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artificialqueens · 11 months

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🏳️‍🌈 The Miracle of Living Pt.1 (Bianca Del Rio/BenDeLaCreme ig??) - Lita

In this world we're just beginning To understand the miracle of living

Hello everyone! Welcoe to the long-awaited prequel to the Bitney San Junipero AU that I technically started writing five years ago (???) but recently decided to try and breathe new life into and complete. In theory this can stand alone as its own story with a few vague references to Black Mirror future tech sprinkled in, but it's really just setup to the main fic that kind of got away from me. The story has gotten a complete overhaul, so if anyone from Ye Olden Days remembers it - please do stick around and read this new version, I promise it's better.

Massive thank you to @veronicasanders for giving me the kick up the ass required to get this story back off the ground, throwing her ideas at me, and being my Google when it comes to divorce court and the American college system. Love you mom - I hope this story is everything you'd dreamed of <3

Summary: Bianca is twenty-one, flunking college, and - thanks to a night of drunk bad decision-making - she's pregnant with her gay best friend's baby.

Los Angeles, California

January 17th, 2022

“BEN!”

Bianca’s furious voice rings out through the small apartment. She’s sitting on the toilet with her pajama pants and underwear around her ankles, willing the second blue line to disappear. If anything, it’s getting darker.

“Uh…yeah?” The reply comes from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I thought you said you wore a fucking condom!”

“I did!” Ben protests. Then, meek and cautious: “...It might have split.”

“It might have what?”

Two and a half months ago, Bianca and Ben had gone out drinking to commiserate the ends of their respective relationships - Ben had found out about his long-term boyfriend’s secret Grindr profile and dumped him, then Bianca’s longest-lasting FWB had called it quits with her less than a week later. When they got home, drunk and dumb and miserable, they’d started making out with each other on the couch - as a joke, just for something to do. And then, since they were shitfaced and apparently didn’t know any better, one ‘joke’ led to another, and they’d woken up naked in Ben’s bed. They had laughed it off the morning after, hunched at the kitchen table over alka-seltzer and black coffee - too much liquor, too many emotions. Shit happens.

And then tonight, Bianca had mentioned offhand that she was incredibly overdue her period, and suggested going out to buy a test half as a joke. Ben had gone along with it a little too willingly, and he’d been overly-energised and super fucking weird on the walk to the drugstore. Really, Bianca should have known something was up when he detoured via the liquor store across the street, and came back with two bottles of tequila.

“Ben, are you fucking kidding me?” Bianca says through her teeth.

“I was gonna tell you,” Ben replies, sounding flustered. “Is the door locked? Can I come in?”

Bianca wants to say no, but it was Ben’s curiosity about her vagina that got them here in the first place, so who cares about whether or not he sees her now? She reaches over to turn the lock. Ben shuffles into the room in his leopard-print boxers and an oversized pajama shirt, and perches on the edge of the bathtub, looking at the floor.

Part of Bianca wants to burst into tears - another part of her wants to scream until she throws up. Not now. Not fucking now - not like this. She’s twenty-one; Bianca doesn’t even know that she wants a goddamn kid at all, forget about one fathered by her gay best friend.

“Look, I didn’t notice until after we were done. And I didn’t want to freak you out - I figured it would probably be nothing, and then there was never a good time, and then you told me you were late and I…”

“You’re a faggot, we were hammered, we fucked because we thought it would be funny - if you knew that there was any chance whatsoever that you’d knocked me up, you should have fucking told me!” Bianca snarls through gritted teeth.

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t really react either. He just sits there and looks at her; composed, taking it in.

Bianca met Ben at a theater summer camp when they were sixteen. Ben had just moved from Seattle; he was about to start junior year at the private school across town. They led fundamentally different lives - Bianca had found herself seethingly jealous of him and his cakewalk of a fucking existence when she first met him, resolved that she had no other choice but to hate him on premise. But they’d been assigned as duet partners for the end-of-summer showcase and, faced with no other choice but to get along with him, she’d discovered that they were fucking made for each other. Ben didn’t mind that Bianca was kind of a bitch; he laughed at her jokes, he seemed to understand her. All three qualities she’d never experienced from other kids her age. One juvenile performance of Waltz for Eva and Che later, and she’d found an apparent friend for life.

And then, once high school drew to a close and Bianca was confronted head-on with the unblinking abyss of her future and its hopelessness, he’d offered her an exit route. He was freaked out by the idea of sharing a dorm with a stranger, so his dad had eventually relented after months of begging to privately rent an apartment - he just needed a roommate. She’d never expected that that offer would land her here.

“So, you’re pregnant?” He asks cautiously.

“Yeah - no shit, Sherlock.”

“Do you think you should take another one? To make sure or whatever?” Ben asks. Bianca presses the heel of her hand to her temple, still not breaking eye contact with the pregnancy test.

“Nope - that looks pretty positive to me,” Bianca shows it to him, wiping the mist of stress-sweat from her brow. Ben pulls a vaguely disgusted face. There’s a moment of pause - Bianca bites her lip, struggling to make sense of the messy cocktail of emotions swirling around inside her head.

“Are you okay?” Ben tries to take Bianca’s hand. It feels weirdly violating to have someone touching her while she’s sitting on the toilet. She swats him away.

“I think so. I need a little time to get my head around…everything.” Bianca grits her teeth.

All the scary new problems are dawning on her all at once, like she’s being descended on by a swarm of wasps. College. How to tell her parents. Hospital bills. College again. The apartment is too small for another person. She’ll probably be a shitty mother. Ben. Ben’s pending status as an absent father. She’s never changed a diaper before. College. Fucking college.

She’s currently scraping through year number four of her two-year community college program. Which, as it turns out, only takes two years if you aren’t working full-time to try and keep yourself fed and housed. Ben’s impending graduation from USC - full ride for a screenwriting major, family that gave a shit about him - made that feel even more grim.

This whole convoluted, stupid journey to something better had felt both never-ending and deeply hopeless for the last thirty-six months, and now the whole endeavor is decisively fucked. Even if she does make it to that prophesied something better - enough credits to earn her a spot in the fashion merchandising major she’d been declined acceptance to straight out of high school - there’s no way she can handle real college with a fucking screaming infant permanently attached to her. She can feel the dream crumbling in her hands.

Bianca makes a silent resolution that she’s not putting her own kid - who still feels very much like a hypothetical even though it very much isn’t - through the same shit. You’re eighteen now, you’re not our problem any more. It really didn’t help that every screaming argument with her mom in the leadup to her high school graduation had been silently spectated by her brother - in all his uneducated, unemployed, twenty-seven year old glory - from his position fossilized into the living room couch with his PlayStation controller in his hand. We’re not paying for you to stay in this house and fuck your life up - why her specifically?

Her desire not to be their problem had trailed her from NOLA to LA with Ben, and that was its own issue. She leaves on her terms and she’s abandoning her family, even though it was their sharp insistence that she got a job or an apartment or fucking something else that didn’t involve her living at home and taking up too much space that had pushed her in that direction in the first place. What the fuck was there for her at home anyway? Community college and shitty waitressing jobs? At least she could do the same shit against a prettier backdrop on the other side of the country.

Bianca realizes she’s staring dementedly at the test in her hand again. She sniffs, trying to blink away tears she hadn’t noticed forming.

“I really didn’t see being a single mom in my life plan,” she mutters - thinking out loud.

Except she had. In her bleaker moments - the ones in which she was seventeen and terrified of what would happen if she never got out of her hometown. She hadn’t had that nightmare since she and Ben had packed his car and left at the beginning of September four years ago.

“Who says you have to be a single mom?” Ben tilts his head, reaching a hand out for her again.

Bianca scoffs.

“What? No- Ben, I really don’t want to date you - one night was bad enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But like…if you’re gonna go through with this, I’m not just leaving you by yourself to do it. Both of us did something dumb, and now we’re here - so, both of us should have to parent the consequence.”

There’s a quiet, sympathetic smile on Ben’s face. Bianca still wants to fucking kill him. She eyes him up, searching for any hints of deception or fake-niceness. Surprisingly, he passes the on-the-spot analysis.

“You’re just saying that so I stop being mad at you.”

“No! Anyway, I can’t let you raise it by yourself - I love you, but the world really, really doesn’t need two of you.”

“Ha-ha, go suck a dick,” Bianca rolls her eyes. She can’t help but crack a smile.

“If this is what happens when I try to go outside my comfort zone, then yeah, that’s what I’m sticking to.”

****

2nd May, 2022

“That was less excruciating than I thought it would be,” Bianca arches her back as she perches on the edge of the bed, stretching out. Her hair is still elaborately styled; what little of her makeup had survived the day still on her face.

She’d abandoned her dress on the floor the second that they got to their hotel room. She’s basically naked, which Ben seems perplexingly unbothered by; married, heterosexual life seems to have changed him quicker than she thought it would. It’s a relief, finally being alone with him. She’d have preferred to actually be alone, but after a day of forced smiles and overwhelm, he was better than nothing.

“Absolutely,” Ben nods, sitting down to untie his shoes. He’s still wearing his tux - his black curls are coiffed back from his face, and he’d almost pass for straight, were it not for his meticulously groomed eyebrows. “I mean, I could have done with maybe seventy percent less beer and sports talk from your dad - I was starting to think he was onto me.”

“I thought everyone knew there’s no home runs in football - that’s not a gay thing, you’re just dumb.”

The shotgun wedding hadn’t really been a part of the plan, but after Bianca’s mom had found out that she was pregnant, and then proceeded to call her non-stop for weeks in order to berate her for bringing shame on the family like it was the fucking 1800s, Ben had suggested it. Her mother’s bizarre and endlessly changing standards of behavior continue to baffle Bianca.

The decision to go ahead with it seemed a bit weird, but ‘weird’ had become a default preset of Bianca’s existence since January. Ben had thrown himself into the organization with immediate, over-the-top passion - opening up Pinterest and starting on the moodboard five minutes after Bianca had agreed to it. It had kept him entertained and out of the way, which was nice - he’d already started reading parenting books, and was being a little overbearing about prenatal vitamins and whether or not Bianca had made her birth plan yet.

Outside of picking out her dress, Bianca hadn’t really had to do or think about anything. Marrying a gay man had its perks. She’d had a brief reprieve from Ben’s preemptive helicopter parenting, which gave her more energy to focus on finding bigger apartments, since otherwise the kid would be sleeping in the closet, and trying to convince her job that no, four weeks definitely wasn’t enough maternity leave.

The wedding day had been quietly excruciating - her family, her mom specifically, engaging in that grim unspoken facade of keeping up appearances. Pretending that everything was completely fine and normal, denying any knowledge of Bianca’s pregnancy when asked about it. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking normal for her. The atmosphere had been thorny, and Bianca had spent most of the day choking back alcohol-free prosecco and waiting for it to be over.

Ben’s family - who seemed confused but generally enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, probably only half-buying Ben’s assertion that he was actually bi and Bianca was definitely the one - seemed to like Bianca though, and that was refreshing. Some kind of normalcy in As Yet Unnamed Kid’s extended family was deeply necessary. They, and Ben himself, had been the only bearable part of the whole thing. Plus they’d fronted most of the expenses and organized the reception at their country club, which was a damn sight better than the social hall of the church that Bea’s family pretended to attend.

“Anyway, I’ve got proof that we’ve fucked at least once, so I don’t think anyone was super suspicious,” Ben continues as Bianca flops back onto the plush bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “How is she doing?”

“She’s fine - she let Mommy keep all of her food down today, so that’s something,” Bianca says.

She’s kind of starting to show now; although just to the point where she looks spectacularly bloated, rather than recognisably pregnant. They didn’t actually know what gender she was yet - but Bea had a feeling. Maybe it was more of a hope, actually; if it was a boy, Ben got to pick the name, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about calling it Raphael.

The kid had been a little bitch recently - whenever Bianca tried to complain about it, Ben would just laugh and remind her that she clearly took after her mom. After a lot of smugness about how she’d not had morning sickness at all, it hit her like a truck for some reason the moment she hit her second trimester. She’d spent the better part of the month before the wedding bent over a toilet bowl. Bianca is already pretty fucking sick of being pregnant, and she’s not even halfway done - she’s always tired, and her boobs hurt, and she misses comfortable sleep and coffee. She thought that nine months with no booze would be the hard part, but dragging herself through life without caffeine is proving to be the real kicker.

“This is weird,” Bianca muses, staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s weird?” Ben turns to look at her, eyes landing on and then immediately flashing away from her exposed tits.

“Try and think about it for like, slightly longer than you wanna think about it. You’re my husband, and I’m pregnant with your kid,” she says plainly. “In what universe was that ever something either of us would have wanted a year ago?"

“Okay, so maybe you’re kind of messy and annoying, and you talk with your mouth full like, all the time and it’s really gross, but I can think of worse people to spend the rest of my life with,” he shrugs. Bianca swats at him with a pillow.

“Thanks a lot.” She aims for pissed, but a smile cracks its way through. “Anyway, it’s not the rest of our lives - play pretend for a few years, then split up and go and live our truths or whatever once she moves out, like we agreed,” Bianca says. Ben nods knowingly.

That was another aspect of things that she was a little hesitant about. Ben had meant what he said about sticking around and raising the kid, but they’d always planned for something more like coparenting. They’d have the baby, and then grow the fuck up and get their own relationships and apartments and lives while splitting custody.

So, the sham marriage thing had interfered with that master plan quite a fucking lot. The situation had divulged into a years-long commitment to lying to people - no dating, since what was gonna happen when the kid started talking and blabbed to whatever set of grandparents about Daddy’s boyfriend? They were gonna be stuck living together for the foreseeable. So, even more keeping up of fucking appearances, which Bianca can’t stand doing it. But the ring on her finger is a glaring, expensive sign that she’s already committed.

They’d talked about it already; pretend to everyone, including the kid, that everything was entirely fine and normal until she was old enough to understand it, get a divorce in about eighteen years, and go their separate ways while continuing to be friends if they could still stand the sight of each other. Easy.

“Thinking about it like that just makes it sound worse,” Ben leans back to lie next to her, loosening his tie. “It’s gonna be fine. One step at a time.”

“Sure,” Bianca replies, distant.

“I mean,” Ben rolls over onto his side, lowering his eyelids into an expression that Bianca imagines is supposed to be seductive. “It is our wedding night - how about round two?”

“Ew - no, never.” Bianca cracks a smile, pushing him away. Ben laughs.

“Thank god, I barely got through saying that without puking.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and glancing around the expansive bridal suite - still a mess from Bea getting ready that morning. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

Bianca thinks for a second.

“Nah - that doesn't feel fair. I’ve been averaging getting up to pee about ten times a night though, so you can look forward to that.” She looks down at her belly, putting both hands around her barely-noticeable bump. “I hope you know you’re already a gigantic pain in my ass, baby.”

****

September 29th, 2022

Ben had left to go and get coffee - which is probably a good thing, since Bianca was getting tired of looking at him. He’d been…way too intensely supportive, to an extent that she’d found a little smothering. But at least he’d been there. Throughout the last nine months, Bianca had been worried that he was eventually going to get sick of her shit and leave her to deal with it by herself. She’d given him no shortage of shit to get sick of.

The epidural hasn’t quite worn off yet; Bianca has no idea what sort of state her pussy is in, and she’s not sure she wants to know. She’s sweaty and exhausted, but she feels…good. For some reason.

Her water had broken that morning. Ben had been at work - fatherhood looming over him and in desperate need of something more secure than his old three shifts a week at TGI Fridays, he’d picked up a job doing data entry or some other boring crap in an office full of middle-aged straight women about two months ago. Apparently it had been hilarious to watch his reputation as the super fun token gay guy shatter in real time when he’d announced to his boss in front of most of his coworkers that he had to leave because his wife had just gone into labor.

Yeah, he’d been fucking insufferable with the constant ‘you’re doing amazing’s, but he was trying his best. Bea couldn’t exactly be mad at him - he’d just put up with eight hours of her screaming bloody murder and telling everyone who came near her to go fuck themselves. And she’s pretty sure she’d been gripping his hand so tightly she came close to breaking a couple of his fingers.

The room is quiet now. It’s bliss, compared to the chaos of the last few hours - the mad rush of doctors and nurses and blood and sweat and swearing. It’s getting dark outside, the glow of the city lights flickering through the thin curtains. There’s a plastic crib next to Bianca’s bed, with a pink label on its side. Adore Del Rio, 6lbs 3oz.

No matter how disgusting and tiring her day has been - and it was really tiring, and really, really fucking disgusting - a sense of enormous, beautiful calm had washed over Bianca when she held her daughter for the first time. Her daughter.

She’d never felt anything like this before, looking down at the tiny, squishy, pink bundle in her arms. She’s asleep now, wrapped in a blanket and held to Bea’s bare chest. She’s so…little, and so delicate, Bianca thinks as Adore - her fucking daughter - wriggles and murmurs, reaching up for her with one perfect, miniature hand. The delicate curls of her wispy brown hair, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as Bianca holds her close - she can’t believe that she fucking made her. She’s so perfect, and so goddamn fucking small - and Bianca feels both blissfully zen, and absolutely ready to tear anybody who tries to take Adore away from her limb from limb.

She’s barely been here for an hour, and Bianca loves her more than she’s ever loved anything else before.

*****

March 18th, 2041

“Did you finish your homework last night?”

“Yes.” Adore, lacking in any semblance of enthusiasm, grunts from the kitchen table; pulling out one of her earbuds and looking at Bianca with a mix of indignation and fury.

“Then how come I’m getting emails from the school - again - about you not turning it in?” Bianca places the last clean plate on the dishrack and turns around, leaning against the counter and drying her wet hands on the ass of her jeans. That fails to elicit any form of response from her asshole teenager, and she tries again. “Come the fuck on, Dorey- it’s like you don’t even want to graduate.”

“Maybe I don’t?” She tilts her head, shit-eating grin on her face. That was a deliberate attempt at pissing her off - Bianca has gotten pretty good in recent years at telling those apart from Adore pissing her off without meaning to, and she tries not to let it. Even if her blood is already quietly simmering.

“Oh, you absolutely do if you wanna keep living in this house-”

“Leave her alone, Bea.” Ben laughs, sitting opposite from Adore, as he looks up from the article he’s reading on his tablet.

He only got home from work about an hour ago - most of Bianca’s days off fall on weekdays, so she’s been at home all day, doing pretty much nothing of note until Adore got home from school. They’d had a minor screaming match about the state of Adore’s room - Bianca had threatened to withhold phone privileges and her car keys until Adore relented, threw out the fifteen water bottles she’d been accumulating on her nightstand, and hid the rest of her mess in the closet. Fuck it, good enough.

They only seemed to either argue or ignore each other when Ben wasn’t home which was…just fucking great. It made Bianca feel totally awesome about herself. But Ben is back, order has been restored, and Bianca is cleaning up after dinner like nothing had happened.

“Whose side are you on?” Bianca replies, faux-shocked. “Fucking traitor.”

“Clearly mine, because I’m his favorite,” Adore smirks. You don’t know the fucking half of it, Dorey.

Bianca isn’t saying anything, but the way that Adore is looking at her tells her that she probably still looks mad. This recurring point of tension is getting several million miles up Bianca’s ass.

Adore’s latest thing, with her last months of high school on horizon, has been threatening not to go to college. She’d gotten her applications in by some fucking miracle, and by even further fucking miracle had been accepted for a songwriting major at some prestigious music school that Bianca couldn’t remember the name of - and was now adamant that she wasn’t going, in favour of driving around the country with the ‘band’ that her and her dumbass friends had formed last summer, playing gigs in basements and doing god-knows what else.

Bianca feels like she knows on some level that this is all talk; of course Adore is gonna graduate and go, she’s not stupid. But she’s been in the midst of a prolonged rebellious phase since she was about thirteen. Every time they fight about it, Bianca wants to shake Adore and tell her you’re gonna fucking do this because I couldn’t, stop being fucking ungrateful - but her failed aspirations aren’t Adore’s fault.

It just annoys her. Adore, in every possible way, has had an easier life than Bianca ever did and she struggles not to hate her for it. Her future is available to her on a silver goddamn platter, she’s looking for reasons to not take it, and for fucking what? Being cool?

Ben, against what had seemed like all odds when they were in their twenties, had really fallen upwards from the joint error that had changed the trajectory of both of their lives. That first ‘pay the bills’ office job doing whatever-the-fuck had unlocked Ben’s secret talent for playing corporate ball, and a little less than eighteen years later he was the CFO of an LGBT charity, and making what Bianca deemed to be a fucking stupid amount of money. Enough to afford their too-nice house in a too-nice neighborhood in West LA, and Adore’s too-nice performing arts high school.

Bianca had climbed about as far up the ladder as she’d been able to, but given that she was a college dropout with no real experience in anything else, the depressing non-failure of retail store management was about the best she could manage. It wore her down; the feeling of uselessness and guilt as she inhabited this existence that felt a million miles above her means.

“This is insane - have you guys read about this new Cookie Heaven thing they’re trialing?” Ben looks up again, breaking the frosty silence - Bianca disinterestedly flicking through her phone, Adore disinterestedly pretending to finish her homework. “Guys?”

Ben had been bizarrely fixated on this emergent technology for the last year or so - some shit about consciousness transfers and virtual afterlifes that Bianca didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It made her skin crawl, not that she had any idea why. Truly, the rate at which Cookies as a principle had been developed, outlawed, un-outlawed, given rights, made illegal again but only in certain situations - it felt like it dominated the news, and with every possible turn it got weirder. Their trajectory had felt like trying to find a point for something that had been invented pointlessly. Criminal justice, entertainment, smart home tech, medical advances, god knows what else - Bianca just thought they were a bit macabre.

“Nope, don’t want to. It’s creepy.” Bianca shudders, kicking off the process of shutting him up about it before he talks about it too much and gets under her skin. “Is this like that chick who died in that AR art thing at Burning Man and got stuck in the Cloud? Because that freaked me the fuck out.”

“Why? I think it’s really nice. According to this, they’ve been successful with people who’ve been uploaded prior to death, so now they’re looking at trialing it for long-term coma patients, end-of-life care, people with Alzheimer’s - it could be really promising.”

“Absolutely not - when I die, let me rest in fucking peace.” Bianca pulls a face. “Don't throw some gross little computer clone of me into a weird simulation and force me to live forever - it’s weird. I don’t like it."

“Bianca, Cookies aren’t just computers-”

“It’s messed up.”

Adore shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, pushing her earbuds in further. Bianca half-watches her, pursing her lips.

“I think it’s sweet. It says in the article that if this trial thing works, then they’re going to look at options for letting family members visit,” Ben says a little wistfully.

“Ah.” It takes a moment of thought, but Bianca feels like an asshole.

“Look, I just think that if something like that had been around thirty years ago, it would have been…” he stops, not sure how to finish his sentence. Ben’s mom died when he was ten, and that tragedy has been underpinning Adore’s entire adolescence; his constant anxiety over something happening to himself or Bianca, not wanting his daughter to have to suffer through the same lifelong, unshifting grief. “Think about Adore-”

“Yeah - maybe think about me enough to not have this conversation right in fucking front of me?” Adore bolts to her feet, her hands clasped at her sides. Her eyes look moist. Bianca half-opens her mouth, trying to say something, but no words make their way out. “This is freaking me out - stop it!”

She scrubs at her eyes furiously with a balled fist, storming out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind her with a thud.

“Dorey-” Ben calls out weakly after her.

“What the fuck was that?” Bianca walks around the table, slumping down into the seat Adore had just been occupying. She hears Adore’s bedroom door slam from upstairs.

“I dunno - I guess that got a little heavy? I mean, who wants to sit around and listen to their parents talking about what’s gonna happen when they die?” Ben looks uncomfortable, chewing at his bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” Bianca replies distantly, not really listening.

“I do mean it, though.” Ben says, leaning across the table - looking past Bianca’s folded arms and frosty expression. “If I’d had some way to still talk to my mom - even if it wasn’t fully real, even if it was just a simulation - I’d have wanted that. And I don’t think it’s fair that we should stop Adore from having that chance.”

“What, so I have to commit to being alive forever even when I don’t want to, for her benefit? I don’t think she even likes me anymore, Ben - she wouldn’t care.” Bianca sounds more morose than she wants to, but it’s true. She loves Adore, but god knows the kid is going out of her way to make that difficult.

“Believe me, she would.” Ben looks at her a little too seriously. “I’m just saying I think we should look into it.”

“Look into it all you want - I’m not doing it.”

“Seriously, Bea-” Ben is looking at her with puppy eyes and it’s making her feel nauseous. “For Adore?”

There’s loud music blasting upstairs, and Bianca is wondering if it’s Adore picking up an old habit of putting her speakers on when she’s crying, so that nobody can hear her. She wants to go and check on her, but she’s glaringly aware that any interference from her is perceived as a pending attack by Adore right now - how powerless she feels hurts. Bianca looks at the floor, picking at her cuticles.

“Fine.”

*****

August 4th, 2042

“So, I’m sure this isn’t gonna come as a shock to you, but your dad and I got a divorce.”

Adore’s eyes practically pop out of her head as she spits her coffee out. More of it gets on Bianca’s face than she would have liked.

“What?”

“I don’t think I left much room for interpretation there, Dorey,” Bianca grimaces, wiping secondhand iced latte off of her cheek with a napkin.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why the fuck did you get a divorce?” Adore looks sullen. Almost angry, actually.

Regardless of how different they’d seemed to become as she’d grown up, every so often Bianca was hit with a very, very strong reminder that Adore was her mother’s daughter. Calm and rational, per fucking usual.

She’d debated back and forth with Ben about who should tell her. They’d been dancing around the subject since June, when Adore had first come home for summer; practically rehearsing the conversation. Eventually they’d settled on Bianca - Ben had admitted himself that Bianca’s at times abrasive directness was the way forward. Adore didn’t hold well with people pussyfooting around her, and Ben was always a little too delicate with her feelings. He’d been the ideal Good Cop to Bianca’s bad one when Adore was little - but she was nineteen now, had moved out almost a year ago, and was as close to a real adult as she was realistically ever gonna be. She needed someone to be straight with her. And, well, out of the two of them, Bianca was probably the closest thing to straight. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage.

The split itself had been more than amicable, since years of planning had gone into it. The only slight point of contention had been, in the process of unpicking and rewriting both of their advanced directives, Ben had been pretty insistent on her keeping the part about San June-whatever-the-fuck - that weird Cookie Heaven thing which she’d hoped would just be a passing fad when Ben brought it up last spring, but had only gained more traction and more apparent success.

She’d tried to reason with him about Adore being a grown-up now, and how she’d made it through the last year without shuffling off this mortal coil, and so their respective deaths were probably a far-future issue that they shouldn’t be so worried about right now, but it hadn’t flown. Bianca had spent long enough in lawyers’ offices debating bullshit to have any useful argument left in her. She’d thought the divorce process would be less of a nightmare since it was agreed upon by both parties prior to the fucking wedding, but apparently she’d thought wrong.

“Because we…” Bianca sighs, facepalming. Adore has tears in her eyes. Shit, she really hadn’t been expecting this. “Because he’s gay, Adore.”

Adore’s eyes pop again. Bianca clamps a hand over her mouth before she gets a chance to cover her in overpriced coffee again.

“Daddy’s gay?” Adore blurts out as soon as she manages to swallow.

“Duh?” That just tumbles out of Bianca’s mouth without any real thought. “Are you really telling me that you never suspected anything?”

“No? I thought he was just like…I dunno, really into theater. Did you just find out? Holy shit, are you okay?” Adore reaches for Bianca’s hand a little frantically. Bianca laughs, shaking her head.

“Nope - I’ve always known. Dorey, I…” she sighs again, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. “Listen, when a gay man and a bisexual live together, and they get really, really drunk this one time…”

“Ohmigod, you’re bi?”

How unobservant is this fucking kid?

“Yeah - surprise. Now you know why we were so fucking chill about it when you cut all your hair off and started begging for a pair of Doc Martens when you were twelve,” Bianca says, chuckling.

A confused look washes over Adore’s face. “But I…you always seemed so in love.”

“We decided we were gonna get married and pretend to be normal so that we didn’t fuck you up,” Bianca shrugs. “Which clearly worked super well.”

Adore cracks a smile. It feels good to see her smile.

Since Adore moved out for college - miracle of fucking miracles - the rift between them that her teenage years had created seemed to fill itself in. Bianca felt closer to her; felt the warmth of her love without hesitation or denial for the first time in years. She was like a different person. Happy - blossoming into herself. She’d started posting her music on social media, and was getting enough buzz to land gigs here and there. And she hadn’t just stopped pushing Bianca away, but had started actively reaching out for her. She called her at least once every couple of days because she missed her; messaged her constantly. Just frivolous little updates about her days, or pictures of dogs that she’d seen - silly little shit. But it felt good.

She’d worried that it wouldn’t last. But Adore had come home for summer, and as it trailed to an end, there’d been no second coming of their years-long bitch-feud. Everything had been fucking glorious.

“Boo, you’re mean,” Adore says playfully.

“For the record, we were good at faking being in love because we both love you,” Bianca says, reaching out to take Adore’s hand. She’s bitten off two of her acrylics again - Bianca is a little suspicious about which two exactly, and briefly debates calling her out for it. Whatever - she’s an adult, she can do what she wants. But Bianca is taking her to get a manicure once they get done oversharing in the middle of this cafe, because it looks like shit. “That’s not gonna change. But you’re probably gonna end up with stepparents.”

Adore looks down. She’s always done this cute little smirky thing when she’s embarrassed - eyes fixed to the floor, quietly smiling to herself. Bianca loves it.

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

Bianca rolls her eyes.

“We’re not dating-dating. But yeah - her name is Katya, I met her online.”

“Is she hot?”

“None of your business - she’s too old for you anyway,” Bianca shoots Adore a warning look. “Your dad was on a date last night, too - some guy called Darius, apparently it went really well. But I’m gonna look into getting his room soundproofed.”

“Ewwww,” Adore clamps her hands over her ears, laughing. “You’re being gross. Stop being gross.”

“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer to,” Bianca grins. “Are you good now? Or do you feel like spitting coffee all over me again? I really enjoyed it that first time.”

“Honestly? I always wondered why none of my friends’ parents had their own bedrooms,” Adore thinks out loud. Bianca shakes her head, chuckling.

“I love you so much, you fucking moron.”

Pride Challenge Points: 10,312

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-CO) had a temper tantrum in Congress during a hearing about Twitter yesterday, where she accused a gay former Twitter employee of “shadow-banning” her account over “a freaking joke.”

“Did either of you approve a shadow-banning of my account, @LaurenBoebert?” Boebert asked former Twitter employees Yoel Roth and Vijaya Gadde at a House Oversight Committee hearing yesterday.

The hearing was ostensibly about Twitter allegedly suppressing a 2020 New York Post article about Hunter Biden, but many congressmembers used the hearing to air grievances against the social media platform. “Shadow banning” is a term for reducing the visibility and reach of an account on social media, usually without that account owner’s knowledge.

“No I did not,” Roth responded.

“Not to the best of my recollection,” Gadde said.

“I know you looked at it because fascist Twitter 1.0 had a public interest exceptions policy, which means for members of Congress to be shadow-banned, it had to go before you, Mr. Roth,” Boebert snapped at them. “So, I’ll ask again. Did you shadow-ban my account, yes or no?”

He said “not to the best of my recollection,” to which Boebert responded: “So the answer is, Mr. Roth, yes you did!”

She claimed she heard from “Twitter staff” that Roth “suppressed” her account for a specific tweet about former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

“It’s a freaking joke about Hillary Clinton being angry that she couldn’t rig her election!” Boebert shouted. “It’s a joke! But in response, being the sinister overlords that you all are, you placed a 90-day account filter, so I could not be found!”

“Now who the hell do you think that you are? Election interference? Yeah, I would say that that was taking place because of you four sitting here.”

“This is fundamental to our nation’s governance and you all attacked that very foundation,” she said, referring to how visible her tweets allegedly were on the app’s search function.

“I’m not angry for myself,” she concluded. “I’m not angry because I was silenced.”

“I am angry for the millions of Americans who were silenced because of your decisions, because of your actions, because of your collusion with the federal government!”

youtube

Last year, Twitter CEO Elon Musk attacked Roth, posting a brief section of Roth’s thesis that mentioned Grindr and wrote, “Looks like Yoel is arguing in favor of children being able to access adult Internet services.” In December 2022, Musk also released internal Twitter records showing how the company initially suppressed the Post‘s Hunter Biden article.

Roth, who is gay and Jewish, told the congressional hearing that he faced “a wave of homophobic and antisemitic attacks” following Musk’s release of the records.

“Twitter has removed vanishingly little [of the attacks against me],” Roth said. “And following The Daily Mail’s decision to publish where I live, I had to leave my home and sell it.” He added that lower-level Twitter staff around the world, “had their families threatened and experienced harm equal to or greater than what I’ve experienced.”

#us politics #news #lgbtq nation #twitter #tweet #rep. lauren boebert #Yoel Roth #Vijaya Gadde #New York Post #Elon Musk #youtube #videos #2023 #118th congress #us house of representatives #House Oversight Committee

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randomsmilingpotatoes · 2 years

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2 x 01 commentary that nobody asked for!!!

- why am I emotional and feeling suspense over the four minutes THAT IVE ALREADY SEEN😭😭

- okay that was TOO soon to introduce Marcus to Simon what😭 Simon stop smiling like that it’s too early😭

- Sara I would be happy for you if you DIDNT BETRAY US

- felice!!! looks like she’s actually going to get an arc of her standing up against her mother and I’m so proud of her for that🥹

- hmmm looks like Sara and felice may have some friendship issues living together??

- OMG forgot people have to be initiated HAHA

- I fucking LOVE the playlist for this show it’s never what I expect but it’s such a vibe

- okay simon has no business looking that pretty when he’s literally just gaming

- okay was NOT expecting August’s evil smile to be THAT early in the show

- OMG THIS IS THE PARTY THEYRE GONNA SEE EACH OTHER AT

- wille using his power against august to get into the party?? we love thattt

- also I love that the boys in his year are actually like friends ?? yay???

- wille helping Simon find Sara first without talking about them, goodd😌

- “I got a haircut” oh god WILLE hahaha

- omg Marcus texting him WHILE he’s talking to wille NO

- LESBIANS

- I FOUND HIM ON GRINDR. I - NILS!!!!!!! but also fuck wille didn’t need to know Marcus is GAY ALREADY

- okay that’s interesting, it’s good they’re not putting it down to sexuality and that it’s also the class difference

- LOVING felices hair

- Vincent and nils are everyone during school assemblies lmao

- “if you hadn’t refused to talk to the Queen” UGH fuck her

- as much as I want wille and simon together, I’m glad to see ayub and rosh talking genuinely from a friends perspective and saying he’s toxic . bc rn, he is for simon- I just hope wille can prove them wrong

- YES ROSH CANON SAPPHIC

- them IMMEDIATELY jumping to rebounding with Marcus LMAO

- not simon immediately considering it tho?? dude calm down ???

- ALEXANDER

- fuck wille is going to face the consequences of framing him isn’t he

- felices friends whose names I always forget are so pretty

- hmm. I do feel like Simon deserves to know but if wille can ruin his life then?? probably the better way to do it

- “were they together for real or is he bi?” .. what?

- Eric with that only fans girl omg we’re getting the tea

- fuck sara going to spend all that money on little things like coffee

- SIMON SINGING A SOLO YAY what an adorable reaction too

- not the only spare seat being next to wille help

- YES wille USE YOUR POWER also simon liked that

- omg no. Alexander thinking wille is different😭 I wish😭

- august. The only way you will ever have someone even ACCEPT an apology is to publicly come clean

- sara why the FUCK are you STILL helping this man

- omg she got off on that???? fuck sara THERE ARE OTHER GUYS IN THE WORLD

- “fuck, wille, don’t you realise you hurt me?” This is what he needed to hear. Good

- I just know wille has one of those phones purely so he can snap his mother shut lmao

- it makes me so happy to see Simon happy🥰

- fuck that would hurt seeing that

- the way he immediately looked to august!! yes!!!

- not him finally calling his mother to blame her and saying simons on a date with someone else I’m sorry but I laughed

- yes!!!! I’m so glad he IS this angry and is STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF! and it’s not just kept between him and his mother!!!

Fuck I am SO EXCITED for this seasonnnn

the only thing I do wanna say is that I hope wille does accept that even if he leaves the monarchy it doesn’t change what he did to Simon- he’s not automatically going to forgive him just bc he’s no longer crown prince. I’m so happy to see him angry bc it all does come down to the constraints and control of the monarchy, but his relationship with Simon and also his friendship with Alexander both come down to his own decisions and I hope he does take responsibility for that within those relationships

#young royals #young royals season 2

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the-royal-blue-network · 24 days

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Ryan Hall stared up at the fan hanging above him. Round and round the blades went, pushing the most heavenly breeze down onto Ryan and the human blanket that laid on top of him.

Ryan had met the heavy meat sack on Grindr just a few hours ago. The pair exchanged a total of twenty or so messages between both the app and texting. The cliché bulge and abs photo was all it took to get Mr. Torso over; and from there, clothes began to fall, and hands began to roam as they stumbled into bed.

Typically, Ryan didn’t like having sex in his own bed. If done right, most hookups left Ryan too tired to do anything besides wishing his bed buddy farewell and crashing in his bed.

But tonight, Ryan had been sloppy; he’d forgotten all the rules he’d set for himself and allowed this one to make it to the bedroom. Probably because he looked like...

Ryan’s thoughts were cut short when Mr. Torso began to shift on top of him.

“Mm, good morning.” The sandy haired man said, as he placed his hands on Ryan’s chest and looked at him.

Ryan looked out of the window to find the stars still twinkling in the night sky, but Mr. Torso wasn’t wrong, it was one in the morning.

“You were incredible last night.” Mr. Torso said with a smile.

“As were you.” Ryan smirked.

Mr. Torso smiled, and Ryan couldn’t help but place a finger in the little dimple in his right cheek.

Now that the alcohol had worn off, Ryan was able to appreciate how cute the sandy haired man was.

His eyes were greener than freshly cut grass and his jawline was sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“I had fun last night.” Said Mr. Torso with a smile.

Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle as images of the pair stumbling through his condo, clothes falling as they kept each other upright long enough to make it to bed, flashed in his mind.

“As did I.” Ryan said chuckling.

Mr. Torso opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by his phone. The Penguins' Earth Angel sounded, and with the way Mr. Torso jumped, you’d think he saw a ghost.

With his bare ass on full display, the man shifted through the mess of clothes on the floor until he found his pants and then his phone.

“Hey!” He said as he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Maybe Ryan should have had this little rendezvous over at a hotel. The last thing he needed was an angry girlfriend or wife causing a scene outside his place and trying to breakdown his door rather than facing their pig of a man.

Thanks to toxic masculinity, homophobia, and horrible luck on Ryan’s end, Ryan often found himself in the most fucked situations because of cowardly men whose sexualities weren’t as rigid as they claimed them to be.

Ryan pulled on his clothes as Mr. Torso mumbled in the bathroom, probably feeding his wife some bullshit line about how he was ‘working late’ or was away on a business trip.

The mumbling continued for some time, before the bathroom door opened, and Mr. Torso stepped out of the bathroom in all his glory.

“Alright bubby, let daddy call mommy and I’ll call you back.” He said before saying goodbye and ending the call.

Mr. Torso huffed before laughing and placing a hand over his chest.

“Sorry, my little guy’s away at sleep away camp for the first time, and he’s having a bit of trouble.” He laughed.

Oh, so Mr. Torso has a kid, and he’s not hiding it, interesting.

“It’s alright.” Said Ryan.

Ryan had remembered his time away at camp when he was a child. Though it wasn’t overnight, that was the longest time he’d ever been away from his parents, and Ryan did cry a time or two that day.

Mr. Torso gave a quick thanks before his phone went off.

“Honey! Yes, yes, Jake forgot Mr. Jones.” He said, pressing the phone to his ear.

Mr. Torso listened for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, I’m still with my date, we overslept.” He said.

Mr. Torso silently excused himself before slipping back into the bathroom and closing the door.

So Mrs. Torso was aware of her husband’s activities; interesting.

Mr. Torso spoke to his wife for some time before the call ended and he exited the bathroom.

“So you’re married.” Ryan heard himself say.

Shit, he hadn’t met to say that.

Mr. Torso paused, an eyebrow cocking up.

“Yeah, I put it in my bio. But you’re like the third guy to be surprised by this information, so I’m starting to think bio reading isn’t a thing people do on Grindr.” He said with a laugh.

Ryan smiled sheepishly.

“I knida got a little distracted.” He said, looking down at Mr. Torso’s cock.

The man smiled wickedly.

“I see.” He said, approaching the bed.

After yet another wild ride, Ryan and Mr. Torso, or Joshua, as he introduced himself, got to talking, and Ryan learned that Josh, and his wife, Marissa were both bisexuals, and had recently opened up their marriage to explore their sexualities.

The men talked for a little longer, getting to know one another, and though Ryan swore he would never date any of his Grindr hookups, he decided to take Josh up on his offer to treat him to lunch. After one more round, the men got dressed and headed out the door.

#Queer Fiction #Men Loving Men #Bisexual Men #Short Stoy #Queer Story #The Royal Blue Network #lgbtqia #fiction #lgbt+#short fiction #short story

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buddienights · 3 years

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The TA Grindr au Part six!

Eddie avoids his phone in shame for a while. Drinking too many margaritas with Karen — once Hen has inevitably banished them to be academics somewhere else (Eddie’s got ten bucks on her enrolling in med school within the next five years. Karen’s got money on ten) — always leads to her asking about his dating life. It’s just that normally, Eddie has nothing to share. And he really shouldn’t share his…flirtstionship…with Firehose91 whose name he does not even officially know.

Whose name he is trying really hard not to know before the final exam in two weeks. Once all the scores are in the system and he’s been impartial in his grading, then. Then he’s allowed to know. And until that time he really, really shouldn’t be asking for the reasons firehose91 chose that particular way to introduce the idea he’s well hung.

He tries not to think about it in any way at all whatsoever.

Which is naturally why he’s face down on his desk in the grad student “offices” theoretically holding office hours when bright white sneakers appear in his peripheral vision.

“Sorry to bug you,” Evan Buckley says when Eddie lifts his head and rubs at the red mark on his forehead pressed there by the industrial oak desk. “I’m in your intro to mythology class, and I know the final’s scheduled for 8:30 a week from Friday but I was wondering if I could take it early.”

“You want to take the final early?” Eddie asks. “Why?”

He knows what he wants the answer to be. Because Evan Buckley is six foot something stupid and has big broad shoulders and wears long sleeves constantly that both accentuate his unreasonable biceps and also hide any tattoos he may or may not have on his forearms that would correspond to a certain Grindr profile picture.

Eddie wants the answer to be so that he can drop off a bunch of information about kindergarten options as soon as possible and also then bend Eddie over the desk. Which is…not great.

It’s not great that this is his response.

“I just found out my sister’s coming into town on a red eye flight and she needs me to pick her up at the airport at 7:45,” Evan Buckley says, snapping Eddie entirely back to reality.

“Uh, yeah, no, that’s fine,” Eddie says. “I know it cuts down on possible study time, but can you take it on Monday? I have to proctor it to make sure you’re not on your phone.”

“Yeah,” Evan Buckley says. He smiles and he’s got stupid dimples and Eddie hates everything.

He’s gonna laugh so hard if it turns out Firehose91 is someone else.

The sort of laughing that turns into ugly crying.

“Great,” Eddie says. “See you Monday then.”

“Or, y’know, tomorrow in class,” Evan Buckley points out.

“Right yeah, yes, that’s also true,” Eddie says and wonders if he was this pathetic before he decided to take his divorce papers, his GI bill, and his infant son to LA to study classics.

Probably, honestly.

When Evan Buckley is gone, Eddie waits until the end of his office hours and then he calls Karen.

“I need to ask you an incredibly embarrassing favour.”

#I am playing chicken with ethics I’m sorry #911fic #buddie #buddie fic #ta grindr au #buddienights writes #nsft

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scribbly-dee · 3 years

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Inspired by this post

I adore corruption arcs, so I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Sasha James 11/10, would be an ideal archivist, this plus her height is probably why the stranger monster targeted her before she could peak

I have a soft spot for any au that knows Sasha has never seen a brain cell in her life and that any unhinged!Sasha au is really just a regular Sasha au. Picture it with me. Sasha and Jon have parallel archivist tracks, until Sasha (my beloved show off) decides: you know what would make me more efficient at snooping? Becoming a Human Google. And things accelerate. The Web doesn't even need to bother with subtly magic lighters, it slaps all 14 marks on her at once by pulling up next to Sasha in a windowless van with "free secrets 👍" written on the side.

After the Unknowing, Sasha takes over the institute from Elias instead of Martin and Peter. With Tim dead, Jon in a coma, Martin lonely-snatched, Melanie compulsively homicidal, Daisy in the coffin, and Basira on autopilot, she quickly bonds with Rosie, the ultimate nosiness enabler. Sasha is a fully marked archivist for a good long while, but doesn't start the apocalypse right away because she's eager to read ALL the ominous notes Elias left, so the watcher's crown statement is in her to-be-read pile. When the apocalypse starts (Rosie: "Hey, Sasha, I just read something extra fucked up that Elias wrote, wanna see?" Sasha: "God yes."), she books it to become the pupil with Rosie as her anchor. Mayhapse an anchor-archivist polycule with Archivist Jon and Martin? Mayhapse Jon is just a normal eye avatar here and deeply invested in all of Sasha's eyepocalypse statements, so it's Sasha and her plus-three? Mayhapse it's a race across the eyepocalypse wasteland between Archivist Sasha and Archivist Jon to usurp Jonah and become the pupil?

Tim Stoker 2/10 dude's here for a good time, not a long time

The only way I see this working is if Elias disguises not-stranger clues as circus related so Tim is motivated to investigate. Otherwise, his archival assistants are way more curious than him and disobey his direct orders to 🍹chill🏝. Jon, Sasha, and Martin inadvertently bring marks home to him like cats bring home dead birds. He asserts his agency when he decides the best course of action? Actually? Just blow up the archives. This unfortunately puts him in a false sense of security, and Elias makes him read the watcher's crown statement by cat fishing him on grindr and sending the ritual as a dm mid conversation.

Daisy Tonner - 9/10 archivist, would have started doomsday before she was at the archivist job long enough to use her PTO

Daisy already had a lot of experience hunting down fear-entity-related people in sectioned cases, which means she possibly canonically already has all the marks from just hunting avatars who use their powers in self defense. The reason she lost one point is because she's too much of a jock to read, only nerds are culpable to watcher crown statements, so this would be the only delay but oh what a delay it will be.

Melanie King - 7/10 archivist, points awarded for achieving her breakthroughs by smashing her head against a wall until she literally breaks through, points deducted for doing so in full clown makeup.

If Jon got a handful of marks by just asking anoying questions in the same room as an avatar, imagine how much faster Melanie would get marks by bringing her trademark Chaotic Brat personality on fear entity investigations. The apocalypse would have started in like two seasons: one season to hire her off the streets and establish shakey, complex relationships with her new assistants (Jon and Sasha put in the time with the institute but were passed over on this promotion for some random YouTuber (plus they're tighter with Tim and Martin, so proletarian solidarity against the boss)).

Then a second season to stab every mark and get stabbed in return. Melanie would blitz through all 14 marks because what precious little impulse control she starts with is slowly replaced with slaughter juice. One fun moral ambiguity to explore could be if Melanie tries to use her new, dangerous Eye/Slaughter powers to revive her reputation and platform in the supernatural community now that she can, ya know, identify supernatural things for the first time ever. Does she acknowledge her entire career up to her hospital episode apparently only investigated fake sightings? A better question to ask is whether Basira, Tim, and Jon ever let her live down how Ghost Hunt UK's professional dignity was contingent on the legitimacy of her sCiEnTiFiC gHoSt eQuIpMeNt in those episodes, so the temperature spikes set to dramatic music were well and truly just temperature spikes and dramatic music. Sasha found a clip of that music playing as Melanie narrates "it's a message... from the other side..." and made it as her text tone.

Also, it would be hilarious if Melanie tried to kill Jonah on sight in the panopticon, once again botched assassination attempt number 1,963,538, and then Jon quietly snuck in to finish the job on his first try just like in canon.

Jon: "What, like it's hard?"

Basira Hussain 3/10 archivist, her eye alignment manifests as office gossip, like a normal person

Basira has the most formidable super power of all: the power to nope tf out of any conversation or plan she wants. She therefore would probably take 10x longer to start the apocalypse than any other archivist because her fatal flaw is refusal to directly engage with a lot of personally difficult things (like the slaughter bullet surgery she organized, Daisy In General, etc). The marks will be slow going if she resists putting her safety on the line or invests time in making good plans (which is smart, but unhelpful for dooming humanity). She would for sure still get marked and end the world because once she's convinced of a plan (aka Elias convinces her of a plan), she's ruthlessly efficient. So I'd stay out of her way that last year or two, she marks the entities right back at them.

Martin Blackwood 2/10 archivist, considering a prerequisite for creepy eye avatar staring is the ability to make eye contact.

S1 Archivist Martin would probably dote too much on the employees under him to be hugely susceptible to Elias' isolation-dependant manipulation. Any progress Martin inadvertently achieves toward the watcher's crown goal would have to be contingent on it helping his loved ones, which is perfect fuel for a "corrupted by good intentions" arc. This would be key because Martin has superb bullshit and manipulation detection, making the marks are tricky but not impossible to orchistrate considering Jon can't stay put in a safe corner for 10 minutes and Martin's mother would refuse to stay with him where she's safe from avatar threats.

Imagine the petty drama when Jon and Sasha learn he got the promotion they wanted because he lied on his CV.

Other than that, Martin would be even worse about pit stops on the apocalypse road trip than Jon because his Kill Bill mode would have no off switch. Does Archivist!Martin and his anchor Jon ever reach the panopticon? Eventually, but not until after they lose points for significantly reducing the apocalypse fear quantity. Would Annabelle survive to deliver her cryptic MaCHiNAtIoNs and achieve the Web's goal? Hard No, additional point reduction for neutralizing the multiverse invasion. Points potentially earned back if Martin's Web connection is strong enough to come up with the multiverse invasion plan on his own, though.

Georgie Barker 4/10, as a fearless coward, all the fear she feeds to the entities would be khaki flavored. They'd get their apocalypse, but they probably wouldn't enjoy the meal.

Similar to Basira, Georgie has the super power to Fuck This Shit I'm Out. She would overall be a subpar humanity damning archivist; a major archivist success factor of Jon's is that he has enough affective empathy to be afraid with every statement giver he reads, so when Jon archives a statement, he unintentionally contributes to the fear soup seasoning. Combined with how Georgie doesn't want anything to do with entity drama, so any corruption specific to the watcher's crown would stagnate. Even her casual exposition conversations would go like

Georgie: "I've connected no dots."

Melanie: "you've connected a lot of dots??"

Georgie: "I've connected shit all dots."

The reason she gets one more point than Basira is because Georgie's fatal flaw is the passive observer quality the Eye tried to stoke in Jon. Her level of engagement oscillates between two extremes, impulsive over commitment and judging from a distance. This would probably lead her to geting involved just long enough for her involvement to become irreversible, at which point she would try to cut that shit out of her life after it's trapped her. She'd linger, barricading herself on the margins of this problem as the marks that are targeted at her slowly tally up until boom. Apocalypse is on and she only half understands what's happening.

Georgie would wander around an apocalypse hellscape confused, but vibes and physical health fully intact. Anchor!Melanie would have quite the emotional journey starting with Georgie on that pedestal Melanie placed her, and ending with a slaughter avatar stabbing the person who convinced her to work on her slaughter inclination.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #daisy tonner #melanie king #Georgie Barker #Tim Stoker #sasha james

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angellesword · 3 years

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MAGIC SHOP | JJK (03)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, slow burn, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings/Note: manipulation, homophobia.

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Song for this chapter: Home - Edith Whiskers

*** THERE ARE ERRORS and I still have class! I’ll try to edit this chapter later. :)

Jungkook had been calling you nonstop since last, last week, unfortunately there wasn't any response from you.

It wasn't like there was an emergency. Your best friend just missed you so much that he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Jungkook! You need to wear this blue tie!" Especially now that Soojin was always by his side.

He was the type of person who needed a lot of time and space alone because he was a shy and soft boy at heart. However he had limits too. Jungkook got cranky when he was being forced to do things he didn't like.

"I bought this for you. Just wear it already!" Soojin pulled Jungkook's sleeve, forcing him to wear the blue tie to match her blue gown.

Jungkook groaned, crossing his arms. He was really, really starting to get annoyed.

He hated ties, be it a bowtie, bolo tie, or skinny necktie. It didn't matter what kind because he fucking hated all of them.

He felt like he was being strangled, restricted—like he had no freedom to do what he wanted.

Ties were suffocating.

Soojin was suffocating.

Jungkook suddenly regretted agreeing to be her date for tonight. He didn't realize that Soojin would be so...concerned about what they would look like on the red carpet.

Castle Architectural Firm was throwing a party to celebrate the construction of the luxury spa, mainly because this was the biggest project of the company for this year.

Aside from this, Taemin wanted to invite prospective clients, shareholders, and some architects who were interested to work for him. He was basically hitting two birds with one stone.

Three birds actually. This party was also for the employees, a simple way to show them that the company appreciated their efforts to help the firm grow.

You were invited too, and the first thing that came into your mind was to ask Jungkook to be your date. It had always been like that between the two of you, sadly you received a text message from your sister.

[7:52pm] Kim Soojin: you gonna attend the company's party?

[7:52pm] you: yeah i guess so..

[7:55pm] Kim Soojin: well don't tell that to JK. he might ask you to be his date. that CANT happen coz i wanna go with him.

[7:56pm] Kim Soojin: i'm also gonna confess to him so don't ruin this for me ok???

[7:56pm] Kim Soojin: i'll tell you when it's okay for u to talk to him again.

For some reason, you felt your heart sinking. You didn't have a choice but to tell her a lie.

[7:58pm] You: it's cool! i already have a date anyway.

[7:58pm] Kim Soojin: i'll tell JK that! see you at the party! love you sis 😘

You lied. You didn't have a date and you doubted that you could find one. The party was happening tomorrow night. You couldn't find a date in less than twenty four hours.

Perhaps it was better to go alone.

That was the plan: to go alone; however, the heavy feeling weighing you down was too much to bear.

You didn't want to be alone, so you called Yoongi.

If you were the type of sister who couldn't say no to Soojin, Min Yoongi, on the other hand, was the type of friend who couldn't say no to you.

"You know it's your fault I'm not getting dicked down tonight, right?" Yoongi sounded annoyed, but you knew deep down he was pleased that you chose him to be your plus one tonight.

Okay, fine—this was a lie.

Yoongi wasn't exactly thrilled when you told him to prepare his three piece suit since you wanted him to pick you up four hours ago.

Because of you, he had to cancel his first date with some grindr dude he had been gushing over since last week.

You wanted to say "come on! He'll give you another chance if he really likes you." But you couldn't because life was not a fairytale and people who used grindr were mostly looking for a quick fuck, not a serious relationship.

"Sorry, Yoongs," you heaved a deep sigh, feeling guilty. "I'm just scared to be alone," was what you said, explaining that you needed him because if he was by your side all throughout the party, the guests wouldn't have the chance to show you their fake sympathies.

The last thing you needed was for people to remind you that you fucked up, that you failed because you were not as smart or as strong as Soojin.

Yoongi felt like his heart was being cracked open because of your confession. It wasn't your intention to hurt him—you swore you weren't manipulating him through using your greatest fear.

It just so happened that Yoongi knew exactly how you felt. He understood it because he used to be like you.

He used to be scared with the thought of being surrounded by people and realizing that he was still alone.

Because those people didn't come to see him or to be with him.

They were there for someone else.

As it turned out, Yoongi was at this party for someone else too.

It wasn't intentional. You guessed the world where you lived was simply small.

'V' was the name of Yoongi's grindr date. Tonight you found out that Kim Taehyung, your older brother, was also known as V.

You weren't really close with Taehyung, mainly because it had only been less than three months since you met him. As mentioned, he spent his whole life abroad.

Taehyung didn't even know you existed until five years ago. Sin-ae didn't want anyone to know that her husband cheated on her and so she told Taemin that you could only live with them under the condition that you would keep your mouth shut about your real relationship with the Kims.

But in the end, your siblings found out. Taehyung was the last one to know because according to Sin-ae, her third born son was sensitive. She didn't want him to worry about someone like you.

You weren't a threat. In the eyes of the public, you were just an orphan—one of the charity cases of the Kims.

Everyone in their family treated you like you didn't exist. Namjoon and Seokjin barely looked at you.

They even leave the room if you were around.

But Soojin wasn't like her siblings. She treated you like her sister. She talked to you, ate with you, and sometimes played dolls with you.

She wasn't always nice, but it felt good to be acknowledged, to be called as her sister—to make you feel like you belonged to their family.

You wanted Taehyung to treat you the same way Soojin treated you. Perhaps he could like you if you proved to him that you could be trusted.

Taehyung hadn't told his family that he was gay. This was the main reason why he stayed in New York for so long. He was afraid to be himself because he knew that his family wasn't gonna approve with this.

They wanted him to find a beautiful wife and to manage their other businesses. The Kims didn't only focus on architecture. Their family also tried their luck in industries like engineering and painting. As a matter of fact, Sin-ae recently opened her own museum. Taehyung was currently working there as a curator.

He would probably be focusing on that museum because his other siblings were taking different paths. Soojin was the sole heir of Castle Architectural Firm. Seokjin and Namjoon waived their rights as heirs in the mentioned company since Taemin already funded their engineering firms.

"You sure you're gonna be fine here?" Yoongi asked, hesitant to leave you alone while he spent time with your brother.

"Of course. Go, Yoongi. You've done enough," assured by you.

The party was almost over anyway. You were sure no one was going to bother you anymore. You had also done your part as an employee. You attended, ate, and drank wine.

Maybe it was best to go home. It was getting late and you felt cold. You didn't bring a shawl.

You trembled, thinking that it was because of the cold. Little did you know, Jungkook's dark gaze was sending shivers down your spine.

Of course he saw you. He had been watching you ever since you stepped inside this ballroom.

He was a little upset with you actually. How could you stand there looking so beautiful without even glancing at him?

Did you forget about him? Didn't you want to be his best friend anymore? Why didn't you reply to his text messages? Why did you bring Yoongi? And why were you letting Yoongi leave you alone?

Who was going to take you home?

Me.

It was like something in Jungkook snapped. The little voice inside his head was right. He should be the one to take you home tonight. He wouldn't allow you to drive because he saw you drinking wine. He wasn't comfortable with you taking an uber. He trusted Yoongi to bring you home, but he was nowhere to be found now.

He needed to step in. Yes. Yep. This was the right thing to do.

Jungkook was about to go near you, but Soojin caught his arm.

"Jungkook, I'm cold..." Soojin embraced herself, lips trembling.

"Oh. Here," he didn't hesitate to give her his jacket. Jungkook was sweet and caring. He would always give what he could.

"Thanks..." Soojin blushed, batting her eyelashes at him. "Can you take me home now? I'm tired..."

It was wrong to say that he never hesitated because right now, he was. He wanted to drive Soojin home, but...

Jungkook turned to look at the place where you were standing a few breaths ago. You weren't there anymore. He missed the way you stared at him as he handed his jacket to Soojin.

He couldn't miss anything from you anymore, so even if it physically hurt him to lie, he bit his tongue hard and then he told Soojin that he couldn't bring her back to the mansion.

"Why not? I'm your date, Jungkook!" Soojin's demeanor instantly changed.

She was no longer batting her eyelashes. She was glaring at Jungkook, too annoyed to say more.

"I know...but I promised to drink with Mr. Wang tonight. You know how much your father wants him to invest in Castle..." More lies.

It worked. Soojin couldn't protest. He was right. Mr. Wang was an important person and Jungkook couldn't turn him down. It was so hard to convince that old man to attend this party. This was probably the only chance Jungkook had to convince Mr. Wang to become an investor.

"Fine. But I want you to escort me to my car. I still need to tell you something." She didn't wait for his response, already walking away.

Jungkook sighed as he followed her, but not before looking back to where you were.

It didn't change the fact that you were gone.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jungkook arched his brow after handing the ticket to the valet worker.

Soojin inhaled deeply, suddenly regretting her decision to do this sober. She should have at least drank wine to calm her poor nerves.

But she wanted to be strong. She didn't want Jungkook to think that she was pouring her heart out just because she was drunk.

She wanted to do this right.

So heaving a deep sigh once again, Soojin stared at his face.

"I like you, Jungkook..."

She tried.

She really did try to be as genuine as possible. Her voice was soft, yet strong. She had been practicing saying these words for so long.

It should feel good, right?

But...why was her stomach turning upside down? Why was Jungkook's expression so thoughtful? Too fucking thoughtful that she could feel his rejection in her mouth.

No. This couldn't be right. Maybe he misunderstood?

"I-I mean it...I like you. I like you so much and it's not in a friendly or brotherly way. I like you as a man, JK..."

It didn't make anything better. Jungkook's eyes were still dead. He was still looking at her the way he looked at everyone—the same boy who was respectful, sweet, but determined.

"Soojin..." Jungkook licked his lower lip and then he bit it. Heartbreak was written all over his face.

Soojin could feel it.

She could feel her heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

"I don't like you like—"

"Just think about it!" Soojin cut him off before he could finish his response.

"But I...." Jungkook tried to say something again, however he trailed off.

His face softened. Soojin was looking at him using those desperate eyes. Besides, it wasn't like he could freely speak his mind.

Soojin cut him off again before he could say more.

"Monday." Her jaw tensed. "You have until Monday to decide. I'm giving you this weekend to think, huh, JK? Please..."

"Okay." Jungkook agreed because he didn't know what else to say.

It was a good thing that the valet worker arrived, saving them from the awkward atmosphere.

The uncomfortable air didn't deter Jungkook from examining Soojin's car, looking for any damage. He didn't like Soojin the way she wanted to, but it didn't mean that he wanted her to get into an accident or something.

"You didn't drink, right? Call me when you get home, okay?"

Soojin nodded.

"Thanks, JK. See you soon..." She kissed him on the cheek before getting into her car and driving away.

When he couldn’t spot her car anymore, Jungkook finally let out a sigh.

"Excuse me? Where do guests wait while waiting for their ride?" Jungkook asked the same valet worker. The latter was happy to assist, telling him that guests who didn't bring their cars were waiting for a cab or uber at the second entrance.

Jungkook rushed towards that direction, hoping to see you.

He saw you.

He saw you standing there, still shivering because of the freezing wind.

Jungkook frowned. You were wearing an open-back gown, exposing your skin generously. There was no doubt that he loved you in this dress (you looked ravishing) but then he didn't like that you were trembling.

And so he hugged you from behind.

You yelped, struggling to get away from him.

"Ow!" Jungkook shrieked when you managed to kick his leg. "Calm down, tiger. It's just me. Damn!"

You immediately stopped moving when you heard your best friend's voice. Three seconds later, you were pushing him away again.

You succeeded since he didn't expect you to struggle once more.

"Jungkook. What the hell? It's not cool to scare me like that!" You were still shivering but this time it wasn't because you were cold.

Your heart was beating erratically because of fear. Jungkook really scared the shit out of you.

"Sorry. I just noticed you're cold and I didn't want you to get sick..."

"I won't get sick because I'll die of a heart attack. Seriously, Kook. Don't sneak up on me like that again!"

Jungkook pouted. This boy really pouted his lips, sulking!

He knew he was wrong, this was why he was acting all cute. He even attempted to embrace you again just to prove how sorry he was.

You put a hand on his chest though, stopping him.

"I'm fine. Promise..."

It didn't reassure him. His lips just protruded more.

"The hug isn't for you. It's for me," he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. "I miss you, tiger..."

Your heart melted because of the softness and sadness apparent in his voice. Tears welled up in your eyes.

"Miss you too, bud..." You tapped his back, an attempt to comfort him.

Jungkook only groaned. He acted more like a baby when you make him feel as if it was right for him to act the way he was acting now.

"You're lying. Why didn't you answer my texts and calls if you really missed me?"

It was easier to lie when you weren't looking at his eyes. Jungkook knew this so he broke the embrace, staring at you.

You refused to meet his gaze.

"I'm busy with work, Kook."

You expected him to understand, regrettably he only hissed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah right. I visited you in the office. Fran said you're out with your friends." Jungkook sounded bitter. It wasn't like he hated that you're spending time with other people but not with him.

He wasn't asking much. He just wanted you to tell him you're okay, or that he didn't do anything wrong. He wanted your assurance because frankly, this was the first time you spent two weeks without talking to him.

What did he even do to deserve this?

"Y-You visited the office?" Was all you could say. You didn't know that. You thought he was busy at the construction site. Soojin too. Both of them hadn't been back in the office ever since the construction began.

Your sister even told you that she and Jungkook were staying at a hotel near the site. They couldn't go home since they were busy reviewing the progress of their project.

"Don't be surprised. You know I can't go a day without seeing you."

If he's trying to melt your heart, you wanted to congratulate him because he succeeded.

"It's why I'm here right now, you know?"

You didn't. "I didn't...." You said.

He scoffed.

"Because I want to see you, dumbass." He ruffled your hair. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

You didn't move.

"I'm waiting for my uber, Kook..." It was too late to cancel now. It took you long to book this ride since no driver wanted to go to this place. The security was at a high level. It was a pain in the ass to get past the gate.

"Besides, aren't you supposed to be with Soojin?” You panicked for a second. “Who's bringing her home?"

Shit. You forgot that you weren't allowed to talk to him. Your sister would be pissed!

"Soojin already left. I told her I can't drive her since I have to meet a very important person..." He was staring into your soul.

"Mr. Wang?" You asked only because you saw him talking to the old man a while ago.

"Nah," he grinned. "It's you..."

"Oh." You weren't sure what to say.

He ditched Soojin because he wanted to see you. It was cool. Awesome. Heartwarming even. But what were you supposed to say? Thank you? Fuck you?

Fuck you because Soojin would definitely hate me once she found out that I was meeting you behind her back?

You hadn't had the chance to think of how to respond when Jungkook spoke again.

"Soojin confessed to me tonight..."

There was a lump in your throat, still you managed to say "nice. What did you tell her?"

It was difficult to act happy when your heart was breaking. Fuck. Why were you feeling this way? It wasn't like you didn't know that this was happening.

"Nothing much." He chuckled.

He fucking chuckled like he was fucking happy.

You hated it.

You hated it because you didn't have the right to feel the way you did.

You wanted the ugly, green monster to leave you alone.

"She didn't really give me a chance to speak." He shrugged. "She only told me to think about it. I have an ultimatum though..." He laughed again and it irked you more.

"I have until Monday to decide..."

He stopped speaking after that. You didn't say anything for a while too.

You let silence engulf you.

Seconds later, you found the courage to speak.

"Do it." You said bravely.

Jungkook creased his forehead, silently asking you to do what?

"Date her." You swallowed thickly, avoiding the pain dancing in his eyes.

"You should date her, Kook. She's nice, pretty, s-smart..." She was whole too. She could love you, she could fill the hole in your heart.

I couldn't.

Because I was broken.

"What?" The laugh he let out wasn't like the other ones. He sounded sad, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, like it was breaking him.

"You want me to date your sister?" He repeated, making sure that he heard you right.

It was hard to nod your head and smile.

"Yes." But you did anyway.

Silence welcomed you two once again.

The wind blew harshly. It became unbelievably cold. The defeating silence didn't help.

You wanted to curl up and die.

"Will it make you happy?"

You turned to look at him. To really look at him.

You didn't know what he was talking about. He could see it in your face. He knew you were confused.

"If I date your sister—" He spoke again. "Will that make you happy?"

You couldn't hesitate. Not now. Not when Soojin needed your support the most.

So you said what you didn't want to say.

"Yes..." And then your heart cracked.

#ficswithluv #btsjungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook series #jungkook best friends to lovers #best friend jungkook #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #armywriterssupport

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beccasissy69 · 3 years

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My weekend task was to arrange some hookups...and I was allowed to go through with them too. Goddess gave me this on Friday night and said I had the whole weekend, she wanted me properly dressed for as long as possible and when I was, I was allowed to read my story and watch my recent films (and flirt with cute boys online).

I got very excited and knew I had work to do before I could get to the fun. I went on Grindr for an hour or so and made tentative plans with a few guys then I moved my usual weekend bath to Friday so I could shave my legs (Goddess has me shaving me body every week) and then I wound down/fell asleep on my sofa while reading my story. It made me melt, the main character made an agreement with their blackmailer and part of their side was that they had to take a boyfriend and a whole chapter was dedicated to her choosing who it would be. I stopped reading after that one because it was too much 😂 I was scared to go on.

On Saturday, I had a couple of deliveries I was waiting on and I needed to make my flat more presentable to company. I woke up really early, managed to get back to sleep and then woke up early again and just decided to get out of bed, I was so wired I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep.

I cleaned and tidied and moved things to rooms I wouldn’t be using. I’m in the middle of a BIG spring clean and in a month or so it will be a lot better but my hallway, bathroom and bedroom were all on point and I set up a diffuser (scent - summer blossom) in my bedroom to make it a touch nicer.

All day, I had men on my mind. Part of it is the story but I was also incredibly horny. Even though I’d “released” in my sleep, in a cage a couple of days ago I was nervous and excited for what lay ahead.

I got ready and even though I usually don’t, I decided to try a couple of new things. My makeup was ok and I used fake eyelashes for the first time, I’ve started with them before but found them fiddly and would think “next time” and I also glued on some fake nails (see above) which were AMAZING, the colour was a little more brown than red but once they were on.

I fell in love with them (and I used way to much glue, but now I know) and once they were on, all I could think of when I saw my hands was “c*ck”, my hand(s) wrapped around it, gently running my nails down it 🤤🤤🤤.

I was going to use my original E cup boobs but they seem small now so I switched to my super boobs. The only thing I didn’t do from my original plan was a suspender belt, because I put my nails on before I got dressed and when I picked up the belt, I thought I had no chance of putting it on properly without laddering my stockings and probably injuring myself.

Then I got dressed, bra, top, skirt, stockings, boots and a thong (because one of the guys I’d semi agreed with said he wanted it) and it was time to play the waiting game.

I started reading my story and first, I went back to read the chapter where she picks her boyfriend and I was getting hornier and hornier. I was so aroused it was slowing my reading, I kept having to shift positions because my back was aching from my boobs and I felt like what my Grindr profile says. A desperate, horny housewife looking for d*ck while hubby is away.

I went on Grinder and it was quieter than I thought it would be. The guy I’d made the firmest plan with wasn’t on but I messaged him anyway and a few others. Some wanted to meet but not that night, some wanted to meet but at theirs and a couple were interested but needed a little work to entice them further.

Then the guy from Friday came back on, as I hadn’t been on through the day, he wasn’t sure if I was still available and had gone out, he was busy but would “probably” be free later if I was still interested, part of me wondered if he was just teasing but I said yes and waited.

I kept reading and waiting and chatting and then he was free and coming over and it was simply wonderful. He was really eager and excited, he couldn’t keep his hands off my boobs and I was grinding on his cock like crazy. I sucked him for a bit (he had to undo his belt, I couldn’t do it with my nails 🤣🤣🤣, then took him all in before he face f*cked me. I was so aroused by him and his masculinity. His body hair and the musky, manly smell of his crotch drove me absolutely wild, I just wanted all of him.

When I managed to pull myself off his d*ck I moaned that I needed him in me, so he put on a condom and pushed me down on the bed.

He was really into it, moaning and groaning and after a couple of minutes he sped up and then slowed down as he said he was going to cum. We switched positions and I sat on him and bounced up and down as he fondled my boobs, then we switched back to doggy and after he almost shot again and slowed down, I told him to let it all go and he went crazy and sped up before finally switching to long, deep, powerful thrusts and he came inside me.

When we’d finished, I told him he was amazing 😍 and he said he’d been nervous because he’d been catfished a few times but was amazed that someone like me lived so nearby.

After we said our goodbyes, I went on Grindr to say thank you to him and saw I had a recent message asking if I was free. I rushed to the bathroom to check my makeup and it was still good, so I said yes but he didn’t have any condoms so it didn’t happen. I almost said to come round but a girl’s got to have some standards.

Once I’d taken my face off and gotten ready for bed, I read a little more of my story and texted Goddess a pretty detailed description. When I woke up on Sunday, she’d replied with a single word “W H O R E” which had me smiling all day.

The sex was amazing and so affirming but reading the story throughout the day just put my head in exactly the right place, I was so desperate and so horny and it was perfect.

#submissivesissybimbohousewife

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originemesis · 3 months

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@hashtag-bitch xxx

"Jog on." She scoffed flipping him the bird for a moment making a mental note to give this cherub the smallest cock she possibly could. "I'm classy as fuck mate, like I said, are you deaf or somethin'? Did those cannibals chew through your bloody ears as well?" Velvette added glaring down at her phone screen. She rolls her eyes as he continues to try and probe her letting out another little scoff. "It's online you fuckin' melt." She had no clue what his deal was or why he was suddenly trying to figure her out but she didn't have to tell him shit nor did she plan on it. "If yer so sure this is all an act then it shouldn't be too hard for you to figure it out." Velvette muttered.

"HAH-I'd rather not." Jog, that is. Not being able to just default float everywhere was already a massive chore and he wasn't about to introduce more strenuous activity to the rather weighty existence he found himself currently roosted in no different than an overstuffed pigeon with a broken wing.

Speaking of- the mention of the cannibals causes a twitch in his facial display. "Aw fuck off. You really gotta bring up a sore spot don't you? Can't stand the spotlight on your own ass for a second more ~ ?" Not that he was one to talk, but it was easier for him to stand behind the sentiment in her hornet's nest of a conversation with his helmet latched firmly against the swarm.

"Guess not. You- stayin' off the catwalk and all." Which was a sly admittance that yes, he did watch her collection of ladies and their modeling ventures from afar. But that probably wasn't a surprise to her- merely a confirmation and a reminder to install anti-bird shields in the rafters of her studio. Tossing his arms up to feign a stretch in order to slide in closer, he grinned down at the top of her head while leaning this way and that in a persistent effort at checking her expertly guarded screen.

"Shouldn't it ~ ? Maybe you're just harder to read." Like that fucking phone- "Or maybe under all the spitfire and playing dress up, you're just an empty doll? Wouldn't be the first time I met a pair of tits on legs, and it won't be the laaa~aaast."

Well, if the Grindr situation ever sorted itself out, anyway.

#//she should shove the phone up his ass-#//i mean #//b4 he starts bugging u for model numbers lmao #hashtag-bitch #verse ; // dead on arrival #suggestive cw

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chappedandfadedvds · 3 years

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Dec 4th, Friday 19:17

The station was rather busy, people rushing from place to place, as Jens, Lucas and Lotte had stepped off the train. They had taken the stairs up and let Lucas lead the siblings to wherever he had organised to meet his two friends.

While the atmosphere on the ride here had been rather cheery and full of them talking and joking, Lotte drawing them page after page of supposedly them three on a train, it had gotten tenser with each passing minute closer to their arrival.

Lucas next to him, grew definitely nervous, him turning completely silent as they walked over to another set of stairs they took down. Isa and Kes both hadn’t been told yet who his friend would bring along on his weekend visit. To the two boys it had sounded funny to just surprise his dutch friends. That was until now. Jens could definitely understand this to be a very hard thing to do.

But his boyfriend was determined and therefore Jens took his hand for a moment until they reached the outside. That’s when he let go again. Lucas smiling briefly back at him, when Jens pecked a kiss against his temple. So gentle, it could have been the older boy just leaning in.

And then Lucas’s smile doubled in intensity as he got excited to see two people spotting them, waving cheerfully.

Both the girl and the boy were dressed in thick coats and scarfs. Both with dark brown curly hair and friendly faces. Isa and Kes, his two best friends, as Lucas had told him so often before.

The girl’s face though quickly turned into an awfully big grin, as they came closer.

„Aaaaaah.“ She yelled, her hands raised to cover her mouth as she stared at the two boys and Lotte stopping infront of her.

„You okay there Ies?“ Lucas asked very amused, but just as much puzzled by her reaction, while pulling the giggling girl into a long hug.

„Oh my god luc! Finally!“ She exclaimed excited, leaning back in his arms, only to peck a kiss at his cheek and step back very pleased.

Lucas could only shrug, as he looked over to Jens. Both of them visibly unsure what to make of the girl infront of them. She definitely had a lot of energy. And was cute, as her eyes basically gleamed in the light of the station and streetlamps around them.

„Hello to you too? What’s up?“ Lucas tried again, hugging Kes, who did look just as confused at the girl next to him. Apparently a recent development of excitment, Jens guessed.

„I saw you holding hands on the stairs. You are... You know. Right?“

Oh. Okay, Jens got it now and so did Lucas freezing up in his step back to Jens’s side. The younger boy’s eyes transfixed on Isa, who couldn’t stop grinning.

„I had planned to tell you and talk about that at your place instead of here, but eh, yes.“ His boyfriend struggled to keep his voice steady, definitely succumbing to a whisper at the end.

„He is hot, well done.“ Isa certainly was bold, especially as she turned to face Jens and proceeded to wink at him, leaving Jens to feel as dumbfounded as Lucas looked like.

„How do you know?“ His boyfriend asked, curiousity slipping through.

„I’m confused, who knows what?“ Obviously the person being at a loss the most was Kes. Who looked bewildred between them back and forth, his face one big question mark, as he wrinkled his brows. He was unfortunately left to remain in his confusion, when Isa just went on to explain without giving much context.

„Well, Liv and me were kinda waiting for you. We sort of suspected it since last year at the gathering. The one you let Liv borrow your phone? Well she saw the links open in your browser and showed them to me.“

Lucas stared at her, mouth open, wide eyed at the girls confession.

Jens guessed that Lucas had absolutely not expected to hear this.

„What?“ His boyfriend asked in great disbelieve.

„Sorry, we just wanted you to figure it out yourself, I guess.“ She shrugged smiling apologetic, before topping it off: „Also you messaged Ralph on Grindr, he showed us. So that kinda really confirmed it. Love us, please!“

Isa sweetly batted her eyelashes at the poor boy staring back at her helplessly.

Jens couldn’t refrain from the sheer amusement crawling onto his face by the awkward revelation. He couldn’t quite pin down who Ralph was again. The name certainly had come up before. But it was clear that it was a shared friend of theirs, as Lucas blushed embarressed to have been caught.

„Somebody here who can help me out?“ Kes pleaded, forgotten where he stood next to Isa.

„Right.“ Lucas turned around to look at his best friend, who was patiently waiting to be let in on it. He got rather uncomfortable, so Jens decided to just fuck it and grab Lucas’s hand, squeezing it gently to let his boyfriend know that he wasn’t alone in this. Just like Lucas had done so often before for him.

„This is Jens. He is my boyfriend.“

Kes was blinking for quite a while, utterly overwhelmed, deep in thoughts about the introduction he had just been given by his best friend. Isa on the other hand was back again to grin at them overly happy about it all.

„Anyway. I’m Isa, and this gaping fish here is Kes. No worries, he’ll get over it. It is so good to meet you in person. Honestly. We’ve really just had seen you commenting on instagram so far. And Lucas just wouldn’t tell us who he’d bring, so consider the surprise succsessful.“

„Oh for sure. I’m super happy to be here and finally get to meet you all.“

While Jens and Isa finally found the moment to properly greet each other, Kes seemed to have come to a conclusion. The boy, still perplexed, now at least wasn’t staring any longer, instead he swallowed hard on something and took a step closer to put his hand on Lucas’s shoulder.

„Okay, this is weird. Ehem not bad, no, but weird. Since when do you know that you are also interessted in guys?“

„Not also. But just.“ Lucas corrected his best friend firmly, looking straight at him in hope Kes would get it. And he did.

„Oh, that’s fine too, of course.“

„Then I suppose always. I had a hard time admitting it though, hence the girls.“

The two boys cracking a smile as they hugged yet again, Lucas looking much more at ease now that this part of his coming out was over. At least to his best friends, who honestly were some of the most important people to be accepted by. Jens knew. He also knew that it wasn’t all of it, the crush on his best friend still kept a secret. And Jens now got both sides. Maybe best to not bring it up for now, or perhaps ever, given the hesitation in Kes’s reaction. He knew, he wouldn’t.

„Well, glad to see you happy. And eh Jens, it’s great to meet you too.“ Kes said, saluting Jens, before him and Lucas let go of each other.

It was then that the four were kinda reminded of the fith person standing infront of the station. Lotte cleared her throat loudly, asking for attention from where she had settled next to Jens, slightly hiding behind his arm, carrying her own small backpack.

„I’m cold.“ She complained, „And hungry!“, She added quickly, earning a smirk and nod from Jens.

„Seconded.“ He said, looking expectantly at Lucas to let him understand that they probably should get going. The cold definitely was biting now that Lotte had brought it up.

„We didn’t even say hi to you. God, I’m so sorry. Who are you?“ Isa asked, bending down to be at level with the little girl, a gentle smile on her lips.

„Lotte.“ His sister briefly replied, not yet convinced what to think about the two strangers picking them up from an unfamiliar station in an unfamiliar city.

„Honestly Lucas, we sent you off not even two month ago to finish school and support your mom, and now you come back with a boyfriend and a child. What happened?“

„Shut up.“ Lucas laughed at Isa, who was barely able to get through with her accusation, immediately falling into a fit of giggles, as she failed to look even a little serious.

„She is my little sister. And we are super grateful that you let us all stay over.“ Jens helped to explain an eight year old joining them on the trip, when neither his boyfriend nor the girl next to him were able to get a word out.

It took them a whole other minute to finally calm down enough to reply.

„Very much welcome. I’m so glad you do, because I have tons of questions now. I don’t think I could let you go anywhere else but my place.“ Isa declared.

„Oh no. This is Robbe and Sander all over again.“ Jens sighed defeated, Lucas continued to laugh, this time at him, while his two dutch friends looked rather puzzled at the dropped names. So his boyfriend simply waved them off, when Jens was trying hard not to be reminded of the hours long interview he had to endure by his own best friend and Sander two weeks ago.

„Ignore him.“ Lucas said, patting Jens’s shoulder. Not much of a comfort. Jens just wasn’t that comfortable to talk about it. But Lucas was happy and excited, so he wouldn’t keep it from him to explain everything his boyfriend wanted to.

„Well, let’s get going then.“ Kes announced, pulling Lucas closer, with an arm draped over his best friend’s shoulders, as the group began to move. Isa and Lotte sort of quickly caught up in their own little get-to-kow-each-other, leaving Jens to follow and feel contented to watch the two couples infront of him.

Kes leaned in laughing at something Lucas had told him.

„I can’t believe I never noticed. Fuck, Luc.“

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 6 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #utrecht #wohooo #isa keijser #kes de beus #and little lotte

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pengychan · 4 years

Text

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 20

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Well, time for Coco to show up.

***

“What does it mean, you have a date?”

“I find your incredulous tone more than a little insulting.”

Sofía’s own tone is light, but Ernesto knows her well enough to tell she is not entirely joking there, and wisely decides to drop the matter. “All right, fine. I guess I’ll have to find someone else who is up to spend an enjoyable evening.”

“Oh yes,” Sofía mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I am sure you have men and women lined up waiting for the chance to ride your dick.”

“Of course I--”

“Come on, it’s obvious you don’t,” Sofía cuts him off. Ernesto can vaguely hear her TV going in the background. “You must be on your last leg to call me now. Desperate, desperately horny, or both. I’m guessing both.”

All right, so that hit close home, but he has precisely no intention to admit as much aloud. To her least of all. “I just figured I’d be generous to you, is all.”

“Clearly,” is the deadpan reply.

“But since you have no taste, I will make someone else’s night.”

“Right. Good luck with that,” she chuckles, and pauses. “... Seriously, though, how are you?”

Ernesto bits his lower lip before glancing out of the window. It has rained most of the day, but now there is only a drizzle. On days like that, they’d-- no. No, he shouldn’t go there. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“... Better, either way. I’m doing much better.”

“That’s good to know. All right, maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow. Over lunch break, the place across the street from my salon?”

“Sure. Can’t wait to hear all about your date,” Ernesto says, a slightly mocking tone on the last word, and ends the call. And then… he proceeds to call no one else.

It’s not that he’s run out of phone numbers to call or women to contact on social media, but so far he’s had depressingly little success. As it turns out, disappearing on every fling for a full year without so much a message and then just reappearing with no explanation given - much less a convincing one - is not a winning strategy to get them back in bed with him. Who’d have known.

Well, one did say yes, so they met at her place - only for her to step out, smack him across the face, and then go back in without a word. Ernesto had no idea what he may have possibly done to deserve it, but he knew better than to ask: there might just be a long, exhaustive answer to that question and he didn’t want to hear it.

With a sigh, Ernesto leans back on his couch and checks Instagram. His followers count is going up and up, especially after he and Héctor appeared on TV, and maybe he could go looking for someone interesting among them… but each time he opens a profile, he can barely focus on it at all.

All right, this is not working. I need something else.

He downloads Tinder again - when did he uninstall it? - and logs in, determined to give it a go. An hour and an undefined number of left swipes later, he briefly muses whether he should try again with Grindr. In the end, he throws his phone aside and leans back with a sigh.

Back to his old life, he said.

No strings but those of my guitar, he said.

Easier said than done.

***

This is the first time, as far as she can remember, that Imelda does not celebrate Día de los Muertos in Santa Cecilia.

It’s a simple matter of common sense, really: eight months into the pregnancy, getting on a plane to Oaxaca sounds like an all-around bad idea.

“I mean, if she’s born on the plane, she might get free flights for life with the company,” Héctor joked when they first discussed their options. “I heard it happened before.”

A lifetime of free flights sounds like a good perk, Imelda has to admit, but not worth birthing her child thirty-five thousand feet up in the air, possibly without doctors and with only a curtain separating her from the rest of the passengers - who, she suspects, would be less than thrilled about the disruption to their flight.

The alternatives, a long car drive or God forbid an even longer bus ride, were entirely out of question. In the end, the only practical solution was for her parents to come over, so that they could spend those days together in Mexico City. They set off that morning, and Héctor is preparing to go pick them up at the airport.

They’re running later than expected because the flight was delayed, which hopefully won’t be too much of a problem for Ernesto. He’s going to see his parents for Día de los Muertos - ironic, that the one year they’re not going to Santa Cecilia, he goes - and he’s asked to borrow their car, so that he can go with his dogs instead of leaving them with someone else.

“Didn’t appreciate me being gone last time I tried,” he’s said, causing Héctor to chuckle.

“Could leave them with us, they’re used to being with us.”

“... I think you’ve got your house full as it is, amigo.”

There was a brief silence, which had been broken before it could turn sad, and of course they had agreed to let him borrow the car as soon as they’d used it to pick up her parents.

“Do you need me to get you something while I wait for them, mi amor?”

“Yes, thank you. I left you a list on the table.”

It is a long list, mostly items with enough sugar in them to sustain a small army, but Héctor makes no comment; he picks it up, just barely manages to get his facial expression under control before his eyebrows can shoot all the way up to his hairline, and steps over to kiss her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck.”

“The stuff you need isn’t that hard to find.”

“I was referring to driving my parents.”

A chuckle, another kiss on the bridge of her nose. “Your father’s fine,” he says, politely adding nothing about her mother before he leaves. Imelda glances out of the window to see him go… and Ernesto arrives. They stop to talk by the gate, Héctor probably apologizing for the delay in giving him the car, Ernesto shrugging in a way that is probably meant to convey it’s not a problem, he’s not especially eager to get going towards Santa Cecilia anyway.

And yet he’s going. That’s… odd, even taking into account the reconciliation with his parents which he still describes as a work in progress. Ernesto never cared all that much for the tradition, and as far as Imelda knows he never made an ofrenda of his own. He’d be more likely to go out partying, and pick up someone to spend the night with. How many times has she seen him from that same window, heading to the entrance with a man or a woman at his arm? More than she can count, although admittedly that has not happened… in a while.

Ever since things became serious between the three of us. And even after it ended, did either of us see him coming home with a date? Did he bring up a fling while talking to me or Héctor, brag about a conquest?

They haven’t and he didn’t. As far as Imelda is aware, Ernesto hasn’t been with anyone in the past few months.

So much for bouncing back, she thinks, and lets the curtain drop with a sigh while trying to ignore, with very little success, the part of her that has the audacity to be relieved at the notion.

***

“Hey! How are you doing?”

“Congrats on the album! Saw you on TV!”

“What about Héctor and Imelda? They’re not here, is their baby born yet?”

“Tell them I said hi!”

“Tell them to visit! Will they come to have her christened in the parish?”

“Hey, can I have an autograph so I can sell it?”

The walk to the cemetery and back - he promised Héctor to have a look at his parents’ grave for him, give it a clean-up, put on fresh flowers - was short, but it seemed to last so much longer with so many people recognizing him and stopping him for a chat. It’s not usually something he’d argue against, but there is a sting every time they ask about Héctor and Imelda and whether or not the baby is born yet.

He really hopes said sting can dull into something more bearable quickly, because it isn’t long until Coco is born and he’s expected to stand in as her godfather, which he’d really like to be able to do without feeling like something is squeezing his heart.

It will pass. It must pass, he thought, and took care to walk back to his parents’ home through a different route with fewer people. Walking back in to be greeted by his dogs did help a little. His father did mutter that they are more like guinea pigs, but at least he appreciates the fact they cannot climb on the ofrenda to steal the offerings. Though not for lack of trying.

The ofrenda at Ernesto’s family home is rather one-sided - which is to say, only her mother’s family is on it. Her parents, both dead by the time he was born, a couple of aunts, grandparents and so on. Plenty of García, a couple of Martinez, and not a single de la Cruz among them.

Then again, it’s not a name that comes with a lot of history attached; it simply filled in a blank space on the birth certificate of a child surrendered at birth.

“You ever thought of looking for her?” Ernesto asks suddenly, while his mother is away to get more flowers and his father is watching the food on the stove. He’s drinking some kind of bland, alcohol free beer that Ernesto has found himself drinking as well out of solidarity.

Estéban glances at him, a little confused, but comprehension dawns when his gaze moves to the doorway, onto the ofrenda in the next room over. He looks at the photos that are there, but mostly at those that are not. “... A couple of times. Never tried, though.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t want me. I had better things to do than chasing someone who didn’t want me.”

Ernesto thinks back of the night he was kicked out and swore he was never, ever coming back. He thinks of what he desperately wishes he could have back, but cannot. He smiles bitterly. “I understand.”

“... I know you do.”

A brief silence, and once again it’s Ernesto to break it. “Might have had reasons. Might be that she wanted you, but-- couldn’t. Maybe things happened.”

We need to… to make some changes, Héctor said when breaking him the news. Even if we don’t like it.

Ernesto half-expects a scoff, dismissal, but what he gets is a thoughtful hum; he faintly wonders if his father discussed this while in therapy, but he knows better than to ask. He swore his mamá he would pretend not to know about the therapy part and, unlike her, he plans to keep his word.

“Guess it’s possible. Makes no difference, though. Did well enough regardless.”

Except for the part where he was an alcoholic for a couple of decades during which he also kicked out his only son because he happened to like dick, Ernesto thinks, and the part where he had in general the emotional capacity of an uncooked tortilla and the temper of a rabid coyote. But he supposes that, aside for those neglectable details, he hasn’t done too bad.

“Could have done worse,” he concedes.

Could have killed me, I guess.

“... Don’t patronize me. I know I haven’t been perfect--”

“Understatement.”

“-- but I am trying. And I don’t think digging in the past would help.” Estéban de la Cruz finishes his can of non-alcoholic beer in a long swig. “I was an asshole. No point in trying to pin that on my mamá not wanting me.”

That wasn’t precisely where Ernesto was going, but to be entirely fair he is not sure what point he truly had in asking his father something so personal, so in the end he just nods and finishes his own beer. If his father is wondering why he even asked he makes no mention of it, and to be entirely honest it is a relief.

While he appreciates his efforts there are some conversations they are simply Not Having, and Ernesto’s personal business with his best friend and his wife is one of them.

“I’ll go take a photo of the ofrenda,” he finally says, causing Estéban to raise an eyebrow.

“A photo? Why?”

“To put on Instagram.”

“Is it that website your mother hounded for photos of you?”

Ernesto hums, the notion of his mother going through his Instagram account and all the implications of it not really registering in his brain. There is an unread message flashing on the screen, distracting him - Héctor.

Everything good over there? Your mamá feeding you?

Ah, right, he was supposed to get in touch after visiting his parents' grave. He was so busy trying to avoid people he knew on the way back, he entirely forgot to.

I’m putting up a kilo a day. All good, he writes back, and sends over a photo of the grave, all cleaned up, with flowers and all. Ricardo and Emilia smile from the photo on the headstone, and it’s hard to tell whose smile Héctor’s resembles most.

Ernesto finds himself smiling faintly, too, as Héctor replies. Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that, Ernesto writes, and puts the phone away without snapping any photos of the ofrenda, feeling just a little better.

***

If he had to describe that Día de los Muertos, Héctor supposes ‘bittersweet’ is the word for it.

It’s odd, not being in Santa Cecilia for it. Imelda is there with him, of course, as is her family, and there is an ofrenda in their living room - but not getting to visit his parents’ graves on the day is an odd sort of sting. He’d feel guilty, if they didn’t have excellent reasons not to travel that year.

Héctor is rather sure his mother would hit him over the head with a wooden spoon if he so much suggested putting his daughter at risk of being born on a plane or a bus in order to visit, and that helps. It also helps that Ernesto is there, looking after their grave in his stead. He is a good friend - the best friend he could have asked for, now more than ever before, and he’s glad he didn’t lose him. It’s good to have him back. And yet… and yet.

Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that.

Héctor smiles a little, and… doesn’t click the screen off just yet.

Only to drop the phone with a yelp when Imelda’s voice rings out right beside him.

“All good back-- hey! Careful!” Her hands shoots out and somehow manages to catch his phone in mid-air, sparing him the utter pain of having to replace the screen or maybe the entire phone. She sighs. “Try to make this one last longer than three months,” she mutters, and glances at the screen. A moment of silence and then she gives a small, soft smile that Héctor suspects mirrors the one on his face only moments ago.

“Nice of him to take care of it.”

“Yes. We could have him over-- for dinner, or something. When he comes back.”

“Of course.” The smile on Imelda’s face fades a little, and she gives him back the phone. “Would be nice to have him over. We’ll tell Óscar and Felipe to be somewhere else for the evening. Cinema or something. Or maybe they can start getting some furniture in the room they’re renting,” she adds.

Imelda is in equal parts amused and somewhat concerned by her brothers’ decision to move into a room in a house a few blocks away - their bid for freedom, as they call it, though they are still very close by in case any help is needed once Coco is born. Héctor likes having them around, but he cannot deny he looks forward to having the apartment all for Imelda and himself in the few weeks left before Coco’s arrival.

And right now, it doesn’t escape him that she admitted she’d rather not have them there when Ernesto comes to visit. He glances at her, a mute question, and Imelda bites her lower lip. “... In case he needs to talk,” she says. Héctor nods. Of course - of course, it makes sense: if there are things yet unspoken, and God knows there are, they must be discussed without anyone else listening in. That need for secrecy is part of the reason why their arrangement couldn’t continue.

Maybe the twins will understand, Héctor thinks, and he finds he actually believes they would. They’re young, open-minded in a way their parents - and most in Santa Cecilia - are not. Still, he doesn’t voice that thought: it would mean discussing the possibility that maybe, just maybe…

“I’ll tell him to bring a bucket of ice cream for you,” Héctor says instead, and Imelda laughs, smacking his arm lightly before she returns in the next room over where her parents and brothers are. Héctor clicks the phone’s screen on, and follows her - knowing full well that an honest conversation is just delayed, and wondering who will wind up cracking first.

***

In the end, they never do find out who among them may have cracked first. The dinner never happens, because something else does crack right before they sit at the dinner table.

Break, more like.

And Imelda’s waters were not supposed to break for another two weeks at least, as Héctor repeats no less than seventeen times during the car ride to the hospital.

“We’re almost there, mi amor - stay calm, all right? Stay calm,” he is now saying to his remarkably calm wife, not at all calm himself. Ernesto chooses not to remark on that and keeps his eyes on the road instead.

All right, so it’s time. This is happening.

He’s had complicated feelings over the upcoming birth of Héctor and Imelda’s baby - his goddaughter, it’s easier if he thinks of her as his goddaughter - and he’s been bracing himself for her arrival as you do for an emergency landing: knowing that it’s coming no matter your feelings on the matter, that the plane must land and hopefully all will be well once it does.

Now, however, everything is moving so fast he has no time to think, much less to feel anything other than urgency. One moment he’d been sitting at the dinner table, one moment Imelda had emerged from the next room over, pale but in full control, telling them it was time for her to go to the hospital. Héctor sprinted to retrieve the small suitcase she had prepared beforehand while Ernesto rushed to get the car, and he’s now in the process of weaving through traffic and ignoring the GPS’ suggestions in favor of a route that he knows will be somewhat less congested.

There is a groan, a sharper breath, and he glances in the rear view mirror. “You all right there?”

Imelda looks back at him through the mirror, and for just a moment he can see how pale she is, how truly concerned for this monumental, frightening task ahead of her - deliver a new life into the world. And then she manages a smile.

“Just cursing over all that good food growing cold back home. The dogs and Pepita must be helping themselves to it. I won't be cleaning that mess,” she mutters, and Ernesto laughs, taking a turn. Even Héctor starts laughing - far more high-pitched than usual and somewhat frightened, but laughter it is. Imelda manages a chuckle before hissing again, a hand resting against her belly just as Ernesto takes another turn and gets right into the hospital’s parking lot, barely slowing down.

Imelda takes in a deep breath before opening the door. “I can walk to the entrance - they will be waiting for us, I called them before leaving,” she says, and steps outside. Héctor is immediately by her side, suitcase in hand, offering her his arm. He turns to look at Ernesto, eyes huge.

It’s happening, those eyes say. I am about to be a father, they say. I’m terrified.

But when he speaks, Héctor says none of those things. “Thank you,” he tells Ernesto. His voice is calmer, but the grip on the suitcase remains so tight his knuckles are almost white. There is something stuck in Ernesto’s throat, and he forces himself to swallow it; the weight seems to settle in his chest. Ernesto clears his throat before speaking.

“Well, someone with a still functioning brain had to drive. Go in, I’ll-- I’ll park the car and get in the waiting room. Are you going to, uh, go in the delivery room, or…?”

“He’d better,” Imelda mutters, and there is more snickering. The rock-hard thing in Ernesto’s chest melts away a little. “Can you let my brothers know?" she adds. "They’ll tell our parents. I’m ready to bet they’ll be on the first plane back.”

“Of course,” Ernesto replies, and watches them walk to the entrance before he sighs and goes looking for a parking spot. It is only as he steps in the waiting room and reaches for his phone that he realizes there is a slight problem.

He has absolutely no idea what Imelda’s brothers’ phone numbers even are.

***

It is amazing, Imelda thinks, how much a newborn can look like a grouchy old man.

“Mi amor, she’s beautiful.” Héctor’s voice is a little nasal as he still blinks away tears, cheek resting on top of her head and eyes fixed on the baby in her arms.

In Imelda’s opinion she is most decidedly not beautiful - newborns just out of the birth canal, she finds, are some of the ugliest things one can imagine, skull still misshapen and features flattened - but she has no doubt whatsoever that Héctor absolutely means it. Must be the tears of joy, or love goggles, or both. Either way, it gets a tired smile out of her.

“Well worth the hassle,” she says, and oh, she means it. Labor was exhausting, if relatively short, and she wouldn’t wish the pain that had followed to her worst enemy - but for the tiny thing in her arms, blinking blearily up at them with the expression of someone who’s just had the worst day, Imelda knows she’d do it all over again. She strokes a tiny hand with her thumb just as Héctor speaks.

“Hola, Coco,” he says, so much tenderness in his voice it almost hurts. “I’m your papá. Actually, wait, more importantly-- this is your mamá. She made you.”

Like she’s a pair of shoes, Imelda thinks, and chuckles. She cannot recall being this happy with any of her creations up to now. “Your papá helped,” she says, kissing Coco’s forehead. “Don’t ask how until you’re older.”

“Wha-- oh! No no no, don’t ask at all!” Héctor exclaims, causing Coco’s eyes to shift back to him. She blinks, and Imelda can almost believe it’s out of surprise. “You’re just here, I’m not ready to think about giving you the Talk! Best if you ask your mamá about it, really. And about shoemaking. But if you want to learn how to make some good music-- what is it?” he asks, blinking, when Imelda bursts laughing.

She cannot answer right away: she just laughs and laughs and laughs, causing Coco to start wailing, as though to join in, while Héctor looks at them both, saying nothing, taking in everything with a wide smile on his face.

***

More. More coffee.

Ernesto lets his last few coins drop into the machine, rubbing his face with his free hand. It’s been… three hours? Feels like more. There hasn’t been much for him to do, other than calling his mother with the odd request of trying to contact Imelda’s parents - he has no clue what their number may be, maybe she can find out or even visit them, they’re in the same damn town - to let them know what’s going on.

For the most part he’s been sitting in the waiting room, with a growing pile of empty plastic cups on the floor in front of him. He goes to sit again, drinks the bitter hot coffee in one gulp, adds the cup to the pile, and leans back.

He tells himself there is no reason to be nervous, of course giving birth cannot be done in a pinch, but the more he waits the more uneasy he feels. What if something went wrong, two weeks early shouldn't be cause for concern, but-- no, surely Héctor would come tell him-- or would he stay in, unable to leave her side while… while…

“ERNESTO!”

Héctor’s cry and the bang of the door slamming open causes several people in the waiting room and Ernesto to jump several feet up in the air, all hair standing on end, letting out a shriek he’ll barely manage to pass off as a grito later.

He has barely enough time to land again before Héctor throws his arms around him, laughing and crying, trying to lift him and failing miserably, dragging him into a clumsy half-twirl. “She’s here! Coco is here! She’s beautiful, the most beautiful baby girl you’ll ever see!”

Something aches just a little, a part of him that is still bitter and spiteful over being cast aside for her sake, but Héctor pulls back with such a wide smile it’s near impossible not to smile back. And he does.

“Imelda…?”

“She’s fine, she was amazing. Resting now, but we can visit later. Oh! They’ll take Coco to the nursery, there is a window - want to come take a look at your goddaughter?

Ah, yes. I have a goddaughter now.

The ache grows duller, and Ernesto’s smile grows a bit brighter. “I would like that,” he says.

And means it.

***

A/N: Imelda's reaction to Coco is kinda based off my grandmother's when she first saw my brother a hour after birth. He was ugly. Just, so damn ugly. All she could say looking at the crib was "... so, it's this one?", clearly hoping to be told that no, it was the next one over. And while grandma was never known to be the nurturing type, when an Italian grandmother cannot manage to pretend her newborn grandchild is cute, you know it's one ugly baby.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #hector rivera #coco #mind the gap

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