Tumgik
#whatever you think this is about you're probably right but it's also about like seven other things
literaila · 2 months
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sick
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: satoru does not get the 'flu' that you have, or why you can't take megumi to the bookstore
warnings: symptoms of the flu, satoru is a bastard, cute kids
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*
year two.
you:  can you take megumi to the bookstore? i can't make it 
"megumi wants me to ask you what you mean by 'i can't make it.'" 
your phone rings as soon as the message is sent, making you groan and roll over in bed. your palms are sweaty, and your body feels a bit like you got eaten alive. 
you probably shouldn't have answered, but honestly, how can you be expected to make smart decisions in this state?
you sigh into the phone. "it means that i can't make it, satoru." 
usually, his voice would make you smile but right now it just makes you want to die. and sleep for a couple... billion years, at least. 
"megumi wants me to ask what you mean by that?" satoru says again like you can't tell he's grinning. 
"just let me talk to him," you sigh, turning over on your side, which does nothing to ease the ache in your abdomen, by the way. you feel briefly nauseous like you might need the bowl you dragged under the covers, but it eases. you swallow bile. 
"what's wrong?" satoru asks, still teasing, and doesn't put megumi on the phone because he has never, not once in his life done anything without an argument. 
really, why do you put up with him?
"nothing." 
"well you just forgot that both of the kids are in school right now, like they are every day, so..." 
you close your eyes, pulling the covers up even higher. "oh. yeah." 
"did you get hurt, or something?" satoru asks, no concern evident in his voice, "going on another mission?" 
"no." 
satoru is silent, waiting. and you really truly do hate him. anyone else would just do you this favor. 
but not your best friend, no, he does nothing you ask. 
"i'm sick," you tell him, after a whole minute of silence. 
you can almost hear it as his brows furrow. "what?" 
"i have the flu or something," you cough into the receiver, hoping that it hurts his ear. 
"how?" 
"ugh," you groan, trying to rub the ache out of your jaw. "not all of us are immune to getting sick, you freak. will you take megumi to the bookstore for me? please?" 
"i don't think he wants to go with me." 
"satoru," you whine. 
"...and also i'm not allowed to enter the premises anymore." 
you sniff, wishing that you had more tissues, "what? since when?" 
"a couple weeks ago," he answers, nonchalantly. you can hear him moving around, probably wreaking havoc on the house you'll have to deep clean in a couple of days. 
not to mention your room. seriously, getting sick is the worst. 
"why?" 
"nuh uh," he says to you, very seriously. "that's between me and the children. they swore me to secrecy, and you're the one that's always going on and on about trust and how easily it's broken..." 
"you mean that you swore them to secrecy." 
"i bribed them," satoru agrees as if it's not an insane thing to say about your seven and eight-year-olds. 
"with what?!" 
"tsumiki took the offer of picking whatever takeout she wanted, and i think megumi was just glad i couldn't bring him anymore, the brat." 
you can hear his eyes roll, and the mention of the little boy's name reminds you of why you're having this discussion in the first place. 
"satoru... i really can't take him and i promised we'd go today," you groan into your pillow, voice feeling very sore. you shouldn't be talking to this insane man right now, you should be asleep. 
he pauses. "i can wear a disguise, i guess?" 
you groan again, hopefully, louder. "no, you're right about him not wanting to go with you." 
"rude." 
"i guess i'll just..." you attempt to sit up for the third time, feeling a bit dizzy as you do so. "i'll take some medicine and see if i feel better by the time they get out of school."
you're already mentally checking your medicine cabinet, not even sure if you have anything to help this ease by later in the afternoon. just some pain relief would be nice, but if you're contagious...
"what? no."
"well, you can't take him," you answer, still annoyed. 
"he doesn't need to go..." 
you hope that satoru can feel your scowl. "i promised." 
"he's a reasonable kid..." satoru says, clearly not remembering the brooding that happened the last time megumi had to re-read one of his books. "i think." 
you're silent. 
"look, i'll talk to him, okay?" he settles on, finally. "and i'll give him a couple hundred yen, it'll be fine. 
your mouth opens, and you cough, before, "no, satoru--" 
"get some rest," he exclaims, unpleasantly. 
"have him call me when you pick them up, satoru--" 
"don't die of the flu or anything." 
and then he's gone, and now you've got a headache, too. 
*
you think you might be dreaming when you open your front door.
the knocking had woken you up--you think--but with how long it took to walk from your room, into the hallway, and then the door, honestly, you might've fainted. or decided to take another nap against the wall. 
because once you open it, it feels like you've done this before.  
once again, three people are standing in front of you, two of them already arguing before you even take a step back to swing the door all the way open. 
the light hurts your head as you squint at the three of them. 
"it was my idea--" megumi is saying to satoru, grumpy, you know, from all day at school, and because he's talking to satoru.
"you're not taking all of the credit," satoru says back, "i bought everything." 
"'cause you're rich." 
"wow, so you're objectifying me?" 
"yes," megumi answers immediately, even though you doubt that he even knows what objectifying means (actually, you're pretty certain satoru doesn't even know). you cough, and it feels like something has died inside of you. 
the three of them turn towards you, tsumiki with a pleading look.
"it was my idea, okay?" megumi tells you before anyone else can say anything, and then he pulls tsumiki along with him as they move past you, through the door, into your apartment. 
yes, it's clear that satoru has raised them. 
"i said we should bring soup," tsumiki looks up at you, waiting for the praise she knows you'll give her. 
"our idea," megumi amends, easily. 
then they're out of your reach, going to sit on the very same couch they'd slept on a year ago, probably trying to escape satoru.
who you turn to, with a frown. his hair is so white it hurts to look at.
he points into your apartment, "those are devil spawn." 
you cough. "don't call them that." 
he raises a brow at you. probably at how soft your voice is, or the fact that you haven't hit him in the thirty seconds he's been standing there. 
it's a new record. 
"why are you here?" you rasp out, wiping some snot from your nose.
"no 'hello?'" 
"hello, satoru," your voice is retched, "why are you here?" 
"you look kinda rough, kid," 
you sniff, leaning against the doorjam. you could fall asleep here in an instant. "i'm sick, you jerk." 
"so this is sickness..." satoru says, intrigued, pretending to inspect you closely like you're some lab experiment. 
"i distinctly remember a cold that had you shaking on the floor of your dorm, begging shoko to heal you." 
satoru points a finger at you. "that was an uncurable illness." 
"and yet we're still stuck with you." 
satoru just smirks, pretending to be an angel he is not. 
you cough again and then sigh. it's cold with the door open. "are you just here to annoy me?"
"no," satoru shakes his head, giving you a ridiculous look, "well, i was telling megumi that you couldn't take him to the bookstore, cause of your disease or whatever," he ignores your weak protest, "and then i suggested that maybe we could see how you were feeling, bring you a little gift basket--" 
"no, he didn't!" megumi calls. 
satoru frowns. "devil. spawn." 
you snort, somehow amused at all of them, finally moving aside so he can walk through the door. 
satoru passes, suddenly brighter, but not before leaving an obnoxious kiss on your cheek--a resounding smack following. to which, you promptly wipe off. 
he frowns, and you push him so you can close the door. and then you trail into the kitchen, sitting down immediately before you fall. 
it's so embarrassing that just standing for too long has made you this lightheaded. 
satoru sets a bag on your kitchen counter and begins to unpack it. 
you try to see over his hands. "what did you bring me?" 
"you guys are so unappreciative," satoru tells you, pouting, "you only want me for my goods." 
"and the view," you answer, easily. "what'd you get?" 
megumi and tsumiki comes over to you, both of them giving you a short (megumi) and tight (tsumiki) hug. you've trained them well. 
"soup!" tsumiki tells you, grabbing the container from satoru's hands, despite his look. and then she walks over to your stove, looking in the cupboards for a pot to heat it in. 
because she's used to taking care of herself. they both are. 
"satoru," you nod to her, and he frowns, but reluctantly takes over, pushing tsumiki away from the stove. you're both familiar with this behavior from her. 
most days when you make dinner, tsumiki is trying to sneak into the kitchen, refusing to let you take care of it. 
she pouts a little now, but lets satoru handle the soup.
"gojo got you all of these," megumi tells you, bringing your eyes away from the other man, pushing a stack of pill bottles and medicine containers your way. "i don't think he knows what any of them are." 
"hey! that's a great selection," satoru pours the soup into a pot and sets it on the stove, returning to the counter with the three of you.
"this is a muscle relaxant," you tell him, frowning as you look at the packages--most of which are not for the flu. this is why he's not allowed to go to the store without you.
"well, your muscles need to relax, don't they?" satoru asks, dryly. "wish we could find some of those for your brain..." he mutters, afterward, and you throw the packet right at his face. 
"i found those little sour things you like," megumi continues, smirking just a moment at satoru. "they didn't have a big bag." 
"thanks, megs." 
"there's tissues, and chapstick if your lips get dry. and i picked out the cough drops because gojo wanted to get chocolate flavored or something--" 
"strawberry!" 
megumi rolls his eyes. 
tsumiki steps to your side again. "and we got flowers, but those are still in the car." 
"no, they're not," satoru suddenly has a bouquet of roses in his hands, almost covering his entire face. "they're right here." 
"when did you do that?" 
"when you guys were ridiculing my excellent taste," he pouts, white hair falling over his glasses. 
you laugh. 
"where's your vase?" he asks, going through every cupboard before finally listening to your answer. he settles on the other end of your kitchen, cutting and arranging the bouquet. 
tsumiki taps you. "are you feeling bad?" 
"just a little out of it, sweetie, don't worry." 
"did we get everything you need?" megumi chimes in, giving you a brief moment of eye contact before looking away. 
"yes. you guys did great, thank you both. you're very sweet." 
satoru ahems loudly. "and what about me?" 
"you could've done better." 
the kids both laugh and you push them into the living room, telling them to go sit down for a bit--knowing that satoru dragged them from school to the store to here without a break--and that you'll find a snack for them. 
and then you sigh, a bit nauseous from sitting up for so long. 
"do you need to lay down?" satoru peers at you, setting the bouquet on your table. "you look green." 
"thanks. how'd you learn to do that?" you gesture to the flowers which are arranged beautifully. honestly, you're surprised he didn't leave them on the counter for you to deal with. 
"i am a gentleman." 
"ha. no, seriously." 
"...i may, or may not have looked up what to bring someone who has the flu--and the flowers were extra, but!" he pauses as you laugh at him, resting your head against the cool counter. "i only had to do that because i don't get affected by stupid things like the flu or whatever you have." 
"of course," you whisper, closing your eyes. 
and then there's a hand on your forehead. "you're really warm." 
you press your head into his hand, which is also pleasantly cold. "yeah." 
"did you sleep all day?" 
you nod. 
"really? that's so lazy." 
you push him away, and he laughs, just loud enough for you to hear it. you open your eyes again when you hear him move away, watching him stir the soup on the stove. 
"you probably shouldn't have brought them here," you tell him, gesturing to the living room. "i don't want to get them sick." 
"they missed you," satoru shrugs. "you wouldn't want them to be sick alone." 
"yeah, but..." 
"i'm the worrier today," he interrupts, wrapping his hand around your wrist so he can pull you. "go lay down on the couch with them and i'll get your soup ready." 
"you'll burn it, you mean?" 
"as a punishment for all of the cruel things you say to me," and satoru smiles as he nudges the top of your head with his nose. 
his eyes are almost stern (almost, but not quite) as he watches you lay down on the couch, your hands gestured in defeat, and nods when you're settled in. 
when he walks away, you call, "bring us some water!" 
there's no response, but you know he'll do it. 
tsumiki just slightly nudges you with her hand and you smile, opening your arms for her to cuddle under. 
megumi doesn't do the same, but you don't fail to notice when he scooches just a little bit closer to you both, his thigh touching yours. 
your head still hurts and even the smell of the soup is making you a bit sick, but you'll deal with it as long as they're all here. 
*
you're arguing with satoru about dinner, several days later, when tsumiki and megumi sneeze at exactly the same time. 
it took a couple of days for you to recover, but now you're better than ever, happily fighting with satoru over the stupidest things and watching over both of the children for any defects that happened while you were out of sorts. 
they're mostly okay. 
but now the both of you look over to them, your eyes wide, satoru almost wincing. 
and then you look back to him, already scowling. 
"hey, it was just a sneeze," he tells you, quickly, already knowing what you're about to say. 
"i told you--" 
and then he sneezes, taking a step away from you. 
you groan, giving up on dinner. it looks like the next few days are going to be spent coddling all of your children. 
*
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Text
What's Eight Plus Seven?
Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five
Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.
-
Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.
Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"
"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.
"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.
He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."
"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?
"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."
Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."
Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."
"So, what, you lied? Why?"
"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.
"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."
Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."
"Sure. After."
Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.
Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.
It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.
That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.
He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.
He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.
Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.
He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.
It's the character sheets he'd made.
He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.
Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.
After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.
If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.
That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.
Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.
But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)
In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.
Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.
The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.
He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.
Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.
Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.
They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.
"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.
Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"
"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.
"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."
Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.
Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.
Soon, the house is empty again.
"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."
"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"
Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.
"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."
"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."
"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.
"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."
"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."
"Well, I didn't help-"
"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."
Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."
Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."
"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."
"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."
First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.
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kalims · 11 months
Text
cupping their face
parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven
characters. heartslabyul
content. gender neutral reader
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riddle
he has very squishable cheeks despite his concerning diet mainly revolving around tea, biscuits, and whatnot (tarts).
you suppose the chubbiness in it comes from the mounts of sweets he can't exactly resist. of which trey is probably to blame.
riddle grew up with his very picky mother with her particular food choice for him so when he arrived in NRC without her eyes he gained a lot of freedom.
so if you hold his face in your hands the fat from his cheeks pokes out of the hole between your thumb, and pointer fingers. it's so cute 😭 so you can't resist the urge to sneak a squeeze.
it makes it all the more comical becomes he looks so confused, furrowing his brows at you like he can't believe whatever the hell you're doing right now.
plus points if you start to randomly caress his face cause he's slowly realizing that this is just a show of affection and is turning more red by the minute.
it would be a flustered riddle without the steam out his ears after all!
riddle avoids your eyes. "what in the world are you doing?" but makes no move to... well, move.
trey
uhh compared to riddle he's not in that level of squishy cheeks despite him being a baker and all.
I mean it's more of a 'you can feel the curve of his cheekbones' rather than the 'chubby cheeks' kind of thing. let me tell yall, the muscles in those damn arms aren't there for show!!
but yeah I firmly believe he just takes bites out of his batter / finished product to check if he should add a certain ingredient from the taste.
but it's usually the other people that do the eating.
though if you pinch hard enough you might be granted the satisfaction of smothering his cheeks (and a trey who is trying his best to keep the increasing pain off his face cause you seem to be enjoying yourself too much.)
anyways yeah cupping his face! from my memory, to me he seems like a person with a more lean face? (I have not seen him in a while lmao) but when you do he just raises his brow a little and watches you patiently.
you won't know if he's caught on what you're doing but you'll know he's starting to enjoy it when your palms are growing heavy from trey slowly leaning the weight of his face on it.
"is this a reward for my hard work?" trey huffs in amusement. "tell me when it's too heavy."
cater
wow he's so cute 😞
cater likes to snack every now and then and all that food just teleports to his face rather than anywhere else so it's prominent even if he laments about it.
I think it just makes his smile cuter cause you can see dimples pop out of his cheeks as well 😭 it tempts you to poke them all the well.
notable. they're also kinda stretchy, you can poke, pinch, and stretch them wow. the versatility. at this point everyone should have a cater to poke, pinch, and stretch out his cheeks.
^ stress reliever.
as you're cupping his face his response is just to automatically cup you back? and he's already giggling about this 'couple bonding' thing so you're not quite sure how to proceed.
but cater's laugh is pretty contagious so you end up laughing along. both of you are cupping each other's face, and you can feel the curve of his grin from your palms.
... next thing you know in a poof of smoke two more cater appears wearing similar pouts, of which are whining about their turn..
"you guys go away!" the cater which you remember to be the original dramatically pours himself over you. arguing with.. himself. "this is og cater and (name) bonding time, shoo!"
ace
is his cheeks squishable or not? we will never know cause everytime your hands are near his face he's flying backwards to avoid you.
what a menace with the suspense and all. ace is always trolling you so it's understandable. he's like: "haha get trolled." AND WHEN YOU ACTUALLY IGNORE HIM HE'S LIKE: "wait no that was a prank too pls."
if his ego wasn't taller than him he definitely would have regretted it 💀 honestly I'm so in dynamics with ace where he thinks he's the dominant one in the relationship and if you tell him to sit he's immediately sat.
it's gonna be more of a challenge to actually get a hold of his face but pro tip: just tell him to stop with a stern face, and he's just gonna go stiff but grumble when he feels your fingertips.
he's looking annoyed the whole way but you notice the twitch of his brows. suddenly he's looking just a little more comfortable in your hands.
point it out it out if you want but his face is just gonna revert to that annoyed look, just honestly let him loosen up (and loosen up he will, don't be surprised if he just starts demanding those face caressing thing you just did in the future.)
^ well he's only doing that if you initiated it a handful of times. if not he's taking that desire to the grave.
"wow. are you really that much starved for me?" ace smirks, and nods. probably praising himself in his head. "just keep doing whatever you want, I don't care." ???
deuce
the most squishable cheeks. I take no objections, I do not care ‼️ (even though certain official art might not say so) I bet he eats with a mouth full of food, it just inflates his cheeks lol.
if we have characters we call baby girl like jamil over here, we got deuce spade our resident baby boy.
probably the one that eats up all your attention even if he's embarrassed. not of you of course! but if you ever do public displays of affection he's just hyper aware of the eyes kqbsjajss.
but he likes you a lot so he just tolerates it <3
cupping his face hmm... honestly he looks like a very innocent puppy, he's watching you with those kind of eyes. curious and patient 😭 he's watching to see what you'll even do next.
he doesn't really speak. was this man even actually a delinquent before? who the hell was that cause all you know is this very endearing, shy deuce of yours.
if there was a tail it would be wagging slowly!
man the inner man is him is wrestling him rn cause where is his pride?! but the person it's fighting is his love for you so the inner man is losing lowkey ��
"..." there is no words, just a very flustered, pleased deuce.
end notes
trey the gentleman fr.. also ace's part is vv chaotic lamao
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bonny-kookoo · 7 months
Note
Omg I’m so happy that Seven Days drabbles are welcome! Could I request things like Seven Days MC purposely pushing JK’s buttons to see what happens?
A/N: Hi hello please request for Seven I wanna write for it so bad but I can't because it gets reported please I LOVE THEM SO MUCH-
-> Masterlist
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Considering that Jungkook isn't at all what you're used to when it comes to men, it's also surprising to you how your simple interest and somewhat almost childish crush on him has turned into curiosity.
And it's also become quite.. fun to play around with him a little, turning the tables around for a change.
He's not actually ever openly told you what he's into- he always just seems to adapt to whatever you seem to like, and in your own humble opinion, that's just not fair. Is he secretly a sadist? Or into stuff you definitely aren't? You want to know. You don't want him to just bend his bones around you, just so you're happy.
You want him to be happy too.
Something you've learned about him by pure observation alone, is that he literally seems to buzz whenever he can do something for you. He fully immerses himself into caring for you, even if it's just 'hey, can you maybe watch the soup on the stove while I shower?'. It's cute, in a way, how he becomes happy at every touch you offer him.
He's a cuddler, even though he tends to end up in quite frankly ridiculous positions during his sleep- and it also offered one of these 'happy-buzz' moments with him.
He'd mentioned, very fleetingly, how he seems to sleep really well next to you at night these days. How he usually wakes up with a sore throat, and neck pain- but that it's pretty much gone now. You'd told him, equally as nonchalantly, how you noticed that he tends to move into an odd position at night, which makes him snore due to his head being tilted back too far- and that you've started to wake up from it. At first, he'd clearly wanted to apologize- but then you'd said that you just turn him a little, or adjust his pillow, because you already worried about him not sleeping well otherwise.
The look on his face was priceless; eyes all round and lips slightly parted, an expression of surprised affection that seemed to even catch him off guard as he had to visibly shake himself out of it, laughing it off before he thanked you, occupying himself with poking at his food instead to gloss over the almost shy smile growing on his lips.
And it's also really fun to test his patience.
You're not sure if he's aware of your games, but even if he is, you don't really care. Seeing him look at you with his jaw clenched and lips pursed, words on his lips but never spoken, hands having to physically hold onto something as to not move, it makes you feel empowered. You're not worried about any actual consequences- because even if there were any, he'd never hurt you.
You trust him. You're not scared of him.
"Hey, can you give me that?" He asks as you struggle to open the water bottle, but you whine, turning away from it as you continue to fight with the plastic cap. "Darling come on, just let me do it for you-" He chuckles, but you get up now instead, so he can't reach it.
There it is. The first sign- his tongue playing with the silver piercings on his bottom lip.
"You're gonna hurt yourself-" He tries again, voice still soft, but you shake your head.
"I can do it." You deny, now even moving to use your teeth for help- when he gets up, walking over to you.
"Stop being a brat, let me help-" He attempts once more, but you now walk again- falling into a little jog as he grabs for your shirt, fingers barely reaching the straps of it which snap right back against your skin. "Baby..." He threatens now, voice low and challenging. But you're not intimidated.
He's yet to actually prove his dominance, after all.
He thinks you can't take it. You know that's probably what he believes- that you can't handle it, that you're fragile and weak and oh-so-delicate. But you're not. You're not sure if he's turned you into this, but in a way, you've developed almost a hunger for what he might do to you if you were to finally make his patience snap.
You've gotten close before- you're getting close right now, you're sure.
But how much does it take for him to finally put you in your place?
And how will he do it?
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omi-anime · 1 year
Note
Hai hello! Can I have the dorm leaders with GN S/O who's like Lizzie hearts from Ever After High?
If you don't know who she is, I recommend searching up on youtube 'Lizzie hearts Ever After High' to really understand her character 😊
~Riddle, Leona, and Azul with Lizzie Hearts like s/o~
Author notes: Enjoy! I apologize for not doing all of them. I wrote this really late last night (literally at 2am) and not motivated to add the others.
Info: Your the child of the queen of hearts for this one. Your not in Heartslaybul tho, your in Ramshackle with Yuu/MC and Grimm.
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Riddle:
Definition of heart eyes. Entire School heard that the Queen of Hearts child was coming to school here and wow. He wasn't really shocked with how you acted you acted like royalty and definitely obeyed all the rules that the queen of hearts made.
You are actually fascinated with how his dorm was working. I definitely see him being thrilled that you think so especially since he was raised to follow those rules.
You were definitely Kinder though and he noticed that what he thought was weird but you were very chill on the rules. When one of his dorm members had actually broken a rule in front of you you didn't seem to care and you were the child of the queen of hearts! Your mother for Lord's sake made those rules!
However you were definitely very sweet and he noticed that you actually care a lot about your friends. You were said to be very aloof and very cold for those who didn't really know you. But whenever someone said that Yuu and the other first years quickly defended you saying you're actually very nice.
When he heard your unique Magic. He probably just had heart eyes. The only difference with your unique Magic was it didn't have a collar... he was definitely a little creeped out though but your unique Magic is very realistic to be the child of the queen of hearts.
That being said after his overblot he definitely understands why you weren't so rules obsessed. In fact I see you actually helping him not be so rule obsessed. You also offer him Comfort considering you understand how his mother treated him because your mom sucks too.
You definitely come in handy whenever some hedgehogs go missing. With the fact that you can sense them nearby definitely helps whenever one of them got loose.
Azul:
He heard about you and he was terrified. It's not every day a child or grandchild of one of the great seven goes to the same school as you. He was terrified you'd be similar like pre-overblot Riddle...
However you were surprisingly very nice to him and what surprised him was it was genuine.
Your unique Magic did not Shock him at all but at the same time did. The familiar line wasn't a shock considering that's your mother's line and a certain house Wardens too. However it's very different and wow...
He definitely finds it sweet that you want to follow in your mother's footsteps but be kinder. He tries not to make you angry though because when he saw you yelling at someone wow he understands what people feel like when your mother is yelling at them-
Leona:
Honestly didn't care. Cool you're a child of the seven whatever can he go to sleep now. However he does think you're interesting he is just really tired right now maybe come back later.
He was definitely amazed at how angry you can get and if you're a woman you terrify him. He notes that don't ever make you angry. Your unique Magic adds to that effect.
He is surprisingly very chill about most things and is another person who will defend you if others think you're being mean with your attitude. Another one who agrees that even though you look like you aren't you're actually a very nice person. He isn't afraid to defend you.
In all honesty I actually see him kind of wanting to rub in his brother's face that in the future he's going to be marrying a child of one of the great seven. He also becomes royalty because of that but he's more focused on rubbing it in his brother's face. He would love to see all the servants faces from his kingdom who insulted him now.
Tag list: Want to be added? Let me know and what fandom! Genshin, Twst, Obey me, and Demon slayer.
@apyrose @crimson-maze @h3apm3ch4n151m
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sagau-my-beloved · 1 year
Note
on a note:
Creator said, in passing, "dragons are pretty great" (context unknown) and everyone is like "welp, it's bring your dragon to work day" venti brings dvalin, and zhongli, in a succesful attempt to one-up him, just turns into one.
He's refusing to turn back although navigating doors and corners just became infinitely harder.
Creator is having the time of their life.
Awww, I have a solution, tiny dragon Zhongli, it's foolproof
I feel like in that case Venti might just turn himself into a dragon form too, especially if you're being super doting over cute dragon Zhongli, or maybe just his wisp form with like tiny horns and a tail, I'd melt
Like everything, it becomes a competition, and now every being that can shape shift is going to for at least a day to get in on that affection
I imagine after they realize they can't stay that way forever, some would take on more dragon like features, aka Zhongli with sharper teeth, claws and horns, maybe even some scales, yes pls
But this just sounds like everytime the creator gives even a passive like everyone is gonna jump on it, dragon based merchandise sells out immediately, there's suddenly a demand for anything with dragon in the name, offerings at your alter are completely dragon themed for a while, (Liyue thinks you like their nation the best cause their archon is a dragon and all), people are braving the harsh climate of dragonspine to get whatever remnants of the actual dead dragon are still there to offer (while also doing their best to hide all the information surrounding Durin cause they couldn't stand to break your heart like that), childrens stories with dragons are all the craze— and it's just like that every time
Then there's probably all this theorizing that the whole Seven Sovereigns that supposedly ruled over the old world before the Primordial One was actually of your doing and oh no— the dragons you created are dead— you're not... mad about that... right?
But fr though Zhongli would absolutely steal you away to the dense mountains of Liyue to show you his giant powerful dragon form without anyone else around so he can show off fully, and Venti would absolutely pout about it after, saying the two of you could totally go ride on Dvalin together if you wanted
Too bad dragons aren't as big a thing in Inazuma and Ei is once again left out for not being able to shape shift...
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2smolbeans · 8 months
Text
Yandere Belphegor Headcanons/Ideas
A/N: This is completely unedited, so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes! Again I kind of went on a whim lol
Tags: Mentions of emotional and physical abuse, sadism, kidnapping, stalking, possessive behavior, stalkholm syndrome, and torture.
________________________
Whenever Belphegor is in his usual of being in a deep sleep, he often loves fooling around in people's dreams or minds.
As the avatar of sloth and as a seven deadly sin, he has the common sloth demon ability to appear in people's dreams and control them.
However, if you happen to be awake and he doesn't feel like invading your mind or staying in your dreams for too long. Belphegor can also Astral project whenever he's sleeping to keep tabs on you, whether it's physically or mentally.
Do you ever get that cold feeling someone's watching you while your back is turned? In this case, if you managed to catch Belphegor's attention..It's probably him watching you from a long distance while he's asleep somewhere else.
Sure, most demons have this ability to do what he usually does, such as Astral projection and controlling/invading dreams.
The few abilities that makes him stand out from the rest of the sloth demons and truly staples him to be the avatar of sloth is the power to make whoever he decides to target think their dreams are their reality for years, if not decades.
And, the power to affect whatever pain, sensation, or pleasure that happens in the dream to affect the persons real life.
I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to one day pick on Mc like this. Slowly invading and manipulating their dreams and mind, planting little seeds in their unconscious mind. Convincing them that yes, they are infatuated with him - and of course, they want to be with him. Sure, it's weird, but it feels natural, afterall the thought of it just flows, right? And surely, but eventually, Belphegor can casually gaslight Mc into feeding them whatever information he wants.
What do you mean your going out with a classmate? Didn't you promise him that you'd cuddle with him after you both got back to the house of Lamenation? No, you didn't go to sleep. You took a small nap with him in your arms and suggested you make plans. Don't you remember?
It's the little things like that, which is how Belphegor can slowly drive Mc or anyone insane. I mean, the thought of your dreams and reality mixing into one is terrifying in theory. Especially if those dreams turn to nightmares.
This brings up another thing that Belphegor would do to punish you for upsetting him in any way. Whether it be denying him of any affection or trying to escape him. He'll force you into a deep sleep, and he'll make sure to torture you in the most unrealistic painful methods as possible.
He'll get creative if he has to. Don't underestimate him.
After all, outside the real world, it's not like he can bend your bones and flesh inside out or rearrange your organs without dying.
So, of course, why wouldn't he put you in a deep sleep to torture you that way. Why is he doing this? Well, because it's fun! Plus, it's adorable when you scream out his name in a raspy, strained voice!
Remember how whatever happens in your dreams can affect you in real life? At this point, your body should be covered in bruises and scars.
And it's not like you're free from the feeling as well when you wake up as well.
I can see Belphegor being the sadistic type that likes to torture his Mc whether their good or bad.
Something about seeing their expression contorted pain, all scrunched up with unnatural colors blooming over their face. They call out to him, begging, crying, wheezing, and letting out those pathetic noises for him.
He loves it. He loves taking advantage of you in this state. Seeing you beg on your hands and feet as your tears soak the floor. Feeling your hands desperately cluch onto his pants, screaming how you'll do anything for him to stop. How much you love him, need him.
It sends the blood rushing down straight to his dick.
It also feeds him a sense of pride, knowing that he's the only one that could ever make you feel so miserable, yet so loving in a twisted way.
The scary thing, unfortunately for you.
No matter how hard you try, you really can't get rid of Belphegor.
Another thing I can see Belphegor being able to do is warp reality, create shadow monsters to keep tabs on Mc, and become a shadow. I don't know how to explain, but I can see this happening:
___________________________
Oh God, oh God, you silently prayed as you watched the shadows lurk and search every crook and nanny of the attic. You could hear them mumble incoherently in a demonic language as they looked at each other before swirling into the next dimly lit area. It didn't help that the attic was so goddam spacious. It didn't leave you anywhere to hide besides underneath the bed or in the closet. Somehow, however, you managed to find a perfect hiding spot within the silky thick curtains that covered the room. The only thing you had to hope for was that they wouldn't notice you. Standing still, you tried to focus on your breathing and stance as the dark mass continued to swim in any area that their shadow could travel.
Eventually, for what seemed like hours, the room was quiet. Deathly quiet. You contemplated on moving, but you decided that it was best to hold out just in case it was a trick. So you stood stiff on that very same spot, hoping your legs wouldn't tire out from the tedious time spent trying to hold still.
But as hours passed, you couldn't take it anymore. Plus, it had seemed safe anyway to leave. Getting out of your hiding spot, you were quick to turn on the lights. Cautiously and awkwardly checking your surroundings for anything off.
But before you could barely have a moment to relax, you saw it. You saw him. In that small dark corner of the room, watching you with a cartoonish grin sprawled upon his lips.
His form quickly began to take shape as his silhouette contorted and shifted. The room that was once lit now in pure darkness. You tried to run away, and you felt the adreline rushing through your veins as you could hear him laughing behind you.
It was no use, though, as Belphegor had wrapped his arms around your torso. Pulling you close as his tail softly patted your head.
"You know, you always keep doing this.. I don't mind playing hide and seek, but does it have to be all the time? It's tiring, you know? Why can't we just cuddle and sleep together? That's more enjoyable.."
You couldn't talk or move at all. You felt trapped in your own body, tired and weighted even as your eyelids began to close.
No..Not again..
"I love you [Mc].. Don't leave me, okay? It's not like you can even if you wanted to."
It was a while until you opened your eyes ever since.
_____________________________
But yeah!
Even though Belphegor can be cruel and degrading, I can also he him being soft at the same time.
Like yes, he's absolutely abusive and toxic towards Mc when it comes to being romantically involved with them. But somehow, with how he words his emotions and sentences, it always keeps you coming back to him.
You hate it, really. He's obessive, controlling, and downright vindictive to his very core. But for some reason, you can't help but snuggle into him closer whenever you lay with him.
Every kiss, soft caresses, gentle hummings that would warm your body in a soft daze, sweet nothings disguised as threats - it somehow made you more prone to stay close to him.
You're scared of him because of this. You should be disgusted with him, revolted at every sentence his lips spout out.
But you still hold out hope that maybe, if you can't escape him, at least if you stick it out and try to make an effort- Beplhegor might go easy on you.
After all, he does love you to the point of corrupting your soul and then killing you so that when you do go to hell, he can keep you as a demon forever.
I also can see like Leviathan's siren voice and songs, Belphegor's voice also has the ability to hypnotize and lull the reader into a deep trance.
I could also see him being a hermit just like Leviathan as well. Not wanting to leave his room but only sleep, cuddle, and dream with his darling Mc
I could see Belphegor being the type to say a bunch of stuff like this:
____________________________
"Even closing your eyes won't make you escape me"
"I love how your always thinking about me, even when your trying to push me away from your thoughts.."
"I want to kill you, you don't understand how hard I'm trying to hold back. If I could, you could be here with me, forever.."
"What if we just sleep for the rest of the day? It's not like we have anything to do. You're not trying to run away right?"
"I love the sounds you make whenever I choke you. You sound so adorable gasping when you try to pry your weak hands off me. It reminds me of how tiny and dependent you are.."
"Even if you hate me, you can't deny that I'm the only one that makes you feel like this. No one else can ever replace the way I make you feel. Whether it's sick in fear, or drugged up in pleasure"
"You're cute when your trembling. I wonder if they're more ways I can make you do that"
"You can't leave me. Not even death can do us apart. Even when if your in heaven, I'll still haunt your dreams until I can have you again in my arms"
"I love you, I hope you always know that.."
_____________________________
But that's all the thoughts I have for now!
.
.
.
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shayyprasad · 3 months
Text
weighing scale
tw: eating disorder (purging, not eating), bodyshaming, ed shaming
btw, if it's requested, i can turn drabbles into full oneshots!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you guys are beautiful the way you are, and nothing anybody ever says or does will ever change that. remember that gaining weight is totally normal, and you can always lose weight, too, but please, do it in a healthy way. if you ever need anyone to talk to, and this isn't just for eds, i'm here, and you can reach out. if not, there are people who care about you and love you.
you're amazing you beautiful mfs
(also i'm sorry if this might not be correct for you, everyone has different experiences with eds)
(also, also, i did 1st person ... and this is just the way i thought when i was going thru this so i kinda made it relate w/ me??)
100.
98.
96.
she watched as the numbers went down, satisfied despite the fact that it was only one pound less yesterday.
90.
88.
even if it meant that she'd always be cold, or that her hair would fall out. it was a small price to pay to be beautiful. to be skinny. to be like all the other girls that peter liked.
y/n kept telling herself that. and it was enough to keep her going.
{four weeks prior}
(first person)
they had little packets for us to take home, like forms. something along the lines of "annual health check-up." the form was just... well, it wasn't a form, really, but more of an opt-out. the paper said they'd just check weight, height, and some other things, like make sure you didn't have scoliosis.
honestly?
i was just happy to be missing a good chunk of math.
everyone got called down to the gym by period, and mine was 5th period, right before lunch.
our class was waiting for them to call us down, so mr. callen just let us do whatever until then. i glanced over to see liz, kayla, and chloe in the corner of the classroom, giggling and pointing towards some of the boys, and eventually, mr. callen.
he was one of the youngest members on faculty, fresh out of college. and i'll admit, he's not bad looking. in fact, he's hotter than most of the guys. and if it wasn't peter that had my heart, maybe i'd think about someone else.
not that the whole peter thing was going great anyways, he seemed interested in liz. so maybe that was my hint to move on. but i don't know. i've just liked him forever, it'd feel wrong to stop now.
i'm just really loyal, i guess.
or maybe this is some weird first love/crush thing, because no matter what, i keep finding myself coming back to him.
it took me second to realize that i'd been staring at the same spot for a while now, so i probably looked funny. i re-adjusted my position and looked at the clock, noting there there was just a few minutes until we'd have to go down.
i looked by at the girls, then at the teacher. did they not realize that he had an engagement ring on? or where they just dense?
because honestly, i'm having a hard time figuring out which one it is.
liz pushed chloe over to the desk, giggling like a manic.
chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in laughter. "hiiii, cal. you know, like, cupid's day is coming?"
me, personally, i didn't really believe in the whole dumb blonde thing, but chloe was changing my aspect on this.
cupid's day was on valentine's day, and you could pay a dollar to have a rose delivered to someone. normally, the freshmen girls did most of the planning. freshmen girls were annoying. they were always together, and i didn't remember a time i'd seen one alone.
i didn't get any on my first year here. last year i got three. but it didn't really count, because mj got me one and betty did. i was hoping that i'd figure out who the third person was, but three weeks into that investigation, i kinda gave up. if they hadn't revealed themselves to me at that point, i'd figured that they probably wouldn't.
maybe junior year will go better.
if you were popular popular, you got at least seven, so it was kind of embarrasing to only get one. and it was probably even more embarrasing to only have, like, one friend. which was betty. but she hadn't hung around me that often since she started dating ned.
mj was an observer, and i knew that much. it was probably the only reason she got me a rose, because she felt bad. but then again, anyone could see how pathetic it was.
peter and i used to be pretty close, but then he met ned, so the attention he gave me got halved.
i would have tried to be friends with ned, because i know he's really nice, but i stressed out too much about it for some reason and gave up. social anxiety, perhaps? it didn't matter, it was too late to do anything about it now.
after that, peter started hanging around liz and some of the other popular kids, and entirely forgot about me.
did forget about ned, though. maybe beacuse i was a girl, and so peter got called "gay" a lot for that. i didn't have much of a chance compared to liz, so i just admired him from afar. it's not that we didn't talk, because we did sometimes, but... actually, i don't know what.
if peter wanted to, he would have.
and it's fairly obvious, but i'm delusional and chose to ignore that.
the intercom snapped me out of whatever zoning out i'd gone back to, "block d, block d. i-is this on? oh, it is? i- yes, block d down to the gym."
everyone got up and pushed their way out the door, i didn't have that type of energy, so i just waited for everyone to get their butts outta the way and then went myself. i followed them down to the hall, staying behind a little. when i finally got over there, i ended up last, right behind chloe, kayla, then liz.
for the most part, it only took a minute or two for each person, so the line didn't take that long.
well, i suppose that's subjective.
it took 15 minutes, but whatever.
when liz was inside, she didn't take care to close the door all the way, leaving it a couple inches open. that's on her.
that's on her for being irresponsible, so it's not really my fault if i accidently hear. i leaned in a little, suddenly very interested in the wall, with all it's cracks... and... paint, and...
"and step on the scale, please... that is," she paused, and you could hear scribbling of a pen.
"121.3 pounds. perfectly healthy. that's actually the average weight for girls your age," another pause, "make sure to give this form to your parents. have a nice day."
liz said something in return and i stepped back, done admiring the wall. "next!" the lady called in.
i stepped inside the room, and it smelt strongly of hand-sanitizer. "okay, honey, step up against the wall... height is... alrightly. now the scale, please."
i did as she asked, keeping my eyes trained on the numbers.
149.7 pounds. basically 150. that was more than liz's, right?
"149, okay, you're good to go-"
"is that around average weight?" i asked, and it was impulsive, i didn't even think.
"well, it's somewhere around that. you're perfectly healthy."
the intercom came on again, signaling my time was over, and the lady thought the same thing, because she ushered me out.
as i walked back to the classroom, i couldn't help but think;
149? no, 150? around average? so basically, i was above average. 30 pounds heavier than liz? no wonder peter likes liz better.
god, that's disgusting. i'm disgusting.
i trudged back to class, unable to stop thinking about it. and suddenly, an idea popped into my mind; why not lose weight? if i lost a little, maybe peter would care about me again.
that's genius. god, i'm a genius.
yeah. i lose a little weight.
when i got back, he'd already started the lesson, not that i cared. i spent the rest of that class figuring out the kinks, like how many calories i'm allowed to eat per day.
i settled on 800.
it seemed like a decent number if i wanted to actually make an impact with weight loss.
stupid kale smoothies weren't gonna get me anywhere, nor idiotic influencer workout routines.
before i knew it, the bell rung and kids were hustling through the hallways. i was kind of on autopilot as i walked to lunch, not really watching where i was going. i'd by mistake shouldered some people, and they gave me dirty looks. i shot them right back.
i couldn't help but silently, in my mind, judge everyone's body that i saw. and not just their body, but other physical features, too. it was automatic, i didn't even mean to. but i couldn't help it.
she's really fat. the gym exists for a reason.
how is she so skinny? i know she's anorexic.
and it just went on and on.
i didn't know what was going on. why this mattered to me all of a sudden.
it was like i didn't notice these things before, i wasn't looking for them, but now that i knew they were there, i couldn't help it.
i couldn't help a lot of things.
when i walked into the lunchroom, i saw peter sitting by himself, writing on some piece of paper, and if i knew him, he wasn't doing the homework due tomorrow.
he was doing yesterday's.
it didn't seem like i'd be bothering him if i went to go talk to him, so that's what i did. i figured since we hadn't talked in while, it would be great to now.
and it'd be a great distraction, too.
i sat down across from him, "hi, peter."
he looked up slowly, a smile rising on his face. "uh, hey, y/n/n," peter paused, "what, um, what did you need?"
"huh? oh, i didn't need anything. just thought i'd come by and annoy the hell out of you."
"just like old times," peter snorted.
"math homework?"
"yep. i have math-"
"-next period," i realized my mistake after i made it. "um, 'cause i see you when i'm walking to class."
in repsonse, he nodded like he was considering it.
i didn't notice i was hungry until my stomach growled, but something inside of me made the thought of getting food and eating it repulsive. i hesitated before grabbing on of peter's fries and popping it in my mouth. he didn't say anything, or really even care, and i didn't know if i liked that or not.
"okay. you have chem next, yeah?"
i blushed at the fact he knew.
"uh, yep," i snagged some more fries, feeling myself loosen up.
and then i realized, that's what this was; i was just in need of some time with actual people who weren't my parents.
i liked this. i liked talking to peter. it was easy. this was easy.
we laughed about some other things, like flash's new donkey haircut.
and i stole more fries. ned, betty, and mj (who normally sat two seats away) came over. the topic of cupid's day came up.
"how many do you think you'll get?" betty asked.
i looked up, "roses?"
"uh-huh."
ned spoke up, "you won't need to worry, bet, i'll get you a whole bouquet." he looked proud of himself.
"i'm not worried," she giggled, like the lovesick fool she was. it was gross. and yes i admit, it was slightly because i was jealous, but whatever. betty didn't have to act so idiotic and desperate.
betty's skinny, too.
"what about you, y/n?" peter said, locking eyes with me.
"i dunno. i never really get any."
something changed in peter's expression, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.
i took another fry. they were really good, for some reason.
"fattie," peter laughed, pulling his lunch tray back, "and then you complain about not getting roses!"
that caused a round of laughs in the small group, but my heart dropped to my feet.
i was right. i was overweight. even peter noticed.
freaking peter noticed.
god, i was ugly and fat, and even peter saw that.
of course he liked liz. he'd be crazy not to. she was curvy and skinny and petite and pretty and skinny.
she was skinny.
i didn't have her hourglass figure.
never did i ever want out of my own skin more.
"y/n?" pete frowned. "i-i'm sorry, it was a joke, i didn't-"
"no, no, not that. i, uh, i... forgot i was supposed to meet with a teacher. sorry. i have to go."
i didn't go to any teachers.
i did go to the bathroom.
and i hid in the handicapped stall. i didn't cry, or sob, or weep or whatever it was stupid girls did in hallmark movies or stuff.
i stood in front of the mirror and picked out everything i hated, making a mental list in my head.
i didn't finish that list, not even after 30 minutes when the bell rung.
-
the rest of the day flew by rather quickly, it seemed. i felt like i was trapped in a warm haze, but not the fuzzy, happy warmth. i didn't like the way i was thinking. it's like i wanted my brain to turn off, these intruding, ugly thoughts were taking up too much room.
i felt icky.
when i got home, i didn't have my normal after-school snack like i usually did. i went straight upstairs and did homework.
i finished two essays (one that wasn't due until two weeks, and one that was due two days from now), my math homework and studied for my math test, started my science project, and did my french flashcards (and studied them a bit).
i must have been locked in my room for hours, because by the time i got up, it was dark outside.
i wasn't a studious person, and the only reason i did any of this was to forget for a little while. to snap out of it. and for a while, it worked.
"y/n, honey!" my mom screamed from downstairs, and as i glanced at the clock, i realized it was time to have dinner.
but i wasn't hungry.
well, i was.
let me rephrase that; i didn't want to eat.
however, i didn't want my mother yelling at me, so i went down anyways. not that i was planning to eat.
"mom?"
"oh, hey. i already set the table, you seemed like you were working hard and i didn't wanna bother you. dad's working late. go sit down-"
"not hungry."
she frowned. "well, you have to eat something."
"but i'm not hungry," i said, hating how sharply it came out.
my mom gave me warning look. "look, i've had a long day, so don't start with me."
"mommmm," i whined.
"sit."
so i did. i felt bad about bothering her.
i ate. small, tentative bites, forcing it all down. we didn't talk.
silently, i put my dish in the sink, before heading upstairs. the food sat at the bottom of my stomach, like a pile of heavy rocks. i wanted them out.
so i turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door, kneeling in front of the toilet. i pressed my fingers to the back of my throat and kept them there for a second. at first, all i got was bile.
but then i threw up.
-
peter and i started talking more again. i think he got in a fight with liz.
i asked him if they were dating, and he said no.
i think he started hanging out with me again because i got skinny. i know for a fact that i'm skinnier than liz. i weigh less then her now.
the numbers told me that.
but i didn't listen.
i didn't stop, and how could i? when i'd gotten this far?
-
we got in a fight. not the yelling kind, though. well, kind of. i yelled a bit.
i thought he was complimenting me. he said i looked skinny, so i thanked him.
"no... i-" he paused, trying to get his thoughts together, "you look skinny, yes, but not in a good way."
"what? what do you mean? like, there's only a good way," i laughed, slightly nervous.
peter ingnored that. "have you been eating enough, angel?" his voice was soft, but there was worry in it. why was he worried? this is the best i've ever been.
"do you ask liz that, too?"
"i- what?"
"liz is skinny. you don't ask her that."
"that- that is different. y-you haven't been eating, have you? is-"
"god, parker! stop! it's none of your business!" maybe if i hadn't been so flustered, i'd have come up with a better comeback.
-
i was hunched over the toilet, but nothing was coming out. everything hurt.
my head. my stomach.
my throat was scratchy and raw.
i didn't hear the knocking on the door.
i don't really remember peter coming in. i thought i locked it. what was he doing at my house? i couldn't remember.
i wanted to sleep.
i think i was crying. i don't know. i only vaguely remember the hot tears.
i slightly remember him pulling me away from the toilet and into his arms. there were lots of holes in my memory for that day.
he stayed with me, though. one thing i'm sure about is that peter never left my side. i can recall bright lights. tubes. i was laying on something. white walls. white sheets.
what was engraved into my head was peter whispering "i love you" over and over again. in the bathroom. in the car. was it a car? as they hooked me up to cables.
all that mattered, though, was that i was skinny now. just the thought made me feel light and airy.
to think that all it took was a little motivation and a weighing scale.
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infamous-if · 1 year
Text
✮ FAQ ✮
hi, it's amy!! i did not expect this kind of reaction and there's a lot of questions-- so much more than i expected--which has made me very happy. i've mostly left them on a rolling queue so if your question hasn't been answered yet, it's coming i haven't ignored you :)
there's been a lot of repeat questions about some things so this is just a quick FAQ to clear things up and not clog the dash with the same answers.
CONTENT WARNINGS?
This post is spoilery, but content warnings for the game here.
Will we able to choose X, Y, and Z?
Pertaining to the band, I will make it type-in and customizable as much as possible. Right now you can:
Choose your band's name.
their genre
the name of your song and the theme (as of right now, the theme will be choice-based so i can have the variables and write accordingly)
whether your band has a unifying 'aesthetic' or you guys all wear whatever you want on stage
you'll be able to occasionally write lyrics, it'll be a combination of typing in and 'filling the blanks' and if your MC is co-songwriting, it'll also be choices
your band's approach to their image, whether they're underground or mainstream, kid-friendly or 'devil music' according to parents (lol)
and more. i really want infamous to be as customizable as possible.
Pertaining to your MC:
the usual stuff is customizable: (name/surname, appearance, height, pronouns, gender identity etc)
personality and public image is up to you. customize whether you're controversial, whether you have strong stage presence, whether you're a fame/money hungry social climber or a passionate ~artist~ etc etc.
The things that are set with your MC:
their age is set. where your MC was born and raised up until middle school will be headcannon, but they are American. The state in which you grew up after that will be headcannon. no matter what, you grew up with seven and you met your bandmates freshman year of high school.
your MC idolizes G and Misfit Alley. They will think and feel like a fan, at least in the beginning, and that can't be changed. Of course, whether you maintain a cool face or go crazy and act like a fan is up to you.
your MC cares about Seven. They were your best friend since you were 11, so it makes sense. Of course, you can choose whether your MC wants to mend the relationship or is just as angry, and even if your MC has accepted Seven is their past and they need to move on, but Seven isn't someone MC just doesn't give a fuck about. it wouldn't make sense.
Do we have to engage in an affair to romance G or Victoria?
Yes.
MC is a doormat/loser/isn't as talented as everyone else!!
You're wrong.
I will not be answering about this anymore.
Read.
What is a sub-romance?
It’s the same as a romance except your decisions do not influence how it ends and it is controlled by the narrative. I have full control on whether the romance succeeds or fails based on what the narrative requires.
Do we have to [insert anything about Seven]?
Lol, these are prob the most frequently asked questions but you do not have to hate Seven the way they hate you. there's going to be a variety of approaches toward seven.
but they will hate you no matter what! at least in the start of the route.
you can
be former friends and then reconcile as lovers
be former friends and reconcile as friends
be former lovers and reconcile as friends
be former lovers and reconcile as lovers
be former lovers/friends and not reconcile at all
Why are they like this? Why can't they be like [this]?
Yes, I have gotten this question already 😭 i really want to be clear that these characters aren't completely moral people. they will do problematic things (obviously not bigoted things, dw) they will fuck up, they will be toxic, they will probably (emotionally) lash out at MC sometimes (and MC can do so in return). i just want to make it clear now so i don't surprise anyone when the story gets more plot heavy.
they will also engage sexual acts, do drugs, drink, party, do terrible shit yk...
that's showbiz, baby !
Do we have to engage in [insert sexual or immoral behavior here]?
Nope.
Attitude wise, your MC can theoretically be a pure glittery unicorn who has never had a mean or immoral thought in their life.
Is NSFW allowed?
Yes.
Can I call August [insert gendered term here]?
Nope!
Do we have to have a crush on Orion?
No.
Do we have to romance anyone at all?
While this is a romance-centered story, I'm going to insert a non-romance platonic play-through for people who just want to play with the fame parts. Soo no.
Can we be friends with Soft Violence?
Yep, you can befriend the members of Soft Violence.
Seven and Avina.
I won't be answering questions in terms of Savina and Avina's relationship as that is spoilery. But I will say that Seven is an RO and the MC is the main character. No false advertising here :)
So we can end up with Seven?
Yes.
Do we have to?
No. You can end the story hating or ignoring Seven.
Can we romance multiple ROs?
Yes, but there will be a point where you can only romance one RO outside of the G-Vic-MC poly.
Can we romance G and V individually?
Yes.
Can we romance Rowan?
As of right now, no plans for that!
Does every route have angst?
Yes. August has the least.
Can we write songs about the ROs/will it be acknowledged?
Yes and yes.
Subromances?
Dakota, Blake (you meet in the prologue) and E (you meet in chapter 2) are sub-romances.
There’s (possibly) one more.
Be warned: sub-romances are at the mercy of my writing.
Who the f**k is Dakota?
Spoilery!
Will you be having a plan for the next update?
As of right now, it's a release-when-done deal. Maybe if my life is more organized I'll actually have plans set lol! I'll try to keep things updated as much as I can.
Can you add [customizable thing]?
You can suggest it but I can't guarantee it will be added!
Does choosing a bus lock you out of Seven's romance/stay for the whole game?
The bus you choose stays the same the entire story and no, it does not lock you out of a Seven romance. Really you'll just miss some 'bus exclusive' scenes.
Can we draw the characters or imagine them differently?
Do as you wish and imagine them as you wish! So as long as you do not whitewash them.
Can we write fanfiction?
Sure! I just won’t reblog or interact in order to protect myself!
Twine?
In the future and if I ever learn to code twine.
You don't answer my questions.
Sorry. I don't mean to ignore your ask. Or it's spoilery and I can't! Sometimes I also miss mentions. I try my best to see them all!
This is problematic for me.
That is the point. I will not be sanitizing Infamous. Apologies in advance!!! 🙏
I don't like [this].
Don't read it :)
[Suggestion]
I listen to them all! Doesn’t mean I’ll add them though :)
[Music Rec]
Even if I don’t reply, I do see it and add it into a queue to add it to the Infamous master playlist! I love song recs!
[Any praise or kind words or jokes]
i am so grateful and even if i do not reply (to avoid spamming), i read it all ! (and giggle to myself)
Do not:
request things rudely please. I take into consideration all requests if they are said politely. It doesn’t hurt to be kind :)
whitewash my characters of color
follow or engage in infamous if you are under 18 ! <3
✮✮
thats all i can think of now, but i know there's more i just haven't noted them. if there's any more i'll make sure to add it here, if you guys have any questions that weren't answered pls send them my way and thanks again for your interest!
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arandomaewblog · 3 months
Text
this is my first time posting anything in the AEW fandom so please be nice! this is also just me trying to not lose my mind while being around my family for the next three days so if it's not good I blame it on that
basically this is a situation in which you've been friends with the AEW roster for so long that even though you're not a wrestler yourself you still get invited to hang out with them or whatever; I'm trying really hard not to overthink the plot because if I do that I'm never gonna write anything so just like take it with a grain of salt and tilt your head and squint or whatever
I'm rambling so here's you and Hook making out in a closet. enjoy.
****
"Name of the game is Seven Minutes in Heaven!"
Everyone in the room groans.
"Stop trying to get everyone to make out, Max!" Bowens shouts, but Max ignores him.
"It's not me!" he swears, holding his hands up in front of himself defensively. "It's all up to the bottle!" Max gestures to the empty Tito's bottle in the middle of the table. Bowens just rolls his eyes and lets it happen.
You start by just watching everyone else play - some of the pairings are ridiculous and would probably be do-overs if Max wasn't in charge, but he is, so there are no do-overs. Whoever the bottle lands on is who it lands on. No exceptions.
It's fine and fun and you're having a great time until it's your turn and the bottle ends up pointing at the guy you've had a crush on for months but haven't really spoken to all that much because he keeps to himself most of the time: Hook.
"Shit," you say to yourself, knowing nobody else in the room could have possibly heard it because Max is YELLING, all but shoving you and Hook into the closet himself. (Well, he tries guiding Hook, but Hook snatches his arm away and turns to face Max so fast that Max immediately takes his hand off and backs up a couple steps.) You open the door and step in, thankful that it's more of a walk-in closet situation so you have more room to back up and let Hook in after you. The doors must have some sort of soundproofing on them, or just be really thick, because when the door closes behind him, it's almost completely silent. You don't know what to do, mostly because being this close to the man you've been crushing on for months is...overwhelming, to say the least.
"So, uh..." Hook starts, his voice softer than you were anticipating, "what do you wanna do?" He looks up at you, hood still up and hair all in his face like normal, and fuck so handsome.
Not freak out and make you think I'm a weirdo, you think, but say something completely different and totally unexpected, even to yourself: "Can I say something?"
He nods.
You take a deep breath. "I know we don't know each other that well because we never really talk but I've had the biggest crush on you for months now and I don't know if you're that kind of guy, we can definitely talk about it later if you want, but all I want right now is for you to grab my face and kiss me until neither of us can breathe and I forget about all the people out there."
It's dark in the closet, so you have no idea what expression Hook has on his face right now, but he doesn't say anything right away. You're about to backtrack when he speaks.
"Too many people for you, too?"
His answer catches you by surprise, but it makes sense that he'd also be overwhelmed by it all. "Yeah," you say, softly, and you gasp when he steps into your space, your faces so close but still so far away.
"You wanna forget about 'em?" he asks, softly taking hold of your chin and tilting your head to look at him. All you can do is nod and try not to buckle at the knees when he cups your jaw and moves in closer.
"Let me help."
Thinking back on it later, you were expecting him to kiss like he fights: methodical, calculating, always three steps ahead of his competitor - but it's the exact opposite. He's methodical and almost cautious, yeah, but there's an uncertainty in the way he leans in, a small gasp of surprise when his lips finally meet yours, something that feels like relief when you start kissing him back.
Honestly? It's better than you'd imagined, and boy have you imagined it a lot. His lips are soft, his hands gentle, one holding your jaw and the other slipping around to your lower back. It starts as little individual kisses, and you'd be cool if it stayed that way for the whole time but something happens that makes you gasp, which leads to Hook softly biting into your bottom lip, and at that point all bets are off. The mild sting makes you groan, which makes Hook chuckle, a rumble deep in his chest like he's amused.
"Oh, you like that?" he asks teasingly, and again, all you can do is nod.
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laduenadelswing · 2 months
Text
Love Game Vox fan fiction
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Chapter 4
“Let’s do more trust exercises.” Charlie exclaimed, shockingly, no one was excited about that. “Can't we do something fun?” Angle asked. “You want to become a better person or not?” Vaggie spat back. Her eyes glancing at Angle before fixating on you. Something is wrong with her, Isabel thought. So they obeyed Charlies demand and did some trust exercises. After that Angle went back to his “workplace” Whatever that is, Isabel was too afraid to ask.
Husked kept an eye on Nifti who was cleaning the hotel. Pentious and you didn’t have any work to do and decided to help Alastor. Even though Alastor could probably do all the work better if they left him alone, she still enjoyed the company. “Vaggie wants to share the TV Spot we made a couple of weeks ago.” He kept on smiling. “Sounds like a plan.” Isabel replied, thinking about last night, did he really want to kiss her or was she just projecting her desires? “What a show. Now that’s entertainment.” Alastor laughed. “How do you want to get it into TV?” Angle asked. Isabel could ask Vox, but that’s no option right now. “Vox ain't an option.” Angle's accent underlined their precarious situation. Sir Pentious shivered, “Oh no, don't. No Vox, please.” He exclaimed with a dramatic undertone. Angle rolled his eyes, his spider like arms held Pentious. “The almighty V’s will kill me next time.” Pentious couldn’t stop shivering, even his egg boys hid behind him. “Who?” Isabel asked confused.
“The V’s, Vox, Valentino, and Velvet. Together they rule of media, technology, and communication. Valentino employed every whore around town and has a temper. Velvet a producer and social media expert is a young overlord but with her knowledge and the internet she managed to join them, she is a handful. Vox is the working force behind it, controlling the media, he is a businessman like no one has ever seen. Together, they almost bet Alastor seven years ago.” In this second radio noises appeared and Alastor glitched “Vox could never beat me.” He explained with a dark undertone, his stature changed and became increasingly more intimidating, his eyes tinted red. “Also… Vox told Pentious to kill himself when he couldn’t manage to be an undercover spy.” Isabel couldn’t believe what Husk told her. Was Vox really so bad? I mean, he is in hell after all, Isabel thought. “So, you say that Vox is the worst of them?” She asked. “No definitely Valentino, his boy toy, Vox cares too much about his public image. Business is business, after all.” Isabel nodded, “I can understand that, once you're in the public eye no one cares that you're normal. They want absolute perfection or drama. There is no place for normality.” She explained. The demons gave a confused look. “Sorry, my life was very public until I came here. It's refreshing to be relatively unknown.” “Don’t tell me you're also a porn star.” Angle asked sassy as always. Alastor looked at her amused. “No, no.  I was a bit of everything but mostly a singer.” A porn star? That’s hilarious, Isabel thought. “Pentious, I am very sorry. That guy probably just jabbered. Your great.” Isabel winked at the snake like demon. His slimy arms wrapped around her body. “Thank you.” He whispered, as guilt began to crawl up inside her. The hours continued, and the guilt grew bigger every second. At night, she left the hotel. Maybe they're wrong, she should talk to Vox.
As soon as she put some distance between her and the hotel, Vox appeared. “Isabel, nice to see you.” He smiled as she looked to the floor. Vox noticed that something was off. Possibly he shouldn’t let her back to the hotel. They went into his flat. Vox was incredibly nervous in her present, afraid of losing his shot. She was really quite all the time, not her usual self. “I really don't know what's going on with you today. You look sad.” He asked her, they sat on a huge couch, she stared at the popcorn in front of her. “Is Valentino your boy toy? Did you tell Pentious to kill himself?” She whispered and couldn't look at the screen. He raised a brow. “Do you really care about stuff like that, HAHA!” He put on his best PR smile. She looked back, the sadness in her eyes was visible. “ Val and I have the same goals and a very tumultuous past. I admit that I am attracted to demons of any Gender. But Val's obsession with Angle dust ruins any chance to have a relationship.” Isabel still wasn’t convinced. “You have seen him. I really can't handle his erratic behavior in a serious relationship.” She raised a brow. “ I don't see what you see in Valentino, he seems like a lot. But the things you said to Pentious are worse.” Vox was confused. “ You really care about those demons? They are scum, trash on the street.” Vox's voice glitched and deepened.
“Oh really? They seem really nice and hardworking! They let me stay without any hesitation. Yes, they are a handful, but they have good hearts. ” A hint of anger tinted her voice. “ That’s all you found out?” He asked, on the one hand he was a little annoyed that his plan wasn’t working out as he expected, on the other hand he wanted to keep her around. She was his latest obsession, his everything. “That’s all. Maybe I stop spying on them. There is nothing going on.” She was boiling, still quite but boiling. If Vox was more like Valentino, he would have killed her for her rebellion. Vox couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. “Maybe I should go.” She whispered, looked back.  “Don’t please. I know, hearing that is shitty, and I want to tell you that I am not like that. But I said it and can't take it back.” Isabel sighted. "I know Vox. So sad to hear. They are great. I know you hate Alastor, but this has nothing to do with the rest of them.” She explained.
“Oh really? They are demons, they are here for a reason.” Vox explained calmly. Confusion crawled over her face. “You’re here too, actually, you don’t seem bad after all.” She gave him a small smile which made his heart jump. It's so refreshing to see someone believe in him. “The real Vox behind the public mask isn’t so bad, he is a pretty likeable guy, just like Pentious.” She poked him with her shoulder. “Wouldn’t hurt apologizing. Or do something nice for them.” She mumbled. “I think I need some time and sleep.” Vox took her to the hotel defeated, planning how he could make things right.
Making things right for a human? A small little toy? Vox, you're pathetic, Vox thought.
When the hotel door closed she expected to see someone but no one was there. She went to her room, all the emotions overwhelmed her until she was crying. A knocking on the door helped her get back into reality,  “Dear. Please, what's going on?” It was Alastor. She opened the door. His smile lid up the room for a second. “What makes you so sad?” He asked. Today must have been the day of plot twist. Isabel never expected Alastor to be compassionate. “Had a hard day, and you? A friend treated some other friends poorly, I miss home and do not know what to do?” She sopped and turned her face away. “Oh dear, let's go outside, I give you a tour, and you will feel better afterward.” He smiled and confused her even more. She followed him, they went through the city, and you couldn’t help feeling watched. She felt secure in his presence. Some demons performed on the street. They watched them amused. “Are you a singer?” Alastor asked her directly. “I used to sing a lot.” Isabel confessed. Demons kept dancing in the street, as Alastor took her arm and spun her around, she began laughing. “Sing for us.” Alastor asked as his voice deepened, and he watched her with a dark, predatory hint in his facial expression. “Promise me that no one except those souls will see it? “Alastor nodded and gave her his microphone. Vox couldn't believe the images he saw on the screens, he was very angry until he heard her singing. He had never heard something as beautiful. She was greater than god, you could question god but questioning her talent was impossible.
It was the most beautiful thing he ever heard in his mortal and immortal life. He threw one of his mugs into the screen. Vox wanted to resist the temptation but spawned close by the scene. Alastor who couldn't hide his excitement for this entertainment also couldn’t ignore the presence of his old pal.
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you liked it. I feel very bad lately, this keeps me happy/ busy.
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Text
Random assorted Ghosts headcanons
Keegan has an intense affinity for chocolate milk. Man enjoys it so much he'd probably drink it with every meal and fill his water bottle with it if Elias didn't interfere. (Elias has caught him chugging from the jug once. It was like three am and Keegan was too tired to get a cup. It's his personal jug so no harm done, but Elias just... he can't deal with it. Cardinal sin.)
Speaking of Elias, man knows the "youngin" lingo and uses it just to dick with Hesh and Logan. Likes dropping "You're cringe." at random times just to see the his sons crumble like he verbally shot them.
On the other hand, Merrick knows the lingo, but doesn't understand how to use it. He's right like once a day with it and the splash effect from it is marvelous. (Calls Hesh cringe when Hesh complains that he's too nervous to ask out this chick he's been talking to and Logan laughs so hard he genuinely can't breathe for a few minutes.)
You know those little mini skateboard toys? Kick has a collection of those, and he's entirely too good at doing tricks with them. Hesh thinks it's so fucking cool (He likes skateboards.) but sucks at tricks. (Trains in secret to try and impress Kick.)
Logan carries a tablet on him 24/7 so he can type shit out for people who don't know ASL, but also because he has a sound effects board and likes dropping random vine booms in conversations. "Me and Kick were hanging out the other day an-" *Vine boom* "Logan I am gonna take that damn thing away from you so help me-" *VINE BOOM* "LOGAN!" He will also walk past people and do a lil fart noise, it's hilarious cus he does to to Merrick the most and it makes him so mad.
Cuter hc. Elias asked Logan what he wanted to be when he got older (When he was like seven.) and Logan answered "David!" (I am a big fat sucker for the whole "Logan looks up to Hesh more than anyone else." headcanon okay? They're so cute.)
Hesh and Logan doing dumb sibling shit like "Beating the everloving fuck" out of each other worries Merrick because he didn't have siblings, so he always has to ask Elias is he should interfere. Elias's #1 answer is always "When one of them starts crying." because he knows his kids are tough shit. (And also that they won't hurt each other on purpose.)
Logan and Keegan both have such intense sweet tooths that they can and will just eat straight sugar out of the bag if there isn't any candy or other sweets at their post. Elias keeps an emergency jar of candy... which is also just his personal stash so he doesn't have to share with the fiends.
Hesh Logan and Riley are literally inseparable. It's ridiculous. If for whatever reason one of them is actually separated from the others, it's probably for a genuinely bad reason. (They had a fight, one of them got hurt, one of them got lost, etc.)
Despite Riley being younger than Logan, they consider him the "Middle sibling." Logan is always "little brother" and Hesh is always "big brother" that way.
Logan and Hesh constantly steal each others clothes to the point where their wardrobes have just fused. They can't even remember what piece of clothing originally belonged to who. The sizing can clue them in, but also: Logan likes baggy clothes and Hesh likes fitted. So the mixup intensifies. They also just steal their dads stuff from time to time. Mainly hoodies. Irritates the shit out of Elias. (Not really.) Uses his lack of hoodies to bitch about the weather 24/7.
Riley leaves dog toys scattered all over the ghosts current post and there's always a little "easter egg hunt" when they're moving places because of it.
287 notes · View notes
jiminiecrickets · 5 months
Note
seven days a week couple having sex in the dorm (where jungkook lived with his hyungs) and almost getting caught drabble?
Thank you so much ❤️
nsfw. warnings for intentions of oral
"i still think this is a terrible idea."
"really? should i get off my knees, then?"
"no." you suck on your teeth, glancing up at his closed door. "maybe we can do this elsewhere? you have a roommate. it feels improper to do this when it's also his room."
jungkook scoffs. "jiminie-hyung doesn't care about being 'proper' even when i'm in the house. he comes in with his new boytoy, kicks me out, and makes me study at the kitchen table with my noise-cancelling headphones turned up to max. most of the time i end up sleeping on the couch 'cause there's no way i'm going back in there after they've contaminated the whole place."
"so this is revenge," you muse. "you don't really want to fuck me here, do you? i'm so hurt."
he pouts, reaching for the front of your trousers. "please don't be sad, baby. whatever can i do to make it up to you?"
"oh, i can think of a couple of things..."
he grins cheekily and places a kiss on the side of your neck, unbuttoning your shirt and kissing each new reveal of skin until he reaches your belt. he gazes up at you through his dark lashes, tossing your shirt aside.
"you always give me the best gifts," he whispers. "i want to give you one, too."
he mouths at your bulge through your black underwear, giving you a dirty little grin as you reach for his hair and comb your fingers halfway through his locks. he hums softly and leans down.
the front door opens with an echo through the walls. laughter and chatter bursts through. muffled just enough to blur the edges of words.
jungkook shoots up while footsteps rampage through the house, with several sets coming near the hallway. jungkook grabs your wrist and tears open his closet door, stuffing you amongst them.
"oh, seriously—?"
his hands pause against the edge of the sliding door. "shh! get dressed while you're in there," he orders, shoving your jacket and shirt to your chest. your belt clatters on top. "if you make a noise, i'm never having sex with you again."
"hey, that's pretty harsh—"
he shuts the door in your face and throws himself on his messy bedsheets, scrambling for the book on his bedside table as the voices clear with proximity. he opens to a page that his bookmark isn't marking.
the door opens in the middle of hoseok's laugh, jimin giggling alongside him.
"—probably just a mistake." hoseok glances forward, eyeing jungkook's half-naked body on his bed. he lifts a brow. "you didn't come say hi. are you upset with us, jungkookie?"
jungkook lays his cheek against his sheets and huffs. "you want me to get up in this weather? if i try to get up, i'm stretching off of it like melted cheese."
hoseok purses his lips and shrugs. "i guess you're right. jiminie, drop off your bag, already – i can hear the ice-cream singing to me."
jimin rolls his eyes with a laugh and tosses his bag near the foot of his bed, slapping the back of jungkook's calf in wordless greeting. "mhm, coming. join us if you want later, okay, kookie? jin-hyung let us buy the expensive gourmet ones today, so you better snatch one up before the rest of us come back for seconds. enjoy your melting!"
on the way out, hoseok reaches over to the dresser and clicks the 'on' button on the desk fan. he grins and waves as it lurches to life and begins its wobbly oscillation over the room.
the door shuts. jungkook remains there for another moment before he lets out a silent sigh, eyes closing in relief. he stands, tossing his book aside, and opens his wardrobe door.
"hello," you say with a grin, fully-clothed with your jacket slung over your arm. "i have something really important to say, and i hope you won't think any different of me after it. i'm about to come out of the closet. i'm—"
"don't you dare," he interrupts when you open your mouth. "c'mon. i want an ice cream."
he drags you out by your wrist swiftly, denying you your chance to make your joke. "well, how are you going to explain my presence here? i always come out to say hi. ha – come out—"
"stop."
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cowgurrrl · 9 months
Note
Hello! Would it be possible to get some rockstar!joel and actrees!reader proposal/wedding stuff? Absolutely in loveee with the story!!
Yesssss!! I’m so excited to write this!! Thank you for the request 🫶
I Want To Marry You
Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader
Author’s note: Dedicated to everyone who ever loved me enough to try again. Let’s get coffee sometime.
Summary: Joel asks you The Question [3.3k]
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, family fluff, things coming full circle, oh god I love them
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Joel's been acting weird the past few days. You're not in a fight. You're between projects right now, and he's always plunking music in the home studio. Everybody's healthy and happy. You can't pinpoint exactly why he's being jumpy or disappearing into the garage to take phone calls, but you trust him to tell you if something's happening. Still, it throws you off.
When you tell Carolina about it, she reassures you it's probably nothing. "Maybe he's going to surprise you with a romantic getaway or something like that." She suggests, and you laugh as you fiddle with Daisy's collar. She also seemed to sense the shift in the house because she's gotten especially clingy recently. 
"You have kids. You know how hard it is to get away." You say, shaking your head. 
"Yeah, but my kids are seven and three. Not seventeen and twenty-one." 
"Still! Ellie's in school, and even though Sarah has her own apartment now, I don't like going super far in case she needs one of us. That's why we stagger our schedules like we do." 
"Did your mom worry about you this much when you were twenty-one?" She asks. You laugh because she knows the answer. She knew what you were like in your early twenties, and somebody definitely should've been worrying about you.
"My mom didn't even know what borough I lived in at twenty-one." You say. "It's not a bad thing to want to be close. Do you remember when I dropped a plate and cut my foot open on the broken glass and had to take a cab to the hospital?"
"God, don't remind me." She shudders. Carolina had come home to find your tiny apartment in Hell's Kitchen empty and covered in blood. For exactly twenty seconds, she believed you'd be axe-murdered and dragged away by the killer until you called her and told her what happened, resulting in a ten-minute-long conversation about how many people in Manhattan realistically own axes. 
"All I'm saying is I don't want Sarah to be bleeding out in the back of a stranger's car if Joel or I can be there instead."
"You worry too much." She says. "But, then again, all the best moms do."
"Not their mom." You say quickly as if she’d thrown you a ticking bomb and you’re trying to pass it right back to her.
"Yeah, but you're the closest thing they have to one."
"That's true, but I don't want to put that kind of pressure on the girls. They shouldn't have to call me anything they don't want to, and I'm not going to replace their moms."
"Of course not, honey, and nobody would accuse you of doing that, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't love those girls like they're your own."
"I know." You sigh. "I just worry."
"I know you do." She says. Carolina has been there for all your worrying over the years. Worrying about how you were gonna pay rent, when your next job would come in, and whatever stupid boy you were seeing at the moment. She knows how to calm you down and take your mind off things. "Why don't you get out of the little worry hole you've dug yourself into and come with me and the girls to get our nails done? It'll be fun, and you'll get to hang out with your goddaughters." 
"When?"
"Tomorrow?" She says, and you mentally flip through your calendar. 
"I think I can do tomorrow. Send me a time and place, and I'll be there." You say as the front door opens and closes. You furrow your brows and walk to the top of the stairs to see what's happening. A smiley face greets you with a wave, and you hurriedly hang up on Carolina.
"Sarah! What are you doing here, bug?" You ask as you rush down the stairs to hug her. Joel beams as he watches you embrace her for several long seconds, not pulling away until she does.
"Just missed y'all." She mumbles into your shoulder, and you kiss her temple. She's twenty minutes up the road, but it feels like a lifetime away. 
"Sarah!" Ellie yells and joins in on your hug without hesitation. The three of you dissolve into a fit of giggles, and Joel just stands there, watching the madness unfold. Joel has never been good at hiding his emotions, and you've always been good at reading him like a book. The look he gives you and the girls is full of love and pride and something deeper, something more meaningful. You raise an arm to pull him into the group hug, and he pretends to be annoyed, but he snuggles in with the three of you, kissing each of your foreheads. 
You spend the night making dinner and chocolate chip cookies with the girls and Joel (and Daisy ever so graciously cleaning up the remnants of a food fight Joel started) before curling up on the couch with them and watching a movie. It's just like every other time you've sat and watched whatever movie the girls have been dying to see, but as you rest against Joel's chest, something pricks in your brain. This feels different. He feels different. His hands run a nervous course from your shoulder to your wrist, and his head occasionally dips to kiss at the juncture of your neck. It's like he can't sit still. 
"You okay?" You whisper, glancing at him. He gives you a confused look but nods anyway.
"Why wouldn't I be?" 
"I don't know. I'm probably just anxious for no reason." You shrug. He pulls you close and kisses your temple, keeping you close as the movie continues. At the end of the night, Joel carries both the girls to bed even though he's forty-three and could've let them sleep on the couch. You didn't tell him this, of course, because who are you to pull him back from Dad Mode? So, you cautiously walk in front of him, kicking stray clothes or backpacks out of the way so he doesn't trip. Once Sarah and Ellie are safely tucked into bed, Joel scoops you up by your waist and throws you over his shoulder to carry you into your shared bedroom. 
You laugh the whole way in, and when he plops you down on the bed, you wrap your legs around his waist and keep him close. Your fingers reach up to tug the necklace out from under his shirt collar and play with the pendant as he stares at you.
"What're you thinking about?" You ask.
"Thinking bout us." He says, and you raise your eyebrows at him.
"Oh, do tell."
"We've been together a long time." 
"Sick of me already?" You ask, making him laugh, but he shakes his head and kisses you, traces of chocolate and cinnamon lingering on his lips. 
"Never." He says. "I was just thinkin' bout it." Technically, it's true. You guys have been together for a while. This year, it'll almost be four years since you walked into that office in Beverly Hills and met him. You remember thinking you would finish out the contract and never see him again. Little did you know Joel Miller would become the man making you dinner most nights and carrying you off to bed. Or that he'd throw you the best thirtieth birthday party in the history of birthday parties. Or that you'd move in with him and his daughters. Or that you'd love him more than you've ever loved anyone. 
"It's weird to think I went so long without knowing you." You mumble, your hold on him tightening like you're scared he'll fade away if you don't cling to him. He rests his forehead against yours, sensing your anxiety spiking, and you're overwhelmed by him. Your legs are still locked around his waist, and your chests are touching, the points of contact sending little butterflies fluttering through your veins. You can't see, taste, feel, or smell anything that isn't Joel.
"'M not goin' anywhere." He says, and you nod. "Ever."
"I'm gonna hold you to that, Miller." You joke, trying to ease your brain out of your spiraling and lighten the air between you two. He laughs, and the room brightens as he does. 
"Do your worst, darlin'." 
When you wake up the next morning, Joel isn't there. You reach for him and find a piece of paper on his cold pillow. How long has he been gone? How the fuck did you sleep through him rolling out of your arms? You squint in the early morning sun as you read the note.
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You sigh and grumble into your pillow. What kind of psychopath runs errands at nine in the morning? The kind of psychopath you love, that's who. You lay in the too-big bed for a few more minutes before finally getting up and checking your phone. Carolina has texted you with the address of a nail salon and told you to meet her at eleven, but other than that, your phone is radio silent. Not that you're complaining, but normally you're bombarded with notifications from when you wake up to when you go to bed. It's nice, if not a little unnerving, to not have five million people to respond to the first thing in the morning.
When you walk downstairs, you expect to see Sarah and Ellie sitting at the table and eating, but no one's there. You call for the girls, but the only person who responds is Daisy, who dances in front of you. You crouch down to pet her and give her good morning kisses. "Just us today, huh?" You ask, a little sad, but nobody is more excited about one-on-one time quite like Daisy Mae. You give Daisy breakfast before letting her run around the backyard and making yourself something to eat.
You scroll aimlessly through your phone until it's time to leave and meet Carolina and the girls at the nail salon. Elizabeth and Victoria launch themselves at you the second they catch sight of you, and you spend the better half of your appointment with a child on your lap and listening to the latest drama from Elizabeth's first-grade classroom. You have the girls help pick out what color to paint your nails, and they each land on a pretty ballet slipper pink. "Good taste, guys," you praise as you show the nail technician what color you want. "Just like your mama, huh?"
"I mean, I wasn't gonna say it," Carolina says, and you laugh. Caro, like usual, is right about needing to take some time for yourself to stop worrying. You can actually relax in the big, plush chairs and talk to the girls like nothing could be more important than what they had for breakfast. Carolina hugs you tighter than normal at the end of your appointment and says she'll see you later before ushering the girls into their car seats. You barely have time to react before she's driving away like nothing happened. 
Did you make plans with her and forget about them? It's happened before, so you wouldn't be overly surprised if it happened again. But if that's the case, why didn't she say anything? You shake your head as if it'll shake out all your racing thoughts and get in your car to drive home. When you pull into the driveway, everyone's cars are back where they belong, and you selfishly get really excited about seeing them. Except, the exact second you step through the door, Joel is putting Daisy's harness on her and has his running shoes on.
"Where are you going?" You ask, your mood dropping at seeing him ready to leave again. He looks up and smiles despite the pout on your lips.
"There you are! We were waiting on you so we could take Daisy for a walk." He says, breathless as he wrestles with your pitbull. You look past Joel and see Sarah and Ellie standing there with shoes and sunglasses on. 
"We really need four people for a dog walk?" 
"I wanted to show the girls the new route along the beach we found." He says. "Is that okay?" You nod.
"We just might look crazy, but, of course! Let me change my shoes!" You call as you take the stairs two at a time to get up to your bedroom. You decide to wear the pink tennis shoes to match your cute pink nails before ambling back downstairs and walking out the door. When you first rescued Daisy, she didn't let anyone but you hold her leash. However, after years spent with Joel and the girls, she can be walked by just about anyone as long as you're there. She's as much of your comfort dog as you are her comfort person.
Taking your hand in his, Joel walks Daisy with the other and swings your hands through the air as Sarah and Ellie walk behind you. It's a little silly, but you'll take all the affection after waking up without anyone else in the house. Slowly, the five of you make your way toward the sound of the crashing waves and the smell of salt in the air. The cliffs hang ominously above the empty beach and boardwalks, but you love it. You once told Joel when you walk out this far, it feels like you're the only person around. Something about being near the water makes you feel even better. A pop of color near the sidewalk catches your attention, and you break off from your little ragtag group to see what it is.
"Joel, come look at this." You say, leaning over the rope to look down at the wildflowers dancing on the cliffside. It's gorgeous, and the wind perfectly balances the blistering hot day, but he doesn't immediately appear at your side like he normally would. You furrow your brows and turn to see him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. Your breath catches in your throat, and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand. Joel smiles with watery eyes as he reaches for the other and pulls you close to him. 
"Did you know about this?" You look past Joel to see Ellie and Sarah standing there, Daisy's leash wrapped around Ellie's wrist as Sarah records on her phone, and they laugh. Their smiles and teary eyes are all the confirmation you need, and you look back down at Joel. "Is this why you've been acting so weird?" You ask, and he laughs.
"Yeah, this is why I've been actin' so weird," he says. His Adam's apple bobs as he says your name and your legs shake under you. "I love you, and I fall more in love with you every single day. There's not a single moment I've spent with you where I've not wondered what the fuck you see in me." He's crying now, but you can't stop the laughter from bubbling out from your chest. He squeezes your hand and takes a deep breath before continuing. "And you don't just love me, but you love my girls. You make them feel safe and cared for. You've given them somethin' I've been tryin' and failin' to give them for years, and I will spend the rest of my days tryna repay you for that."  
"Will you marry me?" He finally asks, and you sniffle. Tears stain everyone's face, and even Daisy is crying next to Ellie, and you'd laugh if you could see past the tears in your eyes. You nod and drop to your knees with Joel.
"Yes." You say as you grab his face and kiss him. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course, I'll marry you." You repeat over and over again as his arms lock around your waist. Sarah and Ellie cheer, suddenly no longer annoyed at your PDA, and you smile against Joel's lips. He adjusts his hold on you to give you a good look at the ring for the first time, and all your breath leaves you in a huff. It's gorgeous. A simple oval-shaped diamond on a gold band with an engraving on the inside. 
"What does this say?" You ask, and he smiles as he holds it so you can read it. You immediately start crying when you read and realize what it means. He wrote inside your engagement ring, "And one day, we'll get coffee & try again." You said it to him before you left for Ireland when your heart was broken, and you didn't know the future could ever be this soft. He slips it onto your left ring finger and gathers you in his arms, both of you still on the ground and crying like crazy people. You don't care. You hold him so tight you almost miss him whispering into your skin.
"Thank you for trying again with me." He says. Ellie, Sarah, and Daisy join in on your crying in the middle of the sidewalk huddle, and you're completely surrounded by love. After a few minutes, you calm down enough to stand and kiss Joel again, making people cheer from the beach below. When you look over the rope, down to where the wildflowers are, you can see a group of your favorite people on the beach. They must've been hidden until Joel could propose, and now they're all making their joy well known with hoots and hollers. 
Joel holds your hand as the girls lead the way down to the beach, where there's a makeshift bar and picnic set up with a giant banner reading "CONGRATULATIONS" with a little ring in the middle. "This is what the errands were this morning," Joel tells you quietly, and you smile. 
"You're pretty good at keeping secrets, Miller."
"Not really. Everyone here knew I was proposing before you did," he says, and you laugh. "Besides, I'd watch it with the Miller thing considering you're becomin' one." 
"I guess that's true." You sigh happily as Ryan ambushes you, picking you up in his arms and spinning you around. You squeal until he puts you back down and immediately demands to see your ring. Carolina comes up behind him as you show him, her eyes popping out of her head at the sight.
"Damn, Joel!" She exclaims, and Joel laughs. 
"Only the best for my bride." He says. My bride. It rings in your head like a bell, echoing through your mind like gospel. You look around at the faces of everyone you've ever loved. Your manager, Sierra, and her partner, Bianca, are talking with Lili and Peter. Sarah and Ellie are running up and down the beach with Daisy, Elizabeth, and Victoria, struggling to keep up. Hank and Lucia patiently wait their turn at the bar next to Tommy and Maria. Your beauty team, Alexa and Jenna, laugh together as they talk to a handful of other costars they've also worked with. The beach is crawling with family, both of origin and found, and you wouldn't want it any other way. 
As you make your rounds with Joel on your arm, showing off your ring and trying not to cry as people tell you how happy they are for you, you wish you could show your past self this moment. The girl who packed up all her shit and moved across the world after breaking up with the love of her life. The girl who spent countless nights crying herself to sleep and going to therapy and trying to create a better life for herself. The girl who almost backed out of a coffee date three years ago because she was so scared the man on the other side of the table wouldn't like what he found. You wish she could see this and know she did the right thing. You wish she knew things ended up okay. You wish she knew she got to try again, and it changed her entire life. Wherever she is, you hope she knows she did good.
"What're you thinkin' bout?" Joel whispers in your ear as he hands you a glass of champagne. You smile and shake your head.
"Just… someone I used to know."
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aria-1105 · 1 month
Text
The Proposal, Part 1
(hey guys! So I randomly had this idea of the JamesonAvery proposal so I thought to share it here. This is my first time writing a fic btw. Let me know how you feel about it. Also, it's in 2 or maybe 3 parts.)
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Present Day
Jameson Hawthorne never gets nervous.
Almost all the time.
Almost.
"What did you do now?" Nash said, walking the line between his usual drawl and slight accusation. Apparently, he was the first one to have gotten Jameson's 911 and come to the tree house.
"What makes you think I did anything?" Jameson replied, but he knew why Nash would say so.
"We know you, and right now you look like you haven't slept in days." Xander said as he climbed in from the window. His brothers knew him too well. Even from behind him, Nash could immediately tell something was going on. Xander too.
"That's because I haven't." It was true. He was too excited in the plane back from Paris to sleep. And scared. The world was changing.
"Did sun rise from the west today?" Grayson said. His carefully calculated mask fell, he seemed too puzzled by Jameson's expression and continued, "you look... nervous." Jameson didn't bother replying. Everyone was here now.
He was going to tell them. Now. It seemed simpler in his mind.
Clearly not.
"Before you say anything, Jamie, this time, whatever you're about to tell us is not something that's going to stay in the tree ho-" Xander came to a halt abruptly when Jameson plunked down a ring box on the wooden table. Simplest way of getting it done was to rip the bandaid.
Either Jameson's brother were too shocked or they'd died standing.
"Is-Is that what I think it is?" Grayson was not-yelling by the difference of a hair. Jameson just nodded.
"Oh my god. Oh my GOD!" Xander tackled Jameson. Soon Nash and Grayson joined. The tackle hugs never got old. And something told Jameson that some things would never change.
Like his brothers.
They'll be here forever.
"You haven't even seen the ring!" Jameson said as Grayson pulled him up. He opened the deep green velvet box. Inside was a beautiful oval-shaped Emerald- a shade of green so captivating, as though it was daring you to try to look away. They couldn't.
It looks like Jamie's eyes, Grayson thought suddenly. Something told him Avery would think so too, afterall she'd probably spent ages looking at his eyes.
"It's gorgeous, Jameson" Nash said. "But you know I have to ask, do you think you're ready to get married? You're 22."
"Who said anything about getting married? Avery and I could stay engaged till we're ready."
He shot back, and realised too late what Nash had meant to ask.
Are you sure she's the one?
But Nash was smiling. They all were, actually. He'd said it so easily. So easily, it was like breathing. That's how certain be was about Avery. Nash had gotten his answer.
"Jamie…" Xander was looking at the ring. The inside of the ring. "It's engraved-"
"I know."
Nash and Grayson moved to Xander's side to see the ring.
SMG • AKG
"Where'd you get the ring?"
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The day before
It was 9 pm. Nine in the cold, cold night of Paris. Jameson had waited seven months for this. Seven months of secretly tracking one small ring- a ring more valuable to his beloved heiress more than almost anything. It was a miracle that he'd been able to hid all of it from Avery. Tracking and finding the ring was hard enough, let alone getting the owner to sell it to him. What if they didn't. Luckily, it had ended up in an auction house.
First it went to Layla's pawn shop in Connecticut, then to a buyer in Washington, whose wife sold the ring during their clearly shitty honeymoon in Italy. From there it moved all across Spain, Scotland and finally, an exclusive auction house in France.
He could still remember their conversation during their second vacation to Tahiti all those months ago, sitting near his heiress on Te Pari, a cliff jumping spot.
She'd told him about what she read in one of her mom's letters, about an emerald ring her mom gave her on her 15th birthday. With their initials engraved. Apparently Toby had given it to Sarah as a gift when Avery was just a baby. He'd asked her to give it to Avery when she was old enough.
Of course, when she was old enough, her mother was dying of a rare disease, one that required very expensive treatment. So, poor 15-year-old Avery had to sell the ring in a pawn shop.
He remembered feeling like someone had stabbed him in the heart with a dagger. Avery could practically bathe in emeralds now, she even owned diamond and emerald mines. But she'd never get that ring back.
That's what she thought.
"Mr. Hawthorne" a very French voice snapped Jameson or of his thoughts.
"Mr. Laurent" Jamie shook the middle-aged, suit-clad Frenchman's hand. He handed Jameson a green velvet box, and Jameson handed him a balck envelope with a cheque.
"I'm surprised you came all the way here to get the ring. We could have brought it to you" Mr Laurent said. But then Avery would've known. He'd told her he was taking her plane to Scotland to check in on the upkeep of Vantage- his paternal family's castle that he'd won. Jamie checked the inside of the ring.
SMG • AKG
Yes. Yes yes YES.
"Worry not. I'm just glad to have it."
And he was. So much, he could only imagine how happy Avery would be.
Now the hard parts.
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Present day
Grayson was the first one to break the silence after Jameson finished telling his story.
"When are you going to do it?"
"The day she came here,"
Jameson shot his brother the most Jameson Winchester Hawthorne smile.
"Tomorrow"
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(Part 2 will come up soon. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks!! :))
41 notes · View notes
Note
conservationist au already!? you write so fast dang (what are your secrets) (also it's okay if you want to keep them secret) (mostly i am excite for frog)
here she is! frog au! lol [ao3]
//
to see us blossom (while the green spreads like wings)
//
only our feet have been here, that i'm aware of. it's wild and remote and beautiful as can be. i just want to be quiet and love it. let it sink in. i'll be leaving the planet, sometime. and i'll miss it.
— dr. bruce means
//
'dr. silva,' diego bursts into your office, his hair fluffed and messy, 'i found someone for the expedition!'
'did you... run here?'
'yeah, from the lab.' he gulps a breath. 'i got excited.'
it's fucking awesome that diego, your favorite grad student, is coming on this expedition, but it's becoming a huge pain in the ass to plan — you try your hardest not to feel guilty about why, but it is mostly because of you — and is starting to feel more and more impossible by the day. you don't want to get your hopes up: you don't have that much funding, and it's starting to seem a little bit impossible logistically, even with dr. superion's help. but you'll humor him: 'so who are we taking with us?'
he waits a breath, practically bursting at the seams. 'beatrice zhang.'
'the photographer?'
'she's an experienced climber! you follow her on instagram, right?'
you have gratuitously followed beatrice zhang on instagram for the last four years — for her photography, because it is some of the most beautiful and thoughtful you've ever seen, regardless of the subject matter, but also for the occasional photo of herself, surfing or climbing or behind the camera, particularly delightful if it features her arms in a tank — but diego doesn't need to know that part. 'yes, her work is wonderful for lots of conservationist efforts.' diplomatic, you think, mentally patting yourself on the back.
'and she's hot.'
'i didn't say that.'
diego rolls his eyes.
'anyway, how would we even get her to come with us?'
diego grins. 'i emailed her.'
'what?'
he takes out his phone and shows you her instagram, which, indeed, does have an ‘email’ button, which, obviously, you've never paid attention to before. 'she hasn't responded yet, or her team or whatever, i guess, but i only sent it ten minutes ago. and it went to a legit address and hasn't bounced back, so, i just figured, why not?'
even though, last year, you had had a successful time in guyana, finding and recording a few new species, there are a lot of why not's, really: your GA probably shouldn’t be making these choices without consulting you first, but you don’t really care about that so much as your mobility is more limited than ever lately. the weather probably won't hold so who the fuck knows if it'll even be possible to reach to spot at all. and, plus, it's for a frog. one tiny frog, that may or may not exist — (you're sure it does) — in the middle of a jungle on the top of a tepui that's never been climbed. it's... a little crazy, when you think through it now, way crazier than it had seemed when you wrote the grant for funding last year. most people, even world renowned war-turned-wildlife photographers with insane biceps — especially them, probably — aren't interested in a project like this.
'well, the least that will happen is she doesn't respond,' you figure; you don't believe in any religion and life had dealt you quite the shitty hand for a long time, so if there's any balancing it out, maybe this will be a strike in the good column for you. so, 'yeah, you're right. why not?'
/
it's two days later when your phone vibrates about seven times; you roll over in... some girl's bed? okay, solid night, then, and when you look over at her, she's beautiful and fast asleep. you remember your fifth shot of tequila and vaguely how great riding her dick had been; you find your phone graciously plugged into a charger on the nightstand on your side of the bed, and when you go to the bathroom you see condoms in the small trash can — so, all in all, a success. your back is sore but not terrible and you groan when you see it's only six am, but there's texts from diego and you have a policy not to ignore those, no matter how stupid they occasionally can be.
these are unequivocally not stupid, though, because they start with dr. silva! and then ava!!!!! ava! and devolve into some emojis and then omg oh my god and finally check your email, which is really the only helpful part of that — but they're not stupid because when you do check your email, you see a forwarded message from diego first. it's a cordial reply to the email he had sent to beatrice zhang, from her, it seems, asking politely to be put in touch with the lead biologist on the expedition if possible. which, you remember with the tiniest bit of a happy jolt, is you. you open the newest email, which is, in fact, connecting you and beatrice. she’s already responded, and it’s kind of wild because, from the three short sentences asking if you could set up a video chat to talk more about the expedition or, if she happened to be close to where you were in the world, even meet near your office or lab for coffee, she sounds, well, at least interested. you don't think someone like her — someone who has photographed war, and famine, and wildfires, and, miraculously last year, a snow leopard and her cub — would even respond to something she didn't care at all about.
holy shit, you text diego. you need a cup of coffee, or, like, maybe three cups of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich before you can respond to that email, so you decide to get a move on. plus, it feels unhinged to respond to it from your phone, so you need to go home anyway. you should also maybe definitely shower, you think, as you look at yourself in the mirror: your makeup is a little smudged and your hair is an unrepentant mess. still hot though, you think when you quietly find your clothes and put your bra on, a deep teal that makes your boobs look awesome. thankfully, you were just in high-waisted, loose jeans and a cropped sweater last night, so after you wash your face and get dressed, it's not really giving walk of shame — walk of pride, thank you very much.
you google maps where you are and, thankfully, it's a nice enough morning and a short enough distance that you can walk to your favorite cafe and then to your apartment without having to call an uber. you grab your cane from where you'd left it propped up by the wall near the bed, and then, because you're definitely not an asshole, gently shake your, well, one night stand's shoulder. her eyes are green, and you do remember that much.
'i gotta go do some work, sorry.'
she nods. 'right. doctor.'
well, maybe you're a little bit of an asshole, but it's not your fault that people think you're a very important neurosurgeon or something. you are very important in cataloguing biodiversity, so you just roll with it. 'thanks for a great time.'
she nods with a soft smile, and it's nice to kiss her, gently, goodbye.
/
'wait, you're meeting with her? here?'
'yes,' you say, mostly annoyed at camila's vaguely unhinged energy. 'she's close by train, so it's better to meet in person.'
'oh my god,' camila says. she's one of your best friends and probably the smartest, most tech-savvy person you know. when you figured out how helpful it would be to have someone operate drones for you on this expedition, you hadn't even bothered to ask anyone else.
'don't you know her?'
'well, sure,' camila confirms. 'i did some drone work for her a few months ago in the bahamas when she was photographing sharks. but, like, she's amazing, ava.'
'well, hopefully she'll say yes.'
'you'll have to charm her.'
'i'm very good at charming hot women.'
camila rolls her eyes.
'i'm also very good at charming people to go find frogs with me.'
she waits for a beat and then relents. 'well, i suppose that's true.'
'come on,' you say, 'help me make a slide deck. i feel like she'd think that's sexy or something.'
'you're ridiculous.'
'it'll work, i'm telling you.'
/
beatrice zhang in soft wool pants and closed-toed birkenstocks and a crewneck sweater sitting ramrod straight at the decent cafe just off campus near your office is, quite honestly, not a sight you'd ever expected to see, but it is kind of a miracle. or, at least that's what it had felt like, when she had emailed that she was, actually, a few hours away by train and wouldn't mind a day trip to meet in person. you're glad that you wore your best professor outfit today, flared navy slacks that make your ass look divine, and a crisp white button up that you tucked in tight and rolled up at the sleeves, a camel peacoat and expensive loafers that dr. salvius had gotten you when you passed your dissertation two years ago. you usually wear... well, not this — you reserve this for conferences and presentations — but, if looking professional helps beatrice sign onto this project, so be it.
and, well, maybe it's not strictly professional to undo another button as you had walked to the cafe, and, like, you don't actually know if beatrice is gay or not, but you spot her and smile and wave and her eyes get big for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ve got it all wrong: you’re small and young and pretty and, sometimes, people think that disqualifies you from being smart. but then her eyes rake over you and linger, for just a moment, on your chest, so you're probably right. if this helps too, so be it.
you wave and she stands very formally; she clearly recognizes you, which makes you feel a small thrill of satisfaction. 'hey, glad you found it okay.'
'i've had much more difficult locations to navigate before, although the freshman can be a bit scary.'
it's deadpan, so it takes you a split second, but then you laugh and offer your hand. 'i'm dr. silva.' you want to roll your eyes at your title, which you normally feel quite proud of, all of a sudden. 'ava, any pronouns.'
'dr. silva,' she says anyway, and shakes your hand firmly. 'it's a pleasure. i'm beatrice, she/her.'
only after do you sit, a little sprawled, and prop your cane up on the table, does she sit too, and then looks down at the menu. 'do you recommend anything? i haven't had lunch yet.'
'well, if you're like, uh... —' falling prey to diet culture, you think, but you don't know beatrice at all, so — 'wanting a vegetable forward option, their salads and quinoa bowls are okay.'
she wrinkles her nose. you hide a smile in the collar of your coat.
'but their kimchi fried chicken sandwich is my favorite.'
'and the slaw?'
'well, i'm a fries girl.'
she smiles over the top of her menu, just slightly.
'but my friend likes the slaw, and i trust her.'
she nods and sets her menu down, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her hands clasped. a practical smart watch, no wedding band. her full attention is on you and it makes you feel a little breathless.
you're saved from saying something incredibly dumb — you're very, very smart, and you're actually very good at flirting, but beatrice zhang is hot as hell and a certified badass and you also really want her to be, like, your colleague — when your server comes to your table. you both order, and you get the fried chicken sandwich too, even though you already ate lunch an hour ago — diego's always happy to eat your leftovers out of the fridge in the lab anyway.
you're not saved from saying something marginally dumb, though, because beatrice kindly thanks your server and hands over her menu and then looks at you again, fully focused.
'i like your hair,’ you say, instead of, well, anything else. you want to groan and slam your head down into the table, or something, because beatrice's brows knit together and she brings one hand to run through her floppy middle part, short in the back and on the sides, pushing it out of her eyes.
'oh,' she says, softly and definitely confused. 'thank you.'
you're sure you're blushing. 'sorry, i just, like, the last time you posted — you had long hair.'
it's mortifying, the moment you say it, because you can mentally calculate the last time beatrice posted a picture of herself on her instagram, and it was definitely over a year ago.
she also seems to realize this, because her confusion turns to a smug little smile that could probably eat you alive. you'd definitely let it.
'i read about the last species of frog you discovered, when the article came out.'
that was also over a year ago, and you laugh, tension releasing from your shoulders. 'so that’s how you knew what i looked like.’
‘sure.’
to be fair, the article did include a picture of you, muddy and sweaty and overjoyed, holding a tiny frog in the palm of your hand, but, ‘did you google me?’
‘i only take on projects, at this point, that i find interesting.’
‘so you think i’m interesting.’
she raises a brow, a scar that also wasn’t there over a year ago running an inch above it and then straight through, cleanly healed but not faded yet, stopping right on the top of her cheek — thankfully your brain didn't comment on that, even though it's kind of hot too. ‘i think that fact that you've already identified six new species of frog two years into an assistant professorship is interesting.’
'so that's a yes.' you grin. ‘want me to tell you about the project, then?'
she thanks your server when he brings her water and your lemonade of the day, and a coffee, and then leans forward in her seat. ‘yes,' she says. 'i do.’
you tell her about it as coherently as you can: you're sure there's a brand new species of frog — maybe more than one, if you're lucky — on the top of a land mass deep in the forest in guyana. you've secured enough funding to make it happen; bare bones, but still. you have diego and yasmine, your grad students, and michael, another assistant professor in your apartment who's helped you on expeditions before, mostly by carrying a bunch of shit. you've gotten camila — who beatrice is also very excited to work with again — to sign on to do tech work for you. dr. superion and dr. salvius are helping from here.
'so, anyway, i need you to climb the tepui.'
beatrice sits back when you're done, flicks through a few slides on your laptop that you'd handed to her with pictures of the jungle, the cliff face, the budget outlines and logistics and equipment you anticipate you'll need.
'do you know a lot about climbing?'
it's kind — to not assume that you don't; to not expect you to either. you shake your head no.
'i'm an alpinist, for the most part,' she says, 'which means that i climb, well —' she pauses.
'no need to be modest for me.'
she offers a small smile. 'i've climbed eight of the ten tallest mountains in the world.'
hot, you think, but you take a deep breath instead and say, 'that's impressive.' nailed it.
'yes, well.' she blushes. 'thank you. but this kind of climbing is traditional climbing — big wall climbing.'
'oh.' you frown. 'so, you can't do it?'
'i can,' she says, 'and i'd like to. i think i know enough of biology to be marginally helpful, and i can certainly photograph the expedition.'
your heart soars, warming your whole body, and you take a bite of your lukewarm sandwich to hide your smile.
'but i'll need a team. i'm confident that i'll be able to get up the wall, but i'm not experienced enough at this kind of climbing to lead on all of these passes.'
'we might not have the funds to pay much, if you bring on more people.'
she shakes her head. 'i have access to plenty of discretionary funds, so that shouldn't be a problem.'
'that's hot.' well, you tried.
she laughs, thank god. 'i just wanted to make sure that you and your team are okay with me bringing other people on.'
'as long as they aren't, like, shitty, you know. racist, homophobic, ableist. all that stuff.'
she nods, very seriously. 'i can assure you that, while one of my climbing partners is inclined to be an asshole, it's always done with respect toward important identities. she's more annoying than anything. and my other partner is the best person i know.'
'well, other than me, now.'
you can tell beatrice is torn between smiling and rolling her eyes; she does a bit of both. 'and, as far as logistics go, i could easily provide a helicopter to get us in as far as possible. less of a hike.'
it's impossible that beatrice didn't see your cane. 'i have adaptive equipment for myself. i can do the hike.'
but her brows knit together. 'yes, i assumed so: you're leading the expedition. i just meant, for my team at least, the fewer miles we have to bring photography and climbing gear in a jungle, the better. it's heavy, and then we have to do a major climb.'
'oh.' you bite your bottom lip. 'that makes sense. sorry, people suck sometimes.'
'i imagine so.' she looks at you very sincerely. 'i'm sorry.'
you wave her off. 'thanks. it is what it is, though.'
beatrice doesn't try to argue, although you can tell that maybe she wants to. 'anyway, whatever you think will help your team, and whatever will help mine, that falls outside of your grant funds, i can cover.'
'that's — are you sure?'
she nods. 'quite.'
'where did you get these discretionary funds?' you can't help asking.
'a bad man,' she says, leaning forward and whispering dramatically. it makes you laugh.
'ooh, did you kill him? warlord?'
'alas, no. my father, and he's already dead.'
'ah.' you snap your fingers. 'well, if another opportunity comes up, you just let me know. i have tons of lethal neurotoxins in my lab. i'm always down to... you know — murder —' you whisper — 'a billionaire. long haul ethics, you know?'
she nods very solemnly, fighting a smile. 'i'll keep that under advisement.'
you fight the urge to ask her for a drink, and you definitely stare at her mouth a little too long, but then you get it together and offer your hand. 'well, partners?'
she shakes it, hers strong and rough with callouses. the thought sends a little shiver up your spine, but you valiantly ignore it. 'partners.'
/
beatrice invites you, after a few days of emailing back and forth to create an updated budget and logistics plan, to meet at a climbing gym. it's to meet her other two team members first. before you all get together with your main crew for dinner afterward. she'd given you their names, headshots, and very formal bios, which you had kind of loved: lilith, who, according to beatrice's bio, will be the lead climber. when you google her, you find out that she's, like, a world champion big wall climber, so that bodes well. and then mary, another photographer and world class marksman — I know this isn't particularly relevant, beatrice had included as a footnote, but it is quite impressive — and avid climber too.
you're hopeful about it all, and you're hopeful that tonight maybe she just wants to see you alone, and to have you watch her climb. there's, like, a two percent chance you'll physically be able to climb, really, but that's fine. she'd texted you about it, far less formal than her perfectly punctuated emails, so that's a good sign. and she'd posted a recent picture someone took of her — a candid, petting the trunk of an elephant peacefully — on her instagram too. maybe that was scheduled — beatrice seems like the kind of person who would schedule instagram posts — but a girl can hope, you know? you liked it one hour and fourteen minutes after she posted, from the lab's social media account and not your personal one, so you figure you've handled this all perfectly. you're great, beatrice is a colleague, and you've got this.
you're stressed about what to wear to a climbing gym and then to get dinner afterward, although there's probably a locker room or something, but it's fine. you're hot in anything. (or nothing. not that the night is going to go there.) you settle on tight leggings you wear to the gym and a sports bra, a cropped jacket on over. it's, like, cute and femme, but also practical. you brush on some mascara and put part of your hair into a little bun so it won't fall into your eyes, and you pack a spare change of clothes in a canvas tote — slacks and a nice bra and a t-shirt that hugs your body perfectly along with a pair of platform converse and an army-green overshirt — in case everyone else changes before going to dinner.
you grab your cane and head out the door.
/
if you fall to your death, it's definitely not going to be because of your back or legs. it's going to be because beatrice is in loose pants that seem comfortable for climbing and a tight racerback tank, and when you walk in, she's hanging by one arm on a short wall, just chilling out there, before she seems to decide what she wants to do. she brings her legs up to find footholds and then she's almost upside down, holding onto the wall with both hands calmly and moving so fluidly — a leg stretching out, her chalked fingers grasping onto a tiny hold. there's a delicate tattoo along her right forearm, all linework, and there are scars all over her left shoulder, running down to her elbow from what you can see: some are jagged and some are clean, neat, like surgical incisions. they don't seem to be limiting her progress at all, because she moves over the outhanging ledge easily and then to the top before just letting go and calmly rolling to her feet after she lands without a sound.
the — very hot — woman, lilith, you know from the headshot, sitting on the floor next to the wall, legs outstretched, leaning back on her palms set flat on the ground behind, and looking impossibly graceful while doing it, groans.
'getting stuck that long on a soft V8? come on, beatrice.'
beatrice, to her credit, just shrugs.
'shoulder?' the other woman asks.
'it's fine,' beatrice says. 'just getting back into the groove of your tiny walls.'
'oh, ha ha.'
'8091 meters will really change your perspective. you should try it sometime.'
'no thanks, i'll stick to my world records, thank you very much.'
they seem like they might physically fight, but then they both start laughing. weird, but you fuck with it.
beatrice turns, her hands on her hips, and, like, whew, god fucking bless, and then waves with a smile when she sees you. she walks over. 'hello ava.'
'hey,' you say, suddenly feeling a little awkward: you have not a single idea what you're doing. 'that was pretty impressive.'
'it was not,' the lilith says.
beatrice heads toward her anyway, and you follow. 'you can ignore her most of the time,' she says. 'dr. silva, this is lilith. lilith, dr. silva.'
'just ava.' you look at beatrice with a raised brow. 'please.'
lilith lazily salutes. 'ava, then. our illustrious leader, i hear. beatrice is making me lead a 1000 foot first ascent for a frog?'
'i'm not making you do anything,' beatrice says, and lilith grumbles like a teenager. it's funny, and you decide that you like her then and there, even if she scares you a little. she scares you a little more when she gracefully gets to her feet. she's tall and imposing, with a sharp face and long hair braided back, more wiry than beatrice's bigger muscles, but — you're sure — just as strong.
she offers her hand, which you shake. 'in my defense,' you say, 'it is a very cool frog. we can even name it after you, if you want.'
this seems to amuse her, because there's a hint of a smile on her face.  'i do like first ascents anyway.'
'see,' you say, 'that's the spirit.'
'ava,' beatrice says, 'no pressure, but i thought you might find it fun to try climbing. only if you'd like.'
'i'm, uh —' you gesture a little clumsily with your cane, the tips of your ears turning red. 'not sure that i can?'
'mary is an adaptive climbing instructor,' beatrice says, gesturing over to the taller wall with ropes connected through pulleys at the top, where a strong Black woman with perfectly neat braids and a dark outfit on is sorting through a few harnesses on the ground. 'but if you'd rather not climb, lilith and i are just finishing up. we can show you a few things we've been practicing in anticipation for the route, and then change and go to dinner.'
beatrice doesn't say either choice with any more or less merit, or worth, or importance: they're choices, and they're yours, and they won't affect how much she trusts you or believes in the expedition. lilith is checking her phone, uninterested at this point, and you decide, as you always have, to try.
'yeah, sure. i have no idea what adaptive climbing is, though.'
beatrice smiles and lilith stays on her phone, texting. 'that's fine. i have no idea about ninety percent of what you study.'
'i find that hard to believe. you're a wildlife photographer.'
she hums, softly touching your elbow and then walking toward mary. 'conservationist photography, sure. but i'm not a biologist.'
you make a note that beatrice doesn't really like wildlife photographer as a job title, although she was polite enough to not outright tell you so. 'well, i'm not a climber, so, quid pro quo?'
'ah, but you will be after tonight,' mary says, standing with a smile and offering her hand. 'dr. silva, right?'
'just ava,' you tell her, endeared by the fact that beatrice had probably been very formally saying dr. silva to her team this entire time. you shake mary's hand as firmly as you can and feel immediately a little more relaxed with the confident, easy way she holds her shoulders, her kind smile, her bright eyes.
'beatrice and i go way back,' she says. 'this project of yours sounds amazing. i was excited when she asked if i wanted in.'
'of course i'd ask,' beatrice says, bumping mary in the shoulder, who rolls her eyes fondly.
'well, beatrice said you were promised an adaptive climbing lesson.'
'if you're still in,' beatrice says, 'mary can show you the ropes.' she laughs at herself. 'literally.'
mary groans, but you're delighted. 'well, don't leave me hanging.'
'no. not another bad pun aficionado. please.'
beatrice grins and you sling an arm over her slightly sweaty and delightfully strong shoulders. she stiffens a little, and mary looks to her for a moment, and you're worried you've overstepped, and fast. but then beatrice relaxes.
you step back and gesture between the two of you happily. 'is this our thing now?'
'if trading terrible puns is wrong, then i don't want to be right.'
mary groans. 'not sure why i agreed to this trip after all.'
'we can name a frog after you, if you want,' you offer.
mary perks up. 'really?'
'yeah,' you say, 'sure. i've already named one after myself and given five others the dumbest, gayest names i could think of.'
'i'm back in, then.'
you laugh. 'well, let's rock and try not to roll.'
mary sighs, but beatrice's muffled laugh into your shoulder is way worth it.
/
Hi Ava, I'll be in town today to get some equipment squared away. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner if you're free. No shop talk, unless you want
you read and reread the text. you'd gone over shitty — expected, but still shitty — test results from an mri at your neurologist's earlier today, and, even though your team seemed to gel the other night, and all of your logistics are much less daunting now that beatrice has covered some of them financially, you had planned to stay home in your favorite boxers and most comfortable hoodie and wallow with a mediocre bottle of wine and good pizza and great reality tv.
but — hey, that sounds sweet. any places in mind?
beatrice texts back almost immediately. I don't know the area too well. You can pick, if you'd like
like, you're colleagues. you're about to be in one of the most remote parts of the world together in five days, with just a handful of other people, for weeks, maybe longer. you're the leader of the expedition but beatrice is, in important ways, a leader too. she's smart and beautiful and handsome and focused. if it's a date, incredible; if it's not, you still want to know her, you still want to spend time in her gentle warmth.
any food allergies/hatred?
she responds, No, I'm pretty adventurous
still, no clarity, but you set a place and time — one of your favorite tapas restaurants with a great little bar and, if it gets late enough, a good dance floor — and then set about getting ready. you eat a banana and take ibuprofen, which hopefully will help you be able to dance without much pain, and then get as pretty as you deem not desperate for a normal dinner with a colleague to be. which, it's you, so you're still very, very pretty, including one of your very best cleavage tanks. you finish your eyeliner perfectly and blow yourself a little kiss in the mirror. for good luck, or whatever. it's science.
/
'i got tired of it,' beatrice says. 'war photography is...' she pauses, and shakes her head, like she doesn't quite know what to tell you. you're totally sure she's not telling the truth, not really, but you know not to push, to spook her away. 'i could leave,' she settles on. 'as much as i hate the west, as much as i hate american and european, especially british, foreign policy, and its destruction of the world — i got to take pictures, and leave. at first, i thought it was something important i could do, to record the truth. political inherently, anti-imperialist, without being in politics. but, i was in occupied palestine, and, then, after —' she clears her throat, brings her fingers up to ghost over the scar through her brow — 'after. i couldn't do it. they're wars because of my history — our collective history — but they weren't my wars. they aren’t my wars. i can’t photograph them, at least right now. because i got to leave.'
you're horrified that she might start to cry — which isn't horrifying, not at all, you cry all the time, but you're supposed to be having a nice meal with your colleague and you had asked what you thought was an innocuous question about how she got into her more recent conservationist work, but clearly, not innocuous. you're starting to think, with a kind of clarity you very rarely have about anyone, that nothing about beatrice herself is innocuous. even her collarless button down and loose pants cuffed at the ankles — and the way all of her clothes, ever practical, drape with a tailored casualness on her small, strong frame — her easy hair that’s always actually perfectly trimmed and styled, the pattern of callouses on her hands: everything about her is intentioned. she means what she says. she means what she does. she means who she is.
'i started studying frogs with my mom,' you offer. it's true, and you mean who you are too.
she takes a sip of her water and nods in what you can tell is a quiet relief.
'my family is from manaus. my mom wasn't a scientist or anything, she was a bank teller, but when i was little, we'd go out often. she loved the rainforest, so, you know, i loved the rainforest.'
beatrice smiles gently. 'that sounds beautiful.'
you stare down at a croqueta and tear a small piece of it off, let the old ache fill your chest. 'she died, when i was seven.'
'oh,' beatrice says, 'i —'
'— it was a long time ago,' you say.
'sometimes that doesn't make it hurt any less.'
it's permission, to feel how you need to. most people accept when you tell them that and move on in relief, unwilling or unable to give you the space. but beatrice sits steadily. 'i broke my back, during the car accident we were in; we were visiting spain and, well. i had to relearn to walk. it took a really long time, and the orphanage i grew up in wasn't big on good physical therapy or really any care, so i taught myself what i could outside of school, got into university, got good medical care for the first time, like, ever. and i started studying biology. i went back to the rainforest as soon as i could, as a research assistant, and guyana was ... it's mind-blowing, bea.'
she weighs it all in contemplative silence for a moment, trying to decide what you need; what relief she can give. ‘i can't wait to see. i've always wanted to go.'
it is relief, what you feel, to be so immediately seen and understood. 'well, it's not just anyone i'd want to bring to the rainforest. my mom's favorites were always frogs, so —' you shrug, suddenly a little at a loss.
'so here we are, about to go find another.'
you pop the croqueta into your mouth, feel the dull pain in your chest dissipate when you realize you're close enough to beatrice's face to see her freckles. 'i have spinal stenosis, from the accident. it's progressing pretty fast, even with the best medical team, tech, surgeries, all that.'
she nods, like she understands what you mean without making you have to say it. it's a gift, bigger than she probably knows.
'i really want to find that fucking frog.'
'well,' she says, and lifts her glass, 'to finding our frog.'
'you know, it's bad luck to toast with water.'
she frowns. 'i don't usually drink.'
'you're very... controlled.'
she waits a beat and then grins. 'okay, one beer.'
'fuck yeah!'
'one, ava.'
'mhm. whatever you say, bea.'
/
'i have to take the train back,' beatrice argues — or, at least, tries to argue, because her eyes drift down to your boobs when you take your sweater off. success.
'you can just stay at my place. i have a mediocre ikea couch.'
'i can't let you sleep on your own couch.'
you laugh. 'oh, you definitely get the couch. i need all the good mattress support i can get before i sleep in a tent for a month.'
she smiles, gently and a little sad, but then the moment passes, a kind of grace. 'fine.'
'really?'
the set of her shoulders is looser but still sure, still so, so certain. 'yes.'
'hell yeah!' she laughs. 'shots?'
beatrice pulls a face but you order lemon drops anyway, mostly because vodka seems neutral and they're a good shot for people who don't drink often, sweet and tangy and fun. beatrice sniffs hers first — bold move, big mistake most of the time — but then nods in approval.
'to our frog,' you say, and she clinks her glass with yours. you touch it to the bartop and she follows suit, and then take it as smoothly as you can. it's an easy drink, so you don't have any problems, and she swallows without too much of a grimace. 'okay?'
'it's not bad,' she says, and your whole body hums, probably because of the two margaritas you had with dinner and this shot now, but also because there are freckles stretching across her cheeks and gold flecks in her brown eyes and if you let yourself look closely a tiny split on her lip, probably from the dry, cool air recently.
you shake yourself out of... whatever that was, and you order two more shots; she takes hers without hesitation this time, laughing when you spill a little down your cheek. she reaches a hand and wipes with her strong hand, tender, over the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then clears her throat, takes her hand back quickly, although you want to ask for her to stay. but instead, 'come on, bea,' you say, 'let's dance!'
she only groans in a show of protest for posterity, you're sure, because she's very strong and you're very small and when you tug on her wrists she follows you easily.
you love to dance; you have always loved to dance: what little you remember of your mom is full of green, the rainforest and the wall of your living room. she would push back all the furniture to the edges, just the two of you in a small apartment, where you slept in the same bed and ate fruit from the trees outside. she would put on britney spears and jump around with you; she would put on stevie nicks and hold you in her arms, swaying around. she was full of light, from what you remember, always ready to read to you, in portugese and in english; to help you with your math and your handwriting. she cut your food for you and bought you new shoes when yours wore through the soles. she had been a good mom in the way good moms are: happy to hold your hand, to rub her nose against yours, to let you eat the batter off the spoon. you don't remember much, not before the accident, but it had been easy, and beautiful — the mist and orchids and green, all around.
beatrice is a little stiff until you start jumping around, fully out of time with the music, just to make her laugh. and she does, a smile lighting up her whole face. her body is graceful like this too, like it's always somehow known exactly how to move. you wonder, fleetingly between songs, what she was like as a child, if she was as sure and smart and kind as she is now. someone crowds into her space from behind and then you're not thinking of anything other than the tickle of her hair against your cheek as she presses into you, the lilt of her laugh into your ear, the hard muscles of her shoulders and the soft, small swell of her hips when you bring your palms to rest there. you're drunk and she's beautiful, and you've kissed lots of beautiful people when you've been drunk. but she closes her eyes and sways to the beat and it's like the rest of the world falls away. it's like there's only you and beatrice and the cloud forest, above anything else that has harmed and will harm again. there's her gold skin and scars and tattoos hidden under her shirt, the healed slices down your spine, the air between your bodies: sweaty, sticky with spilled drinks, thumping bass, everyone else in this bar. there's only the two of you, and it's a little like you've been punched in the gut: you're falling in love with her. it's easy, right now, to put a name to it all, when you can look at her jaw without reproach.
she opens her eyes and looks at you, a smile on her face, and leans in your direction. it's easy, to bring your hand to touch where you had been staring, to say, 'bea,' as she laughs into your neck, says, 'this is so fun, thank you.' it's hard to not kiss her, but she's ... extraordinary, and you don't want your first kiss to be in the middle of a mid-at-best dance floor after a few shots. you want it to be somewhere beautiful. somewhere you already know; somewhere you're certain she'll love.
'let's go home,' you say, because you had done another round somewhere between songs and she's slightly unsteady on her feet. she nods into your neck and you take her hand.
/
you walk back to your apartment with her, one arm looped through hers — 'very gallant,' you'd said when she'd offered, and even in the dim light from the moon and streetlamps you had seen her blush — and your other hand using your cane. she had found it for you, tucked behind where you had been sitting at the bar; she hadn't asked anything about why you didn't use it when you were dancing, or why you need it now. you know so many good people and you organize a lot with some of your other friends who work with the disability center at the university, but there is some kind of a revelation about being seen so wholly.
but maybe you're also just a little drunk, because she sways a bit as you walk and her accent is lilting, tender, her hair messy in her eyes. it's probably as soft as it looks; you had lost your hair tie somewhere between shots two and three and you tuck yours behind your ear. you have so many questions you want to ask her but you hold them in because she looks up at the moon and the stars and it's enough, to be here with her. to know her laugh, now, and the way she has hurt too.
it's enough to just walk.
/
it hadn't actually taken too much convincing — after you unlocked the door and gave her some choices in pajamas, soft sleep shorts and a big cotton crew her eventual choices, and gotten her a glass of water and a few cheddar crackers — to get her to agree to sleep in your bed with you. perhaps it had been because your couch is ... an unknown number of years old — 'listen, bea, phd students make, like, no money, and it was twenty bucks on craigslist three years go' — or maybe, maybe, it's because she just wants to.
you settle in first, listen to her brush her teeth with a spare toothbrush you'd given her, and wash her face with your facewash — that she had frowned at, accidentally rude but pretty funny and, like, fair, you got it from the drug store on the corner and you're sure she has a whole understated fancy little routine when she's not out in the field — and then wash her hands after going to the bathroom. you love sex, so you sleep with people often. you've had a boyfriend before, that you cared about deeply, so there's some parts of intimacy that are familiar to you, of course. but this, beatrice carefully climbing into bed next to you, with her freckles and her eyelashes and the pink of her lips, is different: you're not going to kiss her, not right now. you're not going to reach out and put your palm on her jaw like you want to, or feel the warm skin of her ribs, the goosebumps that would inevitably rise there if you raked your nails across the ridges. you're not going to because, you know, somewhere elemental in you, that you want to know her, and love her, for a long time. you want to take her to the rainforest.
'where's your favorite place in the world?' you ask instead, whisper it into the dark, the soft outline of her face.
she's turned toward you, her hands tucked carefully under her chin; it makes her look younger. 'tibet. the himalayas.'
'makes sense. you and your big mountains.'
'what's the last mountain you... summited?'
'annapurna. it's the tenth tallest in the world.' she pauses, considering. 'are we playing twenty questions?'
her eyelids are drooping. 'i don't think you're going to be awake for twenty questions.'
she laughs softly. 'i want to ask you one, though.'
'hmm. sure. two to four questions, then.'
'do you... uh, well, okay. do you like women?'
it's so awkward, so out of place for someone so sure, that you have to fight the urge to burst out in laughter. but it's also soft, and nervous, her eyes wide. it makes you feel sixteen again, full of possibility. 'yeah, bea. i'm bi. i love women.'
she nods, tucks her hands even tighter under her chin, lets a big relieved breath out. 'cool.'
'yeah?'
'mhm. i'm a lesbian, if you didn't know.'
you want to say you're the gayest looking person i've ever met but you refrain. for the romance of it all. 'good to know.'
she tries hard to wink and fails miserably. you let yourself, just once, just for a moment, reach out and run your hand through her hair. she leans into your touch, relaxes under it, before you fold yourself back onto your side of the bed. 'you have one more question.'
'so do you.'
'okay. hmm. favorite ice cream flavor?'
she laughs. 'that's what you want to know.'
you nod. 'it's very important information.'
'okay.' she thinks hard about it, genuinely. 'mint chocolate chip?'
'that's so boring, jeez.'
'oh, i'm sorry. simple combinations of dynamic tastes is probably too sophisticated for you to understand.'
'okay, ratatouille.'
she tries, a valiant effort, to not crack a smile, but she eventually does. 'okay, my turn. favorite color?'
you let your eyes fall closed and imagine it all, the sharp thorns and the torrential rain and the chirp of the neon blue frog you'd found last time. you think about taking her there. 'green, of course,' you tell her, a promise, a future in the clouds. 'green.'
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