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wobblesthecowgirl · 10 days

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I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Two: Six Point Cabin

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hello again! Chapter two is a lot longer and we are kinda getting into it. I know Arthur and reader hate each other but you can't rush enemies to lovers!

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Days had gone by and Y/n hadn’t eaten a proper meal. In fact, she wouldn’t have had anything if it wasn’t for Mary-Beth feeding both her and Kieran scraps of food when the other gang members weren’t looking. Y/n always made sure to thank her, repaying her kindness with respect. She doesn’t have to do that, but she’s got a good heart.

Arthur and Dutch had tried asking about Colm a few more times but without being fed, the two O’Driscoll’s were too tired to respond (that and Y/n was too suborn. She hated this gang as much as the other one). Today however, seemed much different.

It was sunny, a light breeze and the birds were chirping, it would’ve been a calming day if it wasn’t for the predicament. Arthur strode towards the two of them and stood in between the two trees. When she was tied up, the gang made sure Kieran and Y/n couldn’t reach one another, their feet being only a foot apart from each other.

“When is this going to end…” Kieran whined as Arthur got to them, not ready for another day of questioning and torture.

“You both got some speaking to do of your own, about that old gang of yours.” He folded his arms like he always did, which Y/n rolled her eyes at. Here we go again.

Kieran was standing again, whereas she couldn’t, her thigh slightly better but due to her condition, it was healing slower than it should. Kieran groaned, “I said I told you. I don’t know nothing.”

Arthur shook his head, the tiny rope on his hat swung with it, “That’s what I thought.”

Dutch came striding over, his voice cheerful and booming, causing the woman to jump.

“Hold your horses there! It seems the cat has got our friend’s tongue’s.” He stood with Arthur, with a bigger guy before continuing, “I was thinking Mr Williamson could have a word.”

Y/n eyed him carefully; she had been trying to get as much information on everyone, being sat doing nothing makes you people watch. She was sure this guy was called Bill. He had a creepy grin on his face and pointed at Kieran.

“We can start with you. You ready to talk, boy?”

“I told you mister, I told all of you. I don’t know nothing, ok?” He sighed, “Th-They ain’t no friends of mine. I just been ridin’ with them for a while.”

Bill interrupted him, his spit flying out his mouth, “Bullshit! You’re close with this O’Driscoll, and you told us you weren’t close with any of them! So how about you tell us the truth.” He turned to the gang’s leader, “Dutch, what do you want me to do?”

Y/n’s heart dropped. This interrogation session was different than the others, it was much more sinister.

“Hurt him. So the next time he opens his mouth, it is to tell us what is going on.” Dutch’s mouth was twisted into a sly smile, his voice dripping with ill intent.

“Who am I kidding? One of the O’Driscoll’s boys couldn’t open his mouth, but he’d tell a lie.” He got in Kieran’s face before turning to Bill, “Screw it. Let’s just have some fun,” He made a cutting motion with his fingers, “geld him.”

Bill cheered as Y/n pulled at her restraints, “No! You get away from him!” She screamed as Dutch laughed down at her.

“Maybe you’ll talk for him!”

“What’s he doing? Where’s he going?” Her friend panicked, watching Bill bring a pair of long tongs from the fire.

Arthur hadn’t said anything, only stood watching the scene unfold before him, waiting to see who would crack first.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re only balls boy! Just gonna cause you trouble.” Dutch began to ramble about Rome but the two hostages weren’t listening, instead watching Bill cheerfully make his way over. Kieran’s trousers and pants were then pulled down, and Y/n made sure to look up, in attempts to save the poor boy’s dignity.

“No, no, no, no! You’re kidding right?” Kieran cried, trying to back away but the tree blocked him.

“You disgusting pigs!” Y/n snapped, still wriggling and kicking, her thigh screaming at her to stop.

“You sick bastards! What do you want from me!” Even Kieran was swearing now, fear causing him to sweat profusely.

“Well, you are going to talk. The only question is now, or after we get these little fellas off?” The three men were surrounding Kieran. The pair of tongs getting closer, yet he still wasn’t cracking.

“Ok! I’ll tell you!” Y/n shouted; she couldn’t sacrifice her friend getting hurt over a gang who didn’t even realise they were missing. All the men turned to her, the weapon getting a bit further away from him.

“Six point cabin.” She stated, and when they looked at her she sighed, “That’s where the O’Driscoll’s are. That’s where Colm is lying low.”

The men seemed satisfied, as Bill shouted at Kieran, “Why didn’t you tell us that first, boy?”

“I didn’t know the location!” He whimpered, still keeping an eye of Bill’s hand, and trying to cross his legs.

“But I know where that is! I can take you there. I don’t like him. I mean, I like him even less than I like you. No offence.”

“Oh, none taken.” Dutch cackled. Arthur finally joined in on the conversation. He leant down to Kieran and said, “Ok then, partner. Why don’t you and your friend take a few of us up there. Right now.” He untied Kieran who quickly pulled his trousers up, and Arthur approached Y/n.

“I ain’t helping you!” She spat, her not shot leg kicking out in protest. She could hear him grumbling as he untied her, and when she refused to stand, he grabbed her bicep and forced her up. His grip was purposefully strong, but she couldn’t focus on that, instead, she focused on the fact that she couldn’t stand or walk properly. Being sat for days on top of her wound made her useless.

“I got this, Dutch. Should be fun.” He reassured his leader before turning his attention back to her, “Alright you, come on. Can you walk?”

“What does it look like?” She gritted her teeth, limping slowly to what she assumed was his horse after watching him ride to camp on it. She could feel him chuckling behind her, “Well at least I ain’t gotta worry about you running away.”

Another snide remark from this man and I’ll kill him on pure adrenaline and a pocketknife.

Kieran jogged over to the best of his ability to help her, but she held her hand up to stop him. She didn’t want to appear weaker than what she already did, and if the two kept acting close, the gang would use that against them like how they already did.

“Let’s hope you both ain’t trying to trick us, O’Driscolls.” Arthur warned.

“We ain’t no O’driscoll.” Kieran corrected which only caused the older man to snap back, “But you sure as shit was.” After that, he called for John and Bill to tag along, and Kieran gave them the directions.

“John, you take this little rattlesnake with you. Any nonsense, kill him.”

John nodded, pointing to his horse so Kieran could hop on.

“Don’t do anything rash.” Y/n called out to him as John sat on the front of his horse. Kieran nodded at her as if to say ‘same to you’.

“You’re with me, woman.” Arthur got on his horse, and looked down at her. She looked up and from this angle, she could see how his stubble was neatly kept and his moustache was slightly longer. His eyes were light and the were small scars dotted across his cheek.

I can’t wait to put a bullet through his head.

She grabbed the saddle but winced when she shifted her weight to her bad leg. With a grunt, Arthur extended his hand which only caused her to raise her chin at him.

“You can put your filthy hand away, I don’t need your help.”

“Well, it sure looks like you do. Stop being so stubborn, girl.”

“I hope you drop dead on this mission.” She spat, pulling herself up in an awkward manner, seating behind him with as much distance as she could get. Why does he have to have the biggest horse known to mankind?

“Are they taking us to Colm?” John asked as the three horses galloped out the camp and through the trees that gave comforting shade to the summer’s sun.

“Look, I-I-I’ll give you more directions when we’re close, but if I know where we are, it’s up past Valentine.” Kieran strutted as John moved further up for the rest of them to follow. Y/n tuned out the men the entire ride there, all she heard was talk about throwing knives, O’Driscolls, and horse shit. Instead, she watched the dust kick up from the hooves of the horses, the leaves blowing in the wind, and the occasional people passing by.

Arthur asked Bill if he still had the tongs, to which he replied with the fact he had a knife.

“Keep that in mind, young fella.” He yelled at Kieran, “Right in the forefront of it.”

“What about the woman?” Bill asked; Y/n saw him shrug.

“I’ll just shoot her other leg. I doubt she’ll get far.” His voice found humour in this, and she could only grit her teeth at how helpless she was. She was stronger than this, much stronger, and these idiots didn’t even know it.

“It’s passed these hills. Better get there before I get your gun.” She threatened and couldn’t help her smirk as she saw him instinctively reach for his holster. They stopped their horses at the clearing and planned to reach the cabin from foot. Arthur got off first and looked at her, wondering if she was going to ask for help. Of course she didn’t. Instead, she swung her leg over and jumped down, falling to her knees from the sudden impact. She kept her pained cries inside, only earning a small grunt. Kieran made his way over and helped her back on her feet, which this time she didn’t push him away. When she was steady, Kieran began to walk towards the cabin’s location.

“There’ll be a bunch of fellers hiding out there too.” Kieran stated as the group were crouched behind a log, peering into the woods. A couple of men were further than the rest, taking a toilet break against a tree.

“Are these fellas armed?” Arthur asked.

“Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers.” Kieran nodded.

“And Colm O’Driscoll?”

“Most likely.” Y/n intervened, “Probably passed out sleeping soundly. After a day of bossing people to their deaths.”

The three O’Driscoll’s continued to talk to one another as Dutch's group tried to conduct a plan. The O’Driscoll’s got close, so John grabbed Kieran and covered his mouth with a gun to his head. Arthur did the same. His giant, calloused hands roughly gripped Y/n face to silence her, the other hand on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her ear, but she didn’t move a muscle. Not because she was scared, but because doing so would be pointless. If she screamed, either John would shoot her, or her former gang mates would.

“I’m gonna let go of you now, if you so much as move an inch, I’m shooting you in the head this time.” He whispered in her ear, as she stifled a grunt, her eyebrows knitted together. He slowly let go, making sure she didn’t move, and began making his way over to the enemy with his throwing knife, stabbing all three with Bill. John turned to Kieran and Y/n, his eyes narrowed.

“I need to help them. You two stay here, if you try to escape we will hunt you down. Understood?” Kieran nodded while she only rolled her eyes; she was getting tired of all the empty threats. They watched as John descended down the hill.

“We can’t keep doing this, man.” She spoke up after a quick breather, her leg aching. He only hummed in response, too busy trying to get a better look of what was going on. As she scoped the scene, a familiar shine in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

“Is that..” It was. It was a sniper rifle. It was the first time she had a genuine smile. Oh, what a beautiful sight, a beautiful sight that is now mine.

She hopped down the hill, carefully as to not alert either gang, and picked up the gun. Its cold metal only warmed her heart, as she looked through the scope and nodded her head; it wasn’t the best, but it’d do. She heard her friend scramble after her, not wanting to be left alone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He scolded, the both of them a bit startled at the sudden loud bangs of guns at the cabin.

“What do you think? I’m going to scope that big grunt and get us the hell out of here. We can wait till they kill all the O’Driscolls, then I aim from a distance an-“

“No! Being alone is too risky! We would get hunted down! Our best bet is to warm up to the Van Der Linde gang and-“

It was her turn to interrupt him, she looked like she had been shot a second time, “What? Are you insane! Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m trying not to lose my head!” He snapped back, much to her surprise. He rubbed his eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Just… hear me out ok?”

“They will kill us after today you know? We gave them what they needed, Bang. Bye bye us.”

A twig snapped, the two of them now on high alert. An old O’Driscoll had a gun pointed at Kieran, but Y/n quickly head shot him within milliseconds. He thanked her, a hand to his chest.

“Come on, we are sitting ducks here.” She began to limp to the cabin, the gunshots had died down significantly. When they got there, the place was littered with dead bodies.

She made her way to the wooden shed and saw the rest of them there. Arthur had his back turned; it would be so easy. She aimed her rifle at him, just as he got knocked down by a frenzied O’Driscoll with a gun pointing down at him. Saves me a job, she first thought, but Kieran’s previous words nagged her. Nagged and nagged, before she huffed in annoyance. Damn you, horse boy.

She shot the man on top of Arthur between his brows, he went limp, and Arthur pushed the now dead body off of him; blood had splattered on his coat and face. He laid there for a moment, not even acknowledging her, before getting up and peering his head inside the cabin and was suddenly filled with rage. He stormed towards her, his face red.

“You set us up! Come here!” He was towering over her now, their anger mutual.

“No she didn’t!” Kieran tried to defuse the situation which only made Arthur angrier.

“You both did, Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here!”

“If I wanted to set you up, I would’ve used this very rifle in my hand to shoot you dead!” She seethed, raising the rifle as proof she did just in fact save his life.

“She has a good point, Arthur.” Bill butted in, sort of on her side. Arthur paused for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation before shooing her away and saying, “Alright then, go on, get out of here.”

“Eh?” Kieran puzzled, stepping closer to Y/n who only furrowed her brows at him. A trap? Get our back turned to shoot us?

“I’m letting you run away, now go on. Get out of here.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, come on Kieran.” She was about to walk off, or hobble away, when he grabbed her wrist.

“That’s as good as killing us. Out there, without you, Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this.”

She groaned, sick of this argument, and Arthur didn’t seem too pleased either, only asking, “So?”

“So, we’re one of you now.” He stated, earning a scoff from Y/n.

“Oh please.”

He shot her a warning glance and for once she obeyed. Arthur rubbed his eyes before murmuring, “Give me a break.” He looked at them both, thinking hard about his next decision.

“Alright then. But I’m warning you both…”

“We get it!” Y/n groaned, throwing the rifle on the ground to his feet so he didn’t keep going on.

“You fellas get to camp, quick. Hey Bill, you tell Dutch, old Kieran and little Y/n ain’t worth killing. Just yet.” He stated, already making his way inside the cabin to find the money stashed in the chimney.

Y/n got on John’s horse this time with said man, deciding the man with the giant scar on his face was still better than Bill, who only this morning was excited to burn a man’s balls off.

“Don’t think for second you’re one of us.” John barked as they began their journey back to camp.

“Trust me. I’ll never have the desire to be accepted by any of you.” She scoffed, all of them going silent as the sun began to set, and the cold air giving her goosebumps.

#rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader

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reputationbarbie · 6 months

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❝ therefore i am ❞

A/N: if you want to know what's going on in my personal life, read my past couple posts. i'm not going to go to much into it but i'm back. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter deals with the aftermath of the club. michael becomes unrecognizable.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, torture, blood, hostages, fighting, threatening, weapons, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression, lmk if i missed something.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby's cabinet ✰ spotify playlist ⋆ word count: 6.4k ⋆

I’m never drinking again.

The pounding in my head makes me feel like a military missel just rocketed itself into my temple. I groan, wincing slightly at the raw sensation in my throat. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft light from the sunrise.

I look at the clock to the right of my nightstand and I am happy to see it’s only 4 a.m. I typically have weekends off from President’s Daughter duty, so I’m grateful for the extra time to sleep in.

I don’t even remember getting up here if I'm honest. Deciding to deal with it later, I slowly shift in the bed. I allow my eyes to close again, flipping to the other side. I sigh, trying to get comfortable when the nausea kicks in.

I inhale a sharp deep breath when I feel a warm hand creeping under my shirt. I moan and melt into the soft circles being rubbed into my back by the physical heating pad. Wait, did I go home with someone?

My body immediately fills with panic thinking about the possibility of a stranger being in my bed. I almost scream when I pry my eyes open and see a sleepy Meredith peering back at me.

My eyes widen and my breathing quickens. I mean, I’m into girls and guys, so it’s plausible we hooked up. “Did we?” I ask, nervous to lift the blankets to see the state of my clothing.

“No,” Meredith sighs, returning her hand to its place on my back.

I groan, shifting in Meredith's hold. “What the fuck happened?” I whisper, burrowing my face deeper into her armpit.

“That prick Teddy roofied you. Apparently, he and Vanessa had a bet. She’s definitely not hanging with us anymore. You don’t remember anything?” Meredith inquires, continuing to rub my back.

I inhale a sharp breath. “No, but I feel fine.” Then, I exhale, pushing on the mattress to sit up. I rub my eyes, attempting to clear the sleep out of them. “How did we get here?” I ask the blonde.

“Michael came to tell us you were leaving and I was ready to be done but Kendall wanted to go hook up with someone,” Meredith pauses and I grimace, attempting to shove the bile down my throat. “Vanessa wanted to stay so I left my guards with them, figuring Michael would keep the two of us safe,” she continues.

I pat the bed for my phone and sure enough, when I find it, it’s dead. “And then, get this. It’s the best part. He made me hold you in position while he shoved his fingers down your throat. You ate a lot tonight, girlie,” the events of the night flow into my eardrums through Meredith’s excellent storytelling.

“Wait,” I pause Meredith mid-story, “He didn’t tell you I was roofied until we were gone?” I ask, quite frankly confused as fuck.

I lift the blankets off of me, sliding out of the bed. Picking up my robe from the footboard bench, I shrug it onto my body. “Mmhm, said something about taking care of it himself,” I hear Meredith murmur.

When the words register, the blood drains from my body. “Oh, no. Mer,” I curse, quietly.

My body slowly turns around in an attempt to keep myself calm. “What?” Meredith tilts her head and asks.

I put my hands out on the duvet in front of me, leaning into the mattress. “Did you tell him about Vanessa and Teddy?” I ask Meredith. Hopefully, she didn’t and Michael is in the next room asleep. If she did, the worst-case scenario is he’s already killed them.

A puzzled look washes over Meredith's face and she looks up at the ceiling as if the answer is up there. “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop asking questions on the way back,” she tells me and my world shatters. “Do you know you snore?” she continues, unphased.

My dinner from last night threatens to come up as I think of what to do. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. What do you do when your Secret Service wants to rightfully kill someone who hurt you? “Mer, he’s an ex fucking mercenary assassin,” I snip.

Meredith's brows kit together and she licks her lips. “What’s that mean?” she wonders.

I look at Mer with a blank expression covering my face. I expected a billionaire's daughter to be a know-it-all. “Meredith, are you serious?” I grill.

Mer puts her hands up in defense. “What? I’m not in college,” she reminds me.

I nod, taking a deep breath and looking down at the crisp blue fabric. “A mercenary is someone paid to fight. Paid to kill,” I sigh.

“So?” I hear Meredith ask.

My hazel eyes connect with hers again. Meredith blinks rapidly, slightly leaning forward with intrigue. “You don’t give an addict the key to the drug lockbox,” I explain.

Mer's eyes squint and I can barely see the sea swimming around her pupils. “Wait you don’t think he’s…” she trails off.

My hand instinctively reaches out and wraps around Meredith's wrist as if she’s one of my little siblings. “Get up. We’re going to find him,” I demand, effectively dragging her out of bed.

Meredith stumbles a bit like a baby deer once her feet are placed on the floor and I start moving quickly, leaving dust in our trail. “Relax, Libby. He’s probably in his room,” she calls behind me.

I fling my bedroom door open, walking us out into the shared living room. “Mer, you gave the trained assassin whose only job is to protect me the coordinates to put a bullet through two people's heads,” I tell her over my shoulder before lifting my hand to knock on Michael’s door.

My knuckles rasp on the old oak wood before I press my ear to the door, listening for any movement. No shuffling is heard behind the door, so I try knocking once more. All I hear is my breathing bouncing off the solid material.

I turn around slowly, wide-eyed and fearful. Meredith seemingly reads my body language and her affect changes to match what I presume mine is. “Oh shit. I did didn’t I?” she asks for clarification.

Brushing past her, I grab my spare robe from the living room closet. “Yes. Now put this on,” I scoff, throwing it towards her chest.

Meredith cringes with shock washing over her face. She hurriedly puts her arms through the sleeves, pulling the fluffy garment on. “What are we going to do?” she panic shouts.

My hands begin to shake and I tuck them into my pockets. “I don’t know! Stop screaming! It’s 4 am!” I bellow.

Tears collect in Mer's eyes and threaten to spill over her lower lid. “You’re screaming back!” she screams.

“Because I’m stressed,” I explain, returning my voice to my normal level. I shut my eyes, taking slow soothing breaths that fill my lungs with the crisp winter air. “Okay, deep breaths. He couldn’t have found them, picked them up, and killed them in two hours,” I rant, trying to stay in my delusional world.

The sound of our bare feet scurrying towards the door echoes off the tile floor. “I think you’re underestimating your man,” I hear Meredith jest under her breath before I pull open my door.

When we exit the hall, the first person I see is a random security guard. He tilts his head and squints his eyes at us before reaching for the inner lining of his suit pocket. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn him causing him to freeze.

I slowly creep towards him until we’re standing toe to toe. “I’m just going to my sister's room. You don’t need to tell anyone. Understand?” I flirt, slowly reaching up to grab his hand that’s near his jacket.

His eyes widen and he turns a scarlet red. His palms begin perspiring, effectively moistening my hand. Seemingly speechless, he just nods before I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. Once his hand is placed back by his side, I release it now that my skin is covered in the man's sweat. Tipping my imaginary hat to him, I link my arm with Meredith who has been standing by, pulling her down the hall.

When we reach the door, I greet the secret service agent outside her door with a smile. Great, another fucking loophole. “Hey, is my sister in there?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

He doesn’t look down at me and Meredith. Instead, he keeps his head focused forward towards the rest of the corridor. “Yes,” the older man deadpans.

I roll my eyes, deciding to forego asking for permission. I’m already here, all I need to do is get into that room and talk to Agent Idris. “Great,” I brush past him, reaching for the door to her common living space.

It’s a lot different than my serene blue castle. The room is covered in a dark plum shade that matches beautifully with her skin tone. Although it may be depressing to look at during your first visit, the hue of the purple sparkles like a gem bringing light into the room.

My sister is a heavy sleeper, so I don’t worry that my knocking will wake her as my hand lifts. I bang on the door like a cop, pausing to listen for shuffling, but I hear nothing. “Agent Idris, are you in there?” I call through the door before reaching for the handle.

I slowly crack the door open in case he’s just sleeping. When I look in the dark and cold room, it’s empty. I swear under my breath, slowly shutting the door behind me. When I turn to face Meredith, she looks dejected.

I grab Meredith's hand pulling her out of the joint sitting room between the two rooms. “That was just our first stop. I figured he’d take him,” I encourage her.

We exit my sister's living area, shutting the large door behind us. “Have a good morning,” I bid the agent goodbye, hoping he won’t speak a word.

He quickly tilts his head down in a moment so quickly, I almost miss it. “You too, Ms. Washington,” he mutters.

My feet nearly stick to the group as we scurry to the next location, Huddy's room. When we get to the door, I repeat the same steps with his night door guard. “Is Hudson awake?” I ask kindly.

This time the man looks down at me and shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

I smile, pulling my lips between my teeth to look mischievous to the man in front of me. “Good. I need to prank him. Can I?” I ask with hope.

He pauses for a moment, looking at his watch before looking back up at me. He seems skeptical, but I’m hoping he buys it. After what feels like forever, he finally mutters, “Sure.”

I mutter a thank you in reply before entering my brother's living area. This time Meredith thinks she knows where she’s going, and she heads straight for the door on the right. I grab her arm, softly pulling her backward. The layout is flipped from both my sister's and mine, so I understand how confusing it could be. It’s covered in red, but none of the reds match. Some are faded while some are bold. It’s like a bachelor pad for a man who doesn’t get any pussy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has navy sheets on his bed right now.

My hand lifts, repeatedly pounding on another agent's door. This time I’m surprised to see Agent Flynn’s face. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

Agent Flynn leans against the door frame, sleepy wiping his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s like 4 in the morning,” he grumbles.

Trying to save your friend from making a mistake that’ll land him another 4 years with another president’s bratty daughter. Without me. “I think something’s wrong with Michael,” I sigh.

He reaches in to flick the light on in his room. “What do you mean?” he yawns.

I flinch slightly and my pupils adjust to the change of ambiance. “After the dinner, we went out to the club and I got roofied tonight by some rich kids at the club. He asked Meredith for all their info while I was passed out then dropped us here before taking off with Agent Idris,” I try my best to cover all the information tonight.

His eyes widen, seemingly registering what I’ve said. “Shit,” he swears, turning away from the door to enter the brightly lit room. It’s nice compared to my brother's decor. At least someone has taste. “Shit, why don’t they tell me anything?” he asks, grabbing his phone from his bedside table.

Meredith and I survery the room with curiosity, but neither of us dare to cross the threshold into the space. My attention turns back to Agent Flynn, whose fingers quickly tap the screen before he lifts it to his ear. “Who are you calling?” I question him.

“Damson. Mike’s not answering,” Agent Flynn responds.

My heart quickens and my stomach fills with demonic butterflies. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. “Do you think they’re,” I prompt Agent Flynn to answer.

Agent Flynn's body tenses, instantly giving his answer away. He looks like he needs a hug. “Yes. You better pray your little friend didn’t just nail a coffin,” he snips.

My stomach continuously bubbles and I scratch my hand with furor. The fuck are we going to do? “Two,” Meredith chirps behind us, correcting the man.

My face mirrors Agent Flynn’s, twisting in confusion. When I turn around, Meredith is standing there unphased by the word she just uttered. “Mer, that’s a little insensitive,” I point out.

Her cheeks turn maroon and she looks down at the floor beneath her. “Sorry, but they deserve it,” she grumbles.

Agent Flynn snickers and I whip my head towards him. He puts his hands up in defense when I narrow my eyes at him. “What? I like her,” he smirks.

I stuff the urge to hit him down into the pits of hell, refocusing on the task at hand. “So where are we going first?” I ask Agent Flynn.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We?” he asks.

I nod furiously. “Yes, we. How can I trust you’re not going to just let them kill them anyway?” I chastise.

He crosses his arms, standing firmly in place like a statue. “Because, unlike Dammy and Mike, I despise killing people,” he counters.

We stare each other down until a few moments pass. The silence is uncomfortable and it makes me want to squirm, but I won’t be the one to give in. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and go back to bed, Agent Idris groans, “Fine. I don’t have time for this. Let’s go,” he commands me and Meredith to follow him.

We exit Hudson's apartment and into the grand hallway. As we walk by guards, Agent Flynn friendly tips his head up to each of them.“Where are we going?” I ask, barely keeping up after his long stride.

“To find them,” he grumbles, taking a right towards the stairwell.

Meredith increases her pace, able to keep up with Agent Flynn’s due to the length of her legs. “Don’t I need actual shoes?” I ask him, putting my hand on the cool banister as we rush down the first level of stairs.

Agent Flynn looks up at me and his amber-colored eyes sparkle in the dim light. “No, we’re just going downstairs,” he informs us.

We get to my parent’s living area and before opening the door Agent Flynn turns around. He puts his finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. He quietly turns the nob, opens the door, and sticks his head out before entering the area. Once he’s determined the close is clear, he motions for us to follow him down the next set of steps.

I hold my breath and pray that my clumsy nature doesn’t make an appearance. All that’s heard in the small stairwell is the sound of our feet connecting with the stone steps. Once we get to the entrance hall, Agent Flynn silently greets his coworkers, refusing to haul his quick pace.

Although we’re bolting, I feel like I can breathe. There are only two more flights to go and we haven’t been stopped yet.

We make our way towards the next staircase when Mer asks, “There’s a basement?”

“Yes but,” I begin speaking before realizing, I’m also confused about the concept of the basement. I knew about the Navy Resteraunt and the Secret Service headquarters, but not about anything else that happened down there. And since I’m sure no one else will tell me, Agent Flynn is the perfect person to explain. “Agent Flynn, wait,” I call after him.

“We don’t have time,” he grits between his teeth.

I scurry in front of him, stopping him from walking any further on the ground floor. “Agent Flynn, you will stop right now and explain!” I shout like a baby, crossing my arms and stomping for effect.

He looks down at me and smirks. “Rome,” he states.

My brows furrow and I know I’m going to have wrinkles when I’m 50. “What?” I ask.

He steps around me, heading towards the last staircase. “My name is Rome. If you’re going to yell at me, use my first name. Although I rather you be yelling under different circumstances,” he taunts, jogging down leaving Mer and me in his dust.

Mer looks at me and shrugs before following him. Rolling my eyes, I trail after them. “Michael’s gonna kill you when he hears you said that,” I call down the staircase towards Rome.

“Not when he sees you down there. Then, I’ll be dead,” he corrects.

When we reach the bottom floor, I flinch feeling the cool concrete floor beneath my feet. Rome opens the door for us, motioning for us to walk ahead of him. I’ve never been on this side of the basement. The windowless grey space sucks any life out of the area, as opposed to its warm and wood counterpart.

Meredith and I come to a halt and turn around to face Rome, unsure of where to go. He allows the heavy metal door to shut behind us before he clears his throat. “This is the side of the basement is.. How do you say it?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“A torture house?” Meredith squeaks.

Rome clicks his teeth, pointing at the blonde. “Bingo. Used by the highest clearance. Us, the military,” he elaborates.

“Highest clearance including my mom?” I ask, and Rome’s hazel eyes soften with a nod. “Has she used it yet?” I press on, curious about the state of virginity in the space after the election. I purse my lips, accepting his answer.

“I’m not answering that question,” Rome grumbles before turning his back to us. He leads us down a hall I’ve never been down before. The tight space surrounding us heightens my claustrophobia. My heart starts pounding, so I reach out and grab Mer’s hand for some sort of stability. “You alright?” she asks.

We pass various doors that I don’t dare to ask what’s behind. “Yeah, ’m fine. Just don’t like small spaces,” I confess before we take a right.

At the end of the hall, a huge metal door stands between us and something I’m not sure I’m ready to see. My feet drag while Rome quickly walks the rest of the way, unlocking the door before turning around to face me. “Are you sure you want to go in?”

I lightly throw my hand up in exhaustion. “Yes, Rome. Her friend is in there, for fucks sake,” I point out, gesturing towards Mer.

“Former friend,” Meredith squeaks out before I lightly squeeze her hand. “I mean, best friend,” she attempts to clear up.

Rome looks back and forth at us before clearing his throat. “Libby,” he starts, putting his hand on my shoulder and separating Meredith from me. “When Mike gets like this, he’s like a robot. He turns off his humanity to get to his goal and he only listens to the people he cares about. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he sees you,” he warns.

The ice in my toes spreads throughout my body, creating icicles on my nose. He’s warning you because he could see you, and he could kill you. No, Lib, he wouldn’t do that. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my robe, pulling it tighter around me. “I’m going to choose to have faith on this one. Now open the door,” I demand, looking up at the towering goofball.

He puts his hands up in surrender before turning and pulling the door open. The room is empty, similar to the rest of the hallway. It lacks anything but a metal chair. I rush forward into the space and just when I think I’ve got the wrong room, I look to my right and gasp.

Agent Idris is leaning against an oak table on one side of the room with his arms crossed. Behind the table sits a sobbing Vanessa. Her black mascara stains her cheeks and she’s practically bursting out of her dress.

She flinches and I turn my head, curious to see what she’s looking at. My jaw drops as I watch Michael land another blow to the brunette man’s face. What was once pristine is now dripping with blood. His hands and feet are tied to a chair and he wiggles, attempting to squirm away from Michael’s fist.

I’ve never seen such vitriol and it’s displayed every time Michael flexes his back muscles to swing. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit.

“Oh my god,” I hear Meredith say behind me. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit. “I can’t watch,” I hear her add before she shuffles out of the room.

“I’m going to go with her. Make sure she’s alright,” I hear Rome say and I nod before the door closes moments later.

I wave at Vanessa, testing if it’s a two-way mirror. My theory is correct and she doesn’t move a muscle. My attention returns to Michael, who’s now kneeling in front of the man, nodding as the man spits out a few words. He’s interrogating him, but there’s got to be a better way to do this. Especially when the kid’s dad is a billionaire.

There’s a button with what looks like a speaker on top of it on the wall. I let my fingers trail over the cool metal before pressing down on the circle.

Vanessa’s sobs fill the space, flowing through the impossibly small device. There’s a gasp before I look up. A sinister grin takes over Michael’s face as he stalks over to his weapons, covered in blood. Michael has decided to move on to the next best thing, a bat. He grabs the wooden spear from the wall, allowing the tip of it to drag on the floor as he walks back over to my perpetrator.

Time slows as I watch him lift the bat, positioning it to rest on his shoulder. He squares his feet firmly in place; I know now is the time. If I don’t stop him now, he’s going to kill him. “Michael,” I utter and he freezes in place. “It’s me,” I choke out the best I can, but it feels like my throat is on fire.

His eyes squint toward the glass as he lowers his arm, walking closer in my direction. “Lib?” he questions with confusion.

His face twists as if he’s on some faraway planet and my voice is his only map to earth. Tears collect in my eyes, threatening to spill over my bottom lid. “Yes. I’m okay. You can stop,” I try to convince him that the route he’s taking isn’t the best.

His once-focused face turns vacant and he begins shaking his head slowly. The pace of his head increases until he’s shaking it rapidly. “No, no, no,” he murmurs as he begins to pace. “Libby wouldn’t be here. She-she’s asleep,” he stutters, talking to himself.

My head nods, even though subconsciously I know he can’t see me. “I am here, Michael,” I emphasize, trying to find the crack in his brain. “Can I come in?” I ask.

His right hand begins beating the outside of his thigh and I know there will be a bruise tomorrow. It’s almost as if he’s trying to pull himself back into his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done this here. You shouldn’t be down here. You shouldn’t see–”

“Michael,” I cut his disorganized ranting off. He stops pacing, turning to face the glass. “You’re my guard, my secret service, mine. Whatever you do I do too, remember?” I emphasize.

We made a deal. If we’re in this shit situation for 4 years, we’re in it together. Meaning, no making things harder on the other person. And this is the definition of making things harder.

Michael’s face begins to soften and my heart slows. I found him, he’s coming back. “No, you don’t understand,” he murmurs, seemingly ashamed of his actions.

I swallow thickly before saying, “I’m coming in,” as a warning before releasing the metal button.

Michael’s muted pleas fall on deaf ears as I move quickly to my left, pulling open the heavy door to the torture chamber. He’s in front of me in seconds, and the sight of his blood-stained front makes me nauseous.

“I don’t want you seeing this,” he coldly grits through his teeth. His body tenses, shielding me from the sight behind me.

Those weren’t the terms of our deal, fucker. “Oh, so you were bold enough to do it but not in front of me?” I grill.

He inhales a sharp breath, bringing his nondominant hand up to scratch his scruff. “That’s not what I mean. You just got drugged and no girl should see this,” he explains before his eyes wander down to my feet. “Damn it, Lib. You don’t have any shoes on and you’re fucking naked,” he snips.

My hands go down to my robe, gathering the fabric and adjusting it. “I’m not naked and I’m fine. Best sleep of my life,” I express, crossing my arms in from of my chest and attempting to shield my undoubtedly hard nipples from him.

He rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way to bring Damson and Vanessa into view. “Did you guys get what you needed?” I ask the guard.

He nods, standing from his relaxed position on the table. “They sang like a canary in the first 5 minutes. Trying to get some pictures of you in a compromising position to sell to the blogs,” he recalls.

I raise my eyebrow at the man. “So you let Michael beat this man within an inch of his life?” I question him, voice laced with annoyance.

Damson shrugs, unphased. “What? It was fun,” he chuckles.

Rome enters the room, startling me a bit before I return my focus to Damson. Shaking my head at his antics, I open my mouth to scold him when Vanessa cuts in, “I’m sorry, Libby. I–”

“Shut the fuck up,” I spit in her face, effectively shutting her up. I bend down slightly so we’re on the same level. I want to make sure she understands every word I’m saying. “You don’t get to call me that. Matter of fact, don’t even speak. You’re not in the position to,” I fume in her direction.

Rome whistles before murmuring, “Damn.”

Vanessa sniffs, unable to wipe the snot since she’s bound to the chair. I revel in her this way. Thinking she could fuck me over. Karma is a bitch. “Stupid cunt,” I grumble.

I turn around to face the three men, deciding it’s best to pretend she’s not there so I don’t get worked up. Michael silently surveys my face and my brows knit on my forehead. Why is he looking at me like that?

Rome clears his throat before asking, “What do you want to do?”

What do I want to do? It’s not like killing them would go off without a hitch. Both of their parents are very prominent figures. The best thing to do now is to use them as an example.

Hell, Teddy’s almost dead and I’ll just act like I don’t know her when people ask. She’ll fade to black and I’m sure the message will be well received all over the city. “Let them go,” I command.

Damson kisses his teeth and his upper body curls. He looks dejected that he couldn’t press on. “But we were just getting to the good part,” he groans.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he complaining about not being about to kill someone? “And you’ll get your good part if they ever try this again,” I placate.

I nod at Rome, signaling for him to untie Vanessa. I watch as he swiftly unties each notch in the knot. Each rope falls to the ground one by one until she’s standing from her prison. “Thank you so much, Liberty. I’m really sorry, again,” she professes.

I scoff at her fakeness. She’s never liked me and she's only pretending to for her mortality. “I’m only letting you go because I’m not a woman hater. Take this as a warning. You tried, but you failed. Try again, I won’t stop them next time. I will let them kill you, Vanessa,” I promise her.

She nods before slipping back on her club heels. She looks at me, awaiting her next instructions. “Meredith can probably take you home. You have to talk to her now too,” I gesture towards the door, beckoning her to leave.

She nods, allowing her gaze to fall to the floor before she scurries out of the room. I reach into my robe pocket, quickly texting Meredith an update so she has a full grasp on the situation, although she’s probably standing right behind the glass pane.

I’m highly aware that this is a strange place to start a friendship, but maybe it’s the start of something long-lasting. “What about him?” Rome asks, pointing to the barely human face crumpled over in the metal chair.

“Call clean up and have them take care of it. It’s almost 6,” Michael instructs before grabbing the bottom of his blood-soaked shirt. He seamlessly lifts it over his head, showing his perfectly sculpted physique. His abs could easily handle a week's worth of my laundry, irritating the stains from the fabric.

He pulls the top from his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. I’m rendered speechless, feeling it inappropriate to drool in a situation like this. Damson seemingly notices me staring and he clears his throat, causing my eyes to shoot up to the light in the ceiling.

I spin on my heels, unsure of what to do. Once we leave this room, we’re not going to be able to discuss this. There are mics and cameras in every room but the bathroom. I know some camera angles have changed to give me some privacy, but every entrance and exit is being recorded. No one moves in The White House without the Secret Service knowing.

I almost jump when I feel a hand on the small of my back, being brought back to reality. My eyes connect with Michael’s when I lower my head and his once black irises have returned to brown. “You need more sleep,” he simply states.

I nod, unsure of what to say to the boys. A cheery goodbye doesn’t necessarily mesh well with social norms. Michael doesn’t allow me to deliberate, lightly pushing me forward towards the door.

I conceded, turning the need to think off by following his lead. He opens the door for us, ushering us through the entryway. As we walk through the empty viewing room, I look to the left one last time at the scarlet scene. My stomach gurgles, and I snap my eyes to the floor. “You sure you okay?” Michael asks, opening the next door for me.

In the grand scheme of things, I feel fine. But if I say that after being through a traumatic situation, he’s going to lock me up and throw away the key. “I’m more concerned about you,” I disclose genuinely as we walk down the hall.

He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his actions. “I’m fine. This is what I do,” he grumbles.

“Used to do,” I correct.

“It’s my job,” he argues and I remind him why I hate him sometimes. It’s like talking to a child.

“I don’t think revenge killing was in the position description,”

The walk back up to our apartment feels like it takes forever. The winding staircases and onlookers dare to swallow me whole. I’m not sure a barefoot and clotheless president's daughter with her shirtless Secret Service agent paints the best picture.

My endless suggestions that Michael at least be checked out by the nurse fall on deaf ears. So when we enter the living room of the apartment, I point at the couch commanding him, “Sit.”

He raises his eyebrow at me but doesn’t make any moves to put his bottom on the cushion. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the infirmary, you’re going to let me clean you up,” I explain.

His eyes search mine for deception and I sigh, annoyed with the consistency of this game. “Fine,” he finally gives in, moving to take a seat on the couch.

I leave the room to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom, filling a cup by the sink with warm water so I can rinse his hands. When I get back, Michael is patiently waiting for my return, anxiously flexing both his hands.

Taking a seat next to him, I bring his hand into my lap to calm his fidgeting. “Stop doing that. You’ll keep opening and breaking the skin,” I worry.

“I was trying to see if it was broken,” he counters and suddenly I feel like an idiot.

“Oh,” I mumble, twisting his wrist to examine his hand. “Is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, slinking down into the couch cushions with a sigh. He looks exhausted. Large brown circles darken the spot beneath his eye and I feel a pang in my chest. “No, probably a hairline fracture,” he speculates and I can tell he’s trying to ease my anxiety.

I pick up the washcloth, dipping it into the cup of water. We sit in silence for a few moments until he winces. Something’s wrong with his hand and he fucked it up because of me.

I quickly clean the rest of his hand, eager to rid the thick sexual tension between us. This is the longest he’s ever touched me and it intensifies the fire in between my thighs. Not right now, Libby. You’re bandaging his hand. “You’ll see the doctor when we wake up,” I demand once we’re finished.

Snapping the first aid kit shut, I scoop the remnants of the bandage wrappers up with my hand. “We?” I hear Michael's question.

I nod, having already made my decision. I just need to stick to it. “Yes, we. You haven’t slept in like 24 hours,” I point out before standing from the couch.

I toss the trash into the pale blue bin on the other side of the room. “I’m fine,” Michael reassures.

“Yeah right,” I scoff before going into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I make sure to wash my hands before relieving myself one last time for the night. Once my hands are scrubbed once more, I apply some vanilla lotion to keep them from drying out.

When I exit the bathroom, Michael hasn’t moved from the couch. He watches me cross the room over to my door with laser focus. “Come on,” I beckon him to join me.

He shakes his head and his body becomes cement. “I’m not sleeping in the bed with you,” he objects.

I roll my eyes at his combativeness and part my lips to say, “I’m not asking you to sleep. But I can’t trust that you won't just leave again.” and kill someone.

He shakes his head but he still doesn’t make a move. Fuck, what do I have to do to get you in my bed? It shouldn’t be this hard. “I wouldn’t,” he reiterates.

“Then come, for me. Call it suicide watch,” I rephrase, hoping it’ll do the trick.

The tick of the clock fills the room and several seconds go by before a glimmer of interest sparkles in his eyes. “Fine,” he concedes, standing from the couch.

He crosses the living area until he’s standing just inside my bedroom door. I shut the door behind us, locking the door just in case Jo didn’t get the memo to not wake me up early this morning.

In the soft light of the early morning room, I shed my robe and Michael sheds his pants. Grabbing a scrunchy from my vanity, I attempt to tie my unruly hair back up underneath my bonnet. When I turn around, Michael stands by the side of my bed patiently waiting for me. He holds the corner of the duvet up for me to climb in.

Once I’m hugged by my warm vanilla fragrance, I watch as he walks over to the other side of the bed, replacing Meredith for the night.

My eyes blink rapidly at him, trying to adjust through the night. “Go to sleep, my lady,” he chides.

Not having any energy to argue, I sigh, turning my body away from him and allowing myself to get comfortable in my bed. As soon as I’m settled, my body begins to give in to the exhaustion of the night’s activities.

I begin to doze off before I feel Michael’s hand snake up my side. I hum at his warm touch, scooting back into his body. “Stay, please,” I request in a daze.

“Okay,” I hear him husk before sleep envelopes me.

Taglist: @cherrellek feedback, next part

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aziraphales-library · 7 months

Note

hello lovelies!! thank you all so much for all the work that you do!! y’all really are lifesavers.

i was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics that emulate the style of the original book/have a Pratchett-y vibe (footnotes, humour, structure, etc.)? i’d be especially interested in ones that are in this style but exist in the show’s canon rather than the book’s, but I wouldn’t mind either way!

We have a #footnotes tag, please check that out. Here are more fics with footnotes...

A Lot of Space Between Your Ears by nerdsandthelike (G)

“And you expect us to just waltz into Heaven, rob the archives, and walk back out?” “Yes.” “No.” Nearly a year after they successfully stopped the world from ending, Heaven obtains evidence that would result in Aziraphale being recalled from Earth. Crowley and Aziraphale decide to steal it back.

DIY How to build your own Garden of Eden by ximeria (T)

Post-not-end-of-days Crowley feels a change is needed, but he can't do it alone. Not to mention, he's not entirely sure what it is, this nebulous thing that he wants. He just knows it involves Aziraphale.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by divisionten (T)

“Well, Pulsifer, I can say with confidence I know exactly what’s wrong with your car.” “Oh? What’s wrong?” Newt peered down, looking at the undercarriage, as most people do who want to help but have absolutely no skill in basic car repair. “It’s shit.” (An anthology collection of the times Anthony J. Crowley, retired demon and occasional slumber party guest, and Aziraphale, forcefully instated Guardian Angel of the downtrodden, get summoned to deal with humanity.)

Yes and Please and Thank You by WyvernQuill (T)

"Go to alpha centauri, for all I care! Go now, this very instant, and never return, do you hear me, Crowley? Never!" Due to Crowley's firm conviction that "he need never know", Aziraphale has, for all the time they've known each other, been blissfully unaware of the obedience curse Crowley's been looping holes around since 4004 BC. You can't really blame him, is the point. Aziraphale had no idea what his unthinking words might do, and is already planning to apologise profusely at dinner... ...which might get a little tricky, seeing as Crowley has just been sighted in the vicinity of Pluto, and has concrete orders to never show his face on earth. Ever. Again.

Demon in Heaven, Angel in Hell by Hexqueen517 (T)

When the world ends, Aziraphale will be called back to Heaven and Crowley will be banished back to Hell, separated for eternity - unless they’re willing to listen to Beelzebub and Gabriel’s plan. Which is Beelzebub’s plan, of course, but they need Gabriel to act as a shield against plant misters filled with holy water. But not everyone in Heaven and Hell is on board with Beelzebub and Gabriel’s leadership. When everyone at the top of the Ineffable Bureaucracy has their own ambitions, the chances of averting apocalypse yet again may seem random. You never know who will come out on top when the dice begin to roll …

i have spent all my years in believing you by braveatironheart (M)

This is the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley inadvertently end the war between Heaven and Hell. The story of how they – indirectly, at least – avert the Apocalypse is in there, too, but I suspect you already know that one. If pressed and in an uncharacteristically honest mood, Crowley would have to admit he’d fallen for Aziraphale in the Garden of Eden. Things were not so straightforward for Aziraphale, who spent six millennia trying to ignore his growing fondness for the demon. He supposed the first time he’d felt drawn to Crowley would have been in Rome, eight years after the death of Christ. And what had he done? Invited him to lunch. It was no wonder, really, that he kissed him two thousand years later. How else was one to respond when one’s hereditary enemy saved one’s life and one’s books? 5945 years after they meet, Crowley and Aziraphale confess their love for one another. They certainly aren’t going to let anything get in the way, no matter what Heaven and Hell throw at them. aka Good Omens, except the only plot is Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. Complete with original, lockdown-era plot.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #footnotes #long fic #mod d

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henrysglock · 11 months

Text

Wonderful! A group of rich people died! Let’s dance on graves; I’ll get my good shoes.

But first, tell me:

Did the accident redistribute their wealth to the masses?

Did those deaths take out a harmful corporation in a way that makes life markedly better for those it was harming?

Did it enact any kind of helpful policy, regulatory, or socioeconomic change?

Or:

Are they just going to replace that CEO?

Is that wealth just going to get passed to their next of kin, remaining withheld from the masses who both need and deserve it?

Is this whole thing going to be forgotten by the next news cycle?

Is our collective glee just ‘bread and circuses’ type behavior that gloats over useless and frankly stupid deaths without any actual impact being made?

“People are justified in their lack of pro-social response to this event because of the socioeconomic state of the world.”

Okay, so show me where any of this changes the socioeconomic structure of the world. Show me where there’s anything worthy of “I hope they all die a slow, agonizing death for,” [checks notes], “hubris, a typical characteristic in most humans at some point in their lives.”

Was it all incredibly stupid? Absolutely. Did most of the dead have it coming? Absolutely. The tragedy in it is that there were no regulations in place to say “Uh…no?” when that voyage was in its planning stages.

And the worst part is? Nothing. Changes. So far, these are meaningless deaths.

Imagine we’re in ancient Rome. The CEO of Oceangate has convinced a group of his buddies (and the kid they dragged along) that “Hey, y’know what would be really fun? If we all dressed up as gladiators and paid to tussle with the lion. No, no, yeah there’s a chance you could die, but trust me, it’s gonna be so cool.” And then we all fucking ate it up, half of us cheering on the lion while the other half wept for those poor, poor rich people (yeah I know, I’m rolling my eyes too)…all under the watchful eye of our royal highnesses who put on the show: The Corporate System and The News Cycle, who both stood to profit whether the group of idiots lived or died.

Did the rich folks have it coming? Absolutely. Is it still horrific that it was allowed to happen at all? Yes.

This is why they don’t broadcast the other tragedies. It’s not good for them as a partnership. Those gut wrenching tragedies, the ones with true injustice? They don’t placate us, they upset us and turn us against those in power.

But dumb rich folks dying? On my TV? Oh goody, my fave show is on. Let’s see if it’s started another useless internet war, creating low-level enemies for us inside our screens so we forget about the real enemies for a while longer.

Not only that, but killing a CEO won’t change anything. That’s a replaceable employee, and the corporation as a unit cares about that person about as much as it cares about the rest of us (which is to say: not at all). That CEO’s wealth will just be given out to their relatives, and the money will stay contained within that family unit. The CEO will be forgotten in the next news cycle, when their death is no longer profitable for the news industry and the internet has moved onto its next useless spiral.

Guillotines in France worked because they dismantled the government, which also happened to consist of all the rich folks, to enact socioeconomic change. Thus: people celebrated the deaths of the rich, and rightfully so.

That’s not what this is. This isn’t “eating the rich”. This just the joy of entertainment, a good show.

Nothing ever changes. We stay entertained, temporarily placated by the deaths of a couple rich people.

Bread and fucking circuses.

#like yeah no shit rich people don’t care about us #but can we think critically about the situation?#please for once second can we think critically about what’s going on here?#i love dancing on the graves of those who exploit us but for the love of god can we acknowledge The Rest Of It All #i just [face in hands] it’s so interesting /neg #watching my fyp and my dash and my timeline and all that other bullshit do *exactly* what those in power want us to do #oceangate #titanic

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

Text

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Summary: On February 13, those over 16 receive an empty box in the mail every year. You place items in the box and they appear in your soulmate's box the following day. Until now, you haven't figured out who your soulmate is. But after an unexpected run-in with your least favorite aviator, you discover your other half may be closer than you think.

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Note: Thank you to @wildbornsiren and @green-socks for helping me work out this concept. Your advice really gave me the confidence to pursue this idea! 💖 And also thank you for beta reading, Sam! 😘

I wanted to come up with an original concept for a Soulmate AU and I have not seen one done exactly like this so I figured I would give it a shot! I would love to know what people think of it as a concept as well as the execution in the fic! 🥰

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

You couldn’t believe it was already February 13th. You had been so preoccupied lately with the last few missions, increased training, and yearly inspections that it completely slipped your mind. Yet there was no denying the date when you checked your mailbox and found a red, heart-shaped box with a ribbon tied around it.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed under your breath as you picked the Box up. It looked exactly the same as it did every year since it had first shown up in your mailbox when you were 16. Just as it looked the same as every other Box that magically appeared in everyone’s mailboxes on this day once they reached that age.

No one knew exactly how it happened or when it started. Some say a form of the Boxes had been around since the 1800s, while others claimed to have found mentions of something like them back in the 1500s, while some scholars tried to argue the proof of their existence as far back as the 1300s or even crude versions in Ancient Rome. But in modern times, a holiday was formed around the arrival of the Boxes, one centered on love and giving. They called it Valentine’s Day after one of the earlier mentions of the event in a poem. And every year at that time, the same thing happened all over the world.

On February 13, the Box would appear in your mailbox. When it did, you would place items into it, things that either showed off who you were or showed your love and admiration for the person about to receive what you picked out. Then, you would place the Box back into your mailbox by midnight. The next morning, the Box would still be there, but it would now be filled with different objects. Objects that your soulmate had placed in their Box the day before.

Over the years, you had received a wide variety of trinkets from your soulmate: various types of candy, love-themed stuffed animals, the occasional jewelry, a wooden rose, a well-worn baseball, a picture frame left empty just waiting for a photo to go inside it, a bottle of half-used cologne, a stack of recipes.

And every year, there was a famous love poem nestled at the bottom. You often wondered if he would write you original poetry if it was allowed, but the Boxes didn’t permit that sort of thing. Nothing handwritten or originally composed, no photographs, no business cards, no blatantly identifiable items of any kind. Anything you placed in your Box that was deemed too telling by whatever magic or energy made the Boxes work remained in your Box when you opened it the next day.

It had only happened to you once when you tried to send a pin with the Naval Academy’s logo on it the year you were accepted, but apparently, it was too much of a hint as to your identity to pass on to your soulmate. It seemed as if the Boxes wanted to help you find your soulmates, but didn’t want things to be too easy for you either.

Glancing at your watch, you cursed even louder as you realized that at this time of night, the only places in the area that might still be open were convenience stores or the Walgreens a few blocks away. However, this close to the deadline, stores like Walgreens that catered to the Boxes were usually packed with last-minute shoppers or picked clean by now. So, with a sigh, you jumped back into your truck and drove down to the convenience store at the end of the block.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t a wide selection to choose from. Just meaningless junk and useless items. Reluctantly, you settled on a California shot glass (broad locations were usually allowed and your soulmate had once sent the wrapper from a bottle of whiskey so you assumed he drank) and a car air freshener shaped like a heart in one of your favorite fragrances. It was pathetic, but at least it was something.

As you headed up to the sizeable check-out line, you stumbled to a stop as you recognized the man at the end of the line. You stared at the back of his head all day during briefings and meetings so even from behind, it was impossible to mistake him. For a moment, you considered waiting for him to finish checking out or even just leaving the store now without your purchase, but it was almost 11:30 pm and time was running out to get your items into your Box. So, taking a deep breath, you stepped into line.

Sensing someone approaching from behind, Hangman glanced over his shoulder and did a double take as he recognized you. He flinched slightly and his shoulders tensed, yet his usual cocky smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here. I would have thought Miss Perfect would have had her gift planned out weeks ago. Cutting things a little close there, aren’t we?”

You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest that happened anytime you were around Hangman. Ever since the day the two of you had met at the Academy, you had gotten along like oil and water. Always trying to one-up the other or prove you were the best, your interactions usually ended with some sort of heated argument or screaming match. The universe seemed to enjoy your little feud because, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two of you had ended up in the same squadron after graduation. And you were both transferred together to the next one. Then to the same class at Top Gun. And yet another joint squadron change. It was practically unheard of, and yet, since the first day of either of your careers, you had been working together. But it never lessened the antagonistic tension between you. If anything, it only got worse as time went on.

When you were in the sky, the two of you could work together in perfect harmony and despite everything, you were the perfect wingmen for one another. Yet, the moment the two of you got face-to-face on the ground, that was when things became hostile. Just like now.

Trying your best to maintain your composure, you snapped, “We’ve been out of the country for the last two weeks. When was I supposed to get anything? Besides, you’re here too.” Looking down at his hands, you rolled your eyes as you spotted the fighter jet-shaped object he was holding. “A keychain? That’s the best you can do? Wow, Bagman. Some girl out there is so lucky to have you as her soulmate.”

Hangman’s jaw clenched tightly and you could tell he was trying his best not to start cursing you out in the middle of the checkout line. Instead, he just sneered, “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. I’m sure your soulmate is going to love that tacky glass and a single air freshener.”

You felt your cheeks growing warm as you stared daggers at him, but it wasn’t all due to anger. Though you would never admit it, you knew he was right. This was a pathetic excuse for a present for the person who was meant to be the love of your life. He always gave you such lovely, meaningful gifts and this was the best you could do? You wish there was some way to explain what happened. That this was all due to bad timing and an insanely busy schedule and that you had wanted to give him so much more. But without a way to send personal messages, this was all you could do.

However, just because all of that was true, it didn’t mean you were going to let Hangman get away with pointing it out. Still glaring at him, you said, “As a matter of fact, I know this is exactly the sort of thing he will love. You don’t know anything about him or me outside of work, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up, and worry about your pathetic gift and how disappointed your soulmate is going to be in the morning.”

For a brief moment, the expression on Hangman’s face wasn’t one of anger or rage. It was one of pain. And you realized he probably felt as shitty about his gift as you did about yours. You knew there was more to Hangman than he ever revealed to the other aviators, and at this moment, you felt like for the first time you might have gotten a glimpse of this other side of him. But before you could say anything, he steeled his face once more and whirled around to face the counter without another word.

Even with his back to you, you could see he was still very upset. His broad shoulders were tensed as he stood slightly hunched over and drawn in on himself. Suddenly, you had the urge to wrap your arms around him from behind and press your face against his shoulder blades as you whispered soft apologies to make up for what you had said. But you quickly shook your head to snap yourself out of it. This was Hangman. The two of you fought more than cats and dogs. This was just how it was between you. And yet, as he finished paying and glanced quickly back at you one final time, you couldn’t help but wish you had apologized after all.

That night, you tossed and turned in bed, haunted by what had happened with your run-in with Hangman and how you should have handled it differently. However, all of it was forgotten the moment you woke up and remembered what day it was. Springing out of bed, you threw on some clothes and rushed out the front door.

As much as you wanted nothing more than to run downstairs and return with your Box as quickly as you could, it just wasn’t possible. The entire building had the same thought. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment, you were met with a crowd of people all struggling to make it to the stairwell. The landlord had hired someone for each floor to attempt to control the traffic, but as usual, it was a useless endeavor. There was nothing to do but wait your turn as the horde of people slowly made their way down the stairs and to the row of mailboxes by the front door.

When you finally made it to your mailbox and retrieved the package from inside, you hurried back upstairs with the Box clutched tightly to your chest. Some people couldn’t stand the anticipation and had ripped open their Boxes in the lobby, but you preferred to open yours in the privacy of your apartment. Luckily, getting back up was a lot quicker than getting down. The crowds had thinned as most people made it down to their mailboxes and you were able to make it back in only a few minutes.

Once inside, you leaned heavily on your door, trying to calm your excitement. You waited all year for this moment, to get just the tiniest glimpse into the person who was supposedly your other half. Yet no matter how happy you were, you couldn’t help but dread the feeling of disappointment he must be having seeing what you placed inside your box this year. You just hoped you could make it up to him next year, potentially even in person. But maybe that was too much wishful thinking.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid. The second you saw what was inside, you dropped the Box as if it had burned you, spilling the contents across the floor. Gasping, you slid down the door to the ground, your hands pressed tightly over your mouth. You couldn’t believe your eyes. There had to be some kind of mistake. Somehow the Boxes got mixed up and yours was sent to the wrong person while you received this one instead. Because this could not be your Box.

Yet, there was no denying the truth. A piece of paper stuck out of the Box. Glancing quickly at it, you saw that it was your yearly love poem, though this one had a theme of forgiveness and doing better in the future as well as love. As in, asking forgiveness for such a crappy gift this year. Because there, peeking out from underneath the table where it had landed, was the only other item from the Box: a familiar-looking keychain shaped like a fighter jet.

A million different explanations ran through your head as you tried to think of some rational explanation that didn’t end with your soulmate being your wingman. They probably sold these same keychains in thousands of stores across the country and maybe he finally figured out your clues and realized you were a fighter pilot. Maybe he got his pilot’s license this year and this was his way of sharing the news. Maybe he might have gone to an airshow and wished you were there with him. Or…. maybe the keychain you now held in your hand was the same one you had seen last night in the convenience store.

You had to find out for sure. There was no way you could go about your day until you had verified this was all just some big cosmic misunderstanding. So, you grabbed the keychain, your bag, your keys, and your jacket before hurrying towards the door.

Your jacket was only half on as you threw open the door and were almost hit in the face with a fist that was in the process of knocking. Dodging back, you saw Hangman standing in the hallway, his chest heaving as if he had just run the whole way here. Glancing down, you saw that in the hand he didn’t have raised, he was holding your shot glass and air freshener. So, it was true….

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

“How?” You stumbled backward, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse. But a large hand shot out and grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Hangman had touched you many times before, yet there was something different about this time. It felt safe and comforting and it sent a small shiver across your skin.

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay! What about this situation makes you think I’d be okay? You wanted to scream at him, but you know it wouldn’t do any good. So, you just pull your arm out of his grasp and take a few steps back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I-I just need a minute.”

You hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water off the counter. Draining it in just a few gulps, you wipe the back of your hand across your mouth as you try to figure out what to do next. Your mind was running a mile a minute and all you wanted to do was to lay down in your bed, burrow under the covers, and forget this morning ever happened. However, this was not something you could just ignore for now and figure out later. Hangman was still in your living room just waiting for you to return. You knew you had to face him sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.

As you walked back into the living room, you saw Hangman standing by your bookcase. When you got closer, he held up the picture frame you had received in your Box a few years ago. With a wistful smile on his lips, he said, “You still have this. And you kept it empty…”

With your arms crossed tightly across your chest, you gave a half-hearted shrug. “I never had the right photo with the right person to put in it.” As you reached out to take it from him, your mind flashed to the hundreds of photos with you and Hangman people had taken over the years. “Or I guess I did and just didn’t realize it.”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

The pet name was the final straw as you felt something snap within you. “No, no, I’m sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and placed the picture frame back on the bookshelf. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be you. It– It just can’t be.”

Hangman turned away but not before you saw the pain flash in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess you thought you’d be paired with someone better. Someone you could at least stand to be in the same room with.” He started heading towards the door, but you jumped in front of him to stop him from leaving.

“No, it’s not that at all. Hangm– Jake.” His head was still hung low so you took his face between your hands and turned it so he was staring at you. Taking a shuttering breath, you explained, “It can’t be you because I don’t think I can handle the fact that we’ve known each other for almost 10 years and didn’t know. That my soulmate was right in front of me this whole time and I never…. That I wasted so much time arguing and fighting with him that I never allowed myself to see him for what he truly was.”

But it didn’t matter how much you wanted things to be different. There was no denying the truth at this point. In hindsight, it all made perfect sense. That heat in your chest you felt every time Hangman walked into the room wasn’t hate at all. It was love. Love you thought you could never have so you used it to fuel your anger towards him. You had turned the magnetic pull between you into something ugly and bitter all because you were hurt he could never be yours. And because of that, you almost ruined everything.

Jake must have seen the tears forming in your eyes and the way your lip trembled as you tried to hold it together because his pained expression softened into one of understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He softly took your arm and drew you into his chest. The gesture was so tender and soft that you couldn’t fight it anymore. Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you buried your face into his shoulder. Jake’s hand gently caressed your back, rubbing small, soothing circles across it while you sobbed. And it felt so right. The hot feeling you got in your chest whenever Hangman was around spread throughout you and when he lightly pressed his lips to the top of your head, you thought you might explode.

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

So, you lifted your head slightly, and whispered, “The worst part is, I know it’s you. I’ve known since the minute I first saw you back at the Academy. Sitting in class with that stupid toothpick in your mouth and the big ol’ grin on your face. You were the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and I instantly fell for you. For a moment, I even let myself imagine you might be my soulmate.” You tilted your head up to look him squarely in the face. “But when I asked you about one of the poems my soulmate had sent me, you said you’d never heard of it.”

Hangman smiled softly with a sorrowful gleam in his eyes. “I remember that day perfectly. You walked up to introduce yourself and when I saw you, I couldn’t breathe. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen and your voice… When you mentioned the poem, I had a momentary flash of hope that it could be you. But it was a really popular poem and one I had sent a few years before, so I just figured it was wishful thinking. And I couldn’t admit it right then anyway. Because with her – with you – I was Jake. As open and real and vulnerable as I’ve ever been with another person. But when you asked me in class, in front of the rest of the cadets, you were talking to Hangman, and he would never be caught dead reading poetry. So, I lied. And it seems that I doomed us both.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, Jake. This isn’t just on you. I lied too. I was so upset that you weren’t my soulmate that when you started asking me about what sort of music I listened to and you mentioned a bunch of artists, including the band whose CD I had sent you, I said I didn’t know any of them because I couldn’t handle talking to you right then. I just wanted the conversation to be over. But if I had just told the truth, you probably would have realized who I was. So, this is just as much on me as it is on you.”

“Thank you.” He placed another kiss in the middle of your forehead and a wave of warmth flowed through you all the way down to your toes. Then he chuckled, “I guess the universe knew we were idiots and needed as much help as we could get. Maybe that’s why we’re still stuck together through every mission and every transfer. Not even the United States Navy is a match for soulmates.”

“I guess not,” you giggled. Then, turning more serious again, you said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I am lucky to have you as a soulmate. And I’m not disappointed in the slightest.”

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

You groaned as a huge smile lit up your face and you playfully slapped his chest. “Oh, God. We’re going to be one of those super mushy, romantic couples that drives everyone crazy with how in love we are, aren’t we?”

“I’m counting on it.” There was absolutely no humor or playfulness in his tone. Just complete sincerity. And as you gazed into his pale green eyes, it felt as if you were staring directly into his soul. It felt as if you were staring directly into your own heart.

Jake’s fingers brushed against your cheek before gently tilting your chin back. Your eyes fluttered shut even before his lips pressed against yours. Before this moment, you thought you knew what a kiss felt like, what love felt like. And yet, nothing you had ever experienced felt anything close to kissing Jake. It was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket but instead of pain, your body vibrated with a euphoric buzz of pleasure.

And as he drew you in closer against his chest, it felt as if your hearts began to sync and beat in time until the two thumps melded into one. There was not a single sliver of doubt left in you. Jake Seresin was your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier about it.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

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Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @heart-0n-fire, @marvelousmermaid, @mayhem24-7forever, @wildbornsiren, @hederasgarden, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-fox, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @fantasticcopeaglepasta

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tarttheart · 6 months

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PRECIOUS LOVE: CHAPTER 1 - JAMIE TARTT x YOU

summary: you finally tell someone.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language, mention of pregnancy loss

chapter 1: my own worst enemy

It was a cold, wet spring morning in March. It was the annual day of grieving. You always took the day off work to give yourself time to sit at home and wallow. Thankfully, it fell on a weekend this year so you were free to be miserable all in your lonesome.

Or, at least you had planned to until the EPL fixtures messed up your plans.

Man City was coming down to London for a match. De Bryune was not playing. God forbid, not with his injury but he was more than happy to be around to provide some moral support. However, given he did not actually have a game to play, he found a nice gap in his schedule to catch up.

When he first told you, your mouth went instantly dry. He had been so excited, there was no way you could sour his mood by declining the invitation to hang out. But, you also knew your gig was up. You had managed to keep a somewhat neutral line of communication and not give anything away while you were away. There was no way you would be able to keep that up face-to-face. Especially not on the one day every year you had to be completely vulnerable with yourself.

You heard the buzzer and inhaled deeply, summoning whatever strength you had to at least keep up some facade for the next hour or so.

You opened the door to a beyond excited De Bryune. It was infectious and you could not help but smile back as he pulled you into the biggest hug, swinging you around. You squealed in response and laughed as he replaced you on the ground.

“Took you forever to find your way back. Did you get lost?” He joked, as he shrugged off his outerwear.

“Work was always busy,” you reasoned calmly. It was only a half lie. It had genuinely gotten hectic as you slowly climbed the corporate ladder. Too hectic for a trip back to England? Probably not. Afterall, you had managed multiple trips around Australia and Asia. But, it was as good an excuse as any.

“How is it being back? How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged a response as you popped into your kitchen.

“Tea?” you offered, not really waiting for a response as you popped two mugs on the countertop and threw a teabag into each.

De Bryune looked at you funnily as he took a seat at your tiny dining table.

“Who sent you flowers?” Kevin asked conversationally upon spying the fresh bouquet in the corner of your kitchen.

“No one, I bought them,” you responded hesitantly.

“Oh, who are you giving them to?”

“N-no one.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow, “but you don’t buy flowers for yourself. You said before that it was sad and pathetic.”

Shoot, you forgot you had said that to him once. What he did not know was that you indulged in flowers once a year as a remembrance gift to Lemy.

You spun round, frown set firmly on your face as you replied a little defensively, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Kevin laughed, raising his hands as if he was surrendering, “yes, yes, everyone changes. You’ve become prickly,” he commented and you looked up, a little put upon at being called out.

“Am I?” you asked, trying to cover over it before asking, “How is Michele? How is everything at home?”

“Good, good. She says hi. Everyone at home is wondering when you’ll come visit. Mason and Rome want to show you their new baby brother.”

“Mmhmmm,” you paled a little at the mention of his kids. You should have known there was no way this man would not mention his clan but the last thing you needed right now was any reminders of children. Or, specifically the baby you did not have.

You turned away, busying yourself with brewing the tea. De Bryune cocked his head at your odd behaviour and waited for you to join him at the table before continuing the conversation.

“So?”

“So?” you repeated.

“How’s work been?”

You quietly sighed with relief that Kevin had moved onto what felt like a ‘safe’ topic, “good, good. Busy but good. There is so much to do now and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Like, I’m supposed to be making some of these decisions and I don’t want to.”

You laughed a little as did he, glad to see some life in you. There was a long lull and De Bryune was slightly unsettled by how little you had to say. The friend he had would have wanted to know what every player had been up to and how they were. The friend he had would have asked about the match today. The friend he had would have asked for a detailed rundown of everything the children had been up to but there was a tension in the air that was palpable and told him that none of these topics were safe for you.

“What’s going on?” He tried again as you fidgeted endlessly with your mug.

“Nothing,” you responded, furrowing your brows. You looked up at De Bryune, stubbornly trying to prove your point but it only proved his when he saw how dull your eyes were. You looked like a shell of your warm and vibrant self.

“What?”

Oops. He might have said that last but out loud.

“You just look like a shell of yourself. What is going on?”

“Nothing,” you answered again, unconvincingly.

“Why do you keep lying to me?”

“I’m no—“ you started but De Bryune’s stern look stopped you mid-sentence.

“I’ve known you since you were 9. Why do you think I wouldn’t know? You sound like you’re lying to stay out of trouble but you’re not in trouble? Not with me, at least. You know, I’m always here for you, to help you. And if not me, you can also lean on Michele.”

You opened your mouth and then closed it again because you could not find the right words. So many years of running, so much time spent alienating them and here Kevin was treating you with such grace and love. You did not deserve this. You hung your head and you could hear him shuffle.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you but I’ll get out of your hair if that’s what you need right now.”

You felt your lower jaw slacken. It was not that you wanted to push him away, you just found it easier than talking. But if not now with Kevin, when would you ever be ready to talk?

“I was pregnant,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, more as practice at sounding the words out than anything else. The words felt weird coming from your mouth.

“What?” Kevin asked. Maybe he heard wrong.

You looked up, tears in your eyes as you repeated yourself. Your voice was shaky but the words were clear as day when you spoke, “I was pregnant.”

< prologue | master list | chapter 2 >

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x ofc #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt imagine

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 8 months

Text

Filmmakers are really sleeping on the potential of portraying Caesar and Cleopatra's affair as a black comedy:

14-year-old King Ptolemy accidentally makes 52-year-old Julius Caesar cry by handing him a severed head as a "Welcome to Egypt!" present

Caesar is now in the incredibly awkward position of trying to get a teenage king to kiss and make up with his sister/wife instead of warring against her

Oh yeah Caesar you just walked into a civil war and now you're surrounded by 500,000+ Egyptians who want you dead WHOOPS

Said sister/wife pops out of laundry bag and immediately wins Caesar's favor by being A) a responsible adult, b) literally Cleopatra, and C) the only person in this country that isn't trying to kill him or hand him severed heads

She's still trying to murder her brother-husband though let's not get too wild lol

Anyway Caesar and Cleopatra sleep together and her 14-year-old brother-husband finds out the next morning and hits the fucking roof

Congratulations Caesar you found the one way to make this situation so much worse

I don't want to know how many complexes that poor child must have

Ptolemy sics his army on the Romans but claims to know nothing about it. Caesar is not fooled but humors him because 1) the kid is 14 and 2) Caesar is still trying to get Ptolemy and Cleopatra to be a normal non-murdery couple. Even though he's still sleeping with Cleo. Yeah.

Cleo and Ptolemy react about as well as you would if you were told to marry your sibling

Ptolemy sends his army after Caesar and now the 4,000 Romans have to hold out against the entire Egyptian army and 500,000+ furious Alexandrians

Did I mention Caesar is also asking Cleo's family for money

Yeah he needs it to pay for the other civil war he's procrastinating on

His enemies still have an army. Caesar's just ignoring them.

Caesar is still trying not to strangle a small child, and won't let Ptolemy or Cleo kill each other in front of him, so the three of them just. Live together for a while. Along with Cleo's 15-year-old sister Arsinoe, who is also trying to kill Caesar and Cleopatra, and her other brother Ptolemy, who's 11 and just trying not to die.

Dinner that night is so horribly awkward that Arsinoe and her tutor yeet outta there and take over the Egyptian army

Caesar now has to Go To Work™️(War) every day and try not to get killed by a teenage girl and a schoolteacher

Said teenage girl is shockingly good at fighting and in one battle Caesar gets beat so bad he has to jump off a boat and swim to shore and loses his Favorite Red Cape

Caesar comes home that night looking like a wet rat and has to explain why the Library of Alexandria is on fire and stop Cleopatra and Ptolemy from trying to shank each other again

Forget the movie. I want a whole sitcom dedicated to the sheer absurdity of this situation.

Various bullcrap ensues, Caesar gets rescued by the son of Mithridates (THAT Mithridates) of all people, Cleo's brother-husband turns up dead and Arsinoe is captured, and Caesar takes a much-needed vacation with Cleo. For several months. Then strolls back into Italy to discover Rome is on fire, people thought he was dead, and oh yeah there's still a ROMAN CIVIL WAR going on

Oops

#this is why i love history #absolute Most Caesar Moment of all time #cleopatra is the only person who comes out of this looking even slightly good #don't worry she still kills arsinoe and ptolemy number two later tho <3 #cleopatra #julius caesar #ancient rome #roman history #siege of alexandria #just roman memes #jlrrt speaks #jlrrt essays

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morningberriesao3 · 10 months

Text

MWMD - Kiss My Lips

Steve Harrington X Virgin!Eddie Munson

Summary: It's the Fourth of July -- Steve and Eddie have a bit too much to drink, and have some fun playing party games.

Word Count: 4.4K

Chapter: 4 of 6 CHAPTER LIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… Virgin Eddie Munson, Dry Humping, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Minor Crossdressing (ahem, EDDIE WEARS A G-STRING), Oh no they’re both tops?! what will they do!!?!, Top Steve Harrington, Power Bottom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Nipple Clamps, Under-Negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Creampie. Underage Drinking and Recreational Drug Use.

Tags: Eddie Munson lives, 5 + 1 Things, slow burn, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Caretaking, Massages, Sharing a Bed, House Party, Play Flighting, Bros Being Bros (JK it’s very homoerotic), Halloween, Boys in Makeup, Independence Day, New Years Eve, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending

Many Ways, Many Days, to Say ‘I Love You’

July 4th, 1986

Everyone’s a little drunk already.

By everyone, Eddie means the only adults the gang really knows. He’s brought along Gareth and Jeff, who are absolutely beside themselves that they get to hang out at King Steve’s house. Robin has brought Vickie as her definitely not date. Jonathan has brought Argyle who Eddie already considers one of his new favourite people. Or maybe his mortal enemy. He’s not sure.

Eddie half expects Steve to have some girl attached to his hip since he hasn’t exactly been getting lucky since all but moving into his trailer. It would be one of Steve’s only chances, seeing as his parents have gone on some fancy business trip for Fourth of July weekend and he’s offered his house as tribute for a (kind of sad) rager.

But there is no girl that Steve has invited, at least not yet, and Eddie is more than okay with that. This way, he won’t have to pretend not to be jealous. And he won’t have to think about Steve’s dick being inside whoever’s pussy the next time it’s pressed against his own in the middle of the night.

It’s the first time Eddie has been invited to one of Harrington’s parties, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t a little bit excited about it. Maybe King Steve is falling from his throne, but Eddie seems to be climbing the ranks. Maybe they’ll eventually meet somewhere in the middle.

Steve is currently lining up shots on the edge of his fancy, built-in kitchen island while Robin watches over his shoulder.

“Ugh, I hate tequila,” Robin says, scrunching her nose while Steve gets the saltshaker.

“Then don’t drink any.” Steve slices a lime into halves, and then into quarters, and then into eighths. He scans a few faces, and then his gaze lands on none other than Eddie’s. “You’ll do some shots with me, won’t you, Eds?”

Eds. Eds.

He barks out a startled laugh that Gareth raises an eyebrow at. Eddie smacks him in the arm before joining Steve by the island. Drinking had never been Eddie’s thing, mostly because he can’t afford that and weed. But he’s at a Harrington house party. When in Rome and all that.

“How’s this work then?”

“You’ve never done a tequila shot before?”

“Of course I have, Harrington. I’m not fucking twelve.” Eddie scoffs. He’s lying. “I just can’t remember the order.”

“Lick, shoot, suck,” says Steve, pointing first to the salt, then to the shot glasses, then to the lime slices. “Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime.”

“What do I lick the salt off of?” Eddie asks.

“That’s the fun part.” Steve takes the saltshaker in his hands. “You can be boring and lick it off your own hand. Or –” he peels his dumb, striped polo off from his shoulders. This time Eddie doesn’t even pretend to look away. He’s already had a few beers, “– you can do a body shot.”

Eddie stares at Steve’s bare chest, made of all muscle and hair and sun-kissed skin. He lets his gaze fall to Steve’s navel where – rhetorically – he’d be taking the shot from.

“I…” he makes a kind of choking sound, then clears his throat, “I never back down from a challenge?” It comes out as more of a question, but honestly, Eddie is just glad he’s able to form words.

Steve’s face splits into a crooked smirk. He cups his hand over his mouth and swiftly turns to face the living room where most people are loitering around. “BODY SHOTS!”

There are a few whoops that come from probably Argyle and Jeff (who’s clearly gotten comfortable with the other guests). And suddenly, they have an audience.

“Alright, Eds and I are going first, because I want to be the one to pop his tequila cherry –”

“I’ve had tequila before!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, man. We’re going first because Eddie is an expert at tequila body shots –”

“You’re such a prick.”

“– and we have to teach all you losers how to do it properly. Capiche?”

Everyone is gathered around the kitchen now. And to Eddie’s surprise, Steve heads for the giant oak table in the dining room. He steps onto one of the matching chairs, and then plunks his ass down on the tabletop. Steve twists to his back, his head propped up with his hands, and a shit-eating grin plastered to his features like it’s now a permanent fixture of his face.

“Go ahead, Munson. Show them how it’s done.” Steve finally shuts up when he clamps down on the peel side of a slice of lime.

Fuck.

Eddie is making a fool of himself already, and he hasn’t even started… whatever this is.

Robin saves his ass. She grabs the tequila bottle and flings the cap into the unknown. “I hope you washed your belly button, dude,” she says before pouring the liquor into Steve’s navel. It overflows a bit, dripping down his ridiculously pronounced obliques. “Where do you want to lick the salt from?”

It takes a second for Eddie to realise that Robin is talking to him. “Is his cock an okay answer?”

Just kidding. Eddie doesn’t say that.

Instead, he says, “I don’t know. Wherever is the least hairy. It’s hard enough not to gag on tequila as it is,” like he hasn’t fantasized a million times about pressing his face, his nose, his tongue, into every enticing patch of Steve’s hair, from his head down to his fuzzy calves.

Steve rolls his eyes and points to the dip under his ribcage where the skin is relatively smooth, compared. Robin wastes no time sprinkling salt onto that area. And then Steve is prepped, and all eyes are on Eddie. He kind of wants to die, but if he was dead he wouldn’t be five seconds away from getting his tongue onto Steve fucking Harrington. So in conclusion, he’s actually very, very thankful to be alive.

Eddie eyes up Steve’s body, plotting the easiest plan of attack. He decides he might as well commit since he’s already entirely mortified, so he hikes himself up on the table so he’s straddling Harrington’s thighs. Everyone starts hooting and hollering. Nancy is giggling behind her palm while Argyle is slowly nodding with a joint tucked behind his ear. Robin’s hands smack over her eyes but she peeks out from between her fingers. Gareth nudges Jeff’s shoulder like they know something, so Eddie throws them daggers with his gaze.

It takes Eddie a second to steel himself, but soon he musters enough courage to bend himself over Steve, who immediately starts giggling when Eddie licks a fat stripe over his salty skin. As Steve laughs, tequila sloshes around on his abdomen. So Eddie presses his palms into Steve’s hips to still them. He might be imagining it, but it sounds like Steve sucks in a sharp breath.

Which really just encourages Eddie.

He buries his fingers into the flesh of Steve’s hips (because he might as well while he’s here) and tucks his head low to suck the bitter liquid from Steve’s navel. He dips his tongue in there, too – he just can’t help himself – which makes Steve squirm under his body. The button of his jeans rub against Eddie’s chin and it takes everything inside of himself not to nip at Steve’s skin and trail his mouth lower.

He knows that’s not really body shot etiquette even though this is the first ever body shot he’s ever done.

Finally, Eddie crawls up the length of Steve’s body and hovers his mouth over the slice of lime that’s still being held between Steve’s teeth. But he pauses, because Steve is staring straight into Eddie’s soul, with lidded eyes and pupils blown. Maybe it’s in Eddie’s head but it really looks like Steve is turned on, but no, that doesn’t make sense because Steve is straight, and Eddie is pretty sure he’s not a girl.

Well, he does have feminine features, like his long hair and his big eyes, and his full lips which are actually kind of an insecurity because his upper lip is bigger than his lower lip, and he always thought that was weird. But maybe that’s why Steve looks like this – like he’s about to drag Eddie up to his abandoned bedroom – because he’s drunk and Eddie kinda sorta looks like a girl.

Whatever. Eddie will take it.

He brackets his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he bends down to bite the wedge of lime from between Steve’s teeth. It’s really lodged in there, and Steve isn’t exactly making it easy to pry it from his mouth, so Eddie seals his lips into the pulp, trying to suck the juice back from right there, in Steve’s mouth. The lime bursts sour liquid that squirts into Eddie’s mouth and dribbles down Steve’s chin, and Eddie nearly chases that with his tongue too, but ultimately decides against it since he’s already pushed the limits enough.

“It’s so wrong, but I can’t look away.” Robin’s voice pries Eddie from his revery. He sits back up, spine rod straight, to shoot her a look and point a finger into her face.

“Can it, Buckley.”

“Yeah, Eddie, how come you’ve never sucked tequila from my stomach?” Gareth barks a laugh, but then the girl that Nancy brought with her – Eddie forgets her name, but it’s some chick that ran the school paper – turns to Eddie’s friend.

“I’ll do it.”

That wipes the grin straight from Gareth’s face, replaced by a healthy flush beneath his cheeks. The whole group is then in an uproar, pointing to each other, and laughing, and separating into pairs to do body shots of their own. Only then does Eddie remember that he’s straddling Steve when he feels him wiggle beneath his thighs.

“Um, Eddie?”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie clambers from the table ungracefully as ever, lucky to land on his feet. “Sorry. Sorry, Harrington.”

Steve sits up, wiping his mouth of lime juice with the back of his hand before giving Eddie a mischievous look. “All good, man. Let’s get some more drinks.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand (like, he actually holds it for a minute, like he did in the hospital all those months ago) as he drags him to the counter with all the liquor. And there they do shot after shot until Eddie can’t down anymore without gagging it back up. But he does crack open a beer, and so does Steve, and they head to the living room while everyone else is screaming when Nancy sucks a shot of tequila from Robin’s navel.

Vickie looks a bit jealous, but Eddie averts his gaze before he can read too much into it.

“Holy shit,” Steve says, falling into the plush cushions of his parents’ couch. “I’m so drunk. I haven’t been this drunk in… forever.”

It’s not hard to believe, because Steve is slurring his words and each time he blinks his eyes it seems like it takes all of his energy to open them again. The room is spinning a bit, and Eddie realizes that he, too, is way more drunk than he’d been in a while.

“Same. But you know what would make it even better?” He pulls a joint from his crumby pocket and waggles his brows at Steve.

“Oh, man.” Steve slings his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I knew there was a reason I love you.”

Eddie tries not to think too hard about that, and instead drags Steve up off the couch and out the door that leads to his pool. He digs around in his pocket until he finds a fluorescent orange lighter, and then he sparks it up.

The first drag burns deep, calming the excited, jittery nerves that he’s had all evening for some reason (his crush on Steve). He takes one more, then hands the spliff off. Steve takes a hit and lets his head loll backwards on his shoulders as he hums a noise of approval.

“Fuucckk,” he moans, making the little hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand on end. It shouldn’t sound so damn pornographic, but it does. Eddie’s been fighting off a boner all evening and the noises that Harrington makes is what finally takes the cake. He wishes he could readjust his dick in his too-tight jeans without being obvious about it but alas, he cannot. So he just lets his cock fill out as he breathes through it, and hopes that Steve doesn’t let his gaze fall below Eddie’s belt.

“You make it sound like that joint is better than sex, Harrington.”

“Yeah, well it might be.” Steve opens his eyes as he takes another puff and then hands it over to Eddie. “Not that I can remember, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any.”

Eddie snorts and averts his gaze, sucking back on the roach in his fingers.

“What about you?”

Eddie looks back at Steve. “What about me?”

“When’s the last time you fucked someone?” Steve asks, unabashed. “Or, I don’t know. Got fucked by someone.”

Blood rushes around Eddie’s body, not sure if it wants to settle in his ears, or his cheeks, or his dick. But there seems to be plenty of it, because all three are getting a fresh supply. “Oh. I – uh. It’s been – you know. A while.”

Ever?

“Uhuh.” Steve nods. “So, when was it?”

“C’mon, man.” Eddie laughs nervously, snubbing out the joint on Harrington’s parents’ landing. “I haven’t – I mean. It’s been, a reeeaally long time for me.”

Twenty years.

Steve narrows his eyes, catching onto something Eddie isn’t sure he really wants him to. “Are you saying you’re like… a virgin?”

“No!” Eddie lies, crossing his arms defensively. He huffs out an embarrassed breath. “Well, maybe? When you’re gay, virginity isn’t exactly as black and white –”

He cuts himself off.

He just said that, in real words, out loud, in English. He just said he’s gay. And he also kind of admitted he’s a virgin, and Eddie doesn’t know which is worse. Maybe Steve is too drunk to realise? But no, he’s not, Steve still has his general wits about him and he’s looking at Eddie with such an intensity that Eddie feels like he’s about to get punched. Or maybe kissed?

Probably the former.

Steve doesn’t do either. He doesn’t even dwell on the elephant in the room. He just says, “Huh. So what have you done?”

Eddie feels the tension in his shoulders relax a bit. Maybe he’s okay, but it’s better safe than sorry. He tells himself that he’ll keep his words genderless, so he doesn’t out himself by accident a second time.

“I don’t know. A handjob here, a blowjob there.” The second thing is another lie, but admitting he’s only had one handjob seems more embarrassing than just being a virgin, period. He shrugs. “Believe it or not, when you’re a threepeat senior, and the Dungeon Master of a D&D club, you’re not exactly swimming in opportunities, Steve.”

Steve takes a step towards Eddie, which just makes Eddie believe that he really mustn’t have heard the gay thing. Because why would he be crowding his face into Eddie’s like this? Why would he be getting so damn close if he knew Eddie was into dudes?

“You’re a good-looking guy,” Steve says, cocking his head to one side and letting his gaze slowly trail down Eddie’s body like he’s appraising him for value. “Maybe you’re just not searching hard enough?”

Eddie makes a noise, something like a squeak, or a hiccup. He’s about to say something – anything – but before he can form words, Robin comes rushing out from the sliding doors. “We’re playing spin the bottle! Come on, it’s gonna be so fun.”

“Yeah, coming, Rob.” Steve takes a step away from Eddie. Smiles. “Maybe we’ll be able to get some action now. Let’s go.”

Eddie hopes that his blush isn’t all that visible, but he knows with his white-ass skin he’ll be stained up with splashes of pink watercolour. He kind of wants to sit this one out, because he’s sure that nobody wants to kiss The Freak of Hawkins High (even if they are all friends now).

He’s never once wished in his life to kiss Gareth or Jeff, but here he is, hoping that when he spins, the bottle will at least land on one of them to spare himself having to see the disgust in someone else’s face.

Everyone inside is already forming themselves into a loose circle. There’s enough space for Eddie and Steve to cram themselves between Argyle and Nancy. There’s an empty brown bottle in the middle that Robin is immediately taking hold of. “It was my idea, so I get to go first! And no copouts. Whoever it lands on, it lands on.”

She gives the bottle a good crank, and it ominously spins and spins, and eventually slows. The neck is pointing towards Jeff, who blushes, and Eddie feels a little bad for him because he definitely doesn’t know Robin is queerer than a three-dollar bill. He has a feeling he’ll be hearing Jeff talk about the pretty girl from the party for the next couple of months until he realises for himself that nothing is going to happen.

Robin grins and leans forward on her knees. Jeff meets her halfway. They smack a quick but playful kiss against each other’s lips right in the centre of the circle, and everyone cheers. Eddie catches himself grinning, too.

Jeff smiles his dopey little smile that Eddie kind of loves (but he’d never admit to it), and he grabs hold of the bottle next. It spins, and lands on Gareth. Eddie finds himself laughing aloud, clapping his hands together and chanting some sarcastically encouraging words.

Gareth grabs Jeffs cheeks and smooshes them together, and then plants a fat kiss to his forcefully puckered lips. Everyone in the circle laughs. “I know, I know,” says Gareth. “Here to rock everyone’s world.”

Eddie is still very much drunk, so he says, “Yeah? Make sure it lands on me and share some of that sugar.” He’s never said anything like that in his life, and as soon as he hears himself, he cringes. Beside him, Steve kind of furrows his brows and shifts around.

Maybe he is a little bit uncomfortable with gay things.

The whole circle is giggling when Gareth spins the bottle. It doesn’t land on Eddie, but the girl from earlier. Gareth looks all flustered again, and Eddie feels soft for a minute. He hopes that maybe something could come out of all this. It’s about time that one of them gets to start having sex.

The girl leans forward first. Gareth crawls on his knees and lets her press her lips into his. It’s a softer kiss than all the others – Robin and Nance coo while Eddie makes a dramatic gagging sound.

“Shut up, man!” Gareth tosses his empty beer can at Eddie’s head. The girl laughs and spins the bottle. It lands back on Gareth. The room erupts in cheers when they go in for their second kiss. It’s more confident that the first and Eddie feels like he’s witnessing something a little bit too personal. Gareth goes next, and it lands on Steve. “Pucker up, your highness.”

Eddie isn’t sure what he expects. Maybe for Steve to cringe or look mildly horrified. But he’s grinning a genuine grin, all crooked and happy like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Eddie is also ferociously jealous. Even though he knows both Gareth and Steve are straight.

Steve grabs Gareth’s head and smacks an aggressive but quick kiss to his lips. Gareth fakes a shudder. “C’mon, man,” Steve says. “Tell me that didn’t make you want to cream your pants.”

“That didn’t make me want to cream my pants.” Gareth rolls his eyes. “Guess I’m immune to the Harrington charm.”

“What a shame. Hopefully whoever it lands on actually wants a piece of this.”

“I’m pretty sure nobody here wants you, Steve,” says Robin. Steve sticks his tongue out at her, and she does it right back.

Eddie almost says that she couldn’t be more wrong, but he’s sober enough to keep his lips sealed.

Steve reaches down, grabs the neck of the bottle, cranks it to the side. It spins and it spins, and by some divine intervention or maybe some cosmic joke, it lands on Eddie.

His ears are ringing, but it’s not quite enough to drown out Robin’s laughing. “Part two to the show we got earlier!”

“Yeah, come on! Lay one on him!” says Gareth. Eddie whips his head to the side, hopefully looking at him with a menacing warning, but something tells him the only thing in his eyes is fear and want.

Eddie barely has time to think, let alone form a witty response, before Steve is grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him towards him. “Pucker up, baby.”

There are a few things that go through Eddie’s head in that moment.

First: Steve just called Eddie baby, and as one might guess, it definitely makes his dick jump in his pants. He’s embarrassed by how often that happens now, but there’s only so much he can do about it. And if Steve insists on always being so frustratingly sexy, it’s just something Eddie is going to have to get used to.

Second: That look is back in Steve’s eyes. The one that makes Eddie think he might actually want to be kissing him, like Steve’s glad that the bottle pointed towards him. Half-lidded gaze focused on Eddie’s lips, meanwhile his own tongue is wetting his, and fuck –

Third: Steve is kissing him. But it’s not like all of the other kisses of the evening, Eddie would like to point out. No, this one is very different. Because it’s lasting a lot longer than a second or two. It’s lasting – God – it’s lasting forever, and Eddie is vaguely aware that people are cheering. And then – Eddie shits you not – Steve’s lips part and Eddie just follows along, because what else is he supposed to do? So now their lips are slotted and moving together and Steve’s tongue fucking rubs against Eddie’s lower lip.

This is when Eddie realises he’s been holding his breath, so he pulls away from Steve out of instinct for air, not because he wants it to stop, and then everything kind of zeros back into reality that he’s at a party and he’s definitely trying to turn what’s supposed to be an innocent game of spin the bottle into a full-on make out session with Steve fucking Harrington. So instead of leaning back in to continue like he wants to, he just shakes his head and clears his throat, and says, “Jesus,” because it seems like an appropriate response.

“Wow.” Robin’s eyes are big, staring at Eddie and Steve with a sidelong gaze like she’s embarrassed for them. “That definitely bumped up this game from general audience.”

The whole circle laughs, and Eddie blushes, and he very pointedly does not look at Steve before he takes his turn. It lands on Nancy, and it’s a little weird to kiss her but it’s definitely not like the kiss he and Steve just shared. But he can see Steve staring from his peripheral vision and he battles everything in himself to look back because he knows he won’t be able to look Steve in the eye and not at his mouth.

The game continues for another fifteen minutes before people start getting up to refresh their drinks, and others get bored, and it just naturally fizzles out.

Eddie keeps sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Steve, who’s in some heated discussion with Jeff about six versus eight cylinder motors that Eddie knows absolutely nothing about. He toys with his empty can of beer, until there’s a hand on his knee.

It’s Steve’s.

“Can I get you another drink, man?” he asks, and Eddie just nods. Steve takes his empty can and brings him a fresh one, and Eddie decides that it’ll be the last drink of the night because his mind has been plotting about how to get Steve to kiss him again, which is a pretty good sign that he needs to stop.

The party wraps up at about one in the morning. Some people take cabs, others ride their bikes, some parents even come to pick up their children.

Eddie stays, because why wouldn’t he?

He and Steve half clean up, throwing the empty cans and bottles into bags, tossing the cardboard pizza boxes into the recycling after wrapping the leftovers and putting them in the fridge.

When it’s time for bed, Eddie eyes the spare rooms in the hall and wonders if that’s where he’s supposed to go, but Steve speaks up before he has a chance to dwell too long. “C’mon, man. My room is this one.”

Eddie follows Steve into his room, and watches as Steve strips down to his boxers. It shouldn’t be weirder than it normally is, but Eddie is very aware that this is an entirely different situation because at his trailer, his bed is the only option. Here, though, there are several, and Steve is still inviting Eddie to sleep next to him like it’s the only thing that makes sense, when really he’s having a whole internal crisis about it.

But Eddie tries not to think about it too hard, even though it’s kind of too late, and he undressed and follows Steve into his giant bed. Steve scootches closer and slots their legs together while they’re still awake. And fuck, they both have semis. Eddie feels like he wants to unpack that a bit, but instead he tells himself not to overthink it.

By the time Steve is sleeping, Eddie is leaking in his boxers, and he condemns himself for doing this but he really has no choice. He goes to Steve’s attached bathroom and he rubs one out, he comes to the thought of Steve’s lips and his tongue and his half-hard cock that he felt on his thigh. He comes hard, and he tries to aim it for the toilet, but it flies everywhere. So he spends a few minutes cleaning up after himself, ashamed. Satiated.

He crawls back into bed with Steve and hisses a bit when Steve’s thigh slots between his and rubs against his over-sensitive dick.

And maybe Eddie’s imagining it, he probably is, but it sounds like Steve huffs out a small laugh.

He really hopes he’s imagining it.

NEXT CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

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whatiswrongwithpeople · 2 years

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The ladybug plagues the tangerine pt.1

Tangerine x fem!oc , Tangerine x Tabasco , Platonic!Ladybug x Tabasco

Summary: Ladybug , the twins and Tabasco take a break in the bar wagon. Ladybug flirts with Tabasco just to get on Tangerine’s nerves.

A/N: Hello there , it’s me again! I am currently on vacation but I just had to write this. I am also planning to write a second part about what happens afterwards with Tabasco and Tangerine. Might even be able to do this til end of the week , so keep your beautiful eyes open!

Note: written on my notes app, not proofread , cursing , slight gore , flirting

Hope you enjoy🍊🧡

(Find my Tangerine x Tabasco masterlist here: https://whatiswrongwithpeople.tumblr.com/post/692964723814285312/hcs )

Pt.2: https://whatiswrongwithpeople.tumblr.com/post/694470543363178496/the-ladybug-plagues-the-tangerine-pt2

Perhaps this wasn’t really necessary and perhaps Ladybug enjoyed it just a little bit too much , but whilst being on his mission in the bullet train , the blonde had found that flirting with the fellow assassin,Tabasco, was the perfect side quest. Why ? Well, first of all it was fun to do so because the woman actually is an old friend of his and he really enjoyed their harmless back and forth. And , well , secondly, it turned out to be EVEN more fun when he noticed how a certain mustache man , named after an orange fruit, began to fume upon seeing how he flirted with the female assassin.

And that’s exactly why Ladybug was currently leaning against the counter of the train‘s bar , munching on some wasabi peas , giving his whole attention to Tabasco who was standing at the sink, trying to wash off bits and pieces of an enemie’s brain , which had latched themselves onto her sleeves after she had bashed in his head with a bottle of whiskey. Said bottle was now empty, after each of the four assassins in the wagon had taken a rather big sip of the brown liquor. “You blew my mind just like that when I first saw you years ago on that Rome mission.” Ladybug smiled charmingly, popping another wasabi pea into his mouth. Tabasco smiled as well , keeping her focus on scrubbing at a rather big stain , right at the end of her sleeve. “Mhm, I looked quite dashing didn’t I?” She replied, a humorous note in her statement. “Oh my , my , you still do ! “ Ladybug answered, leaning in just a bit more, mentally noting how Tangerine’s tapping on the table right behind them seemed to get a tad more harsher. “But you should really take off that shirt.” Suddenly a loud bang was heard from where Tangerine sat. Lemon ,who stood behind the bar mixing up some drinks, looked at his brother with raised eyebrows and shook his head. Tangerine locked eyes with his brother , slight twitch in his eye, “There was a fucking fly on the table , I hate these little bastards.” Lemon only hummed in response, fully knowing why Tangerine had smashed his fist onto the wooden table in front of him. “Aaaaanyways” Ladybug started redirecting his gaze onto Tabasco “Cleaning this really would be easier if you’d take it off.” And whilst this might sound like some cheap-ass flirting to anyone else , Tabasco knew that he really meant it as advice and that there was no serious intentions in the harmless flirting between them. It’s just how their friendship worked , compared to the flirting between her and Tangerine, which would cause her many sleepless nights and ignite a fire in every cell of her body. The latter’s eyes where almost popping out of their sockets when she did indeed take her shirt off, revealing her bra. Lemon snorted at the expression on his brother’s face, curiously awaiting how Tangerine would act in this situation. “You’re right this is much easier.” Tabasco stated , throwing her shirt into the sink. She did by no means feel uncomfortable undressing herself in front of the three men. Ladybug had seen her like this several times already, when he was patching her up. Lemon , was her best friend and she knew where she stood with him and that he would never make her feel weird about this. And Tangerine, well, Tangerine was a different story. She knew he would never make her feel weird about this , would help patch her up and all of that , but with him she wanted to provoke a reaction. Just something making the flames within her burn even more intense. Her eyes lifted from her task at hand , glancing at the assassin across from them. He had an unreadable expression on his face and looked somewhat tense, but that wasn’t really unusual for the man. “It really is, and I mean, this isn’t the first time I have seen you like this anyways.” Ladybug hummed , taking a sip of the drink Lemon had just slid across the counter. Before Tabasco could answer , Tangerine was on his feet leaving the wagon, left eye twitching and grunting. A loud bang could be heard somewhere down the train and suddenly the bar was silent.

“Looks like somebody is throwing a tamper tantrum.” Ladybug shrugged , turning around so he was facing both Tabasco and Lemon. “Well , it’s not like you gave him any reason not to.” Lemon replied, stirring his drink. “But honestly I get it , sometimes it’s fun to see him literally fume like Thomas the Tank Engine.”

“Something wrong with Tangerine?” Tabasco asked , her hands still in the red water. Ladybug shook his head at how oblivious his dear friend was. “I really don’t know, maybe you should go and find out.” He replied, his hand fishing for more wasabi peas in the bag. Knowing the blonde wasn’t expecting any reply from her , Tabasco wiped off her hands , leaving the wagon with a “Don��t you dare touch my drink!”

Once she was out the door, Lemon disregarded the drink he had in his hands , placing it on the counter , before rolling up his sleeves and continuing Tabasco’s work. “Do you think they’ll finally come clean now?” Ladybug asked , leaning his chin on the counter. Eying him the twin sighed “They are both incredibly smart , but when it comes to this I think we’d have a better chance of bringing dinosaurs back to life.” Ladybug ,now having his whole cheek on the counter, only nodded , mumbling a “Like Jurassic Park.” Getting back a “Like Jurassic Park,indeed .” from Lemon , who was shaking his head at how oblivious his two favourite people were for the love they harboured towards each other (and how they eye fucked whenever and wherever they met).

#bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #tangerine #tangerine and lemon #lemon #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x original female character #tangerine x tabasco #tangerine oneshot #ladybug #ladybug x platonic!reader #lemon x platonic!reader

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queen-dahlia · 1 year

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 ~𝐄𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝~

alternate translation for the title: "Eat me on the bed" xDD

As I've said in my prev post, the flashback didn't indicate who was speaking, and it's more on dialogues with " " so I'll just add a ? on Gilbert's name, based in my own understanding. Also, don't mind me adding colors on some texts, I'm just doing it for special effects lol

I can't choose which Gil-brat chibi I will use as my line divider, so I used all the current chibi instead. (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation |⫘⫘ : flashback

In Rhodolite, a country overflowing with delicious sweets, there is an event called Valentine's Day, where people share their love for each other.

It's not an Obsidian event, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

I have to prepare a return gift for the little rabbit, who is probably mass-producing sweets by now.

Gilbert: "So, what do you like, little rabbit?"

Emma: "Do you really want to make it?" // "Surely you will make it?" **

Gilbert: "Isn't that what a kitchen is for?"

In a kitchen filled with a sweet aroma that almost gives me heartburn, the little rabbit rolls her eyes.

There was already a large quantity of cupcakes on the workbench, and the oven was still running.

(As expected, you even make sweets for me; you're such a good-natured person.)

Recently, the little rabbit seems to have become more open-minded due to her isolation as "a young lady who is close to Obsidian."

And she no longer hesitates to involve the prince of an enemy country in such an event.

I still need sweets to honor that purity. // To honor her purity, I still need sweets.

Gilbert: "I'll make you whatever you want to eat, little rabbit."

Emma: "Umm..."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "Oh, then I want some sweets from Obsidian."

Gilbert: "That's what I thought. The pastries I know don't taste as good as the ones at Rhodolite, you know?"

Emma: "You never know until you try it."

Gilbert: "That's true."

There was only one sweet that popped into my head. // The first sweet that popped into my head was a single piece of cake.

It is also something that the little rabbit is not likely to enjoy.

Gilbert: "Will you definitely eat the sweets I make for you?"

Emma: "Of course."

(I've got your word.)

Gilbert: "Then I'll make it for you with lots of love."

══════════════════

一一A few hours later, the table in the little rabbit's room was lined with an overflowing amount of sweets.

Emma: "Prince Gilbert really can do anything."

Gilbert: "I'm just good with my hands."

(I've never made pastries before, but it's a good job for the first time.)

In the crowd of colorfully decorated cupcakes,

Are cookie-covered pastries with raisin-infused buttercream. // There are cookies with buttercream with raisins mixed in.

Raisin sandwiches are not the most famous pastry in Obsidian.

It was something I had a personal attachment to.

Gilbert: "Let's eat, little rabbit."

I divide the raisin sandwiches and cupcakes among several empty plates and place them on the bed.

Emma: "Are you going to eat there?"

Gilbert: "Because tea is here."

Teacups that could not be placed on the table are lined up on the bedside table.

The little rabbit seemed to agree, and we both sat down with our plates between us.

Emma: "Then一一"

I grab the raisin sandwich before the little rabbit reaches for it.

When I brought it to her small mouth as if I were feeding a small animal, she gave me a quizzical look.

Emma: "I'll eat it myself."

Gilbert: "Do you want to be force-fed?"

Emma: "……Bon appétit."

(You are very understanding.)

The little rabbit opens her mouth and nibbles on the sweets.

As she munched and swallowed, her little head tilted suspiciously.

Gilbert: "Is it good?"

Emma: "Can I have another one?"

Gilbert: "Please?" // "Yes?"

I push the remaining raisin sandwich into the lips of the baby rabbit and wipe the faintest crumbs with my fingertips.

Normally, she would have been embarrassed, but today, she seemed to be having none of it.

Gilbert: "Rabbit, what do you think?"

Emma: "It tastes…"

Emma: "It tastes... nothing!"

Gilbert: "Good, I think I got it right."

(I knew you'd be fooled. …I was fooled once.) **

I pick up the raisin sandwich and toss it into my mouth this time.

The baby rabbit's opinion is not a lie; it tastes amazingly bland.

Gilbert: "I eat it, and it still tastes bad."

Emma: "...I thought my tongue had gone crazy."

Gilbert: "Don't worry, it's just a snack."

Emma: "Oh, is there a trend in Obsidian for sweets that have no taste?"

Gilbert: "Ahaha, of course not. This is special."

Gilbert: "It's a very special and tasty treat."

(Only for me, though.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

???: "一一Here, Gil. Taste it and eat it."

Gilbert(?): "Wow, I can't believe you really make sweets even though you're so clumsy……"

???: "Because you were begging for it."

???: "I mean, Valentine's Day is a foreign culture, so why would you be interested in something like that?"

Gilbert(?): "I heard that it's a day to show love with sweets, so I thought it would be nice."

???: "...Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah."

Gilbert(?): "Hey, can I have some?"

???: "Yeah, eat it all."

Gilbert(?): "Yay. Bon appétit."

Gilbert(?): ". . . . . ."

???: "……?"

???: "What's wrong?"

Gilbert(?): ". . . . . ."

???: "……Is it bad? Of course it is. I've never made pastry before, and I don't know how to make it well一一"

Gilbert(?): "No, it's delicious."

Gilbert(?): "I like this flavor."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "一一Sure, it could be delicious."

The voice of the little rabbit brings me back to myself. // I came back to myself at the sound of a rabbit's voice.

I noticed that the raisin sandwiches on the bed were almost gone.

Gilbert: "Liar."

Emma: "I really mean it. The more you eat, the more you get addicted to it……"

Emma: "The lack of flavor is a nice novelty!"

(. . . . . .)

It was clearer than fire that the little rabbit was lying.

I hate lies. I hate it.

But I don't blame her for this lie.

(……I put a lot of time and effort into this, so you must be desperate, right?)

I know those feelings.

I don't know of any trampling beast, but the foolish boy who once existed–– // I don't know about the trampling beast, but the stupid boy who once existed––

Gilbert: "Hey, little rabbit."

Gilbert: "Did you eat my share?" // "Did you eat mine?"

Emma: "……Ah."

Gilbert: "That's terrible."

Emma: "I-I'm so sorry!"

Gilbert: "Food resentment isn't something you can just apologize for, you know?"

I grabbed the hand of the little rabbit as she tried to escape from the bed, as if sensing something.

There was a faint trace of cream on the edge of the rabbit's mouth as it was forcibly undone. // There was a faint trace of cream on the edge of the rabbit's mouth as she was forced to put it back in her mouth.

(…It's your fault.)

I lean forward and bring my face closer.

I lightly licked off the cream from the edge of her lips with my tongue, but it still had no taste.

Gilbert: "This is delicious."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "I knew you were lying."

When I smile in front of her, the scowling little rabbit's face instantly turns red.

Emma: "W-What are you doing!?"

Gilbert: "What, you got a problem with me?" // "Oh, you're complaining to me?"

Emma: "I'd like to complain too! Such as––"

Gilbert: "Such as... What?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Don't let your guard down. Because right next to you is the big villain."

(Good reaction... It seems like it will become a habit.)

I chuckle to myself and sit back down on the bed as if nothing had happened.

With the little rabbit still chomping at the bit, I next threw a cupcake into my mouth.

Gilbert: "Yes, it's delicious."

(But surely, even if it doesn't taste good......)

(I would have lied to you.)

I felt a little smoldering in my chest today—a feeling that I should have let go of once. // I felt like there was a feeling smoldering in my chest today that I should have let go of in the past.

#サイバード #イケメン王子 #ギルベルト=フォン=オブシディアン #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince jp #ikeprince translation #ikeprince spoilers #dahlia's bad translation

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