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#like i know we are still a ways off from that because I believe we will see Shinae and co graduate high school after a brief time jump
roosterforme · 2 days
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The Younger Kind Part 61 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: The wedding day itself wasn't all that important to Bradley. He just wanted to get to the point where you and he were officially married, and the details didn't much matter. At least that's what he thought before he saw you step out of the house. Then he realized that these were the exact moments he'd never planned for but desperately needed to experience.
Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 5400 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
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Bradley must have been able to tell that you were anxious on Friday evening. It was just a normal day, really. He went to work and dropped Noah off at preschool on the way. You used a vacation day to clean up the house a little bit with the promise that you wouldn't overexert yourself. And you made some snack trays for Saturday afternoon along with a lasagna for dinner.
But to you, it wasn't a normal day at all, because you were getting married tomorrow. Whenever you started thinking about it, you had to stop what you were doing and sit down for a few minutes. When Bradley left with Noah this morning, he kissed you goodbye like he always did, seemingly unfazed by the weekend plans. But now it was hitting you hard. You were getting married.
When the boys got home, they ran inside while Skittles barked at them. "Hi, Mommy! I painted a wedding!"
Bradley scooped Noah up with one arm before he got to you, and Noah brandished a colorful painting that looked absolutely nothing like a wedding, but you took it and exclaimed, 'It's perfect!"
"I know," he replied as you kissed him on the cheek. Then he started to squirm to the floor, and after that, Bradley's lips were on yours.
"It smells good in here," he whispered. Then he really looked at your face and asked, "Everything okay?"
You nodded and kind of half shrugged. "Yeah."
"You and the baby feeling okay?"
"Mmhmm."
He gave you a skeptical look. "We're getting married tomorrow, Baby," he murmured, holding up a cup from the coffee shop. He'd written Princess across it like he always did, and you looked up at his earnest eyes as tears filled yours. "If you've got cold feet, then I-"
"No!" you gasped, reaching for the cup and pressing your body to his. "No," you told him with all of the conviction you had. "I love you." His arm wrapped around your back, and you felt instantly better. You tried not to jostle the coffee too much as you ran your fingers along his cheek and up into his hair. "It's just hard for me to believe I was just your babysitter earlier this year."
Bradley smiled and said, "You were never just my babysitter. God, I wanted you bad. Right from the start. In my bed, and in my life."
You let your cheek rest against his shoulder as you inhaled the scent of French vanilla coffee, and Bradley traced your spine with his fingers until you shivered. "I wanted you just as bad, Daddy."
He kissed the top of your head. "Nothing's changing. You know that, right? We'll just have a little piece of paper saying we're legally married, but nothing is really going to change. We can take a honeymoon next year. We can eventually tell your parents we got married if you feel like it, or not. We can talk about combining the rest of our bank accounts if you want to. But it's still just me and you. Us and Noah and the baby."
"And Skittles."
"Obviously Skittles, too," he said, and of course the dog came running into the room.
As the kitchen timer started going off, you tried to slip out of his grasp, but he held on. "Tell me what's bothering you first."
You buried your face against his neck and inhaled deeply. Bradley smelled like home. "I'm a little nervous. I wrote my vows, and now I think they sound stupid."
"Nothing you say could sound stupid to me."
You groaned and added, "And I'm exhausted by eight o'clock every night now, and we have all these people coming over for the wedding. I look tired all the time."
"You're beautiful all the time. And I'll kick everyone out after dinner. I'm not going to want them here after that anyway."
When you laughed, Bradley started walking with you held against him. The kitchen timer was still beeping, and you didn't want dinner to burn, but you didn't want him to let go of you either. "I just want to adopt Noah and have a million more nights like this one," you whispered, still holding Bradley's hand and the coffee as he pulled the meal out of the oven.
You took a sip of your drink and it was delicious, and so were Bradley's words as he told you, "Then that's what you'll get."
So maybe it was kind of a regular night after all. You cut up Noah's dinner into bite size pieces for him, and Bradley was drawing lazy shapes on your pregnant belly with his knuckles while he ate. Then he cleaned up after he sent you and Noah to the couch to watch Mickey Mouse cartoons.
"Mommy, do you remember when we met Mickey? With Aunt Natasha?"
"I sure do," you said with a yawn. "That was the best day." Then Noah yawned, too, and it didn't take much coaxing to get him into his pajamas and into bed.
"Will you lay with me?" he asked as you tucked him in.
"Just for a minute, because I need to finish a few things for the wedding tomorrow."
You climbed into his bed, and the next thing you knew, Bradley was waking you up with a kiss. "Come on, Baby. Let's get in our bed."
You groaned and let him help you stand, and you ran your fingers through Noah's hair. "What time is it? I still need to vacuum and wash the kitchen floor."
"I already did it," he whispered as he led you out of the room.
You yawned. "I wanted to shower and shave my legs."
"Do it tomorrow. Or don't. I don't care."
"But it's our wedding day."
You let him tuck you into bed, and he slipped in next to you. "It is, Baby. Our almost-Christmas wedding since I couldn't wait until next year. And all I need is my exhausted Princess with her hairy legs for it to be fucking perfect."
You stifled your laughter as he curled up behind you, keeping you warm while you dozed off again with his big hand resting on your belly.
----------------------------
When you woke up the next day, Bradley and Noah were already gone. You knew the plan was for them to get ready at Natasha's place while she joined you here to help you with your makeup, but tears stung your eyes as you walked around the empty house. You missed them already, and you wanted them to come back home so you could make Bradley your husband. You decided to take that feeling as a pretty good sign that the wedding was going to be perfect. 
The kitchen smelled good, and you found that Bradley left the fancy coffee maker on for you, but you gasped at what else you found. There was a light blue bakery box, and you opened it to find crown shaped donuts with icing that spelled out I LOVE YOU. You moaned softly and picked up the letter I donut and took a bite. You also found the bag from the jewelry shop, and you immediately remembered how sneaky he was the night you picked out the wedding bands. 
You shoved the rest of the donut into your mouth and dug inside the bag. Your eyes went wide when you pulled out a tiara. An actual tiara with some purple gemstones adorning it, like an upgraded version of your paper crown. Now you really wanted Bradley to come home so he could see it on. He probably spent a fortune on it, like he did everything else for you, but you were already imagining that it might make its way to bed later.
"It's me!"
Natasha's voice pulled you from your wedding night daydream, and you rushed into the living room where she was already wearing a simple blue dress and holding several bags. "How are my boys?" you asked.
"Great. Excited. Noah already looks adorable. I guess Bradley looks okay."
You were cracking up as she wrapped you in a hug, and that's when you realized you were wearing an old TOP GUN sweatshirt and your underwear. "I need to start getting ready."
"Yes," she replied with a smile and a quick kiss on your cheek. 
"And I really need to shave my legs."
"You should do that first."
"Yeah," you replied, laughing as you made your way to the bathroom. "I'll do that first."
Once you were clean from the shower, Natasha helped you into your new set of purple lingerie. You appreciated that she treated it like a business deal, simply saying, "Bradley will lose his mind later," instead of making a big deal about your growing belly. You were sure you'd be marrying him even if you weren't pregnant, but maybe it wouldn't be happening so soon. "Let's get your hair and makeup settled before we get your dress on. Go grab your tiara."
"You know about that?" you gasped, excitement filling you up.
"Please. I know about everything."
-----------------------------
Perhaps you were a little nervous last night, but now Bradley was the one who could barely handle himself. You were inside the house, but he wasn't even allowed to go in there, and it was killing him. He wanted to see you in the worst way and make sure everything was okay, but instead he and Noah were stuck on the back patio as everyone else started arriving. All he managed to get was a text from Nat with a thumbs up emoji.
"You look adorable!" Bradley turned around to see Penny kneeling in front of Noah, making a fuss over him. "You match with your dad!" It was true, because you had been the one to find the light gray suits and floral purple dress shirts. Bradley simply ordered them and got himself and Noah dressed.
He hated to say it, but the wedding wasn't that important to him. Not really. He would have done a big, overpriced ceremony if that's what you said you wanted. But this was fine as well. All he really wanted was to make it official. The Bradshaws. His family. He didn't need anything else.
As Maverick pulled him in for a hug, Bradley saw some more of his friends from work arrive. Not that he'd ever really consider Jake Seresin a friend, but after he took the seven hundred bucks in tip money, Bradley said it was fine if he wanted to stop by. You were with Bradley now, and you were never going anywhere. He'd see to that. He'd had a lot of time to come to terms with how young you are and how guys were always going to be looking and hoping. If Bradley were less confident in himself or your love, he'd have never made it this far. But here he was, waiting for you to walk outside in your wedding dress so he could take the wedding band out of his pocket and slip it on your finger. 
Nat came strolling casually through the back door as Bradley hugged Tracy and Noah played with Amelia. Bradley broke away from his lawyer who congratulated him and assured him that all of the paperwork he needed was in perfect order for today and for the adoption. When he pulled Nat aside and asked, "Is she okay?" he got an eye roll in response. 
"She's great. She ditched you and ran away with another man and his adorable son not five minutes ago." Nat smirked at his deadpan expression and said, "You need to learn how to relax. I was just coming outside to tell you that we're ready to get started, okay?"
"Yes," he replied, already scrambling to locate Noah and Skittles. "Let's fucking do that."
Bradley knew the ceremony was going to be short; you and he had designed it that way. Ten or fifteen minutes, and you'd have it in the bag. It would be a done deal. But when Natasha screamed at everyone to be quiet and Javy started playing the song Bradley asked him to, it all felt very real. The music was just the right volume, flowing through the speakers as Bradley held Noah and Skittles in his arms, and it washed over him when he finally saw you. His favorite song, the one you knew immediately back in your babysitter days, had him remembering the way he fell for you. How you picked on him in the best way about all the old music he loved. The way this song made him think only of you ever since he heard you singing it in his kitchen.
And now you were stepping out of his house wearing a wedding dress and the tiara he picked out for you. Your glossy lips only made your smile brighter as you walked across the deck, purple shoes peeping out from the bottom of your dress. It wasn't a long walk along the path to where he was standing, and he'd remember every step you took for the rest of his life. 
He grunted softly as he noticed the way your dress was snug enough to hug your bump like you were showing it off, allowing everyone to see what he'd done to you. He knew that the bouquet of purple wildflowers you held in one hand smelled as sweet as you always did, and you waved your fingers at him as you got closer. 
"Hi, Daddy," you said with a smile just for him, and he rushed forward a few steps, closing the gap to get to you sooner.
"Princess," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you while Nat balked behind him.
"You're already doing everything out of order!" she said. "The kiss is literally supposed to be the last thing!"
You just laughed and kissed him again before also pressing your lips to Noah's cheek and patting Skittles on her purple bow. "It's okay, Natasha," you told her as you wrapped your free hand around Bradley's bicep and guided him to where she was standing. The song faded away, but you remained next to him as you smiled and said, "It doesn't really matter what order we do this in just as long as I end up married to Bradley."
"Okay, fine," Nat said, opening her notebook in a huff as Bradley set his son and his dog down. Skittles ran off toward Amelia, and Noah stood with his arm around your thigh looking up at you. As you ran your fingers through his son's curls, Bradley leaned in to kiss you again. "Stop kissing. Seriously. Or there won't be a big climax at the end."
The guys all hooted with laughter at what Nat said, including Bradley. "I don't think that will be a problem," you said, lacing your fingers with his.
"It certainly won't be," he whispered. "You gonna keep that tiara on all night?"
You looked a little bashful, but you said, "Of course, I'm a Princess."
When he tried to kiss you again, Nat started snapping her fingers in his face. "Enough. I need to read all of this shit that I wrote down so you can get married, okay? Just stand there for a minute, and keep it in your pants."
You were laughing now as you said, "This is already the best wedding I've ever heard of."
Nat cleared her throat and started reading from her notebook. "Hi everyone. You all know me, and you all know these two idiots who decided they wanted to marry each other, so I'll make this quick. Bradley Bradshaw is my very best friend, and I don't even know why. He's not particularly funny, nor is he the wittiest guy around, and he absolutely can't cook anything."
"Jesus," Bradley said. "Why did I ask you to officiate?"
She chuckled and said, "Because I also have a couple nice things to say about you.... Bradley is a lost cause in many ways, but he's loyal, and he has a cute son. Hi, Noah."
"Hi, Aunt Natasha."
Bradley was shaking his head as you squeezed his hand, and he gave Nat the signal to keep going. "Right, well, here's the other thing about Bradley: he's been there for me for a long time, so any time he needs something, I'm always going to help him. It was easy to see that he was lonely and ready to start dating again at the beginning of this year, and when he said he was falling in love with his babysitter instead of the women he was meeting from the dating app, I told him to go for it. I'd never seen him happier than he was on the days when he got to see you," Nat said, smiling at you.
"Really?" you asked, looking at her before looking up at Bradley in wonder.
"Really," he and Nat said at the same time, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you again. Instead, he ran his fingers along your cheek and didn't take his eyes off you as he asked, "Nat, can I say my vows now?"
You kissed Bradley's thumb as Natasha said, "Clearly you're just going to do whatever you want, so go right ahead."
"Great," he whispered. He had everything he wanted to say written down on a note card in his pocket, but he didn't really need it. With Noah standing in between the two of you, he knew he had everything he needed right here with him. "You still never told me how you did it, Princess."
You looked up at him as he held your hand, a puzzled look on your face. "How I did what?"
He ran his thumb in slow circles along the back of your hand and said, "How you walked into my crumbling life and made everything better."
Your lips twitched as tears filled your eyes, but you were smiling as you said, "There was nothing to fix, really. You and Noah just made me fall in love with you." 
"Mommy, I'm hungry," Noah whispered, tugging gently on your dress as Bradley tried to contain his own tears.
"I know," you told him with a watery laugh. "I made you a snack tray, but you need to let Daddy finish talking first."
"See, Baby? We are pure chaos," Bradley told you, reaching down to scoop Noah up again. "We were so much worse before you, though. Thank you for falling in love with us. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being more patient than anyone else I've ever known. Thank you for taking care of us, and for letting us take care of you. All I want is to be with you forever. The four of us," he said, his knuckles grazing your belly. "It's perfect, really. But I can't promise we will ever be less chaotic. All I know for sure is that I'm always going to love and appreciate you. And that it was worth going through all the bad stuff to get to this point. You were the missing piece. You were always the missing piece that we needed."
You nearly dropped your bouquet of flowers as you threw your arm around his neck and snuggled in against Noah. "I love you both so much," you sniffed. "And I don't even think you're chaotic at all. Being around you is the calmest I've ever felt. Like I know you'll protect me and make sure I'm comfortable. I started falling in love as soon as I met you both, and I keep falling in love a little bit more all the time. And I will never take this for granted, because I never expected anything this good to happen to me."
"I'm still hungry," Noah whispered loudly, clearly concerned everyone had forgotten about him. 
"I know, sweet Noah," you said as you laughed and cried at the same time. "And I'm going to take care of you forever, okay?"
Bradley watched you kiss his forehead as Noah said, "I got you a coloring book. It's Princesses."
"Of course you did," you told him as your voice cracked. "You're the best." You were crying more now, but you looked so happy. 
Even Nat was wiping at her eyes as she said, "Are we ready for the rings then?" When you both nodded at her, she pulled Bradley's wedding band out of her dress pocket and handed it to you. "Just put them on each other. Oh my God, I didn't think I would cry." 
Javy handed Nat his handkerchief as you took Bradley's hand in your smaller one and slid the thick band into place. Then he kept his eyes on yours as he and Noah did the same with your diamond wedding band. You let your hand slide up Bradley's arm and settle on his chest. Your eyes were focused on his, and the purple gems in your tiara were catching the sunlight. You were flawless. You were his wife. Almost.
"Nat?" he asked, covering your hand with his own and pressing it against his heart. "Are we married?"
"Oh, right," his best friend replied as you laughed softly and bit your glossy lip. "Yeah, according to me and the state of California, you're married. You already kissed and messed that entire part up, but you can kiss again, I suppose."
He handed Noah to her, and your lips came crashing to his as he wrapped one arm around you. This other hand settled against the side of your belly where the baby was growing, and he heard everyone cheering in the backyard. You were right, this was the best wedding he'd ever heard of as well. "I love you, Princess," he murmured against your lips, the sweet smell of wildflowers everywhere as you deepened the kiss again.
Then you pulled away and whispered, "I'll love you forever, Daddy."
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With two rings on your finger and your husband standing behind you, kissing your neck to the point of distraction, you tried to pull Noah's tray of ants on logs out of the refrigerator. "Daddy!" you gasped when his hand slid up from your belly to your breasts which did look pretty great in your wedding dress.
"Hmm," he hummed, giving you a little squeeze. When you whimpered softly he made a suggestion that you almost agreed to. "Let's sneak off to our bedroom for a few minutes. I want to play with my wife."
That word made you giddy, and you could feel every inch of Bradley's strong body pressed against yours. When you glanced outside, you saw your handful of wedding guests, dancing and playing with Noah. It was very tempting. Nobody would miss you, but everyone would know where the two of you went and why. "How much longer until you can kick everyone out?" you asked softly. 
You felt him shrug behind you as he said, "The caterers will be here shortly, so probably about two hours before I can demand everyone leaves."
"Damn it," you said, pulling the snacks out of the fridge and unwrapping them. "I just want to take you and a slice of wedding cake to bed." You thought back to Noah's birthday party and the horny kitchen sex with the leftover cake.
"I'll feed it to you, and then I'll fuck you so good," he crooned, and you were about to tell him to send everyone home now when dinner and the cake arrived.
"Mommy!" Noah shouted through the back door, apparently no longer worried about his healthy snack since the sweets arrived. "Come look at the cake I picked out!"
You turned around in Bradley's arms, and he looked delighted to be presented with your baby bump. "You let Noah pick out the wedding cake?"
He winced in response as he ran his hand along your belly. "Yeah... about that. I'm really sorry."
You grabbed his left hand, his wedding band smooth against your skin where his fingers were usually a little rough, and you pulled him back outside with Noah's snack. "I don't know if I should be scared or-" You gasped when you saw it. "Oh my god, Bradley. It's perfect!"
The cake had two tiers. The bottom was decorated with white buttercream and a bunch of green and brown dinosaurs. The detail was amazing. There was even a volcano. The top tier was decorated with purple flowers and topped with a knight holding hands with a princess that looked a lot like you. The two layers looked pretty ridiculous together, but it was beautiful.
"I love it!" you squealed, making sure Amelia took some pictures of it for you. Actually, everyone had been doing a pretty great job of capturing the afternoon on camera. After dinner, when you cut into the cake and fed a bit to Bradley, Nat took a video of you smearing some of the purple icing all over his lips and mustache. He looked startled as you started laughing before kissing him. 
"You'll pay for that later," he promised, holding you close while someone queued up his favorite song again for you both to dance to. But he wasn't complaining when your mouth was on his for most of the song, tasting all of the sweetness on his lips. 
The afternoon was kind of crazy, and Bradley held onto you the whole time, only releasing you so you could dance with Mav and then Javy. And then all it took was one yawn out of you, and your husband was clearing everyone out of the backyard. Noah was all pumped up with too much sugar, but luckily he was going home with Penny and Amelia for the night. And lucky for you, your husband was as sweet as the wedding cake.
"Let me help you out of your dress," he whispered, setting butterflies off in your belly as he carried you inside the kitchen. "And I'll get your tiara out of your hair so you can get some rest."
"But I don't want to rest," you said, licking at a bit of icing that still clung to his mustache. "I want my husband."
He paused in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as you dragged your fingers through his hair. "Say it again, Baby."
"Husband," you whispered, kissing the prickly stubble on his jaw. "Please?"
Bradley just grunted in response, slid the door shut with his foot, and carried you all the way to bed. Once he had you spread out, you watched him make quick work of removing his suit coat and purple shirt. "Did you pick out this dress on purpose because of the way it shows off your bump?" he asked, kicking off his shoes. "That sounds like the kind of thing my wife would do to make me go insane for her."
"Maybe." You felt silly there in your tiara and high heels, but oh... the way he was looking at you. Bradley climbed into bed where you were being careful not to put your feet on the bedding, but you didn't need to worry for long. He took your ankles in his hands and placed them over his shoulders, stroking his hands up and down your thighs.
"Tell me what you want to do instead of resting, Princess."
The fabric of your dress was bunching up around your hips, and you knew the moment he saw your purple lingerie, because his knuckles connected with your core through the lace as you moaned, "I want my Daddy."
Bradley kissed the inside of your knee and caressed your thigh until you shivered. "Want me to do what?" he crooned, leaning down to kiss your lips. You could still taste the icing from the wedding cake when you ran your tongue along his mustache, and even though you knew what you wanted, you still felt shy asking for it. 
When Bradley reached back to gently take your shoes off and toss them aside, you whimpered his name. He worked the zipper down the side of your dress and helped you shimmy out of it, and then you had your legs spread before him in just your tiara and purple lingerie. He looked sinful in his suit pants with his erection bulging and his wedding band on his finger as he said, "You're my wife. You get anything you want. Especially when you're wearing this."
You coaxed him closer so he was on top of you, and his length was resting on your core as you whispered, "I want you to make me squirt."
He groaned as he got to work like it was absolutely at the top of the list of things he wanted, too. "My pleasure, Mrs. Bradshaw," he murmured against your lips, and you were already clenching as soon as his fingers tucked inside the front of your underwear.
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Bradley let you be as loud as you wanted. In fact, he was trying his damndest to get you louder and louder. You were his wife now, and Noah was gone for the night. Skittles seemed to have retreated to the kitchen for some solace as Bradley buried his face in your ass and pussy, legs spread open wide and shaking. 
You cried out, "Daddy," over and over again as he changed his tempo from luxuriously slow to rough and fast. You wanted to squirt? Well he wanted you to soak the fucking bedding until you were crying. Every time he looked up at your face, he saw the swell of your growing belly, and he couldn't stop himself from grinding his cock against the bedding. 
"Fuck," he growled, watching the rings on your fingers as you grasped at the pillow beneath your head. He could tell you were getting close as he brought you to the edge and then let his pace slowly fade away one more time, and when he slipped two gentle fingers inside you while sucking on your clit, you screamed his name. You soaked his face and hand, and he was afraid he was going to cum in his suit pants as your thighs clamped around his head, riding him through your orgasm.
"Oh my god, oh my god," you panted, sitting up in a bit of a daze even as your legs went limp. Your tiara was crooked, and your makeup was smeared, and Bradley couldn't get enough of the sight of his sated, pregnant Princess. Your eyes met his, and you smiled through your daze, sitting there on the wet bedding with your left hand resting on your belly. Meanwhile Bradley was a different kind of mess, trying to get his zipper down and alleviate his aching cock.
"Let me help you," you whispered, putting your hands on his wet ones before taking over for him. "Want me to go down on you?"
Bradley shook his head as you eased his pants and underwear down his legs and took his cock in your hand. "Baby, I want to fuck you. It's our wedding night, and I want to be inside you."
A soft yet determined look settled on your face, and somehow he ended up sitting in the wet spot with you straddling his hips. You didn't seem to care that his forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat and that he wasn't going to last very long. You just sank down around him, rocking gently as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you. Either of you."
"I know," you replied, kissing him and brushing his hair back from his face. "I know, Daddy." He came with you just like that, your lips and hands gentler on his body than any touch he'd ever known before you. Your voice as soothing as his favorite song. It was no wonder he was so in love with you. It was no wonder he and his son couldn't live without you.
After he got you cleaned up and carefully removed your tiara, you fell asleep in his arms as he reminded you that in a few days, you and he would be finding out the sex of the baby after you adopted Noah.
"You're already the best wife and Mommy. I can't wait for number two."
"I love you."
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It's official! Bradley married his babysitter! Noah is on his way to officially having Princess as his Mommy, and we will learn more about the baby so soon! Two parts of this series left! Thanks for reading and interacting and making this so much fun to write! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
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bbydoll18xx · 1 day
Text
Plotting and Scheming
Paige Bueckers x reader
When UConn’s wbb team gets tired of Paige’s pining, they concoct a plan to get you into her arms.
Themes: Mutual pining, slight angst, fluff
Word count: 3.3k
I've gotten a lot of love on my other three little fics, so I hope this one is okay, as well. Let me know if you guys have anything specific you'd like me to write!
Here we go!
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You sat on the sidelines of UConn’s basketball court, admiring the girls fiercely practicing. It was still early in the season, but the dream of winning the NCAA championship kept their grit going.
Having met several of the girls on the team early in your college career, the women’s basketball team had adopted you as one of their own. As a nursing student, you were deemed ‘the fixer of boo-boos’ and you were often around to tend to their cuts and scrapes or to answer their ridiculous medical questions.
That’s where it had all started, and you couldn’t believe where you had ended up because of it.
Your eyes bounced back and forth, following the balls and the whipping ponytails. You always felt so much pride watching them; they were your girls.
Your gaze finds Paige, as it always tends to, and you are mesmerized. She runs, throwing the ball from half count and making it into the basket effortlessly. Without thinking, you stand up, whooping and clapping rambunctiously. She makes eye contact with you, sending you a wink and blowing you a kiss dramatically. Your stomach lurches at the display of affection towards you, and you blush, causing you to glance around making sure no one saw.
Your feelings for the tall blonde had only grown as you got to know her throughout the last several years. She made you feel giddy, like a child with a school crush. As much as you enjoyed being her friend, you had wanted something more for a long time now.
You’d never admit that though. To anyone.
The other girls had spent countless hours trying to get you to admit your feelings for Paige. You held firm, though, vehemently denying any pull or attraction. They would over analyze every interaction between the two of you, and they loved the way your cheeks would bloom with pink from Paige’s compliments and affections. 
In fact, they were absolutely sure that the reason you broke up with your douchebag ex-boyfriend, Zach, was because of your feelings for Paige.
They did not need to know that was actually the case, thank you very much.
It had been on the forefront of your thoughts for weeks before the night where everything had finally exploded. 
You had dragged Zach along to the bar where the basketball team was partying it up, hoping your man would distract you from the longingness you felt for your friend. You felt such a pull towards Paige, and it fucking terrified you. 
You had walked into the bar with Zach, his hand around your waist possessively. The touch reminded you of the last time you and Paige had gone out drinking together. Trying to ignore how you wished it was slimmer and more feminine, you had allowed Zach to lead you towards where the team had gathered in a circle. 
The girls cheered as they saw you approach, thrusting a drink into your hand, encouraging you to catch up to their drunkenness. You glanced around, trying to find Paige in the crowd. 
“Well look who it is,” you heard from behind you. Whipping your head around, you were met with the familiar smirk of your favorite blonde.
“Paige!” you exclaimed, running up to give her a hug, eliciting an eye roll from your boyfriend. You pretended you didn’t see it to keep the peace. You melted into Paige’s embrace, feeling more comfortable in the moment than you had in days.
“K, Bueckers, you can get your grimy hands off my fuckin’ girlfriend,” Zach had sniped, walking away. Pretending as if the man did not even exist, Paige had looked down at you with a wide grin. It was getting harder to overlook her effect on both you and your relationship. 
 The rudeness and nastiness directed at Paige had immediately sent you over the edge.
‘How fucking dare he talk to my girl like that,’ you had thought.
In a sudden fury, you stomped over to him, already busy staring lewdly at some girl who was dancing provocatively in front of him. 
“You can fuck off. Paige can put her hands on me any time she’d like. We’re through. Kiss my ass!” you spat. You spun on your heel and marched back towards the team feeling lighter than you had in months.
“Let's do shots!” you screamed, missing the fond look Paige was giving you.
You snap out of your daydream as you see Paige sauntering over to you where you sat in the bleachers.
“Enjoying the show, huh?” she questions smugly. 
Feeling generous, you nod with a genuine smile. “You guys are doing so great already. You’re gonna go far this season; I can feel it.” The candor of your words causes Paige to beam.
“Listen, we’re all getting drinks tonight at Ted’s. You gonna come with us?”
“Oh I don't know, I've got homework and stuff…” you trail off, trying to find a suitable excuse.
Paige all but pouts. “The girls really want you there. They all told me,” she says knowingly. As if she had planned it, Azzi, KK, and Nika walk over to join you two, all sweaty from practice. 
KK all but jumps on you, causing you to groan under the sudden weight of her body being thrown against you.
“Y’all, please convince this one over here to join us tonight,” Paige pleads, turning back toward you with wide eyes.
You giggle as the girls all jump in, interrupting each other in an attempt to persuade you to come out with them.
You cut them off, trying to stop the cacophony that was echoing off the walls of the gym. 
“I would love to come, but I really have a lot of work to catch up on,” you reason. “If I finish up early, I’ll text you, Paige.” 
Paige nods at this, but you don’t miss the glum look that flits across her face. You sigh half-heartedly, suddenly feeling guilty. You hated making excuses. It was just so hard sometimes, liking her.
“Have fun, guys,” you wave before making your exit from the arena.
As you walk back to your dorm, you feel the pit in your stomach grow larger, enveloping you. Of course you wanted to spend time with Paige, but pining mixed with alcohol and the sensual music of a bar would cause cracks in the hard foundation of your skillful indifference. 
You had been perfecting it since freshman year, but with the way Paige had you feeling lately, you knew it wouldn’t take much for everything to come crashing down.
Walking through your door and sitting at your computer, you get to work, trying to distract yourself. After reviewing your notes for the tenth time and finishing your nursing care plan, you glance at the clock.
Fuck.
It was only 10:30. The girls would probably just be arriving at the bar now, and you really wanted to go meet up with them. 
‘Screw it,” you think. You are going to get drunk tonight, and you’re gonna look hot. You whip out your phone and send a quick text to Paige. Your heart races as she instantly responds. You needed to get your shit in order. Your emotions could not get the best of you tonight.
Over at Ted’s, Paige’s bored expression had quickly turned into an excited grin, causing her teammates to exchange looks of interest.
“What’s got you smiling like that, P?” asks Nika.
“More like who,” smirks KK, glancing at Paige’s phone at your text.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Paige grumbles, trying to hide her blush with her drink.
“Oh c’mon, Paige, this crush is getting ridiculous. Just tell the damn girl you like her,” Azzi demands. “We’re all getting tired of watching you pine over her.”
“Pine?” sputters Paige. “I’m hardly pining. If anything, I’m just admiring…” she trails off.
“Sure, P,” KK drawls sarcastically. “Nothing like admiring your friend’s ass.” 
The other girls snort derisively. KK was not at all off base with that observation.
“Whatever, I need another drink,” grumbles Paige. “Gotta be drunk when my friend shows up.”
Paige walks off, and the second her teammates lose sight of her, they circle up to discuss.
“Jesus, we really need to do something to fix this shit,” Ice says firmly. 
“For real, this is straight embarrassing now!” KK agrees loudly.
Azzi contemplates for a second, before a smirk slides onto her face. “I know what we can do. The only way to get Paige to make a move is to make her super jealous. We can all take turns flirting, and boom! We’ll have two happy lovebirds before we even know it!”
The ploy causes the other girls to laugh hysterically, reveling in the idea of a jealous Paige.
“Sounds perfect!” Nika laughs. “Paige is gonna hate us, but she will be fine once she finally admits her feelings.”
The rest of the girls agree, sipping their drinks and taking great pleasure in what would be coming. 
About an hour later, you walk into the bar feeling incredibly anxious. You were confident in the way you looked; tight jeans with rips that allowed the smooth flesh of your upper thigh to peak out, and a top that showed off your curves deliciously. Lips glossy and hair blown out, you were alluring, wanting all eyes on you tonight. You figured if you got hit on enough, you could distract yourself from Paige’s enticement. Little did you know it’d be at the hands of her own teammates.
You stretched your neck, scouring the bar for the basketball team. Considering their height, they were easy to spot. Flouncing over, you are greeted with the loud, drunken cheers of your favorite girls. 
You giggle at their enthusiasm, suddenly feeling more at ease. You look around, trying to spot the long blonde hair and the wide smile that constantly occupies your consciousness. 
“Where’s P?” you ask casually, trying to avoid any suspicion. This causes the faces of the aforementioned teammates to exchange sly glances that immediately have you worried.
“Oh, she's just over by the bar talking to some brunette,” Nika responds, attempting to gauge your reaction. Luckily, you had been training for this over the last several years.
Did it fucking hurt? Sure, it was like you were being stabbed repeatedly with a fucking knife, but no biggie. You could handle it.
“Cool,” you mumble, staying aloof. “I’m gonna grab a drink...”
Your reaction causes the girls to hoot with laughter once you’re out of reach.
“This is so mean. I feel bad,” mutters Caroline. “I thought we were only going to make Paige jealous…”
“It’s more fun this way. It’s like a secret mission!” KK exclaims. “Getting both of them jealous is fuckin’ perfect.”
As you walk over to the bar, you see Paige talking to a girl. She is smiling in a way that had your stomach doing somersaults, and your face screws up into a look of annoyance. Attempting to ignore the obnoxious giggles of the girl Paige was wooing, you flag down the bartender and order a double of your favorite drink. Lord knows you would need the extra alcohol tonight. 
You look around apprehensively, trying to move time forward with your brain. Your sobriety, in addition to the crammed bar, had you feeling panicked. You needed to get away from Paige before you combusted from jealousy.
Thanking the bartender, who finally slides your drink towards you, you head back to the basketball team, eventually catching Paige's attention.
Pretending you didn’t see your blonde best friend, you bring your straw to your lips in a seductive manner, catching it with your tongue and relishing in the way the alcohol begins to cloud your inhibitions. 
Paige trails behind you, desperately trying to avoid staring at your jean-clad ass.
KK doesn’t miss this. Neither does Ice. They share shit-eating grins, making mocking faces towards Paige, who flips them off in return, a look of embarrassment covering her face. 
You finally turn around, giving up your bit of pretend indifference. 
“Oh hey, P,” you say breezily. “Didn’t see you behind me.”
Before Paige could respond, Azzi is already wrapping her free hand around your waist, bringing her closer to you. She says, “I missed you. C’mon, let’s go dance.”
The blonde’s eyes narrow, but Azzi is already leading you towards the brightly colored dance floor before she could respond to you. 
“The fuck?” Paige mumbles under her breath as the rest of the team exchanges deranged giggles at her shock.
The truth was that Paige was terrible at sharing. Especially you. Even before she wanted anything more than a friendship with you, Paige slightly resented anyone who took away your time and attention from her. 
The signs were so clear. So fucking clear.
Half of the girls follow you to the dance floor, leaving the others to stay with a pouting Paige. Her reaction to Azzi’s contact gives you the tiniest amount of hope, and it gives you a second wind of confidence. 
You dance with the girls, slightly confused at their antics. You were close with all of them, but the touching and incessant compliments had your head spinning.
What the hell was going on? 
Paige was usually the one clinging to you, wanting to make you blush and giggle. Tonight she was acting like a wounded puppy. Her face continuously flashing between a clenched jaw of annoyance and straight bitterness. 
Your attempts to avoid looking at her were futile. This did not go unnoticed by the team, who looked like they were enjoying your longingness way too much. 
You look up at Azzi, begging her with your eyes to tell you what was going on with Paige tonight. 
“Why is she acting like this?” you ask no one in particular, just trying to deduce the weird energy that had accompanied the entire night. The girls shrug and avoid the question altogether, carrying on with their laughing and gyrating.
You sigh, exhausted from the game they were clearly playing. You needed more alcohol or it was going to be a rough night; you were too sober to deal with this. 
“C’mon, shake those hips,” an evidently very drunk Nika, whispers in your ear with a smirk. She brings a hand down to rest on your waist, the other trailing down your back…lower and lower. You look at her, slightly shocked at the affection. Before Nika’s hand could even reach your ass, you feel yourself being ripped away from her by a swearing Paige.
“What the actual fuck, dude?” Paige all but yells at her Croatian teammate, her eyes wild with anger and her jaw clenched with an impressive amount of control. 
Nika just laughs at Paige’s overreaction, along with every other girl on the team.
“What’s wrong, P?” Azzi asks with a mocking tone. “Pissed that someone other than you touched your girl?”
Paige’s voice falters as she responds, “she’s not my girl…just don’t want her to be uncomfortable or whatever…”
Hearing Azzi refer to you as Paige’s girl made your head spin. What the fuck does that mean?
Your head quickly bounces between a smirking Nika, an uncomfortable-looking Paige, and the rest of the team, who were trying and failing, to hold in their laughter.
“I’m confused…” you trail off in a quiet attempt to get some answers.
A few seconds of silence pass before KK breaks it. “Girl boo, just talk to Paige. And use protection.”
Excuse me, what?
The girls vacate the area, leaving you and the blonde staring at each other, both afraid to make the first move.
“Let’s walk back to my apartment. We can talk there,” Paige finally mutters. 
You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Things felt vulnerable. Like one wrong move and everything would come crashing down into oblivion. You didn't want your relationship with Paige to be ruined; your one-sided crush already disrupting the delicate balance of it all.
The ten minute walk back to Paige’s felt like years. The air was heavy, constricting your entire being. You held back a sob as the dread seeped into your soul. You couldn’t let Paige see you cry; it was embarrassing enough knowing that she probably already knew of your feelings.
You would get through this. Just let her let you down easy and then you could escape.
As you mentally plan the funeral for your friendship, Paige reaches for your hand, cold from the bitter chill of the night. Your reflexes are quick, wanting to rip it away from her in an attempt to guard the tiniest bit of pride left in you, but you still. 
Nevertheless, you wanted her. And even worse, you needed her. So you allow her to gently take your hand, interlacing your fingers and rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin soothingly. 
It felt so intimate, and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over your cheeks once more. You glance up, feeling relief as you spot the parking lot of the apartment building. 
As you enter Paige’s room, you look around, trying to memorize everything that made up your friend. ‘This’ll probably be the last time I’ll be here,’ you think solemnly, gazing at the purple comforter thrown haphazardly over the unmade bed. No more giddy nights spent pressed against the blonde, praying she can’t feel the thumping of your heart as she cuddles you.
You sit on the bed warily, readying yourself for the rejection from your most favorite person in the entire world. 
Paige can tell you’re anxious. You unconsciously pick at your fingernails, and your bottom lip is already swollen from being habitually bitten.
She sits beside you, placing a hand over yours again, as if she thinks it belongs there for some reason. In your version of the story, it did. Everything that was yours belonged to Paige.
“I have to tell you something. And I'm really not sure how you’ll react…” Paige trails off, hesitant of how to approach the situation. She clears her throat and continues, “I have feelings for you. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but it’s fine. And the girls knew tonight and were messin’ with me. They thought if they made me jealous enough, I’d do somethin’ about my feelings. And I guess they were kinda right.”
Upon hearing the long winded confession, your ears start ringing and your heart feels as if it might actually combust. 
She has feelings for you? 
You pinch your thigh, slightly wincing at the pain before your face slides into an elated grin. This was actually real.
She has feelings for you. 
Paige searches your face for some sort of guess on how you were reacting to her maundering. With the alcohol still in your system and the shock of her words still reverberating through you, you could do nothing except launch yourself at her gorgeous mouth.
She squeals, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement before realizing that the pining she had been doing the last several years was in fact mutual.
Your lips collide, fuckin’ finally, in a kiss that could only be described as heavenly. It was passionate and slow, deliberately savoring the feel and taste of what had been only daydreams for a very long time. 
Ultimately needing to break away for some air, you gaze at each other, reveling in the idea that the pain and heartbreak of years of pining and jealousy was no longer. It was peaceful. It made sense to you, though. Paige was your peace, and you were hers.
Laying down together, you whisper fondly, “I love your teammates so much. Even if their methods are a bit crazy, they really do mean well.”
Paige chuckles in reply. “We are so getting them back for that little stunt, though, right?”
“Of course,” you hum. “Two can play at that game.”
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moonstruckme · 10 hours
Note
have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble
hii!! first off i wanna say congrats on 5k you deserve it so much!! can i do remus lupin and fake dating please and ty!
Thanks so much lovely!
cw: alcohol
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 969 words
“Your favorite color is green,” you say, passing Remus a glass of champagne. 
His brow twitches as he takes it from you, holding it by the stem like an adult. You adjust your grip on yours accordingly. “What?” 
“Your friend Sirius cornered me by the bar. I panicked.” 
“Ah.” Remus tucks a tongue into his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth, and takes a sip. “I’ve always told him I didn’t have a favorite.” 
You chew your lip, nodding. “Okay. That’s okay, we can just say you told me because you’re, like, so into me.” 
He chuckles. “So into you I divulged to you the deep, dark secret of my favorite color?” 
“Mhm. Think he’ll buy it?” 
“He might, actually.” He takes another sip of his champagne, and you remember to have a bit of yours. You could probably use it. Remus looks perfectly composed, and surprisingly dapper in his suit, done up to the top button with the collar just barely brushing a thin, pale scar circling a third of his neck. Contrastly, you’re a jumble of nerves. “Sirius likes to think I’m holding out on them, it might fit into his narrative that I’d kept it a secret all these years.” 
“And if he does figure it out, we could probably just tell him, right?” you ask, and somehow your champagne is half gone. Damned duplicitous, narrow glasses. 
Remus’ smile softens as it bubbles down your throat, and you know he can read what you’re thinking on your face. You’re a shit actress, an even worse liar. You’re going to ruin this for him. 
“We could,” he says, “but he’ll only tell James.” 
“Really?” You look at the man still standing by the bar, now chatting with a blonde you don’t know but suspect in a few minutes will have to pretend you’ve heard Remus talk about a million times. Sirius has managed to wear a leather jacket to a wedding, thrown on right after the reception in what Remus has informed you is typical fashion for him. He grins with one half of his mouth as he talks, flashing canines when he really means it. “He doesn’t strike me as a narc.” 
Remus steps closer to you as someone moves past him, lowering his voice. You can smell his cologne, woody and vaguely sweet. “He’s not. He and James tell each other everything, though.” 
“Oh. That’s sweet, actually.” 
James is the one you’re really here for. It’s his wedding, and months ago when he and his fiancee sent out invitations he’d asked if Sirius or Remus would need a plus-one. Sirius said yes immediately, and by some manner you can’t say you understand but Remus assures you is very typical of them, this evidently devolved into a bet on whether Remus could actually find a date that met his standards and that he was willing to ask to come to the wedding with him. 
As it turns out, Remus is more competitive than you would have guessed. 
According to James and Sirius, no one is ever good enough for him. You’re here to disprove that, though you don’t love that your work crush asked you out because he couldn’t find anyone he wanted to actually date. Still, Remus is your friend, and you were never going to say no to helping him. If you’d known you’d get to see him in this suit, you probably would have said yes even faster. 
“Do you want another?” Remus asks, and you look down to find your champagne glass is empty. 
“Oh my gosh, sorry.” You set the glass down on a nearby table, embarrassment a tickle over your skin. “Yeah, probably best not.” 
“Don’t be sorry.” He tilts his head at you, smiling in that gentle, kind way of his. “You’re here not on a job, love, you should have a good time.” 
“I feel like I am, a little bit.” Your laugh bubbles out of you easily, fizzy like the champagne. “I want to at least act like someone your friends believe you could be interested in.” 
“Just be yourself,” Remus reassures you. “They’ll believe it.” 
Something in your gut flitters at what that could mean. You don’t let yourself think on it. “What if I wanted to dance?” 
He smiles. “Then you should do that.” 
“But would you dance with me?” 
“I would hold your things for you.” His grin takes on a sheepish quality. “Find a chair to watch with all the other lame boyfriends.” 
You tsk. “You’re not lame, Remus.” He looks like he wants to contradict you, but he kisses his teeth instead. “I think I’d rather stay with you, if that’s alright. We can go sit in chairs amongst the lame boyfriends if you like.” 
Remus considers you for a moment. The sky has turned a deep blue around you, the string lights hung up around the space casting a warm glow that filters through his hair and makes it appear more golden than brown. “I would go dance with you if you wanted me to,” he admits. 
You blink. “Really?” 
“Well, maybe not dance so much as hold both our drinks and stand near you while you danced, but I want to stay with you, too.” Remus glances away from your eyes for a moment, a shyness you haven’t seen since you first met in his expression. “If you want to dance, I’ll go with you.” 
You take his hand on impulse, the scars and calluses of his skin alternately rough and smooth between your palms. “I don’t want to make you,” you tell him earnestly, “but I really do want to dance.” 
Remus looks to the side, his smile almost begrudging. “You’re not making me,” he says. 
You end up getting another glass of champagne after all.
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marragurl · 2 days
Text
I have this VISCERAL need for an AU where everyone’s perception of Ratiorine is completely skewed and they all think they hate each other when in reality they’re actually married.
They had a small ceremony years ago, fully live together, have matching pajama sets, cutely bicker and have inside jokes with each other, constantly use endearments when referring to one another in public, have a combined 20 step hygiene routine, are each other’s first choice if there’s a mission that require 2 people, AND NO ONE BELIEVES THEY’RE MARRIED! OR EVEN IN A RELATIONSHIP!
AVENTURINE EVEN SIGNS HIMSELF AS AVENTURINE RATIO ON INVITES OR LETTERS OR PAPERWORK (Kakavasha Ratio on their marriage certificate, I like to think in this AU they’ve worked through their past trauma together already), BUT EVERYONE THINKS IT’S A TYPO AND HE MEANT TO WRITE THEM SEPARATELY SINCE THEY’RE ALWAYS ASSIGNED ON MISSIONS TOGETHER.
The only people who know are the Stonehearts, and that’s only due to Aventurine’s contract/work as IPC, so they were the ones who officiated/were witnesses to the wedding.
Everytime they all go out to get a drink or something, I need Topaz in the back looking insufferable as Ratiorine are in full lovey-dovey mode AND NO ONE NOTICES. I’d be the same girl, they could broadcast their honeymoon and STILL people would think it’s some weird powerplay hate thing, Topaz is later found crying to Jade about how she finally understands why Ratio calls everyone idiots, how are people so blind?! They’ve even started using the same motions and same phrases Jade, WHY CAN NO ONE ELSE SEE IT???
The only reason the Penacony plan goes off without a hitch is that everyone has the biggest preconceived notion that Aventurine and Raio despise each other WHEN IT’S JUST THEIR USUAL MARRIED BICKERING. NO ONE CAN EVEN FATHOM THE TWO OF THEM LIKING EACH OTHER, LET ALONE MARRIED???
(In this AU, Aventurine gives up his room because the Reverie made the same mistake of not understanding the signature and assigned him and Ratio to different rooms, and now there’s a nice clean way of getting rid of the extra room, making a connection with the Astral Express, AND rooming with his dear husband, what great luck!)
I want it to get to a point where they could fully make out in front of Sunday and the man would STILL believe that Ratio would betray Aventurine. Aventurine during the entire interrogation scene is just constantly in the state of “my husband is such a good actor, I’m so proud of him” *heart eyes and winks to Ratio when Sunday isn’t looking* and Ratio is just straight up looking worried for Aventurine and immediately rushes after him when it’s all over AND NO ONE BATS AN EYE
Ratio just mentally apologizing to Aventurine after every little fake fight they have and dying on the inside and doubling down on every bit of affection he can in between (and even during) the fights, and Aventurine is just having fun having his husband’s attention all to himself no matter the form. (plus the rush of knowing just how much they trust each other always makes him warm)
Aventurine is fully ok with this weird perception people have of him and his husband since it always helps with his schemes and gambles paying off, and while Ratio wants to bash everyone in the head for even daring to think he hates his husband, he keeps quiet because he trusts that Aventurine will always come back to him and make it all work.
But that’s not enough to stop him with showering Aventurine with adoration and love in public. If the public are too much of idiots to realize something as obvious as their love, Ratio won’t stop it from showing his dear husband just how much he means to him.
This is fully AU of course, we all know canon Ratiorine is the longest softest pining game in history. Funny enough, Topaz is still suffering in the back due to their relationship shenanigans. She better be getting some financial compensation for this, I just know Aventurine complains to her about his crush. Ratio is fully at his own place writing out thesis after thesis about the meaning of love and psychoanalyzing his own feelings. He forwards them to Topaz for review because I like to think she’s somehow become a weird bouncing board for his frustrations about her coworker. Topaz is crying.
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envysparkler · 3 days
Text
It had been a regular Friday—normal patrol, doing the rounds, Bruce hovering over all of them in spirit because he was laid up with a sprained ankle, and, of course, interrupted by a wannabe Rogue that was either insanely dangerous or ridiculously stupid.  Or, as in tonight’s case, both at the same time.
Magic.  Wondrous, terrible magic.  There was a reason Batman did his best to keep magic out of Gotham.  It was too unpredictable and they were all only human.  Their sole defense against magic was to dodge.  And keep dodging.  Damn, this guy was really fast at casting spells.
Dick hadn’t been paying much attention to his spiel—something something power something something Gotham something something everyone will know my name—because he’d graduated the point where he wasn’t the one who had to do the detective work—that was what younger siblings were for—and he merely calculated the height of those hanging lights and if one would crash and hit the magician if he cut them properly.
There was a yelp as Red Robin and Robin accidentally dove in the same direction to avoid a spell and ended up sprawling out on the ground.  Dick was on the other side of the magician, too far to help, but Red Hood stepped forward, growling, “Hey, you Hogwarts reject, did you learn aim from the Imperial Stormtroopers?”
Dick marked another point in Hood’s I-swear-we’re-not-family-fuck-off-Dickhead-or-I’ll-shoot-you-and-also-if-you-get-shot-I’ll-kill-you-myself column.  At this point, the only person who probably still believed Hood’s protestations of rebelliousness was Bruce.
Hood fired a warning shot from his gun.
The magician attacked on instinct.
Hood didn’t get out of the way fast enough.
Everyone in the warehouse saw the gray beam of light hit Hood square in the chest.  Dick’s heart dropped somewhere below his stomach, Red Robin made a sharp cry, and even Robin took a step towards Hood, though it was already too late.
Hood’s figure winked out.
No, something in Dick screamed, already whirling towards the magician—and was stopped by a tiny, scratchy little meow.
Dick swiveled back.  There was an unbelievably small baby kitten on the ground where Hood had just been, all black with a tiny little spot of white on his forehead.
Red Robin made a choked sound.  Robin had frozen in place.  “Oops,” the magician said, sounding distinctly sheepish.
Before anyone could react, the magician disappeared with a crack.
“Hood?” Dick tried, struggling to keep his voice level.  The baby kitten made another sharp cry, and took a tottering step forward.
Dick couldn’t control himself anymore.
“Oh my god.”  He was so tiny.  He could fit into Dick’s palm.  Maybe-Hood hissed when Dick scooped him up, putting up a valiant effort to gnaw Dick’s fingers off even if those teeny tiny little teeth—and that little pink tongue—could barely put a dent in Dick’s gloves.
“Is that really Hood?” Red Robin said, a strange expression on his face, like Christmas had come early and he wasn’t ready to believe it.  “What if—what if the guy just…sent Hood somewhere, and replaced him with a kitten?”
“It would be an improvement,” Robin muttered.
Probably-Hood stopped chewing Dick’s fingers to shoot Robin the dirtiest look a baby kitten could muster, and Dick could see the consternation visibly melt off of Robin’s face as his baby brother resisted the urge to coo.
“Even if this isn’t Hood, we need to get back to the Cave and figure out what that spell was,” Dick said, studying the kitten.  “Hmm, little guy?  Are you my little brother?  Give me a meow for yes, and continue trying to bite my fingers for no.”
Most-Definitely-Hood hissed at him again.
“This is the best day of my life,” Dick grinned.  “Bruce is going to freak out.”
~#~
Bruce was, indeed, freaking out.  “What happened?” he nearly shouted as they got out of the Batmobile, waiting in the garage—and judging by Alfred’s visible aura of disapproval, clearly against orders.
Dick, climbing out of the passenger seat, had to make a flailing catch as the baby kitten attempted to make a break for it.  “Shh,” he said.  “You’re going to scare Jason.”
Bruce stopped and stared.  Tim, exiting the driver’s side, broke down again into the giggling fit that had nearly caused him to crash the car.  Damian looked visibly amused.
Bruce blinked at the car, as if expecting a hulking six foot two former crime lord to get out.  And then looked at Dick and the tiny little kitten hissing in his hands.  Back at the car.  Back at Dick.
“What?” he finally said, voice weak.
“At least Damian isn’t going to adopt him,” Dick said, firmly detaching tiny kitten claws from his gloves to deposit the furiously hissing kitten into Bruce’s grasp.  Jason squawked, loudly, and attempted to escape, but Bruce’s reflexes were too fast.
He slowly drew the little ball of fur up to his face, face slack, ignoring the way the kitten pricked his palms.  “You’re joking,” Bruce said flatly.
“Would I joke about something like this?” Dick asked, wounded.  Bruce gave him a Look.  “Okay, yeah, I would totally joke about something like this, I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it before, but no, our little magician problem waved his staff and it hit Jay and,” Dick waggled his fingers at the puffed-up kitten.
Bruce still didn’t look convinced.
“Of course,” Dick said to the kitten, “if this isn’t Jason, that means it’s a lost little kitten that needs to go to the vet and get lots of shots—”
Jason reacted predictably to the idea of needles and neatly clambered up Bruce’s arm, clinging to the man’s shoulder and hissing at Dick from his perch.
Dick turned the shit-eating grin to his father, “Believe me now?”
Bruce was wincing and trying to extract Jason’s claws from his skin.  “Jason got turned into a cat?  How do we undo the spell?”
“Frankly, Father, I find the current state of affairs significantly more agreeable,” Damian said, returning after changing.  “You have to admit that Todd is more tolerable like this.”
The kitten didn’t have time to take offense before Tim piped up, his face still splotchy from laughing too hard, “Yeah, he’s all cute and cuddly.”
Jason made a low growling rumble that showed clearly what he thought of that sentiment.  Unfortunately for him, it just made him look cuter.
“Boys, stop teasing your brother,” Bruce said firmly, finally managing to finagle Jason’s claws free of his shirt and tuck him into the curve of his elbow.  “Of course we’re going to figure out how to get him back.”
Jason made a loud hiss and scratched Bruce.  Bruce, startled, loosened his grip, and Jason leapt free like a bullet.  Dick dove for him and missed, Tim jumped out of the way as Jason went streaking past, and soon the black kitten was no longer visible.
“Well, that was entirely predictable,” Damian said, staring in the direction Jason had gone.
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chernabogs · 2 days
Note
Belladonna, Forget-me-not, Hyssop, dwarf sunflower 🌻
ouagh thank you for sending a request <3 check out the list here! <3
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Inc: Lilia (both present and general), Reader, Silver, Sebek mention WC: 3.5k Warnings: War mention, arson, crimes committed during war time (all my homies hate Silver Owls). Lilia cussing, as he should. Flowers: Belladonna (a confession given without words aka we are pining mentally in the club), Forget me not (the one thing I remembered and how it brought me back to you), Hyssop (one last walk through a house—sort of), Sunflower, dwarf (how many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?). Some flexibility with these. Summary: A trinket he had forgotten pulls him down a path of memories that he wishes he could forget.
There’s a sunflower in the garden this year. 
He thinks it’s quite curious when he first sees the bud, its petals still closed tight as though afraid to enter the world. He’s standing outside of the front door of his cottage with a mug in hand as he gives it a scrutinizing look. The silence of the forest surrounding his home lets him focus ample attention on how this oddity came to be. Silver has run to town and won’t be back until the evening, aiding Sebek in purchasing school supplies for the coming year, and Malleus is likely packing in his eagerness to get out of the palace for another ten months. 
It’s just Lilia, his mug, and the sunflower. 
“Shy, are we?” He murmurs in amusement as he raises the mug to his lips before they twist to a wry grimace. Perhaps being alone is not good for him—he’s beginning to speak to his gardens like an old man already. 
He wisely turns heel and re-enters the cottage as he downs the bitter coffee before discarding the mug in the sink. He’ll wash the dishes before Silver gets home, only because he knows the boy will do it all himself if he doesn’t, which would do nothing but make Lilia feel guilty. Silver insists it’s fine, he’s happy to help his father—but it shouldn’t be that way. His brow furrows in dissatisfaction as he weaves through the cottage's halls to arrive at his bedroom.
Contrary to his room at NRC, this one is so barren it looks downright unoccupied, like no one has ever lived in it to begin with. Lilia had moved most of his valuables with him when he had received notice of his pending enrolment alongside Malleus. This at least makes sorting out what he’s to wear today much easier as he pulls open the closet to peer inside. His fingers dance along the various fabrics as he hums, and haws, and already knows he’s going to wear the same outfit he wears essentially every day.
Lilia Vanrouge has become a man of consistency—another factor that serves to paint him as ‘old’. 
“Decrepit, even,” he grumbles to himself as he tosses his clothes onto the bed. Perhaps he can spice it up a bit to combat these self-perpetuated accusations through the application of an accessory. The thought pleases him enough to make him reach for the top shelf of his closet, his hand hitting against objects and shoving things around in his bid to grab something useful. Maybe he would have benefited from just floating up to see what he needed to get, because his hand soon hits an item that topples off the shelf and nearly clocks him in the face.
“Shit!” He snarls as he moves back. The box clatters to the floor by his foot with a loud rattle, causing him to glare down at it accusingly. His eyes narrow as another low curse slips out and he fumbles to pick the box up. 
It’s made of carved wood—oak, by the weight of it. Each etching along the sides paints a tale that draws Lilia to a stop as he turns it over in his hands. A figure perched on a tree branch with another sitting beneath, a blade and wood in hand. The two figures are next in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. Then they are standing beside each other by a body of water; the carving here is detailed enough that he can see apprehension in one’s gaze and sternness in the others. 
The final carving is incomplete, only because a blackened char mark has burnt the wood to an unusable state. 
Ah.
He remembers why he didn’t take this to NRC. He remembers why he had it shoved in the back of the closet like something rotten, something meant to be concealed. He feels his mood darken as he turns the box over again. Each nick, each mark, tells a tale of something that stirs a burning shame in his gut. His hands tighten enough that he hears the wood creaking under his strength before they relax once more. 
Then, he pauses. Silver won’t be back until far later in the day. He has nothing to do but wash a mug that now sits fermenting in his sink. Beyond this, he’ll simply be wandering from room to room in his cottage like a ghost, perhaps cutting some firewood, perhaps seeing if the bloody quails that have been tormenting his vegetable gardens are back. 
Lilia moves until the back of his knees hit his bed and he sits down, cradling the box more gently now. A sudden urge—a bit of masochistic curiosity—tugs at his heart as his lips curl into a sneer. His thumb brushes against the carving of the figure crouching in the tree. 
Well, if he needs a good way to kill an hour or so. 
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.” 
_________________________________________________________
The memory begins as it always did any time that he did this. He’s just over 300 years old, his hair long and his body perched on the branches of a tree. He forgot that if he’s personally in the memory, his magic has a habit of tossing him headfirst directly into his body again. The scent of pine overwhelms him as he looks across a Briar Valley that once was just as full of life as he. Green, as far as the eye can see, and the songs of birds that have since gone extinct filling the warm air. 
He shifts on the branch and closes his eyes for a moment as he drinks it all in. Things long since gone, things he wishes he could experience just one more time in his current life. He almost loses himself in the memory—a dangerous risk—before he hears the faint sound of scraping from beneath where he’s perched.
Lilia’s eyes snap open and his gaze travels down to see a figure with a cloak sitting against the pine tree, their hood pulled up as their hands expertly carve a piece of wood with their blade. He can’t quite tell what it is they’re making—and truthfully, he’s long since forgotten. 
But the sound of their voice as they hum an old folk song he hasn’t heard since the war times makes him tense all the same. 
You.
Fuck.
The uncomfortableness of the situation, the realization that perhaps doing this was a mistake on his part, makes him shift back on the branch. This is enough to make a few twigs snap and force your attention to jerk upwards to where he lay. His red gaze locks onto yours as every sound in the forest falls silent and all he knows is the confusion in your eyes. 
“How long have you been up there?” You blurt out, your voice sounding exactly how he hears it in his dreams for the past four hundred years. A strangled sound leaves his throat, and with all of the energy he can muster, Lilia jerks himself free of the memory. 
_________________________________________________________
He stutters for air as his eyes open once more and he grips the box tight. The carving of his body on the branch overlooking yours at the base is now just a mockery for things he foolishly lost. The only way he can know you now is through the use of magic, and even that cannot return you entirely. 
He shouldn’t be doing this. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he was in the memory for fifteen minutes, despite it feeling only like mere seconds. 
He shouldn’t be doing this. He turns the box over in his hand to look at the next carving. The two figures in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. He notes with a bitter amusement that they’re all sunflowers.
The box should go back on the top shelf. He should lock it away again and forget it, leave it for Silver to find only once his father is dead and rotting under the earth. Perhaps the boy can finish what the humans started—burning it to nothing but cinders. 
He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, and yet… 
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.” 
_________________________________________________________
Lilia finds himself standing in a small cottage eerily reminiscent of his own. He knows a few months have passed since the first encounter by the way there’s snow falling heavily from the skies outside. Briar Valley’s winters are vicious—as untamed as the land itself once had been before metal teeth had torn it apart and left the fae to clean its viscera. His gaze travels to the window nearby to look out at the landscape before it’s drawn upwards to the flowers hanging down from the sill. 
Sunflowers, which look as fresh as the day they were likely picked, paint a cheery picture against the bleak backdrop beyond. 
“I am afraid it isn’t quite perfect, but it should do the trick to warm you up.” Your voice's soft cadence causes his shoulders to tense as he doesn’t turn around to face you. He can hear you humming, the sound of a bowl being set on a nearby table, and the aroma of something so intoxicating it makes his stomach twist in phantom hunger. “Why were you rushing through this blizzard to begin with?”
Lilia blinks as silence falls. You’re waiting for his response. This likely won’t play out unless he gives it.
“Her majesty bid me to deliver a missive to Princess Meleanor.” He murmurs, eyes still fixated on the sunflower. They almost look real to him despite the knowledge that this is nothing but an illusion. He hears you hum in disapproval. You often did that—hummed a lot, laughed a lot.
“Terrible weather to be doing so, but I suppose if it’s urgent, you can’t sit on it. At least have something to eat before you go braving Briar Nation once more.” 
His head turns slightly so that he can catch a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. Your back is to him as you scoop more food into a second bowl. You’re not unique—just another fae in a nation of many—but you stand out to him. Four hundred years later, he still struggles to rationalize why. 
“You must like sunflowers a lot.” He comments abruptly. He didn’t say this in the memory, and he can tell by the way it seems to stutter around him. You still turn and look at him in confusion, however. “You only have sunflowers hanging on your window.”
“Oh!” You seem surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces your face. He wishes he had never seen that again. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 
He wants to say something, perhaps ‘I know’, but the memory melts away before the words can leave his tongue.
_________________________________________________________
Lilia tastes copper when his eyes snap to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes have gone by now—another fifteen in the previous memory. His hands shake slightly as he turns the box over like a man under a compulsion. The carving of two figures by the water seems to be taunting him as his thumb traces across your body. 
He doesn’t even bother speaking the phrase clearly this time. It comes as a mumble, and suddenly he’s falling into darkness again. 
_________________________________________________________
Tension is palpable when Lilia opens his eyes. Although it’s spring, the warmth seems nonexistent in the air as deafening silence fills where he stands. You’re by his side, your arms crossed tight over your chest as you stare at the pond beyond. By your feet, a patch of sunflowers smiles up at the bright skies above.
“How much longer do you think it will last before they wipe it clean?” You ask, your voice containing barely concealed rage as your nails dig into your sleeves. His jaw clenches as he shrugs one shoulder.
“A week. A month. A year. It could be any amount of time. They have new machines that they’ve been using—new means to rip open our nation to reach its heart.” He scoffs and turns sharply. “Fucking humans. Why did they need to come here to begin with? We were fine before they came crawling onto our shores, with their bitching, and moaning, and noxious fucking machines!”
“Lilia.” Your voice is calmer as he feels your hand touch his arm. His fury simmers slightly under this action. “At least we’re gaining some ground against them, right? And they haven’t reached all of Briar Nation yet. I can still provide game and herbs to the neighbouring villages—there’s an abundance surrounding my cottage.” 
Lilia wants to say that’s because all of the animals are being driven deeper into the woods, but he holds his tongue as he meets your steadfast gaze. In the period of time since he’s come to know you, he’s also realized that your stubbornness will have you refuting every claim with an optimistic one of your own. Already you had staunchly refused to leave your cottage despite the looming threat drawing ever so nearby.
“I need to go soon.” He finally sighs as he tears his gaze away from you to the pond again. He hasn’t seen this pond since the war era simply because he knows it was drained for the Silver Owls' use. He hears your own sigh slip out as you remove your hand. The skin that you touched aches in its absence. 
He steals a glance at you and tries to preserve your side-profile in his mind. If he could, he would carve it onto every surface he possessed, marking every line and bump that comprised the masterpiece that is you to his liking. He has already devoted himself by this point to mapping these curves with his fingers under the shadow of Briar Nations endless nights. He has memorized every sound you make, as sweet as any song can be, and which places on your body elicit such music. You had both entered this dance as a means to release stress—but now, four hundred years later, he knows it meant so much more. 
He wants to sweep you in his arms. He wants to pull you to safety, to silence your protests with hushed whispers and utterances of his devotion. He wants to pour his heart into your hands until he’s empty and belonging entirely to you. He is a man who, once he devotes himself to something, gives endlessly until he remains a ghost of who he once was.
He loves you in this moment, where the sun dapples your skin, and he can pretend he’s still in the Briar Nation he knew. So, he breaks conduct again. 
“You should leave.” The memory wavers at his words. In the past, he had simply turned at this point to begin returning to your cottage so that he could ready his travel pack. “You should go to the next village over. Go somewhere safe.”
The memory wavers again, fraying along the edges, and yet still Lilia finds himself persevering. “Please. I don’t want to see what’s going to happen next.” 
You turn to look at him as his vision begins to darken. Your brow furrows, confusion etching your face as the last words you speak feel like a nail in his own coffin. 
“Lilia, this is my home.”  
_________________________________________________________
He doesn’t immediately speak as he comes back again. The clock shows forty-five minutes have passed now, and the lighting in the bedroom he sits in has altered to reflect this. A numbness has crept into his body and settled just below his skin. It fluctuates and writhes like an insect and causes him to shiver as he rotates the box once more.
The last carving is incomplete. The black marks that mar its surface guarantee this. Faintly, he can smell smoke on both the box and his hands as he traces his thumb across this, as well.
It comes back filthy. 
Lilia’s expression schools itself to a blank look as the silence of the empty cottage perpetuates. Only his breathing breaks the still air, stuttering slightly as his lips part. 
“... far cry cradle.” 
_________________________________________________________
Lilia can smell it before he sees it. Wood, smouldering in the unforgiving winter sun, accompanied by something more pungent and feral. He’s already running by the time he snaps into the memory, his feet dragging through heavy snow as he fights against the elements to reach the treeline. He can see dark smoke pluming upwards.
It’s always too late by the time he arrives. 
His steps slow, his feet drawing to a stop as cold snow soaks through his pants. Before him lays a painting of carnage, crafted by human hands, and displayed for the eyes of any fae passing by. Footsteps trample in the aged snow that surrounds the smouldering husk of the structure. Your words regarding your cottage being in a hot spot for game and herbs ring as a mockery now in his ears as he slowly, slowly, inches closer. 
“Hello?” His voice cracks as the words leave him. The forest echoes them back—hello? Hello? Hello?
Stone dust scatters across the white earth as his hand comes to touch the frame you had been so proud of when you had first shown it off. Burnt, with embers still smouldering in the wood. He feels afraid to step further, but he knows that if he doesn’t then he’ll never get the satisfaction of knowing whether you may have survived it or not. 
Lilia passes through the door frame. He looks up to what remains of your roof, to the space where sunflowers once hung, and then just beyond the large wooden table you had carved for yourself as well. A small box sits perfectly on its blackened surface, like it had been placed on display intentionally for his discovery. 
The memory begins to blur at this point. Things that should be there soon bleed into black outlines, dripping down onto the floor with a rhythmic thump. He can see static in what looks like the shape of an arm peeking out from behind the table leg as his stomach twists, and rage begins to flood through his veins in place of blood. A stuttering breath leaves him as the static arm remains still.
He is General Lilia Vanrouge. He is a soldier. He is meant to protect his people, and yet, and yet—
_________________________________________________________
Lilia snaps out of this memory by throwing the box to the floor. It clatters at his outburst before he kicks it viciously into the closet, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps as he does. His mind is a blur as his one hand grips the sheets beneath him and the other grabs his collar, trying to ground him in the moment before the whole world spins out of proportion. 
He is not General Lilia Vanrouge. He is not a soldier. He is not walking into the home of the person he thought he loved, forced to bury what was left of them in a pauper's grave—just another loss in the wartime. 
He is a man, sitting in his cottage, with a son who will be home by evening and a school he needs to pack for. 
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his face into his hands as he shakes himself free of the thoughts. “Fuck... fuck!”
A brief glance at the clock shows an hour has passed by now. His chest feels heavy, and his mind full of cotton as he dresses in a mechanical manner before going about his chores for the day.
By the time Silver returns, he’s fought off the quails, weeded the garden, cut firewood, and cleared the gutters. What he hasn’t done is clean the mug that’s been sitting in the sink since the morning—a task that Silver happily takes on after Lilia looks close to losing it.
If his son notices anything else off about his father, he says nothing about it, but Lilia does note the way Silver seems a bit more talkative than usual this evening. Lilia’s mind continues to replay the memories he experienced in a macabre theatrical viewing as he tries hard to listen to what Silver is saying. Eventually, they both fall silent as Silver washes the mug, along with the dishes from dinner in addition. The sun is beginning to set when he pauses to peer out the window with a curious expression.
“Did you see the sunflower in the garden?” Silver asks, his voice soft as he finishes drying off the mug. Lilia raises an eyebrow as he looks up again.
“What about it?” 
“It opened up.” Silver looks surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces his face. Lilia’s eyes widen as he notes the similarities between the childish joy on his son's face, and that which he once saw on your own.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
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raina-at · 20 hours
Text
Open
“Open up.”
Rather predictably, unfortunately, Sherlock gets no response.
Sherlock rubs an exasperated hand through his hair. “Listen,” he says, calmly, reasonably, trying his utmost to keep his frustration out of his voice. “We both know how this is going to end. In the end, you will cooperate. All you are doing right now is prolonging the time we both have to spend on this. So open. Up.”
Blue eyes glare at him with a stubborn recalcitrance he is unfortunately very familiar with.
“Watson. This is irrational. You have to eat. You want to eat. You like carrots. So do it please.”
“I have to ask, does that ever work?” John asks, leaning in the kitchen door. He looks rumpled and tousled from an involuntary nap on the sofa. His feet are bare and he looks domestic and relaxed and at home.
Sherlock deliberately refocuses on a still unfed Watson, unsure whether any of the fierce gladness he feels whenever he sees John be at home in Baker Street again is showing on his face.
“Watson is not an animal, John, she has capacity for rational thought.”
John says nothing, he just moves into the kitchen and drops a casual yet affectionate hand on Sherlock’s shoulder in passing. “Tea?”
“Obviously,” Sherlock answers, then refocuses on the younger Watson, both to get her fed, and because he needs to hide how shivery it makes him when John touches him so casually, yet so wonderfully. It’s been happening with increased frequency since John and Rosie moved in with him after Mary scarpered off to parts unknown, hopefully never to return.
Watson is chewing on her play spoon, watching him warily. “Ba,” she says. “Ga.”
“Eating is mandatory, unfortunately,” Sherlock says, taking up the spoon with the carrot mush again. “Believe me, I wish it wasn’t. If it were up to me, we would live on thought alone, but since the vessels our brains are unfortunately trapped in need sustenance…” He trails off, holding the spoon out to her.
Watson looks at the spoon, then grabs it with both hands and stuffs it into her mouth.
“Well done, Watson,” Sherlock says with a smug smile that melts off his face when she removes the spoon from her mouth again and with devastating precision flicks the carrot sauce right into his face.
“This isn’t funny,” Sherlock grumbles as he hears John snicker behind him, but he knows his voice lacks bite, because he’s smiling himself. He nods at Rosie. “Well played, Watson. Well played.” He turns to John. “And you can stop laughing now.”
John moves around the table towards him with a clean kitchen towel, obviously contrite, but still smiling. “She has good aim,” he observes quietly.
“She’s a Watson, I would expect no less.” 
Sherlock puts out his hand for the kitchen towel, but John surprises him again—how does he always surprise me?—by stepping up to his chair and gently cleaning the carrot mush off Sherlock’s face.
Sherlock can’t suppress a shiver. John is so close, his hands are so warm, his eyes are so—
Sherlock swallows. They’re suddenly very close.
“Sorry for laughing,” John whispers. 
“It was objectively funny,” Sherlock says, aware that he sounds as shivery as he feels. 
“It was, wasn’t it?” John’s voice is warm and low and close, his tone is affectionate, his eyes—
Kiss me, Sherlock thinks. Put me out of my misery and kiss me already. Or never look at me this way again.
For a few moments, they’re trapped in limbo, John’s hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, Sherlock grabbing at John’s elbow to prevent him from moving away. John is watching him, waiting. Sherlock suddenly realises that there’s a slight tilt of a challenging smile to John’s lips, but also an obvious hesitation.
If you want your kiss, Sherlock Holmes, you will have to come and get it.
Sherlock surges up and takes the unspoken invitation by pressing his lips to John’s.
John hesitates for a split second, but then he kisses back, winding his hands into Sherlock’s hair and pulling him in for a serious sort of kiss, one that sparks through Sherlock’s body with a tingling warmth, making him feel alive down to his toes.
It’s heavenly. It’s also far too short, because Watson, masterful in her timing as always, starts wailing, hitting John with her play spoon. 
They break apart and both start laughing. John turns a bit to his daughter and whispers, “You’re the worst wingman ever.”
Sherlock giggles, nerves and happiness and tension releasing between them in spurts of hilarity. “I think Watson is hungry after all.”
John rolls his eyes mockingly at Sherlock. “All these bodily needs, right?” he asks, a teasing smile playing over his lips.
Sherlock grabs John’s hand and presses his lips to John’s palm. “I may have underestimated the appeal of bodily needs.”
John’s eyes go dark and he visibly shivers. “Later?” he asks, his voice husky and barely there.
Sherlock smiles, feeling nervous anticipation spark over his body, but also a bone-deep certainty that this is right, and true, and wonderful. “Later.”
-------
Thank you so much @calaisreno for doing the May challenges this year. I'm not sure whether I can manage al 31 days this year, but I'll try. This was great fun last year, so thank you so much for doing it again this year.
Tagging a few people who might want to join. As always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.
@jrow @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @catlock-holmes @meetinginsamarra @discordantwords @totallysilvergirl
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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 days
Text
Thinking thoughts about Abuela being back and with this backstory about her being taken in by charlatans and Eddies whole catholic guilt thing and how the two things kind of play into one another as an exploration of faith and being taken in by something.
Abuela giving all her money to the tarot card readers etc because she was searching for something - for connection (with Abuelo) - trying to recapture what she had lost, and How Eddie has spoken about trying to re-find the magic he had with Shannon - how Eddie hasn't actually fully reconciled the Shannon of it all when it comes to relationships and how his Catholic guilt connects into that.
How Marisol as a physical representation of Catholicism is part of that narrative - how Eddie is entering a place where he has to chose his path - in order to move on from Shannon he needs to fully square the hole - catholic or non catholic. And how that needs to happen first - before he can begin his queer journey!
#this is so incoherant#I'm also thinking about how Marisol fits into this narrative and how this idea of being taken in or fooled by a person plays into what we#know of her - how she wasn't upfront with Eddie (not saying she had to be right from the off but before moving in!!!) - how she is kind of#representative of secrets - especially around faith and ones connection with faith because she is essentially a stand in for catholicism#which (sorry to all the catholics out there) peddles in magic and secrets in order to keep the mystery of faith alive and therefore keep#people believing. How Eddie's reckoning with himself and the ghost of Shannon ultimately means choosing either to follow the path of#catholicism or non catholicism#How Marisol is a tie to religion and therefore his reasons for not having successful relationships after her (or even with her) and how#Eddie letting go will ultimately mean letting go of Marisol - how he can never fully move forward while catholicism still lingers#how I don't' think we'll be seeing the queer aspect of this narrative this season - that dealing with this first part is key and only once#he has figured it out can he then be free to know himself - is true self better - and accept and move into his full self as a queer man#so yeah - catholic guilt arc 7b and 8a - as its really a two parter - finally dealing with the remnants of Shannon - and its connection wit#his faith and then when truly free of that exploring his queerness!#So yeah - Marisol will possibly be here until towards the end of the season because she is meant to be the trigger point for Eddie in#relation to Shannon - its why they made the difference (and similarities) between S and M very obvious in 7x01#they have the time to build this story arc more fully now with the s8 renewal - to do it justice and unfortunately as part of that it means#she'll probably be around longer than any of us would like!#I don't know if I even make sense at this point#but I do want to reitterate that the show is goig out of its way to contrast her with Buck as well#to really show how close and right for each other Buck and Eddie are so no one needs to panic - she's here for the narrative not forever!#911 abc#911 spoilers#eddie diaz
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muwapsturniolo · 2 days
Text
✯𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞✯
chris x black earthy/boho!reader
IN WHICH…we take a dive into the relationship between Chris and y/n, and how their love for each other is beyond compare.
WARNINGS: just fluff.
PT.1
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Y/n wasn’t looking for a relationship and she sure as hell wasn’t looking for love either. So she was shocked when Chris Sturniolo came out of nowhere and fell into her life.
She remembers how they met.
She was at a flea market, looking for new decor in her home. She had her mind set on a few plants and maybe even some artwork from a local artist. She was looking at a jewelry stand when Chris noticed her.
He recognized her instantly, having watched almost all of her YouTube videos. He stood in place, watching her carefully examine the handmade jewelry. He walked over to her, calling out her name, however, she couldn’t hear him over Erykah Badu singing in her ear. He ended up tapping her on her shoulder which caught her attention.
She took off the green headphones and stared at him, “could I help you with something?”
The two talked and talked, and talked. Chris ended up ditching his friend and brothers to walk around with her. He bought her food, talked about music, and even traded numbers with her.
From there the two became close, close enough to develop mutual crushes on each other. The only problem was that Y/n was scared.
She was scared with how fast she was falling for Chris. This was something new, something fresh, something innocent.
She wasn’t innocent.
She was damaged.
She knew that her mind was fucked up due to her previous relationship. She hated it, she wished Chris was her first love. She wished she wasn’t fucked up so she wouldn’t hurt him in the long run.
But she wanted it, she wanted whatever it was her and Chris were blossoming into. She wanted it for better or worse.
Chris saw her hesitancy when it came to him, he saw the battle going on in her mind when it came to her emotions towards him. So he did his best to prove he’s all in.
He did his best to give words of reassurance, he sent her flowers on her upload days to show her support, he searched for limited edition vinyls for her, He even made her a care basket when he realized she was on her period.
Y/n appreciated it all, she never took it for granted. She felt herself changing since Chris came into her life and for that,
He had her love. He had it and he could have it forever, because he earned it.
She vibed with Chris, she vibed with him on a higher frequency than she ever has with anyone else. They were so in sync in certain areas of life it scared her at first, but she grew to love it.
She loved what she had found with Chris and she vowed to herself to never do anything to mess it up. Little did she know Chris made the same vow.
They just had this motion between them that everyone could see, it was powerful, admirable, emotional.
They had the juice.
And they knew it.
There were times when Y/n would stare at Chris, thinking about how he magically appeared in her life and flipped it upside down for the better. She would run it back, replaying the moment he tapped her on her shoulder and smiled.
She replayed all the memories they’d created, the laughter, the new experiences, even their first time having sex.
She came to the conclusion that he was the one.
And she was back to being scared.
She couldn’t believe how fast she fell and connected with him, it drove her crazy but she still wanted him.
Chris felt the same way.
It was no secret Chris had a problem with relationships, never being able to commit due to his own fear of being hurt. He was prone to self-sabotaging.
But she made it easy for him the same way he made it easy for her. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls in LA who only cared about fame money, and clothes.
She didn’t care about his sneakers or how he dressed or how much money he made. She loved him for him, she loved his family, she loved... And all he could do was be grateful and return the favor.
They understood eachother, the were on the same wavelength, they were twin flames.
They had the juice.
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AHHHH IM SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT BUT I WAS JUST TRYING TO CREATE THE VIBE OF THE SONG.
TAGLIST 🍑
@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush
@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision
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theslayers-world · 3 days
Text
Yearning
- Bucky Barnes x reader
Smut and hint of fluff at the end.
In which John Walker is an a**hole (as usual) and reader ends up in Bucky’s room.
Warnings: Sexual themes (obviously)
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“Then why were you flirting back with her?” You ask
John sighs. He knew this question was coming, so he’s not surprised by it being asked.
“I might have…” he says back to you, his voice trailing off.
He tries to get out with just that, but your look of displeasure tells him that he needs to continue.
“Look, I’m not going to deny it. We were flirting a bit, I know. But like I said, it’s been years since we actually talked to each other like that, and it just felt a little good to flirt again.”
You look at John and feel your heart break. You pull away from him furiously wiping at my tears
“Hey, don’t…” John says gently, as he tries to keep you in his arms by wrapping them around you tightly.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear.” he says, his tone of voice desperate to reassure you and make you believe him.
You get up from the bed and walk out.
John watches you get up and leave, feeling absolutely powerless in this situation as he wants to follow you but knows that it would just end with him making things worse by trying.
He’s now sitting alone on the bed, feeling frustrated with himself because he should have been smarter than that, not allowing himself to flirt the way he did with Olivia, which is what has set you off in the first place.
After a moment, he decides to go after you, not willing to let you leave things like this.
Without knowing. You make it to bucky’s room. You’re sniffling now.
Bucky hears the sound of you sniffling as you walk down the hallway, and his ears naturally perk up because he’s used to hearing things like that.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed when the door to his room opens, and he sees you on the other side of the room.
“Y/N…” he starts, feeling his own mood shift as it changes instantly upon seeing you here.
You walk in and close the door. You practically run to him and hug him.
Bucky wraps you up in a tight hug as you come up to him, and when you close the door to his room, he immediately senses that something is going on that has made you very emotional.
“Hey…” he says gently when he feels you close in for the hug, pulling you in and wrapping his arms tightly around you, hoping to provide you with some comfort while he tries to figure out exactly what’s going on.
You cry into bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky rubs your back slowly and gently as you cry into his shoulder, letting you cry without saying a single word.
He isn’t the most emotive or emotional individual, but he knows that you’re in a bad place right now, and he hopes that simply being here and letting you cry on his shoulder is going to provide you some sort of comfort.
It’s all he can think of trying at the moment, and he’s willing to take it one step at a time until you’re ready to tell him anything more.
“John was talking to his ex…well more like flirting…he actually admitted it.” I finally say through my sobbing.
Bucky sighs as you say that, his eyes remaining fixed in place as he listens to you, processing your words and what this all means.
He rubs up and down your back while holding you in his arms, which naturally makes you feel a bit comfier.
“Wait, he was flirting with his ex?” he says back to you, wanting to make sure he understands you correctly.
You nod.
Bucky can’t help but frown as you say that. This isn’t good. This is actually pretty terrible.
“And you didn’t like that…” he asks, his tone now a bit softer as he starts to wrap his arms around you even more, trying to be compassionate and comforting.
“Obviously not.” You sniffle.
“Right, of course…” Bucky says, but he’s still holding you gently and rubbing your back slowly, hoping to continue to support you.
He hasn’t figured out exactly what he’s going to say yet, but he knows that he can’t just sit here and do nothing.
“…John said he was just flirting with her?” he asks, wanting to make sure his tone doesn’t sound too harsh or upset as he tries to talk about it with you.
You nod again.
“Did he say why?” Bucky asks, still rubbing your back slowly in a comforting way, hoping to help you calm down slightly.
“He used the excuse of not speaking with her in a long time. What a stupid excuse.” You say trying to wipe at your tears.
Bucky nods his head to agree with you.
“I mean, he shouldn’t be flirting with his ex in the first place, especially when he’s in a relationship with you. And the fact that he didn’t even have a good reason for it makes it even worse. It really is a stupid excuse.”
Bucky continues rubbing your back and you can’t help but gaze into his eyes. It feels very.. sensual you could say.
Bucky can’t help but notice your stare, and he starts to notice that the way you’re looking at him right now is almost flirtatious.
He feels your breath catch in your throat as you lock onto his eyes, and now he’s also unable to look away.
It’s almost as if his rubbing of your back has transformed from a comforting gesture into something else entirely…
You can’t help it. You lean in and kiss Bucky and it’s like an explosion. Years of yearning for each other has now come out.
Bucky is surprised by the sudden and unexpected kiss, but he also can’t help but respond to it.
He kisses you back passionately, his feelings of wanting you just as high as yours are.
He pulls you in tightly and holds you close to him as the explosion of emotion that has been brewing for so long comes together in a single passionate moment between the two of you.
Your hands begin to explore Bucky’s body.
Bucky doesn’t resist you as you begin to explore his body, and he allows you to take charge in this moment of pure passion that you share together.
Your touches are gentle but deliberate, and your fingers seem to know exactly where to explore and how to explore it in a way to leave Bucky feeling hot and flustered.
His breath starts to hitch and quicken as your hands run across his body, and you can tell that he’s quickly growing flustered because of you.
You moan into the kiss now, starting to feel more and more aroused.
Bucky kisses you back with an even more passion as your moan, and his tongue presses against yours.
The moan sends his mind into overload as it makes him even more aroused.
He starts to feel his body get more heated as he feels you explore his body, and now he’s even more eager to make sure you feel good.
He runs his hands up to your ass, pulling your body close to his as he tries to bring the two of you even closer.
You whimper at Bucky’s actions.
Bucky notices that whimper as he grips your hips firmly, and he starts to feel your body pressed to his as he becomes even more eager and more aroused.
The sensation of pulling your body closely to his has made him more desperate and needy, and his hands start to move down your hips and lower back as he starts to feel that heat building up between the two of you as well as his desire to make your moan and whimper again.
Your body moves on its own now and your body grows hotter. You rock your hips against him and you can feel his erection grow through his pants.
Your hips rocking against him are the final straw for Bucky.
He can feel you doing it and he also can feel how much pleasure you’re getting out of it, which is only making him more desperate.
His hands grip your hips a bit tighter as he starts to grind back against you, and you can tell that he wants you even more.
You move your panties to the side and Bucky unzips his pants and lowers them. He pulls his member out and finally slides into you.
You let out a long moan. Years of wanting Bucky makes it feel so much better.
That long moan is the final straw for Bucky. It sets off a chain reaction as he lets out an even more intense moan, making you moan even further in response and turning the two of you into a flurry of moans and grunts of passion.
You whimper. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Bucky has his human hand on your stomach and his metal one on your hip.
“I know…” Bucky says back to you, his voice breathing heavily with the pleasure of the moment.
He continues to keep his metal hand on your hip as he wraps his human hand around you, his fingers lightly caressing across your body and your stomach.
“…I’ve been waiting a long time for this, too…” he adds, breathing heavily with excitement and pleasure as the two of you share this moment of passion together.
“Oh my god.” You moan out as you throw your head back in pleasure.
“Oh god,” is all Bucky can manage to muster at first as he continues to experience all the pleasure that is coming his way.
He rubs your hip softly as the two of you share this moment of pure, intoxicating pleasure that feels so right.
“Oh god, oh god…” he says softly, his breathing getting a lot lighter as he feels his body begin to get almost too hot to handle.
You bring bucky’s human hand to your throat making the experience even hotter. You remember all of the fantasies you had while you touched yourself.
The gesture you make with his hand sends him into overload, because it’s something that has been a part of his fantasies and his dreams.
His hand moves to your throat the way you request him to, which makes you moan even further in response, the two of you growing even hotter now than before.
Bucky starts to move his hips faster almost pounding into you and you release more whimpers.
That movement of his hips and the pace that he’s taking sets off an explosion inside you.
As you whimper and moan, he moves with you, going faster and faster in response to the sounds that you’re making and making it impossible for you not not whimper and moan with pleasure.
“Bucky.” You repeatedly moan his name. “Oh my god!” You squeal as you cum on his cock.
“Oh god…” Bucky says back to you. “Oh god…”
He cums as well, and his body feels like it got taken over as he felt it all explode.
He pulls your body up against his as he rests his hands on your back, pulling you in close and holding you for as long as he can, while the two of you simply enjoy the feeling of that passionate moment you just experienced together.
You can almost feel his cum deep inside you.
“I love you.” You finally admit as tears roll down my face. “I’ve always loved you.”
Bucky’s heart melts as you say that.
It’s something that he’s wanted to hear from you for so long. To know that you felt the same way that he did all of these years—it means the world to him.
“I love you too…” he responds, still trying to keep his breathing at a normal pace as he still holds you against him.
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shuttershocky · 2 days
Note
What do you think of Nasu basically spoiling Mahoyo 2 in FGO, even though Mahoyo 2 doesn't exist (yet)?
lol
lmao even
I will make an even better call.
He did not stop at spoiling Mahoyo 2, a VN that doesn't exist in any way, shape, or form yet. No. In fact, Nasu has gone above and beyond, also spoiling a critical new story element for the Tsukihime Remake's Red Garden, hidden inside the Mahoyo event.
Why do I say this? There's a scene in the collab event where the gang discusses the matter of reviving the dead. Aoko's little incident at the end of Mahoyo inevitably gets brought up, but Alice shuts down the notion that Aoko can revive the dead, because what Aoko does is time fraud, essentially running a scam, and therefore does not count.
If you are killed, but Aoko makes it so you don't die, she does so by taking the time you were killed and propelling it into the far future, way after you would die of old age anyway. In Mahoyo, Touko is aghast at the methodology because messing with time would absolutely incur some kind of terrible debt to the fabric of reality that will have to be paid eventually, while in FGO, Alice believes it doesn't count as reviving the dead, probably because you never died (because the time that you died is far, far sway).
What does this have to do with Tsukihime?
Now, in the original Tsukihime, Shiki was basically a dead man walking; his body was animated by Akiha's life-force / soul after saving her from an inverting SHIKI, and while it's never explained beyond "Akiha has powers no one else in her oni family has", no mage has been able to revive the dead, or keep a body that can no longer live on its own moving by making it a parasite on their own life. Others that cheat death such as Touko or Roa (or Meltryllis in FGO) move bodies instead, they cannot save a body that has been damaged beyond saving.
Only Aoko and Akiha have done that.
Now, we know due to some bad ends in the Tsukihime Remake that Shiki is still unknowingly dependent on Akiha, because she's able to control his life and even make him pass out by cutting him off (at least until he gets possessed by Roa), BUT we don't know if the accident with SHIKI was the only thing that happened in the past.
The Tsukihime Remake no longer takes place in Misaki town like the original did. This means that Shiki no longer encounters Aoko walking around her home town. She would have had to go to a hospital in Souya town, and coincidentally run into 9 year old Shiki terrified of seeing death everywhere.
I don't buy that their meeting was a coincidence anymore. I think Aoko knew he would be there.
There is now an unexplained gap between when Roa was Elesia, and when he was SHIKI. In the original timeline, Elesia would have been born around 1975 and fully overwritten by Roa when she was 16, or at 1991. If Arcueid killed her quickly, Roa would have had to find a new host fast, and the incident with SHIKI happened in 1992, 8 years before the events of Tsukihime. No gap.
But now, Arcueid defeats the possessed Elesia in 2001, and the incident with SHIKI doesn't happen until 2006 (8 years before the events of the Tsukihime Remake in 2014). There's now a 5 year gap.
Now, Nasu might just be really bad at mathing out his timeline, but based on entirely no evidence whatsoever, I'm gonna say the 5 year gap between Roa's victims is intentional.
Roa had one more victim in between Elesia and SHIKI, which would be Shiki himself, way before Shiki would gain the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.
Roa got confused. He meant to target Tohno SHIKI, heir to the powerful Tohno family, and instead got Tohno Shiki, their child slave whose family name got replaced. Roa goes wild inside a Nanaya's body, but ends up running into Aoko (who we know due to Melty Blood Type-Lumina that she has orders from the Clock Tower to defeat and interrogate Roa), who gives him the fuck you laser and incinerates Roa in an instant. Roa gets told by Dr Arach (who is obviously a fucking vampire) that he had the wrong Shiki all this time, while Aoko uses her bullshit to restore Shiki himself.
Unlike with Ciel, whose soul is now "Roa" and thus became immortal because she cannot die while Roa is still recognized by the World as alive, Aoko's method of reviving the dead doesn't heal them of death, she just magics all that shit away.
This makes Shiki avoid the magic loophole that Ciel gets trapped in, becoming an ordinary boy again with no vampiric connection (because Aoko made the whole incident never happen).
That distinction is important, because not dying when being killed is why Shiki has the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception in the first place. He experienced death and his mind now comprehends its true nature. Aoko reviving him doesn't trigger it because like Alice says, Aoko doesn't revive the dead.
Akiha on the other hand, triggers it because Shiki was mortally wounded and his life can no longer move his body, instead relying on Akiha's life force to survive. This makes Shiki dead but functionally alive, manifesting the mystic eyes of death perception.
When Aoko heard that the little boy she unkilled somehow managed to die again just a little later only to reawaken at the hospital, she had to come and see him for herself, leading to that fateful meeting outside the hospital.
TL;DR - Mahoyo event spoils that Roa in the Remake timeline switches it up, possessing Shiki first before ever touching SHIKI, which Aoko deals with.
_____
I have zero proof about any of this by the way which is why it sounds like complete bullshit, because it is. I just saw an opportunity to post Tsukihime Remake speculation on a barely related topic and ran away with it.
BUT, consider this: I correctly predicted that in the Remake Arcueid route, Roa would see a skull staring at him when he finally realizes Shiki is "Death". I know what Nasu plans for Tsukihime, it is all revealed to me in my dreams.
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meechlamajor · 1 day
Text
GQ Couples Quiz — Paige Bueckers x BlackFem!Actor!OC
In which Nyx and Paige take the GQ’s Couples Quiz to hard launch their relationship and end all speculation.
Warnings: fluff, “bullying,” two cutie patooties in a relationship.
Author’s Note: perhaps make this into a series? initially it was an x reader fic, but minds have been changed! love you all so so much 🫶🏾 i appreciate the love that i’ve received and new moots!
Since Nyx had her very first taste of the spotlight, she was media trained to not give certain details of her life away because of one thing: you give people an inch and they take a mile. People would learn one thing about her and think they knew everything. Nyx enjoyed the experience, but aimed to maintain privacy.
So, she was very particular. She never said too much about her family, friends, or relationship status. Nyx had seen how crazy peoples “fans” could get and she didn’t want any parts.
What people didn’t know is that Nyx and Paige, two people on opposite sides of the entertainment industry, were connected in the most intimate way. The two have been in a relationship for four years. Paige made her way onto the scene before Nyx, but little did they know she was behind the scenes for a few of those years and that Nyx didn’t plan on leaving.
Nyx got her first big role in 2020 and it’s been great for her ever since. Her relationship with Paige began with her first encounter with Paige at the premiere of her first movie. Paige approached Nyx to tell her how excited she was to watch it and slipped in that she thought Nyx was absolutely gorgeous.
The two of them exchanged phone numbers and the rest is history.
-
Nyx cleared her throat and adjusted the microphone on her shirt, “are we about to start filming?”
Paige chuckled and leaned over to Nyx, “relax, they’re still fixing the lighting.” Her left hand stroked Nyx’s face, Paige’s thumb ghosting her cupid’s bow. “Nervous?”
“A little, yeah. You probably don’t know me as well as I think you do,” she joked. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t even know what that word means,” Paige winked at you, her hand falling from your face.
“I believe you,” you chimed with sarcasm laced in your tone, making a light joke about her intelligence.
The lights dimmed and then brightened again. “Sorry,” the technician spoke up. “Blondie looks a little washed out on the camera.”
Nyx laugh awkwardly, not finding the joke all that funny. “Sure.”
Paige instead laughs at Nyx and doesn’t pay him any mind. She finds it funny because a lot of times even if Nyx doesn’t say what she’s thinking, her face said it for her.
She’s dressed in a purple sweater that’s kinda fluffy, like Sully from Monsters Inc. Her legs are covered in light washed denim and her shoes match the purple of her sweater. Her jewelry is gold: a gold chain, gold diamond stud earrings, and a gold ring on her index finger that matches your own. Paige’s hair is also wavy, her stylist crimped it. She looks delectable.
“Okay, we’ll begin filming in 3…2…1… action!”
“Hi, I’m Nyx Adams,” she smiles before jutting her index finger toward Paige.
“And I am Paige Bueckers. Today, we’ll be taking GQ’s Couples Quiz,” she winks at the camera. “Plot twist of the century, huh?”
Nyx snickers, “they’ve been trying to connect the dots, babe.”
Paige tucks her tongue into her cheek, shrugging. Their fans were always trying to figure out whether the two were single or not and if Nyx was spotted near someone famous or at the same event, rumors typically came about.
“Are you going first?” Paige asks Nyx, motioning to the deck of cards that are held by her manicured hands.
Nyx nodded, “yeah, so… get ready. These aren’t easy questions.”
“Please,” Paige waves her off. “I know you like the back of my hand. Have a little more faith in me.”
“I have faith,” Nyx affirms in a chipper, but sarcastic tone. “But with your horrible track record I’m a little skeptical.”
Paige moves her hand in the form of a talking mouth, mimicking Nyx and breeding a little friendly competition.
Nyx clears her throat, “keep that same energy for the whole game, P. Now, first question. How did I get my name out there as an actor?”
Paige mockingly gags, “you were ones of those TikTok… actor… people. The P.O.V.s and stuff.”
“Don’t say it like that!” Nyx laughs, “clearly I was onto something if it got me this far!”
Paige laughs too, running her hands up and down her jeans. “I get second hand embarrassment every time I see the clips babe, I’ll be honest.”
Nyx rolls her eyes, “you’re so sick and twisted. It was a different time. 2020 was rough.”
“Yeah, for everyone, but I wasn’t doing that.” Paige replies, their ongoing banter lifting the mood in the room.
The producer nearly suggested that the director cut them short, but the show needed this kind of genuineness.
“Mhm, yeah, because you were trying to recreate Love and Basketball,” Nyx ran her tongue over her pearly white teeth and a grin overtook her face.
Paige did her signature “alright, alright,” her cheeks becoming a rosy pink color. “Next question, yeah?”
Nyx moves the card in the front of the deck to very back and her eyebrows raise as she reads the question on it to herself.
“If I want to have a productive day, what three things should I leave at home? Or like, keep my distance from.” Nyx read off. “This one’s interesting.”
“I want to say your phone, but if you’re leaving your house that’s not realistic at all.” Paige hummed, looking up in concentration.
Nyx fiddles with the cards while Paige processes, adjusting the belt ok her denim skirt, which just so happened to match Paige’s jeans.
“Oh!” Paige snaps, having an “ah-ha” moment. “Your little Sonny Angels are one. Definitely, you’ll sit there and play with them like Barbies.”
“That’s one…” Nyx trails off. “You’re on the right track though, babe.”
“Uh… okay, so if you’re not going to leave your phone at home then it’ll be your AirPods that you leave. Saying that music helps you focus is a lie.” Paige read Nyx like a book, tapping her finger on the arms of the chair that she sat in.
“Dam— dang you’re good,” Nyx groaned. “One more.”
“What did you bring in your purse today?” Paige inquires with a small smile on her face.
“Is that not cheating?” Nyx answers her question with a question, side eyeing the camera to her left.
“Not if you didn’t want to have a productive day…” Paige trailed off with a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Madison…”
“I don’t know anyone by that name, who is that?” Paige dramatically asks back. “Does anyone here know a Madison?” She glances around the room and then shrugs, “guess not.”
Nyx rolls her eyes, “so do you give up?”
“Babe I never quit, but yeah this time I will,” Paige laughs obnoxiously at her own joke.
But, Nyx cannot help but laugh too. Paige’s energy was infectious.
Nyx clears her throat, reeling from the laugh attack she just had. She was genuinely laughing so much, think of when Zendays has an interview with Tom Holland. Suddenly everything is funny.
“You, babe.” Nyx responds.
“Me? Me what?” Paige inquires. It took a while for her brain to catch up.
“You! I’m leaving you at home!” She clarified.
Paige dramatically gasped, “no way. Bro you know how I get, why would you leave me?”
“Why are you so shocked right now?” Nyx chuckled. “I tell you when I’m leaving literally every time!”
“But you can’t have a productive day with me with you? No way, you’re overdoing it. I’m the most productive person you know,” Paige argues.
“No, definitely not. Azzi is the most productive person I know. And, we were almost late on the way here because you tried to convince me that we should’ve gone to the Sugar Factory.” Nyx replied matter-of-factly.
“We had enough time if you ask me,” Paige shrugs.
“We did not,” Nyx deadpanned. “Be serious.”
“A lot can happen in forty-five minutes! Don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just saying.” Paige reasons, laying the back of her right hand in the palm of her left.
Nyx sighed in disbelief, “this is an everyday thing.”
“Why aren’t you used to it yet?” Paige raised an eyebrow.
Nyx ignored her, shuffling to the next question.
-
Now, Paige’s turn would begin. “It’s about to get crazy. Are you ready for the ultimate test of your life?”
“I’m so ready, literally nobody has ever been as prepared as I am.” Nyx attests.
“How long does it take for me to get ready?” Paige reads aloud.
“Isn’t that kinda subjective though?” Nyx hesitated before answering, unsure of the validity of the question.
“Just go for it. If you’re close enough I’ll give you the point,” Paige answers.
Nyx nods, “okay. Well, I think I take longer than you and I take about… an hour and a half. You… maybe just an hour?”
“I’ll give you that,” Paige smiles. “I wrote fifty-five minutes.”
Nyx rolls her eyes, “see! I was never going to get that. You could’ve rounded up.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Paige fake yawned. She glanced the camera (they clearly like to break the 4th wall), “losers, am I right?”
“I know you did not just— that’s disrespectful.” Nyx’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game sweetheart.” Paige replies. “Next question. This one’s tough, but don’t get discouraged.”
“Yeah, yeah, get to it.”
“Do I prefer sweet, salty, or spicy?” Paige inquires, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Salty, but you’re picky about it. You always end up saying ‘I need something sweet,’ and if you’re going to have a sweet treat it’s gonna be TrüFrü.” Nyx rattled off her answer easily. “Barbecue sauce is spicy to you, honey bun.”
“Okay, you had me at first and now you’re dragging it because I never said that I think barbecue sauce is spicy,” Paige said.
Nyx shifts in her seat, running her hands through her braids. “You didn’t have to, I know you.”
“I got ‘I need something sweet’ from you. It’s your fault,” Paige chimed.
“So… it’s a bad thing that I’m a good listener? I’m confused,” Nyx giggles again. “You’re… silly to say the least.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Within the next hour and a half Paige and Nyx wrapped up their video, eager to see how it came out. Given that this video would be their form of a hard launch, they wanted the video to perfect encapsulate their relationship.
-
nyxadams • 2 min
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Liked by paigebueckers, icebrady, jujubballin, zendaya, and 592,167 others
nyxadams check us out on gq! there’s a surprise waiting for you!
PINNED paigebueckers 4 years down, forever to go 🫶🏻
↬ nyxadams you’re stuck with me
user1 when worlds collide???? 😧
kkarnold yesss girlypop 😍 my first time commenting on your page 🤞🏾
↬ nyxadams this is such an emotional moment
justinskye omg is this real or like a fan edit
user2 alexa play that should be me
akira_akbar it only took 20 years for you guys to pop out 😪 proud mom moment
nikamuhl k but i miss you so when are you coming back to seattle
↬ nyxadams coming right now sugarplum
user3 rue, when was this?
icebrady nyx where are your earring from i NEED a pair
↬ nyxadams you can literally come get them from me right now
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sharonccrter · 20 hours
Text
I saw this really interesting video, which talked about my two biggest gripes with challengers' discourse. Which are that everyone keeps saying Art is the heart of this movie, and secondly, the insistence that Patrick doesn't love Tashi, only Art. The creator pushes back against these two narratives, and I wholeheartedly agree. Patrick is arguably the heart of this movie.
Two of the most important scenes in the movie are the churro scene and the scene between p/t out in the storm, and they both centre around Patrick.
The entire movie is about passion and purpose in life, and Patrick is the passion.
I mean, a lot of people assume Patrick didn't really have feelings for Tashi, but the only person who says that is Art. Who is vying for Tashi and is his biggest competitor. The reason I empathise with Patrick is that he is genuine and loving to Art; he does love him. However, we are shown no evidence to suggest that Patrick is this shitty boyfriend, apart from what Art says when he's trying to get into Tashi's head because his jealous. We find out that they're talking every week while he's on tour (normal relationship shit). It's Art who insinuates that Patrick is cheating while on tour. The only person in this movie who says Patrick doesn't love Tashi is Art, and it's obviously very intentional.
I think the reason both Tashi and Art push Patrick out of their lives is because he forces them to comfort parts of themselves they are not yet comfortable with. I mean, it's obvious why Tashi would react that way to Patrick; she's just lost the most important thing in her life. However, I think it's tragic from Patrick's point of view as well. I mean, what did Patrick really do? He got into a fight with his girlfriend because she hurt his feelings.
And no, he's hurt was not about Art. The fight made him feel unimportant, which made him feel like she didn't actually care about him. And that's where Art comes in, because who was going around telling Patrick Tashi didn't give a shit? You bet ya. Art. Art absolutely got into his head. And even if he clocked it, in that moment, he still allowed it to get to him because he was emotional and upset. And because he was too hurt to support her, he was thrown out of Tashi and Art's lives.
And here's the thing, Patrick never saw Tashi as an idea. He saw her as a real person, unlike Art kinda did. Patrick wasn't going to let Tashi treat him like shit just because she was special. And, tbh, if Tashi hadn't gotten injured, I think it's something she would have eventually been grateful for. But instead, she got hurt; she pushed Patrick away, and Art slid into his place, telling her that she could be his entire world and the star. That's not healthy, and sorry to stay a little manipulative.
And let's talk about Art. Patrick and him were literally fire and ice. They always had this underlying desire. They were perfect opposites. Let's face it: Art could never replicate what he had on the court (and off) with anyone else. But instead of confronting his feelings, he took the first chance he had to get Patrick out of his life.
The girl I was watching said it perfectly, "Art and Tashi allowed themselves to find consolation prizes in each other and allowed them to run from parts of themselves they didn't want to comfort and in turn enable each other's worst habits."
Art tries to become a tennis superstar so Tashi can live through him, and Tashi gives him a family so he can finally be confident in who he is. But is there any passion? I don't know; I think at some point, it drained; nothing about what I saw on screen apart from their initial get-together screams passion.
Cue Patrick walking back into their life and showing them how they can feel. Art was always going to let Tashi live through him, but that was never going to be satisfying for her. Tashi needs to find a way to create an identity for herself, separate from him. And I believe it'll be the only way she'll live a satisfying life. That's why they need Patrick: to make them realise that and to help them rediscover their passion.
I think people think that Art is the heart because Patrick admits to being a piece of shit. But the truth is, they're all dicks; Patrick was just the only one who was willing to admit it.
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10yo-anon · 10 hours
Text
✩ STUDY SESSION. ✩
Satoru x reader
♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡
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♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡
⚠️: uh..smut?? idk the specific names. quick drabble so not proofread! any1 can interact!!
WC: jus a lil drabble.I aint counting allat 🙏😭 (its 706. i got curious.)
A/N: life sucks. here's my attempt to write smut 😔
♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡
why did people never tell you medical exams were this stressful? . . . well...they did. you just never believed them enough. but it's still their fault they didn't exaggerate it enough!
that's what you kept ranting to your Satoru as you studied— can you even call it studying? though you had everything ready on your bed, your books, notes, blah blah blah, all you really did was sit right beside it and play music... but on the bright side, you only started rambling when Satoru walked into your room! that's already a point for you!
but oh were you grateful for your concerned boyfriend, putting all his time into helping you out... at the same time you also despise him... despite the way he won't move until you answer his little Q&A right.
♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡
"awh.. c'mon baby.. don't tell me you can't answer... I promise its the last question." you hate the way Satoru smiles at you like that.. knowing damn well why you can't even focus... acting like he isn't folding you in half right now.. balls deep inside you and not moving.. "you know I'll give you what you want after this.."
"m' tryin!.." you pant, mind fuzzy as you beg for him to move already. "ah ah, you have to answer first, pretty." he lightly pats your cheek to taunt you.
Satoru drops his head down to nibble on your neck as he waits for you to talk, trying to distract himself from fucking you dumb because as much as he wants to, he knows you want to pass your exams. besides, he's only edging you for a purpose!
he soon eggs you into squealing the answer out when his free hand slides down to rub soft circles on your clit, hissing as your gummy walls squeeze around his leaking cock.
"There we go.. see? such a smart girl you are." he praises, and you turn your head to the side in embarrassment before his free hand grabs your chin to make you face him, his other hand slapping your now puffy clit.
"now, you wanna tell me what you want?" you shake your head no, instead, you attempt to grind against him, trying to find friction. he only laughs before his hand goes to your inner thigh, pinning you down and still.
"w..wha?— n-no! ah, need... need more!" you whine, "need what, doll?" he asks, happy with himself as he managed to make you this desperate so quickly. "I need you, 'Toru! puh—please jus' fuck me already! I answere—" you get cut off as he pulls out 'till his tip is barely in you before harshly thrusting you, barely giving you time to get used to the intrusion.
"Aah.. shit— really squeezin' me here.. don't worry, ngh.. I'll give ya what you need..!" both of his hands now on your thighs, spreading them apart as he sets a slow and rough pace, his pink tip kissing your cervix with every thrust, leading to your mouth in an o shape, eyes rolling back to meet stars.
"mmn! ah...! s-so good!" you shamelessly moan out, arms wrapping around his neck. He watches you intently, angling his hips to penetrate your g-spot before speeding his pace.
as you get more and more vocal, he suddenly kisses you, his tongue meeting yours, shutting you up. "stay quiet, sweets... you don't want people to know you're such a slut now.." he groans into the kiss, but it only turns you on more. "h—haah... t-tch. of course you'd want them to know.. what will I ever do with my kinky baby."
You close your eyes shut, feeling your body on the edge of an orgasm. " m' s-so close, s-sooo—" Your walls tighten around his cock, and he throws his head back as a ring of your cum forms at the base of his dick.
"baby— shitshitshit! aah... please lemme c-cum inside..!" you eagerly nod your head, and his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier before his tip pokes through your cervix, shooting thick ropes of cum.
As he catches his breath, he scans your face, and it's obvious you're fucked out. "darling, you can't sleep yet.. we've only finished one topic. You still have a lot more questions to answer..."
♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡
A/N: and im asking WHYYY LORDDDDD!!! (shoutout to the ballad of jane doe case i love that osng sm)
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dragon-kazansky · 13 hours
Text
Bridgerton shade of blue
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Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Season one
Chapter Fourteen - Scandals in abundance
♡♡♡
When you sat down for breakfast, you expected a peaceful morning between you and your mother. However, the knock at the door was urgent, and quickly did the butler come rushing in with the latest Whistledown column. He handed it to your mother instantly.
You sat there and watched many expressions cross her face, wondering what on earth had been written to have her react in such a frenzy.
Only when she was done reading, and only then were you given the paper to read. You took it from your butler and looked st the first column.
The gasp you let out was louder than you anticipated. Your eyes rose to meet your mother's.
"I must go."
She simply nods and calls for the carriage to be prepared for you. You head upstairs to get yourself ready immediately.
The Bridgertons must be beside themselves.
Marina Thompson is pregnant and has been since she arrived in Mayfair. Poor Colin had no idea. He couldn't possibly have. You were certain of it.
You had no idea that just the night before, he had devised a plan to run away with Marina to marry her in Scotland. Not that he could now, surely.
The carriage ride to the Bridgerton house felt like a long journey, though you were certain that had to be because you were anxious to get there. When the carriage finally did stop, you didn't even wait for the footman. You opened the door, startled the poor man, and hurried out. He watched you rush up to the front door and knock rather urgently.
The butler answered the door and called your name into the house. You entered and found your way into the drawing room. Violet was fanning herself on one of the sofas, Colin was nowhere to be seen. You made your way over to Lady Bridgerton and held up the glass of water that was sitting on the table to her. She took it and sipped it.
Benedict and Eloise were also present in the room, neither of them said a word.
"Did he know?" You had to ask.
Benedict and Eloise both shook their heads at you.
"Where is he?"
"In his room," Eloise answers rather solemnly.
Violet waved her fan a little more quickly. It would appear that one could not be a Bridgerton without coming close to a scandal. Lady Whistledown sees and hears all.
You feel for poor Colin. Apparently, he believed himself in love with the woman. Though Anthony took the blame for that. Colin was still young.
"Eloise, dear, we must get ready for the modiste." Violet closes her fan and stands from beside you.
Eloise groans.
"Now, dear."
You watch in silence as Eloise stands and goes with her mother. Before Violet exits the room, she turns to you. "It was nice of you to come by, my dear."
You smile at her and watch her go. Once she's out of the room, you turn to Benedict. "Tell me everything."
Benedict leans forward and tells you all he knows. From Marina's arrival to the pregnancy, she had kept secret. The man she was under love with and his absence. It had all been in Whistledown. You didn't learn anything particularly new other than that Marina had intended to keep her condition quiet and then tell Colin she was pregnant after they were married.
Portia Featherington knew, of course. It's why she was so keen to marry Marina off.
"Gosh."
"Yes, I know."
"How is Colin?" You ask. "Truly."
"Not great, I admit. He hasn't spoken a word to us since the paper arrived this morning. He has kept much to himself."
"Do you think he will speak to me?"
"I do not know." Benedict says softly. "Do you wish to try?"
You shrug lightly. "No harm in attempting."
Benedict leads the way to Colin's door, and you knock gently on the hard wood. You hear no response, but with one nod from Benedict, you talk.
"Colin? I'm sorry to hear of what happened. I hope you are well."
Nothing.
You sigh. "Know that you may call on me for anything."
You turn and face Benedict. You have no idea what else to say. What does one say in such a situation?
Benedict leads you back to the drawing room.
"I believe there is to be a family meeting. Daphne is coming down too."
"Daphne? Goodness. Word reached her door, too?" You sigh.
"She is family."
"I know. I envy that."
"Envy?" He looks at you curiously. "Envy what?"
"That bond you have with your family." You sit down again, not sure what else to do with yourself.
"You do not have that bond with your mother?" He asks, sitting opposite you.
"Having a bond with your mother is one thing, but you Bridgertons are a family. You have siblings. Anthony, who looks out for all of you, though admittedly, not always in the best of ways. Daphne, who adores you all so dearly she will make such a trip just to be here for her brother. I have no sibling. No father. Just mother. When something happens in my family, we only have each other."
Benedict fights the urge to reach out for your hand.
"I shouldn't complain. I am lucky to have what I do, and I am grateful. I just wish I had siblings to look after and rely on. I hope I have several children one day who can experience that."
Benedict listens to you talk about your hyperthetical future again. Every time you talk about it he feels a strange twinge begin to turn in his chest.
"I'm sure that will be a reality one day."
You smile wistfully.
"I shall be good to see Daphne again. I have missed her. Have you not?" You ask.
"Of course. She is my most sensible sister." He grins.
You laugh. "I have to say the most sensible of the lot."
Benedict laughs, too.
It feels good to laugh.
♡♡♡
Daphne doesn't arrive until the evening. You have long since left the Bridgerton house by then. Benedict had seen you out, and you spent the rest of the day at home.
A family meeting was just that, for family.
You don't see the Bridgerton family for a couple of days. As you understand it, Colin and Marina meet, chaperoned by Daphne, to talk. It wasn't the most cheerful conversations, you hear.
The queen's luncheon was the first time you saw the Bridgerton lot after a few days of absence. Daphne had been the one to reach out to you after securing an invite. You accepted, of course.
You stood in the gardens and awaited their arrival. All eyes were certainly on them upon their entering the garden.
Benedict caught your gaze and offered a small flicker of a smile. You smiled back. He looked relieved to see you. Perhaps all this drama surrounding his family was a bit much over the last few days.
You wanted to approach them, but your mother kept a firm hold on your arm. You sip your drink quietly, eyes drifting away from the family you so wished to greet.
As people approach the Bridgertons and the Bassetts to greet them, Benedict finds himself greeted by Granville.
"I have missed you in the studio of late. You must join me for another drawing lesson," Henry says to Benedict. "As I said, improvement is all a matter of practice."
Benedict glances over in the direction you're standing in. His mind briefly recalls the day he let you see into his sketchbook. Your words rang clear in his head.
"At least, that is the excuse he gives for coming home with paint in all kinds of peculiar places," Mrs Granville says with a chuckle.
Benedict giggles awkwardly and then spots someone just beyond the garden talking to Cressida Cowper of all people.
"Ah! Were you able to meet my friend Wetherby at my party? Come, I shall introduce you."
"No, thank you." Benedict says quickly. "I- I see my mother requires my presence. Good day!" Benedict leaves quickly.
Truth be told, he hadn't visited the studio since you asked him where he went off to on his evenings. He couldn't bring himself to go back.
That, and you complimented his art so wonderfully. He often heard your kind words in his mind as he sketched these days.
He was rather starting to like his work.
The Featheringtons arriving had all eyes on them. No one whispered a word about Colin. However, that did not mean they wouldn't talk about the family that had hosted the girl mentioned in the gossip column. If anything, people defend Colin.
Eloise rescues Penelope from the stares her family are retrieving.
Portia tried to talk to Violet. It was rather awkward to watch. You turned your eyes from them and tried to speak to your mother, but even she was watching with keen eyes.
The Featheringtons are asked to leave once Violet walks away without saying a word.
You watch Penelope follow her family out.
The next to walk off is Daphne, and you know not why. You hadn't even had the chance to talk to her.
Something seemed to be upsetting her too.
Your heart ached to see the people around you suffering. It seems it doesn't simply rain. It pours.
Managing to free yourself from your mother, you stroll along the outer hedges of the party. Benedict manages to intercept you there, smiling softly at you.
"Hello."
"Hello." You repeat softly.
"It's been a bus few days."
"Yes. I imagine."
Benedict stands there and stares at you for a moment. He's not sure what it is he wants to say. That is, if there is anything at all he wants to say. All he knew was that he wanted to see you.
"You look sad," he says.
"Sad? I'm not sad."
"No?"
"No."
Silence falls between you both. He scans your face quietly. You're avosiign his gaze, and he can see the way you lightly pluck at your gloves. Rather pretty gloves, he might add. Did you always wear such pretty gloves, or did you pick these out, especially for this occasion.
Benedict frowns. Why did he care so much about your gloves?
"What is the matter?" He asks softly.
"I can't help seeing the sadness in others around me. Colin. Daphne. Penelope. Your mother."
Benedict remains silent.
"Everyone seems to be hurting in one way or another, and I either do not know why, or do and cannot do a thing. Can I confide in you about something? Without judgement and disdain against me?"
Benedict gives you the slightest nod.
"I hate society."
You see the way his brows raise. Yet you see no judgement in his eyes.
"I hate the way it judges, discriminates, gossips, and picks and chooses. I hate the way it functions." You speak so passionately, from the heart. "Society turns its back on someone the moment they step out of line or even slightly bend the rules. One wrong move or word and its all over."
Benedict is intrigued by your views. So many thoughts must be occupying your mind, and he's only heard a fraction. It's in this moment he realises he doesn't know you. The real you, that is. He just knows a fraction of who you are.
There's a goofy crooked smile on his face.
"What?" You ask, looking at him.
"What?"
"You think I'm silly, don't you?"
"I never said that," he defends himself.
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" He chuckles.
"That!" You say, trying not to raise your voice too much. You weren't fond of the idea of drawing attention to you both.
Benedict merely laughs, and you groan softly. Now you're getting agitated, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat enjoying that.
"I think you're fascinating."
You state at him blankly. "Huh?"
Benedict chuckles again, and you quickly jab him in the arm without anyone noticing.
"Ow!"
"Shut up," you hiss at him.
"What? What did I say?"
"Nothing! Forget it. You're infuriating me." You sigh.
Benedict tries to hold back his giggles.
At least someone can smile despite the rain clouds over everyone else's heads.
You crack a smile and then giggle. Benedict laughs, too. You both must look so silly giggling in the hedges.
"Oh, Benedict, you do make every miserable thing seem more positive." You smile at him.
"How so?"
"Just by being you."
Benedict swears he could fly from the amount of joy you have just bestowed in him. Never has anyone said anything more heartwarming to him than that.
As you travel home in the carriage with your mother after the luncheon, you cannot stop yourself from smiling. You have been cheerful from the moment you left.
"Whatever has you grinning, dearest?" Your mother asks you as you gaze out the window.
You keep your eyes trained on the passing scenery, your lips ever grinning.
"Nothing, mother. Nothing at all."
♡♡♡
@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333
@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173
@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner
@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -
@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle
@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15
@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis
@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle
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mcflymemes · 2 days
Text
NOCTURNAL ANIMALS (2016) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary
please don't say that. i don't want to be like my mother.
do you ever feel like your life has turned into something that you never intended?
that's a deal breaker for me.
we might be perfect for each other if we didn't live in the real world.
why do you always think the worst of me?
you're wrong. you and i are nothing alike.
i see we're settling for less now!
a package arrived for you. i found it in the mailbox this morning.
i'm sorry, but could you help me open this? i just cut my finger. paper cut.
in the end, you left me with the inspiration that i needed to write from the heart.
where were you last night?
by the time i left the office, i was late for my dinner.
it would have taken you fifteen minutes. fifteen minutes, and it would have meant a lot to me.
you didn't come to bed last night.
i didn't want to wake you up.
that doesn't sound like you.
are things a little better?
i'm surprised. i thought we were hiding it pretty well.
[name], i'm worried about you.
seriously, look at me. you scared me the last time that we talked.
i'm fine. i just can't believe i told you all of those things. i feel embarrassed about it.
what right do i have to not be happy? i have everything. i feel ungrateful not to be happy.
i think we just want different things. or maybe i want different things.
we get into things when we're young because we think they mean something.
do we really have to stop tonight? i'd rather just get there.
don't look at them. don't give them any reason.
sit still. they've probably got a gun.
don't get out of the car.
you're not supposed to leave the scene of an accident. it's a crime.
don't come any closer.
i'm a gemini, my favorite color is petal pink, and i like long walks and kittens.
you know what, we should call the police.
you got no fucking right to talk to me like that!
you'll get killed if you don't watch it.
may i use your phone?
could you see them in the dark?
i just wanted to hear your voice. i miss you.
you sound weird. are you okay?
you look beautiful as always.
would you like to have dinner?
you know, you were my first crush.
what a weird thing to say.
i'm sorry. i hope that doesn't offend you.
this is a ridiculous conversation. you're too young to get married.
oh my god, did you just say that? you really just said that? that came out of your mouth?
it's like the whole thing is a blur.
now listen. i've got to be honest with you. right now it's not looking good.
if i write it down, then it will last forever.
you know my name. i told you.
you didn't sleep again, did you?
who the hell are you? get off my property!
you'll take this the wrong way, but i think that you need to stop writing about yourself.
please don't start that again. it makes me feel like you don't believe in me.
you always get so fucking defensive about it.
i really wanted to be this person that you thought i was. i really did, but i'm just not that person.
you're wonderful and romantic, and sweet and sensitive, and all the things i'm not. life for you is kind of a dream.
weak. i'm weak. that's what you want to say. go ahead and say it. you've said it before. weak.
i'll live to regret this. i regret it now.
i got a certain pride in how people talk to me, and there are certain things i don't put up with.
nobody gets away with what you did.
may i get you a drink while you wait?
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