for the first time after waiting forever. She was thrilled and excited, but her heart sank a little when she asked if Hangman was going to be there too, and the answer was no because he hadn’t been cleared off yet. But soon, they both would be in a place they belonged, as that afternoon Hangman was wheeled by Rooster to the runway where Monarch’s jet rested, and Monarch was led by Mavericks hand to the same place. But before Maverick got close enough, he told her what to do, saying it was more than allowed because he said so. Once Monarch was in front of Hangman, confusion was read on his face as they looked at each other, but soon, on Hangman’s face, that confusion turned into worry and fear, while Monarch looked at him with compassion and with an urge to just embrace him. Maverick and Rooster left them both to be alone, so, Monarch broke the silence first when she said in a breathy and soft tone,

“Hi Hangs..”

Hangman looked at his wrapped up foot, refusing to see the eyes he had fallen for and dearly missed, as he replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper, but his Texan drawl still came out sweetly,

“Hey darls..”

‘Darls’ was the nickname he had given her, because she didn’t like him calling her ‘Darlin’ like he did to all his booty-call chicks, so he stuck to that and she liked it. And hearing it come out of his mouth was a step forward to breaking the wall he had created, Monarch even smiled to herself and the sound of it. Deep down Monarch was hoping to hear him go on with his sentence with something. And not an apology, because she had told him many times that it wasn’t his fault, but just words that let her see why he had left her to hang, words that made her heart understand why he couldn’t let it all go like she had, forgive himself like she had forgiven him, but instead, she was met with a sudden sniffle that left his pretty lips, making her drop to her knees in front of him instantly and grabbing his warm, shaking hands into her steady, cold ones.

So cry, tonight

But don’t you let go of my hand

You can cry every last tear

I won’t leave ‘til I understand

Promise me, just hold my hand

Hangman couldn’t look at her no matter how close she was, he could smell the vanilla sweat that radiated off her body, the stupid minty gum she always chewed, even the remnants of the oil on her hands from fixing her jet up, along with honey scented hand wash. Monarch desperately searched his green orbs as she asked him with concern,

“Hangman.. what’s wrong, please talk to me-“

Hangman shook his head no while let out a soft sob,

“I’m so sorry Monarch.. it wasn’t supposed to go down like this-“

“Hey hey.. I’ve heard that a million times already.. and I’ve forgiven every single apology. It’s done.. tell me why.. Hangs tell me why you’re still like this?”

His eyes went from looking at his foot, to their holding hands, and now fixated on her face.. and to her eyes they finally rested, he simply shrugged and held back the words that threatened to come out freely but would only be stuttered out probably. But Monarch waited patiently, she knew he had an answer, and it finally came out in a trembling tone, he tried to hide his emotions, but after holding and bottling them for so long, it came out like a river, with tears and all,

“I.. I just can’t get out of my head the fact that I almost killed you because I didn’t listen, -“

“But-“

Hangman squeezed her hand tightly and almost begged,

“Please.. just, let me say what I need to say.”

Monarch sent him an apologetic look with a small smile and nod, he took that as his cue to proceed, so he took a deep breath before continuing,

“So, I’m just scared for that to happen again, yes, everyone says it wasn’t my fault because I was just doing what I thought was the right thing to do, finish the corse, but you told me to not go on, because the jet wouldn’t make it.. this time it wasn’t about the pilot, it was about the plane, and I completely brushed it off, resulting in our accident. And as much as I ..-“

He let go of Monarch’s hand to wipe his tears, but she was quicker to do the gesture, but lovingly and gently, and she kept her hand resting on his cheek as the other stayed interlocked with his fingers. He leaned into her touch as the warmth embraced his wet cheek, he grabbed her hand from his face and held it against his chest. Monarch smiled at him and voiced her words that were barley audible,

“Go on.. I’m not leaving until you tell me everything and I understand.”

Doing simply that was what broke him, he didn’t understand how she could still love and trust him, after he gave up everything because he couldn’t demonstrate either. And that’s what he said exactly,

“I don’t know how you do it Dalrs.. if it was the other way around, I don’t know how I’d feel, be angry probably and resilient.. not forgive like you had, at least not so quickly.. but you did.. and I can’t live with how loving and forgiving you are, I can’t live with the fact that you can tolerate my shit like no one else and still be the first to defend me in a fist fight, I can’t understand why you still show up, why you choose to go on with me, why you.. why you fight to not let me go everyday, when I let you go so easily. W-Why Monarch?”

A broken sob left his lips again as he looked down at their hands, and by this point Monarch had shed some tears of her own, in all her life of knowing Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, she had never heard him say something so meaningful and serious, he always was cocky and arrogant, meaning so were his actions and words, but this time, they reflected who he really was under it all. His words reflected that in the end, when the day was over, when no one was there to see him but the stars, he was just a simple man, wanting to be seen as someone bigger than he believed he was, that while underneath everything was shattered and lonely, he wanted his appearance to be strong and unbeatable, and it definitely fed his ego, but it only satisfied it for so long, cause in the end he felt more empty and lonely than ever. And at last Monarch was able to see this side of him, his true self, making her understand his every move sense the start, she used the back of her hand to wipe the tears that had collected on his chin, and her thumb to wipe his lips too, she then replied to him sweetly and simply while she tilted his chin up,

“Look at me Hangman..”

Hangman found her eyes as she began to say,

“You want to know why I always come back, why I am how I am with you? Because I’m your best friend, and I am your wingman. I’ll always come back to you. Because that’s what we do.”

Raise you head, look into my wishful eyes

That fear that’s inside you will lift, give it time

I can see everything you’re blind to now

Your prayers will be answered, let God whisper how

Hangman searched her eyes for any doubt, but he only found them to be filled with a passion and love he couldn’t describe but only feel. Monarch had asked him to be her wingman, after they went on a mission for the first time together and were the best and most successful. He said yes, not realizing that it would be the best decision of his life, because she was his wingman for everything, both in the good and bad, in and out of the Navy, she stood beside him through every correctional lecture he got from his Admirals, through the nights he’d be so drunk from going all out at Hard Deck, she’d be the sober one picking up his pieces and making sure he made it home safe. She took the blame for him a couple of times, because his shenanigans were becoming more consistent, and the punishment was big if he screwed up again, which he did, but she painted her hands red for it, to spare him. Hangman was now very afraid of the power she had over his heart, but a good power, because he didn’t realize that he had made her presence and heart his source to breathe. Monarch then got up and gave him a smile as she said,

“On my first day back in the skies, I wanted you to come in the back with me.”

Hangman’s face lift up as he questioned,

“Are you.. sure? You don’t have to-“

“I want to Hangs.. I really do, I can’t do this without you. I need your here with me.”

Her requesting his presence squeezed his heart so warmly, she indeed did love and need his everything as much as he did, though neither ever admitted it. He looked down at himself, but Monarch knew what he was going to say, so she beat him to it with a simple,

“I’ll get you dressed, into your flight suit and all, and we’ll help each other get you in yeah?”

Jake shook his head as he extended his hand to her, she took it as he sighed,

“Thank you, for being my wingman.”

Monarch kissed his wrist and forehead as she smiled,

“Thank you too. Now let’s go.”

To tell me you need me, I see that you’re bleeding

You don’t need to show me again

But if you decide to, I’ll ride in this life with you

I won’t let go ‘til the end

Monarch wheeled Hangman to the locker room, and after standing him up slowly and carefully, she helped him slip into his flight suit that had been abandoned for a really long time, as so it seemed. Naturally Monarch showed her attentive gestures, like holding his foot so gently so it could slip into the pant leg easily, steadying his waist so he could pull up the pants, untucking his dogtags from his shirt so it could rest above his suit, zipping up the flight suit slowly so it wouldn’t catch on his clothes underneath, and lastly the equipment he needed to go on the jet.

Hangman was so close to bursting into tears again as he watch Monarch do all of this silently but lovingly, she would only let out a few,

‘I’m going to hold you here ok?’

‘We’re almost done Hangs, you’re doing good.’

‘Sorry! Did I hurt you?’

Hangman would respond each one with a ‘thank you’ and ‘it’s more than ok’ also,

‘No, you didn’t hurt me I promise’.

Soon Monarch checked him and saw he was ready, and so was she, as she was about to bring him his wheel chair, Hangman protested,

“I uh.. I think I want to try and walk on my own, without the chair.”

Monarchs face lit up as she cheered sweetly,

“Oh great! Ok! Here, I’ll be right by your side, hold on to my shoulder here and I’ll hold your waist.”

“Oh- ok.. thanks.”

Having her support there made him more confident to not be wheeled out this time, or if not, not even ever again. Monarch did exactly what she said they would, as they both walked in Hangman’s pace to the jet, he still couldn’t get over her warm touch, how comforting it felt, or her eyes when they stole a glance from one another, he found ‘home’ in them every time. The moment came when it was time to get in, Monarch with one hand pulled out the ladder to her side of the jet, and let it fall to the ground, she then told Hangman,

“Ok, lean here for now, I’m going to climb up, then help you be pulled up here onto the wing so we can get you in your seat alright? We still gotta be careful with your foot remember?”

Hangman let out a contented but nervous sigh,

“Of course.. ok, just be careful-“

In a heart beat Monarch was already on the top, she looked down at him with a million dollar smile as she encouraged,

“I’ll always be! Ok! Come on, your turn!”

Her smile gave him adrenaline like no other. Hangman was able to manage on his own with the hurt foot quite well, but getting into a jet was a whole different exercise. But, he was slow and steady as she grabbed his hands and helped him up the ladder easily and somewhat swiftly once they both got a good grip of each other. Monarch then lead him to his back seat, and Hangman was able to sit down and take a deep breath of happiness. He felt the seat around him and ran his fingers over the buttons in front of him, remembering the familiarity of it all. It was like riding a bike to him, the knowledge of everything he knew about TopGun was in his blood, it was who he was. Monarch watched him with warmth spreading into her chest, her love for him only increasing more. He must of felt her gaze as he suddenly turned locked his green, shining orbs onto hers. He smiled when she caught herself staring and blushed deeply while looking away, but Hangman let out a chuckle as he chided,

“I know I’m pretty.. but not as pretty as you.”

Monarch looked back at him and punched his arm with a laugh,

“There he is.. my cheeky pilot.. now, let’s get this done.”

Hangman rolled his eyes playfully at being called ‘cheeky’, but that feeling was long gone once the jet roared to life under him as the top closed, encasing them both into the reality that they would both be in the air together, for the first time, sense the accident. He let out a shaky breath as he clutched his fists onto his suit, and bounced his good leg, but Monarch came to the rescue with her calming words,

“Just breathe with me Hangs.. it’s just you and me, and new moment to erase our nightmares..”

Hangman’s breath hitched at the mention of nightmares, he had been having plenty, terrible ones too, and he figured that Monarch must’ve had her fair share of them, so he understood her when she said, that she was willing to make this moment something good to remember and sleep through. Hangman then heard her through the radio as she suggested,

“If you’re scared.. just close your eyes, ok? And I’ll let you know when we’re in the air.”

“O-ok.. yeah, yeah I’ll do that.”

“Great!”

So cry, tonight

But don’t you let go of my hand

You can cry every last tear

I won’t leave ‘til I understand

Promise you’ll just hold my hand

Hold my hand, hold my

Hold my hand, my hand

I'll be right here, hold my hand

Hold my hand, hold my

Hold my hand, my hand

I'll be right here, hold my hand

I know you’re scared and your pain is imperfect,

But don’t you give up on yourself

I’ve heard a story, a girl, she once told me

That I would be happy again

Hangman could feel the jet start to move, to where he assumed was the runway, to take off. He thought closing his eyes was a good suggestion at first, but then he started to hear and remember Monarchs screams through the radio as she sat behind him panicking,

‘HANGMAN I CANT EJECT! It won’t go!! HANGS WE’RE GOING DOWN!!’

Hangman’s breathing began to come out unsteady and his hands starting shaking, he opened his eyes and moved his head to looked ahead, hey were still on ground and very alive, he didn’t want to sound like a weak person or even scared, but his mouth was quicker than his mind telling him to stop when he almost begged,

“Hey Monarch.. um can you sing to me while we take off? Like- uh.. what’s that song you like so much? The one from that movie with Cooper guy you like and Lady Gaga?”

Monarch smiled to herself and felt sympathetic for Hangman as she knew exactly what he was asking for, she quickly answered him before he could get more ansy, because she too was beginning to feel scared and a little nervous.

“Yeah I know which one you’re talking about.. it’s called ‘Shallow’-“

“Yeah! That one! Could you sing that like, while we go off?”

“Of course, sit back and just relax, I’m gonna start pushing forward at a high speed to gain the amount of power we need to lift off ok?”

“Ok, but start singing now-“

Monarch cut him off as she began to sing,

“Tell me something, boy... aren’t you tired of tryin’ to fill that void? Or do you need more? Ain’t it hard keeping it so hard core...”

Hangman listened to her angelic voice hitting the notes in a way that made his heart swoon, he still could feel the jet beginning to gain speed and power, it all felt so familiar but scary, like when you’ve seen the same horror movie so many times but still get fooled by that one stupid jump scare, that’s how it felt, you knew what it felt like and had seen it before, but this time, it was a little more nerve-wrecking. He took a deep breath as they got closer to take off and he took in Monarchs next words,

“I’m falling.. in all the good times I find myself.. Longing for a change, and in the bad times I fear myself..”

Monarch took a large, and deep breath in as she pulled the throttle back and lifted the jet, but at the same time she shouted happily for Hangman,

‘I’M OFF THE DEEP END!! WATCH AS I DIVE IN!!! I’LL NEVER MEET THE GROUND! CRASH THROUGH THE SURFACE, WHERE THEY CAN’T HARM US..-‘

‘We’re far from the shallow nowwww...’

Monarch caught Hangman singing the last of the chorus in his shy but gorgeous Texan accent, making her smile proudly to herself, wanting to so badly admit how much of her heart he had stolen. Hangman had prolonged the ‘now’ just perfectly, making everything around them fly smoothly, as they both came to the realization, that they were now 3,000ft in the air. Hangman let out a soft laughter of relief,

“You did it Darls! Look at us!!”

Monarch followed his excitement as she replied,

“We did it Hangs.. you and I.. look down below.”

Hangman looked below and they soared above the blue ocean, he could feel his body turn cold immediately, remembering what it felt like the few seconds of falling six feet under the water, until it went black. Monarchs heart pinched too, but she knew Hangman must’ve been feeling worse, so she was quick to fix their feelings,

“In the sha-ha, sha-hallow... in the sha-ha, sha-la-la-la-low..-“

“”we’re far from the shallow now...””

Hearing Hangman’s voice come through the radio to help her finish the song again was enough to know that he was going to be ok, Monarch then asked him voicing her concern.

“You ok back there?”

“Yeah.. thank you.. I don’t know what I would’ve done....”

Monarch finished his sentence as she replied honestly,

“You’re welcome my wingman..-“

Then with a voice that let Hangman know she was wearing a shit-eating grin she added,

“now, how about we take a detour and explore the mountains? Something other than theeeeese waaaaaves?!”

Clapping Hangman let out a howl, bringing out his excited and loud sled again,

“Woooooo!!! Lead the way m’lady!!”

Monarch cheered along with him as she did a full spin a couple of times, showing off her abilities to perform some cool tricks with the jets, reminding him that he was the one that had taught her to do each one, giving him credit for the bravery she had to take the next step. Hangman unnoticeably shed some tears at hearing her honest praise and appreciation, making it finally clear to him, that he couldn’t let the day end, or heck, not even this joyride end without him telling her that he loved her so deeply and passionately,

Hold my hand

With all the courage that could be summed up in Jake Seresins body, he blurted out,

“Monarch! I- Shit ! DAMN IT- DARLS I LOVE YOU!!”

Even above all the noise around them from the loud roaring jet, Monarchs gasp at Hangman’s sudden confession wasn’t missed, it was heard loud and clear, she stayed silent for a few seconds, making Hangman making his plan B come to place,

“I’m so sorry that was crazy of me-“

“JAKE I LOVE YOU TOO!! I really do!!”

Now it was Jakes turn to gasp, but with excitement as he questioned her to have her say it again,

“What?! Wait really?!”

“Yes! I’ve been in love with you all my life! You’re more than a wingman to me Seresin.. really, I love you.”

Hangman chuckled,

“Baby I love you too.. more than words can describe.. man I can’t believe it took this to happen for us to confess our feelings..”

“But it was so worth it.. I wouldn’t change it for anything Hangman.”

“Neither would I Monarch. Never, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Monarch gasped again as she squealed with anticipation,

“Seresin! Are you-“

“Yes I’m proposing! Please say, yes!!”

Monarch started to cry as she glided their jet over the mountains, they looked so beautiful under her as the sun began to set and paint them an endearing color, making their moment even special, because everything around them was becoming and looking more beautiful. Monarch wiped her eyes as she cried,

“Ask me!! Come on!”

“Oh oh! Right!! Ok, Monarch, the love of my life and wingman, best friend and just my everything, will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me? Will you marry me?”

Monarch sent their jet upside down over a waterfall as they headed towards the setting sun, replying with a happy tone,

“YES!! Yes yes!! A million times yes!!”

Hold my hand

Hold my haaaaand

After that splendid flight they had, they safely made it back on ground in base.

Monarch was the first to unbuckle herself and toss her helmet off to throw herself onto Hangman who was still in the back, she embraced him with all her might, as he pulled her closer and onto his lap, cradling her head and holding her torso so impossibly close to his body. They together began to cry their emotions out, letting so many unspoken words come through tears, the stress of being separated for so long pour out through their embrace. Monarch pulled away first as she cradled his face in her hands, but Hangman pulled her left hand away as he placed on her wedding finger a paper ring, that he had made out of a piece of paper that he had ripped from the Jets Manuel.

She smiled at it and leaned in for their first kiss that he met her halfways for. Without realizing it, they let out a breath of relief through the kiss, searching for answers as it was deepened and passionate, Hangman squeezed Monarchs hips as she tightened her arms around his neck, tilting her head to explore what love felt like through a kiss with Hangman, and he satisfied her well when he slipped his tongue into her pretty mouth and gained dominance, relishing the moment with her in every second.

Pulling away to catch their breaths, they leaned their foreheads on one another’s, and Hangman breathed out one more time,

“I love you Monarch.”

Smiling to herself Monarch replied the words Hangman was going to hear for the rest of his life,

“I love you more Hangman.”

I heard from the Heavens...

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42starsintheuniverse · 9 months

Text

Overanalysing Aziraphale and Crowley in the Church scene :]

1941 was really a time huh?

All the way back in season 1 we got the Church Scene. Azi is tricked by Nazis, Crowley senses it and hops (lol, literally) his way over to the church to figure out what the problem is. As a result of the mess Angel has got himself into, a bomb drops on the church, Azi is (at least implied lol- I struggle a little with figuring out who saves who some of the time) to save both himself and Crowley, while Crowley saves the books for Azi. Angel is touched by that gesture, and we get a swell of romantic music, with Azriaphale… Well I think anyone can see he’s “processing” something.

Whether it’s a quiet: “Oh. OH.” moment, or more of a: “Oh my gosh, Crowley saved my books for me, he didn’t have to do that, I didn’t even ask him to! That was so sweet of him! Does he have a reason for it? No, No he did that for me! For me! He knew it mattered to me, oh Crowley!! I do love him so! -Wait I do?? Oh !!! I do!! I do Love him so!!” Additionally Mr Sheen himself has mentioned casually that he quite likes the idea of that scene being the point at which Azi properly falls for Crowley- or in some way Realises, the extent of his love. Obviously that's not like a canonical thing but it feels right to mention it!

Fast forward to Season 2 and we get more about That Specific Night after the church. What happens? Crowley gives Azi a lift home, in which the angel cannot contain his soft expression. The absolute adoration on display with “That was a very nice thing <3” isn’t lost on anyone, even Crowley who’s all “Shut up.” Because of his IssuesTM.

After Azi steps in to do the magic show they’re hanging in the bookshop and we get the most pointed line ever of “Oh there’s no need to thank me that’s what- …Friends… Are for.” This once again suggests to me that it’s LIKELY (not certain, but likely) that after all this time Azi has gotten comfortable with being Crowley’s friend- and that tonight’s Realization is that there might be something more than just ‘pals’ going on- at least for him.

(A quick note here, I don’t want to be prescriptive and say that Azi went straight from platonic to romantic right from this Church night in 1941- from my POV it seems that Azi went ‘Oh I *THINK* I feel something more than just friendship, but I REFUSE to think about it AT ALL because that would be breaking too many rules. I reckon Azi is of the mind that Angels help HUMANS fall in love, and that Angels CAN’T fall in love, and that it would be SILLY for him to even entertain the thought so he just… Will put a pin in that and brush it off for the next 80+ years…)

Anyway, Azi and Crowley do their whole magic show thing- a special shout out to that moment where Crowley’s studying the Trick pamphlet and realizes the miracles aren’t working- the way he instantly becomes anxious is pretty interesting to me. Crowley’s got a pretty good handle over being casual. All the way back in the Story of Job period of time, Crowley was able to Lie directly into Azi’s eyes saying he’d kill children without a tremble- despite him not actually doing anything like that. But the moment he has to point a gun at Azi without the safety net of miracles, suddenly he’s a shaky wreck, fumbling with putting his glasses on- and he visibly trembles while aiming at Azi. (It’s only once he really settles and goes ‘I can either be anxious and mess this up and discorporate Azi- or I can be strong for him and commit to this and NOT hit him,’ that his grip on the trigger steadies and he can calmly fire the weapon.)

After the magic show we get some cute stuff with Crowley being supportive to Azi’s magic, and Azi bathing in his ‘showman-ship’ which is pretty cute.

And after THAT they end up back in the book shop drinking wine as a night cap. Funny thing- it took me a couple of viewings to figure out that that scene is in the book shop, because it reads more like a quiet corner of a restaurant. But in some scenes you can see the spiral staircase that characterizes the bookshop in season 2. And you can see some books scattered around so that’s how I figured that out lol.

And this scene- this one is just STEEPED in romance. The candle light, the softness of their voices, it’s incredibly intimate. I 100% feel that season 2 was characterized by an intimate feeling between and Az and Crowley, which was honestly lovely, I enjoyed it a lot. Azi acknowledges Crowley’s help. Crowley suggests that all he needs to hear from Azi is ‘trust me’ and that’s enough. Azi all but whispers “And you did,” in the most heartfelt tone ever. And they come to an agreement about ‘shades of grey’ (I’m so sorry to everyone who I’m about to ruin this for- but I genuinely thought that this line was a 50 Shades of Grey reference when I first heard it. Which would kinda be on brand for the humorous use of jokes and references throughout the Good Omens series- but I just think it’s funny to point out so I did).

So what’s the point of all this? Well- two things.

One- that one night in 1941 was INSANE for Azi specifically. Angel really had a rollercoaster of a night thinking he was going to be discorperated FIRST by nazi’s and SECOND by his best friend doing a magic stunt, as well as realizing he might like Crowley more than he previously thought, and also that Crowley might care for him more than he imagined (saving the books, saving Azi.)

And Two, that when Shax is in the car with Azi at the start of S2 Ep4, she says that about “80-90 years ago” she heard a rumour they were “an item” (Note- the subtitles on Prime currently say 18-19 years ago, but that is apparently incorrect and it’s 80-90 years). Since S2 is in a post covid world, lets say around 2021, then huh! Would you look at that! 1941 is pretty dang on 80 years prior to S2.

I just think it’s a very cool timeline detail that fits very well to me. I does imply that at least around Hell there was a rumour Crowley was dating Azi for EIGHTY FRICKING YEARS and no one bothered to intervene- but that isn’t really a writing problem because it’s so INCREDIBLY FUNNY TO ME. I do not give a sh!t if you think that’s a plot hole- Cause just imagine people in hell being like:

‘Yeah think Crowley’s dating that angel guy.’ ‘Oh yeah? What- you think they’re working together?’ ‘What?! Nah! Crowley’s just playing around, wouldn’t you after 6000 years up there?’ ‘Oh- yeah- shit- you right. Makes sense.’

Meanwhile Crowley and Azi are like “I like DARK grey at best >:/” “Yes good for you, I like LIGHT grey best >:/” while disagreeing over a bottle of wine like,,,,, It's just really amusing, and I love that for them !!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens analysis #good omens thoughts #crowley #aziraphale #arizacrow #scene analysis #the church scene #Good omens Season 2 Episode 4 spoilers

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tsokomari · 2 years

Text

slippery pavement | miya osamu

“Hey.” A teasing greeting arrives from behind… you note the familiarity of the voice, and there was no reason for you to look at his face to know who he is.

His cheers of encouragement or shouts of triumph on the court are always the first things your ears search for most of the time.

“Hey, you, yourself.” Squatting on the school building’s slippery steps, you wave a hand at him, not bothering to peek. Just staring at the pouring rain in front of you.

“It’s already seven… did yer club duties hold 'yah back?”

“Not really, I just had to make some lesson plans for the freshman I’m tutoring… I guess I never noticed the time.” You sigh, with your elbow on your knee and your head leaning on your arm. “I should’ve listened to my mom when she said it’s going to be a rainy winter.”

“Can’t say I blame 'yah for forgettin’… it was sunny this morning after all.” Miya Osamu takes a seat beside you on the steps, his long legs tuck his gym bag within them, shielding the tattered sack from the rain. You turn to look at him.

He wears the varsity jacket over a clean shirt, he probably just finished practice today. He shivers slightly and blows hot air into his pretty, ungloved hands. His scarf is haphazardly wrapped around his neck as if he put them on in a hurry, and you try to ignore the dust of red on his nose and cheeks. You argue the cold must be getting to him.

You realize your gaze lingers a little too long when he raises his eyebrows at you in a silent inquiry, abruptly turning your head to look forward, you fake a cough to match your embarrassment.

“It’s kind of stupid that it rains in Kyoto in winter… isn’t it supposed to be snowing?”

It’s already a miracle that you talk to him when he finds you hanging out with Suna during lunch breaks. He remembers the day he overheard you telling the middle blocker that Atsumu exudes frat boy jerk vibes while Osamu feels like the calmer person overall. When you said, Osamu’s better, he took harsh note of the way his poor heart skipped a beat.

At that aforementioned heart will burst at the seams at the idea of being stuck with you under the rain. It’s already a whole lot of impossible that’s happening before his eyes.

He chuckles at your question, there’s really no other answer to that. “'Yah know we live in the south, right? The closest snow yer ever gonna get from here is up in the mountains.”

You spot a lint on your uniform, and you pick it off. “Yeah, I get it, I really do. I just prefer cold and ice rather than enduring cold and water.” The lint flies off somewhere on the wet horizon, just as you flicked it off your finger. “It’s kinda hard commuting home on slippery pavement.”

A puff of mist leaves Osamu’s lips as he chuckles. His eyes stay set on the dark school courtyard before you. “I guess I can’t argue with that one.”

Osamu’s rather surprised to find solitude in the short silence, when he’s normally a tangle of a jumbled mess when around ‘Suna’s only friend outside of volleyball’. There’s gratefulness in his heart that Suna isn’t around to tease him about you.

Truth be told, club practice ended an hour and a half ago. Everybody on the team was eager to go home after finding the gray clouds adorning the sunset sky. Kita and Aran even offered to eat at a local diner with the twin spiker, since it was the first time in a long time that he was not attached to the hip by his blond sibling.

Alas, as he excused himself to take a quick stop to the restroom, where he finds your nearby hunched form seated on the floor. Books and notebooks were scattered on the bench of the empty corridor. It pops into his mind that the library now closes at four-thirty because apparently, Inarizaki’s only librarian is a month away from her maternity leave.

He would be delighted to throw a greeting in your direction. But to see your scrunched-up eyebrows and cute tongue popping out of your lips in concentration, Osamu decides to quietly leave you be. He goes to Aran to tell him that he’s going to put on some serving practice today. With his fingers desperately crossed behind his back, the horribly smitten lad wishes the third year would buy his excuse and get on with it.

Aran’s raised eyebrow obviously showed that didn’t buy a single thing about it… but the captain did. It was more common to see Atsumu putting on extra work compared to Osamu, but whatever questions the ace had in mind, he, fortunately, stayed silent about it.

“I don’t see a problem with a lil’ more practice.” Kita bids him goodbye. “Just make sure 'yah clean up the gym like how I do it.”

Osamu tried not to sound giddy, he really did. “Roger that.”

He plans on wooing you somehow or at least try taking you home. It wasn’t hard to clean the gym alone, and he hopes to accidentally bump into you on the way out of the main building. He just forgot to calculate how strong the rain was going to be, and his brother, in all his stupid ass, just had to steal the spiker's umbrella from him.

Your voice in the rain breaks him out of his trance. “Shouldn’t you be with Atsumu or something?“

"Didn’t 'yah hear? He’s in Tokyo for the youth training camp.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Heard he’s finally gonna be a hotshot or somethin’.”

“Well…” You tuck your chin on your arm that rests on your knee. Hopeful that the rainy night sky shields your bashfulness from the gray-haired twin. “… I think you deserve a seat on that team too.”

Osamu feels his heart leaping somewhere in his throat. It takes every fiber of his being not to turn red at what you said. “Oh, no, no. I’m not all up for that.”

“So I heard. You’re gonna be a chef, aren’t you?”

“Who told 'yah that?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. Everyone on the team swore they wouldn’t let the Atsumu vs Osamu fiasco leave the gym doors. It was a personal fight, after all, Suna knew that much.

You chuckle. “No one. But you gotta make sure Suna doesn’t talk to Aran on the phone too loudly. I can hear him all the way from the second floor.”

“I’m gonna kill that guy.”

“I know you will. But hey, don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

“It’s not like it needs sealin’ anyways. 'Tsumu already knows.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “It’s why I came to 'yer class all bruised up a few weeks ago.”

You blink slowly at him, finally connecting the dots as to why he came to Suna on that one lunch break with a bruised lip and subtle black eye. You can quite remember that despite how beaten up he looks, Osamu smugly tells the middle blocker that he landed more punches on his brother. “He’s kind of a dickhead for doing that.”

“I mean… I’m wrong too, 'yah know? Should’ve told him what I felt little by little instead of dumping it all up his ass that I’m takin’ a totally different career path.” He stretches his legs in front of him, the tips of his outdoor shoes getting a little wet from the rain. “Don’t tell anyone I told ‘yah this. But 'Tsumu used to keep a notebook of plans he wants us to achieve as volleyball players. He even wrote there he wants a niece by age twenty-seven!”

“Well to be very honest, it seems more plausible that he’s the one out of the two of you to accidentally knock someone.”

Osamu laughs, suddenly remembering how you had always stereotyped his twin brother as a wild child.

Silence blankets the both of you, and Osamu sees you pull out your phone after two short rings that cut through the pitter-patter of the rain.

“Hey, Mom…” You pass a sheepish smile to the spiker, and he only nods in understanding. “…. yeah, yeah, I’m stuck in the rain…. yep. Mhm… I don’t think the rain’s gonna stay until Dad finishes overtime….”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Not when the gods have blessed him with the luxury of having you all to himself for the first time. You don’t notice his soft gaze, but when you turn to look at him, you feel like you’re going to vomit your heart out… positively.

You watch him raise his eyebrows as you continue listening to your mom. Thank goodness there’s no other soul to witness two people blatantly staring at each other.

“Yeah. The rain’s getting mellow now. Yes, I’m with someone I trust… it’s a friend. Yes, it’s a dude…. no, it’s not Rin.” You blink at Osamu twice, and he’s endeared by how shy your expression suddenly morphed into. “Yes, Mom, it’s him. No, we stay quiet about that. Yeah, I’ll see you soon, okay? Okay. Yeah, no need to tell Dad. I’ll be fine.”

There’s a smug smile threatening to appear on Osamu’s face. He’s proud to know that you consider him someone you feel safe with. And he’s giddy with the idea that you talk about him with your mom. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he’s building the confidence in asking you out as each minute passes.

You bid your mother a short goodbye, and you suddenly feel embarrassed for staring at Osamu for too long. Let’s not disregard the fact that he was staring at you for longer.

“Hey,” Osamu finally says. When you turn your head to look at him again, it takes every bit of his wit not to kiss you right then and there. “I think the rain’s not stoppin’ soon. Wanna make a break for it?”

You scoff at his suggestion. “And have you go to the gym tomorrow half-dead with a tissue up your nose? Not a chance. Your team will kill me.”

“C’mon! The rain’s not that bad!”

“It’s literally three degrees Celcius out here!”

“It’s either we run or our moms are gonna beat our asses!”

First of all, it’s your parents’ fault for choosing to get a house instead of a car or apartment when you moved to Kyoto, cutting your chances of finding a way home when your house is six bus stops and one bus change away from the campus. Second, your mom will not shut up if she finds out you’re taken home late with the boy you wouldn’t shut up to her about. Lastly, your dad will have a heart attack if he finds out you actually are still not home on the day he was told to do overtime at work.

You chew at your bottom lip in contemplation, and you don’t notice Osamu’s eyes immediately darting back to the rain before him. “We’re both gonna die, Miya.”

To begin, it was entirely Atsumu’s fault for stealing his twin’s beloved umbrella in the middle of a rainy winter season. Second, his mom would interrogate him before letting him in the house if she finds out her son took someone home in the late-night, winter rain. Finally, Kita’s gonna kill him if he goes to school sick right after he was expected to improve on his serves.

“We die today, or we die tomorrow. It’s ‘yer choice to make.” Osamu’s already standing up, his hand outstretched to you.

“Fine.”

On the way home, the rain doesn’t stop. But that isn’t the problem. The problem is how you’re going to maintain your composure, because while he lives on the other side of downtown, Osamu insisted he’d take you home. All, six stops and one bus change. You argue that his house is only a few blocks from the second stop, and he tells you it’s totally fine.

You’re now walking home with him after the long bus ride. Your hair is only partially wet from the rain because the spiker used his gym bag to shield you. The uniform and winter coat feel heavy on you, but you reckon that this night did not feel bad. Not when you’ve spent the entirety of it laughing and chattering with Osamu.

His voice stops when he feels the rain going heavier with each drop. He musters all the bravery he has and takes your hand in his.

“Miya, wha-”

“Careful. We’re gonna run and it’s gonna be slippery.”

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madneedshelp · 2 years

Text

All Mine- Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Summary: You've finally decided to tell Josh how you feel, and you want to do it by learning to play one of his favorite songs for him. You ask Jake to teach you the song on guitar, but when Josh catches you mid-lesson he assumes that you and Jake are flirting and gets wildly jealous.

Includes: tension, angst, some jealousy and possessiveness, a touch of sweetness at the end (don't worry)

"Okay, now play a C."

At Jake's command, your fingers fly to the position you'd just went over at least five times. Well, it was either that position or the one before it. You had to admit this was harder than you had anticipated. As the chord rang out, you winced at the dissonance in the air. So it definitely wasn't that one.

"Sorry, Jake." You muttered sheepishly.

He waved a dismissive hand. "S'okay, don't worry about it. You just need to scoot your fingers up a fret, then move your index finger down a string."

You nodded and adjusted your hands on the fretboard. The chord still sounded a bit off when you strummed the guitar once more.

Maybe this wasn't your best idea. You really wanted to do something special for Josh, something to show him you really care about him as more than just a friend. He was always saying music was an expression of love and things like that, so what better way to tell him you love him than play him some music that he loves?

Well, turned out it was pretty hard to out-romance the romantic.

You weren't naturally musically gifted, that wasn't a new fact. You had known the boys since high school, and while you were great at supporting their band or providing non-technical feedback, you had never been able to contribute any music yourself.

That was about to change. That much you had decided. And if you were being honest with yourself, by focusing your energy on learning some John Denver songs, then you didn't have to think about what might happen if Josh brutally rejected your feelings. Your headspace was entirely committed to guitar lessons.

"Here, just let me show you." Jake scooted closer and placed his fingers over yours, scooting your fingers into the correct chord shape. "Now try it."

This time the sound that radiated from the guitar was actually pleasant.

"Oh, thank god," You sighed happily, and Jake chuckled beside you. "You might just be a literal miracle worker."

The door to the studio swung open right at that moment, Jake still practically wrapped around you, and in walked Josh.

"Hey, Sammy's got dinner ready if you..." Josh trailed off once he noticed the two of you. He stood frozen for a minute before his expression turned stony. "Dinner's ready whenever you're done."

With that, Josh was gone.

"The hell is his problem?" Jake muttered, giving you a glance.

"How should I know? He's moody sometimes?" You shrugged, brow furrowed.

"And yet you're still in love with the asshole."

You elbowed Jake and stood from the bench. It's not like it was weird for you to hang out with Jake, or any of the guys for that matter. You were close with all of them, it was no big deal.

"Fuck off, Jake, we both know you act the same way sometimes," You flipped him off and rolled your eyes. "Let's go eat before Sam gets antsy."

Jake set his guitar back on the stand and the two of you trailed out after you. Before you stepped into the kitchen, a thought popped up in your mind. You hesitated and grabbed Jake’s arm, pulling him to the side in the hall.

“Hey…you don’t think he’s mad at me for something, do you?” You whispered.

Jake took in your panicked appearance and sighed. “Listen, you didn’t do anything. You said it yourself, he just gets like this sometimes. Someone else probably pissed him off.”

“I’m just saying, if I’m going to tell him I’m in love with him, which could potentially ruin our lifelong friendship, being pissed at me won’t exactly make him more receptive.” The words left your mouth almost too quick to understand.

Jake put a reassuring hand in your shoulder and smiled. “Trust me, kid, I doubt he could ever be mad at you.”

Before you could ask Jake to elaborate on that, he sauntered into the kitchen, leaving you in the hallway alone.

“Fuck,” You sight and brushed a finger through your hair. All your plans felt like they were going so poorly. You couldn’t learn the damn song, Josh was pissed, and you weren’t even sure if he liked you back. All this felt too “high school drama” for a group of adults.

“Hey, everything okay?” Danny poked his head out in the hall and shot you a concerned look.

You gave him your best smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Hungry. Let’s go eat.”

It was best to avoid the topic with Danny. He was sweet, but that was the problem. He would somehow get you to confess all your problems and worries, and that wasn’t all that appealing to you at the moment.

You could tell just by glancing at him that he didn’t buy it, but relented anyway. “Alright, if you say so.”

You gave him one last nod, and the two of you joined the rest of the guys in the kitchen.

Jake and Sam were talking away happily as they finished setting dishes on the table. That wasn’t true for the third Kiszka brother, unfortunately. Josh, while slightly less cold than earlier, still maintained an irritated expression as he downed a glass of amber liquid. Fantastic, he was pissed enough to be drinking. He didn’t even look at you or Jake as everyone sat down to eat.

Of course you couldn’t even get through the meal without a blow up.

“So, I hear we have our own Hendrix on the rise. Or are you more of a Clapton? No, let me guess…Jimmy Page?” Sam elbowed your arm lightly with a playful grin.

“Oh, definitely. I’m practically a prodigy.” You deadpanned, stabbing through a clump on noodles on your plate.

“Guitar lessons not going so well?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Not quite.” You grimaced at the recollection of the strained chords you were playing earlier.

“I’m sure Jakey was teaching you plenty. Or maybe he wasn’t making great use of his time.” Josh spat, suddenly speaking up from the end of the table.

Everyone turned to look at him. Something about the conversation had made him revert back to the way he looked earlier.

“What’s your problem, man?” Sam looked at Josh, utterly confused.

Josh scoffed a laugh. “Problem? There’s no problem! I mean, Jakey’s a great teacher. I’m sure she learned plenty.”

His chair screeched against the floor as he abruptly stood and left the room. The rest of you were speechless. Yeah, the boys fought sometimes, but usually that was reserved to arguments about the band and music and things of that nature. Not whatever this was.

“So it is me then. It has to be. He’s pissed at me.” You huffed a bitter laugh and took a swig of your beer. “Perfect.”

“Not you. Me. Looked at me like he wanted to kill me as soon as I walked in.” Jake muttered, downing the rest of his drink.

“Well, that still doesn’t explain what either of us did to make him that pissed. We’ve barely been around him today!”

“Nothing crazier than a man in love,” Sammy mumbled to Danny, not quite as quietly as he intended.

You blinked at the youngest Kiszka. “A man in what?”

Sam’s face took on a panicked expression. He began stumbling over his words, fumbling for excuses before Jake cut him off.

“Listen, it’s probably best that you’ve told her,” Jake waved a dismissive hand at his brother and turned to face you. “Ok, I’ve tried to hint at it, but that hasn’t worked, so there it is. He’s crazy about you, that’s probably why he was pissed when he caught us playing guitar. So, now you know. Please go fix him before he rips our heads off.”

You immediately stood and headed after him, not giving yourself any time to contemplate on whether this was a wise idea. You couldn’t think on this. If you allowed a moment to second-guess what you were about to do you would never be able to go through with it.

It was a lot to process anyway. Josh had feelings for you too. He liked you. A smile slowly crept onto your face as you paced down the hall, but it vanished as soon as you got to his door.

He was in there. You could tell from the music drifting out into the hall through the closed door. With a deep breath, you knocked.

At first, there was no answer.

“Josh? Please open the door, I want to talk.” You knocked again as you pleaded with him.

Another beat of silence. Then the sound of footsteps. Then he opened the door.

“What is it?” He ground out.

As he took in your appearance and the nervousness written on your features, his expression softened slightly.

“Just hear me out, okay? Nothing happened with me and Jake. Please don’t be mad at him, I promise he was just helping me learn a song. Besides, we’re friends, and I don’t feel that way towards him.” The words rushed out of your mouth desperately.

Josh sighed and gave you a sad smile. “You don’t have to defend anything to me. I’m sorry I reacted bad, but if you’re happy then I can be happy with that too. You don’t have to worry about me.��

You shook your head at him. “No, no, no, I wasn’t lying. Nothing happened. That’s the truth. I really need to you to believe that.”

“Why? Why is that so important?”

Oh boy. This was it. No going back. “Because, Josh, that was all for you!”

“You got all snuggled up to my brother for me?” He crossed his arms, giving you a skeptical look.

You let out a frustrated groan. “No! It wasn’t ‘snuggling’, he was teaching me to play John Denver. I wanted to learn some for you. I wanted to be able to play you a song for once, so I could tell you…”

The confidence in your voice quickly faded as you neared the end of your statement. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as easy to rip off the bandaid as you thought.

“Tell me what?” Josh’s voice got quieter. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward you. “What were you going to tell me?”

His eyes were locked on yours now. You mirrored his actions and took a step closer. He did the same until barely any space was left between the two of you. You watched as his eyes slowly drifted down to gaze at your lips, and you made your move.

You pressed your lips to his, and he met you with the same level of hunger. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you into him. It took everything in you not to tangle your fingers in his beautiful curls, because if you did that there would be no way you could stop and you needed to say the words. You needed him to hear it.

“I’m in love with you, Josh. Only you.” You panted in between kisses.

He broke apart and looked at you with a grin. “You mean that, baby?”

“More than anything.” You matched his smile.

He pulled you in for one more kiss. “Good, because you’re all mine.”

You melted into his kiss once more before a shout from the kitchen interrupted you.

“Are you guys done yet? Can we finish dinner?” Sam yelled.

“Fuck off, Sammy, just eat the damn food!” Josh shouted back.

You chuckled and linked your hand with his as you started off down the hallway. A light tug from Josh stopped you in your tracks.

“What’s wrong?”

He gave you a devilish grin. “Where are you going, mama? I’ve got other plans for us if you’re interested.”

Oh. Oh.

“Lead the way, Josh.”

Before you could protest, he picked you up and spun you around. Your shriek quickly dissolved into laughter as he carried you into his room and shut the door.

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