#but she's so soft and patient with camila right before

[simplykorra]

beatrice + every episode - episode 4: "ecclesiasticus 26:9-10"  

[possibilistfanfiction]

More surgeon suffering pls! Maybe bea learning more about Ava’s injury?

[definitely sooo gentle & no present-day suffering lol but here u go]

//

‘you can ask.’

beatrice’s gentle, callused, careful fingers still along your back, their patterns you can’t quite decipher gone quiet. ‘i would never do that.’

her voice is so soft and so relaxed, it’s not at all a reprimand; you can’t say it aloud, not yet, but you love her. you roll over so that you can see the gentle planes of her face through the silvery-blue light from the moon and the night outside her big windows, the blinds not yet drawn. she looks at you openly, patiently, like there’s nothing she wants to take from you; everything she wants to give. you know — in your heart and through your friends and your family and your therapist telling you over and over again — that you have so much to offer: you’re beautiful and funny and very smart, and you love the world more than anyone you know. you also know that beatrice is sometimes less sure of herself than she seems: she clams up every time her parents call, unable to tell them to, unequivocally if it was up to you, fuck off; she loves to be lazy and sleep in and wants no one to know; she still is in the habit of downplaying accomplishments, anything from a surgery she mastered (impressive in that you know how hard it is) to a new route she climbed at the gym (you have no idea but lilith was jealous and you can imagine it’s hot); she’s a horrible cook.

‘i know,’ you say, and you do. you let a finger drift down the bridge of her nose, count her freckles, feel the chapped bow of her lips beneath your thumb. she has a scar, small, through her left brow, and you trace it. ‘what’s this from?’

she smiles, always so quick to understand, always so generous. it makes you feel like you could light up the entire world sometimes. ‘i was five; my brothers were trying to teach me how to rollerblade.’

you think about it: beatrice’s gap-toothed grin and the delightfully terrible bob haircut she had for so much of her early childhood, the photos making you laugh when, unprompted, lilith showed you a few weeks ago when you’d all had dinner at a good oyster place near bea’s house. ‘can you rollerblade now?’

‘no, it frightened me. i never learned.’

‘putting that on the short list of things that scare you. good to know.’

she holds up her right arm so you can see the small scar on her elbow, the skin darker than before. ‘at university, i was drunk and my crush dared me to climb a tree.’

you can’t help the laugh it pulls out of you. ‘oh my.’

she nods. ‘yes, quite. needless to say, amelia and i went our separate ways fairly soon after.’

‘well, her loss. i’d have paid to see you fall out of a tree.’

‘i didn’t fall,’ she says. ‘i scraped my elbow on the way up, but i did continue.’

‘of course you did.’

she shrugs. you trace the scars across her chest, ones you love. 

‘camila told me you tried to go back to classes a week after your surgery. like, the day after you got your drains out.’

bea laughs. ‘yes, and promptly fell fast asleep about three minutes in.’

‘front row?’

‘well, the second.’

‘knew it.’

‘i can keep going, if you like. i have a good story about a scraped knee during field hockey at boarding school.’

‘homoerotic, i hope.’

she rolls her eyes, but based on her silence you know you’re right.

she lets you sit in it, easily, and her house is beautiful and warm and, you’re beginning to think — to hope — it might be full of your things one day, too. it’s easier to be brave here, but your words, the worst of them, still get stuck in your throat. ‘well, what do my scars tell you?’

she weighs it. ‘you know i’m more interested in cardio.’

‘you’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.’

‘well, you favor your left hand when you’re practicing sutures, and i know your left foot gets numb often. you have trouble with temperature regulation and walking long distances, but an easier time standing for the most part; your neck aches, i think all the time.’ she pauses. ‘your handwriting is abysmal, although i suspect that has nothing to do with your injuries.’

you’re about to start crying, but she makes things lighter, even now.

‘all i care about, ava,’ she says, soft and sure, a hand tangled in your hair and then gentle on your cheek, ‘is that you get the care you need, that you tell someone — me or anyone else who can help. and you can tell me whatever you like, if ever you feel ready.’

‘i can’t — i want to.’

she kisses your forehead. ‘like i said. it’ll always be up to you. i’m here.’

you take a deep breath. ‘my mom had a garden,’ you say. ‘she died, uh —‘ you get a little caught, stuck on the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t alive anymore, when you couldn’t move, when you were stuck for so long, screaming and so, so scared — ‘she grew all kinds of vegetables.’ your voice shakes but beatrice only nods. ‘and flowers. we were going to —‘ you sniffle and beatrice just wipes your tears — ‘i think she wanted to keep bees. i don’t even know if that was possible; we had a little yard. but everything grew.’

‘that sounds wonderful.’

‘it was, even though i hated eating my vegetables.’

beatrice laughs softly, admonishing in a way that’s harmless, fond. ‘you’ve grown so much since then.’

‘hey, i’ll have you know just today i ate, like, seven bites of a salad.’

‘very impressive.’

‘can i — not right now, because i think i’ll just cry too much, but — can i tell you more about her? i wish you could’ve met her.’ i wish i could remember her more; i can’t forget.

‘i would love that. and, if she was anything like you, i’m sure she would’ve lit up an entire room. it would’ve been an honor.’

‘bea, i really don’t want to cry again,’ you whine.

‘you should know,’ she tells you, a little firm, so there’s no argument. ‘she would be so proud of you. i know it; who wouldn’t be?’

‘that’s —‘ you bury your face in her neck, just for a moment, soft and warm and safe. 

‘would you like to plant a garden?’

‘in my tiny ass apartment?’

‘no,’ she says, and you can’t see her but you can practically feel her rolling her eyes. ‘here. i have the whole back yard and, frankly, no real interest in a lawn.’

‘i —‘ you back up so you can look at her, and her eyes are clear. ‘really?’

‘of course. i’m actually quite interested in self-sustaining agriculture, and the pacific northwest has great growing conditions for so much wonderful flora and fauna.’

‘wow. okay, but — it’s your house.’

she pauses. ‘ava.’

‘i just — you’re sure?’

‘i would really enjoy it, if you’d like. also, my friend marco, from the climbing gym, runs the community garden in their neighborhood and has been pestering me to meet you.’

‘you talk about me?’

‘of course.’

‘well, if marco will do all the heavy lifting, and preferably both of you not have shirts on, i’m so in.’

‘it’s february.’

you shrug. ‘you’re tough.’

beatrice laughs, and you sink into it, delight in it. you could light up the whole world, ava, she told you after two glasses of wine and half an edible the other night, entirely serious, crammed onto the small couch in your small apartment, your life expanding far beyond, past any walls you knew. 

‘next weekend, when we’re both off,’ she says, ‘we can go to the nursery nearby and get started.’

‘you’re —‘ the love of my life sits right on the tip of your tongue, but you kiss her instead. ‘thank you.’

‘thank you for telling me about your garden, and your mother.’

all you can do is nod, and then hold her after she turns over and falls asleep.

[piratekane]

oh i loved your response to the #13 prompt so here we go: 5. “Please come get me…” for avatrice :)

She's in the middle of a market in the heart of Santorini, smiling as a young girl with dark hair eagerly shows her a bright blue pendant on a silver chain. Her Greek is underdeveloped but the girl is patient, explaining the way she shaped the stone and fit the sterling silver around it to hang it on the chain. The girl goes on about the way she picked the stone because it matched the ocean and Beatrice is struck how, in every place she goes, she finds little pieces of Ava.

The girl in Glasgow who bumped into her at a coffee shop and cheerfully apologized before pressing a new coffee into her cold hands, refusing to take no for an answer. The young boy in Madrid who asked about her book and listened carefully as she explained the plot of Voyage Au Centre de la Terre, asking thoughtful questions. The bartender in Ravenna who convinced her with a wide smile to try a real cuba libre after hearing her order a soda and lime juice, wearing her down gently.

Ava is everywhere she goes and nowhere Beatrice wants her to be.

Beatrice takes the necklace now and holds it carefully in one hand. "It is lovely." Her Greek is broken, but then again, Ava was the one with an adeptness for languages. The girl smiles anyway and nods enthusiastically. "How much?"

Her phone rings in her pocket and she gives the girl a slight apologetic smile as she pulls it from her linen pants. Camila's name flashes across the screen. She holds up a finger to the girl and accepts the call.

"Camila," she says happily. "I was going to call you tomorrow."

"Bea?"

Beatrice's heart stops in her chest, seizes up in a ghost's vice grip. The hand holding the necklace goes slack, saved only by the young girl's quick and nimble fingers. She tries to inhale but the feeling is too sharp in her chest to get a breath in successful. She nearly chokes on it instead.

"Ava."

There's a soft laugh in her ear. She's dreamed of that laugh, of a broken Ava in her arms still finding something to smile about. She always wakes those mornings with a sad smile and tears running down her face.

"Ava." She presses the phone closer to her ear.

"It's me." Ava is quiet for a moment. "I'm back."

Beatrice laughs, broken. Her eyes start to burn with tears. "H-how?"

She can picture Ava's face, twisting in thought as she considers something. She wonders if her face has changed, if there's new lines she'll need to learn, new lines she'll get to map with her fingers and not just her eyes. Because she loves Ava, she's loved Ava. And she's here, exhaling into Bea's ear. Just at the end of a telephone line.

"Bea, can you..." There's a shuddering sound before Ava's voice comes back stronger. "Can you please come get me?"

She's already walking, already moving back to her hotel, the beauty of the island paling in comparison to the melody of Ava's voice. "I'm coming."

Ava breathes out again. "How far away are you?"

"Too far." More than arm's reach feels like a million kilometers. "But I can be there today. Can you- can you wait for me?"

"You waited for me."

Beatrice breathes out. "Yes." She nearly laughs. "I've been waiting for- Yes."

She can hear Ava smile, closes her eyes and imagines the way it stretches, the way it makes Ava's eyes crinkle and sparkle. She feels the sharpness in her chest subside, replaced by a slow warmth not unlike like the Aegean Sea lapping at her ankles.

"I won't be long," she promises. She'll need to pack, buy a ticket, sit on a plane for 10 hours, all before she can get to Ava. Those feel like an insurmountable tasks right now. But she can do it. For herself. For Ava. For them.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She clutches the phone a little tighter. "Do you promise?"

Ava's voice is soft, the kind of quiet she remembers from their nights in Switzerland as they told each other their secrets. "I promise. Come get me, Bea."

When she promises, "I'm coming," she's never meant anything more in her entire.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Camilip Week 2023 - Day 4 (Nerds) Cosmic Frontier: The Lost Episode

CAMILIP WEEK DAY 4!

Get ready for some cuisine that's outer this world (get it lol)! 💖 👩‍🚀 🚀 🛸 👾 🛰️ ✨

After parking her car in the driveway, an exhausted Camila exited her vehicle and walked tiredly to the front door, holding her keys in her hands.

The vet clinic Camila worked at was busy today, which led her to do a lot of multitasking with different animal patients.

Due to barely eating the lunch that she had bought on her short break, the veterinarian felt both hungry and tired.

She couldn't wait to head inside and heat up the leftovers from last night's dinner before taking a much-needed nap.

Once she unlocked the door, Camila stepped inside her home and what she saw in the dining room blew her mind, as she let out a small gasp.

The dinner table was set up to look like Captain Avery and Chief O'Bailey's spaceship, as every entrée on the table was a reference to Cosmic Frontier.

Camila couldn't believe it.

This was a nerdy dream come true for her.

Coming out of the kitchen, her bearded beloved was wearing a space-themed apron rather than his usual horse one, and he instantly smiled at Camila.

"Ah, there you are, my love. Welcome home,"

Philip gave her a gentle greeting as he gestured for Camila to have a seat.

She did, still shocked as Philip pushed her chair in.

He then pulled out an alien headband and positioned it in Camila's hair.

Perfect!

As he spoke, his smile persisted.

"I hope you're hungry, because I've prepared this outer space feast just for you."

He gestured towards every dish on the table as he listed them off.

"We have cosmic chicken casserole, rover roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes from Mars, galactic garlic bread, and..."

Heading back into the kitchen, Philip happily returns with lime green gelatin sitting on a stand in the shape of an alien's head, with chunks of pineapple and cucumbers inside.

"Dessert!"

When Philip sets the stand down on the table, Camila lets out a loud gasp as she stares intently at the gelatin with sparkly eyes.

"The evil emperor Kuvvul's head!" Camila was taken aback by how meticulous it looked.

Philip got every little detail right.

"I hope it's okay," Philip chuckled as he sat across from Camila.

"It's perfect!" Camila quickly told him with glittery eyes.

Her fangirl reaction caused Philip to laugh once more.

He then picked up the serving spoon from the casserole and scooped up a spoonful to place on Camila's plate before scooping up some for himself.

"Oh, Philip," Camila softly began, a bit of dark blush creeping on her cheeks.

"This surprise dinner is outer this world," she says, giggling at her own space pun.

"Thank you for putting so much thought and love into it, mi amor."

Philip understood and valued the geeky love they shared for Cosmic Frontier.

The beardo gave his beloved a soft smile. "It's what you deserve, my love," Philip gently told her as he dipped his casserole spoon into the casserole.

"Cheers?" he asked, holding up his spoon.

With a warm smile, Camila dips her spoon into the dish and holds it up as well.

"Cheers," she replied to the friendly toast as she and Philip both clink their spoons before bringing them to their mouths to eat.

The two hum in unison at the casserole's gooey goodness.

[blueberrywhale123]

Meet the Parents

Hi! So my patient Violetta fans, I finally got the chapter out! It's a two-parter because Vilu had a lot of emotions that she wanted to talk about 😅 hope you don't mind. I wanted to have a lot of the dinner part so that had to turn into it's own chapter. hope you like it! I posted it on my Ao3 account too! It's under blueberrywhale with the same title.

~~~~~~

Chapter 1

The bright afternoon sun streamed through the trees and hit the bold colors that painted the face of the large building, making it glow vibrantly. The building’s name was pasted over the front, proudly displaying “Studio 21” for all to see. The studio’s entire look and atmosphere - from the kaleidoscope of coordinating colors and abstract designs to the constant stream of music seeping through the walls - would alert even the most unobservant to the fact that it was a school for the arts. It was a prestigious and well-loved school - meant for those young people who were truly passionate about making music their career - and prided itself on the dedication both student and teacher applied to their craft.

Inside, the students who had completed all their lessons were heading home for the day, herds of people swarmed the lockers and the doors as they packed and left their precious sanctuary of musical delight. Four students had clustered around their lockers: Maxi, Camila, Francesca, and Violetta.

“I totally aced that assignment, you guys! I just know it!” Maxi’s smile was infectious, and the girls all returned his grin with equal force. He had been complaining about his composition for Beto for the past two weeks, and it felt like the weight of its competition hadn’t only been lifted from his shoulders.

“And what are you planning on doing to celebrate this achievement, musical genius?” Francesca hooked her arm over her locker door to lean forward, swinging with the hinge gracefully as she shot him a cheeky smile.

“Sleep!” Maxi fell against the wall, head tilting back and eyes closing as he tucked his hands by the side of his head in a gesture representing the blissful state he wanted to be in.

“Are you crazy?” Camila yelped, a big smile stretching her lips, “We should go out! Have some fun. What do you say? Arcade? Karaoke? Roller-blading? Roller-blading karaoke? I’m open to suggestions.”

“So long as it’s not where Luca can bother me, I’m in,” Francesca countered, finger pointed in the air to emphasize.

“Deal,” Camila and Francesca shook hands and turned to Maxi with devious grins.

Maxi took five seconds to cave, his laughter ringing through his surrender. “Alright, sounds fun.” He turned to his left. “You in, Vilu?”

Violetta had been watching her friends silently, her mouth pulling upwards in a fond contented smile. When their eyes locked on her, Violetta’s smile turned rueful with a pinch of her eyebrows and pursing of her lips.

“Sorry, León’s … well - León’s taking me to dinner to meet his parents.” 

The words tumbled from her lips and Violetta only managed to blink before Camila and Francesca tackled Violetta in a hug, pulling back to bounce in place and squeal, heedless of any onlookers’ strange stares. Maxi hung back, just as happy but wise enough to keep himself safe from the whirlwind that was Camila and Francesca. Violetta’s cheeks flushed a soft pink and her eyes shone with anxious excitement as she nibbled on the bottom of her lip.

Francesca spoke with her cheek pressed against Violetta’s hair, “You definitely get a pass. I’m going to need as many details as you can give me afterward. Understand?”

Camila gripped Violetta by her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes. “Vilu-” she said earnestly- “this is really big. Like, crazy big. You and León are heading to a different level now. You’re meeting his parents. This is so big.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Francesca ran her hand comfortingly down Violetta’s arm, a mothering smile on her face. “Camila’s right, this is great.”

“Excited for you, Vilu,” Maxi squeezed his way through to the other side of Violetta.

Her friends’ happiness for her left Violetta light and giddy. She gripped each of their hands in turn, giving them a gentle squeeze to help convey her feelings. The weight of the evening had been on her shoulders all day. What usually happens when you meet the parents of your amazingly wonderful boyfriend? Surely Mr. and Mrs. Vargas were expecting someone worthy of their son. Would they be measuring her against their idea of who was good enough for León? What if the Vargas didn’t like her? This was the only worry that Violetta could calm; León had broken up with Ludmila of all people just this year. If anything, all she had to do was make a better impression than Ludmila and all would be well.

And yet, even that wasn't enough to assuage her fears. Violetta had no delusions about her conversation skills; she got far too in her head and tried to create the perfect conversation only for it to fall flat a majority of the time. She stumbled over her words and had the hardest time initiating any topic of substance with adults. No, no, Violetta was much better at being talked at.

At the very least, she could hope that Mr. and Mrs. Vargas wouldn't be as overbearing as her father. León wouldn't be looking forward to it as much as he was if that were the case.

“I can't believe you’re meeting his parents already,” Camila mused. “Time really flies. It feels like just yesterday when you were telling us about your first kiss.”

“They grow up so fast,” Maxi crooned, tugging gently on the side of Violetta’s hair. Violetta laughed with Francesca as she swatted his hand away.

“You’ve got to try and make a good impression,” Camila said.

Francesca frowned, “Vilu is very charming, Cami. She’s like an innocent little lamb.”

“Of course she is. That’s not what I meant,” Camila waved away Francesca’s defense. “I just mean that this is a really important step so you want to make an extra effort. Sure, you don’t need their blessing or permission or all that, but it’s so much easier to date someone when their parents don’t hate your guts. Get it? Just saying it’s good to run onto the battlefield after you’ve strategized and have proper weaponry. Am I making any sense?”

A battlefield? Violetta’s mouth went dry at the comparison. 

“No,” Francesca furrowed her brows in confusion. “What does a battlefield have to do with any of this?”

“Oh, you know. They want to ask you everything from your hobbies to how many cows you’re able to give in exchange for their son’s hand in marriage.” Camila wrinkled her nose like she had a personal grudge against this imaginary question in particular. “And it’s like a landmine, one wrong answer and they’ve decided you’re the worst, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Oh no. Violetta hadn't felt this nervous since she had tried to run away from her singing audition. The very tempting idea to run away now dangled in her mind despite knowing she wouldn't take it. This was so important to León and she would suffer through it if she had to. Would it be rude to refuse to speak the entire dinner? What if she feigned losing her voice? All Violetta knew for certain was that she would feel the smallest she ever had at the dinner table that night. Every flaw that she possessed came stumbling forward in her mind. You’re too shy, they whispered. You don’t have enough experience, they mocked. They’ll think you need León to do everything, they jeered. In the wake of all that awaited her tonight, Violetta was woefully underprepared.

“Vilu, you okay?”

Violetta drug herself up from the depths of her mind and saw Francesca huddled in her face, a frown pulling her features into the very picture of concern.

“Yeah … yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” Francesca rubbed up and down Violetta’s arm but she paid it little mind. Some of her anxiety must have leaked through across her face because Francesca spun around with a disapproving frown. “Cami, look at what you did!”

Camila turned abruptly from where she and Maxi had bent their heads together, murmuring about where to hang out later. Violetta watched as Camila took in Francesca and herself, watching as the state Violetta was in tipped her off to the severity of her anxiety over the event. With a sweet croon, Camila swept near and took both Violetta’s hands in hers.

“Girlie, sorry, I just got a bit overboard. But Fran’s right, you’re charming and sweet, they’ll love you.”

“You don’t have to say that, Cami,”

“But she’s right,” Francesca said firmly. “They’d have to be fools not to like you.”

 Maxi butted in, “And León’s parents aren’t going to ban him from dating someone he likes. I mean, he dated Ludmila.”

~~~~~~~~~

If Violetta could wish for a superpower in that every moment, it would have been the power to stop time. The ticking of her clock had continued to push on with merciless speed no matter how much she glared and begged for the hands to cease. Her room was a mess, piles of clothing littered the bed, her desk, and any surface she could find room on; nearly every item she owned was out in a haphazard display as she endlessly circled through different combinations, trying to find the perfect outfit.

This one was too short. This one was too casual. This one was too formal.

Violetta would have thrown herself across her bed in anguish if it wasn't so piled high. As it was, Violetta decided that burrowing her face into her pillow was an adequate replacement.

She was still buried in the fluffy plush of her pillow, a silent scream on her lips when a hesitant knock rapped against her locked bedroom door.

“Coming,”

German stood in the open doorway, looking for all the world that he would rather be doing anything else than getting ready to send Violetta off to meet the parents of her boyfriend. “Are you almost ready, Vilu? I was hoping to talk with you for a minute.”

Violetta groaned in dispair. German jerked back as if the sound had shocked him with a current of electricity.

“What’s wrong, Sweetie?”

“I won’t be ready until I have something to wear, Dad,”

“Oh, having trouble?”

Violetta withheld the eye-roll that she wanted to make, choosing to simply walk back toward her pile of clothes. Why did it always feel like her words were falling short at some invisible barrier when it came to her father; she could talk and talk, but he only ever seemed to hear half of what she said, and even then, it was hardly what she meant for him to understand. She left the door open, however, and German stepped through into her room after a few seconds of deliberation.

“I know, I’ll clean it later. Promise.”

But German did not say anything. His eyes roamed the room; the piles, the walls, and finally Violetta herself were swept along in his gaze. Violetta watched him in turn, taking note of the growing lines gathering on his forehead and around his mouth. It was a look she knew well, though it had more than one outcome.

“Your mother had a white dress with flowers all over,” Whatever silent war he had raged within himself had been concluded and the lines along his face softened, though they merely took on the mask of dull heartache. “She wore it when she went to meet my parents. She was so nervous, she kept twisting her skirt over her finger. Wore a hole in it before dinner was done.”

Violetta smiled, mirroring the distant grief that her father’s involuntary smile possessed, if only different. But if one thing was similar between their sadness, it was that neither felt the time they had with Maria was enough.

“You look beautiful in anything, Sweetie,”

Violetta turned her smile onto her father before turning to root through her pile on the bed. She emerged with a pale blue dress with little white flowers scattered across the fabric, the closest thing to what German described. Her mother might not be there to see her off, but at the very least, Violetta could feel like Maria was with her throughout the whole thing. Just the touch of the fabric on her skin was enough to ease the churning in her stomach.

“Thanks, Dad,” and Violetta hoped that he could hear the many things she was thanking him for in her two simple words.

German smiled, kissed her head, and walked out the door. Violetta pretended not to notice the tears he swiped away from his eyes as he turned out of sight.

Her outfit chosen, Violetta sprung into action. She slipped her white heels on, brushed out her hair, and deftly applied her bit of makeup. By the time she had double and triple-checked that everything was in order, her phone chimed with a message from León announcing his arrival.

The text gave her wings and Violetta was flying down the stairs just as the front door was closing behind León. Already breathless in anxious excitement, what little breath she had was caught in her throat at the sight of him; his clothes were smart yet comfortable, hugging him in a way that flattered his form and added to the effortlessly charming confidence that laced his every move. She paused for a second or two on the stairs to take him in but he caught her stare and she almost averted her gaze, conscious of the swirling heat that enveloped her neck and cheeks. But Violetta didn't look away and so was rewarded with watching León’s momentary lapse as he stood - dare she say - stunned by her. His reaction sent a thrill through her just as much as it embarrassed her to be the cause of it.

It took a moment to notice that Ramallo and German were also present. The latter was talking about curfews as sternly as if it was the first time that León had received this spiel; Ramallo made no attempt to stop his boss aside from sparing Violetta an amused look. León, for his part, endured the conversation with grace, once more reassuring German that Violetta would be home by his required time like he did every time.

“Good,” German was saying, satisfied with his reprisal of the rules. “Do you want anything to drink or eat, León? I think Olga is making chocolate chip cookies.”

Violetta hurtled herself forward with all speed to León’s side and latched on to his arm just as León was taking a breath to answer. “Dad,” Violetta moaned, stretching out her one word so amply lace it with chiding, “we have to go or we’ll be late.”

León nodded exaggeratedly beside her, his hand lifted to gesture to Violetta as if to draw German’s attention to some wonderful point she had made.

German flung out his hands in surrender, his words of acquiescence bubbling up with a light and unconcerned air. Violetta smiled and embraced her father, kissing him quickly on the cheek before bidding Ramallo goodbye as well. León and German shook hands.

“Bye, German. Don’t worry, I’ll return her in one piece,”

They were halfway through the door when German hastily announced he wanted to drive them so they wouldn't be late. Ramallo was by his side in the blink of an eye, his hand gently laid on German’s shoulder. Steering him off, Ramallo promised León had it all sorted; why, he’d even brought his own transportation for the special occasion. Ramallo shot a wink over his shoulder as he nudged the door closed with his foot.

Violetta and León’s eyes met and amusement brimmed behind their eyes, lips pursed to hold back the quiet laughter threatening to spill out. León took her hand softly in his.

“Ready,”

Violetta took a deep breath and nodded. León’s smile was sunshine itself - warm and nourishing - as he slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and wound it around his forearm. They scurried down the driveway and Violetta almost stopped short at the sleek red and black motorcycle that was leaning on its kickstand just tucked out of sight behind the house’s wall. No wonder Ramallo had been so intent on keeping German in the house. León led them up to the contraption; he let go of her hand for a moment to swing himself over the seat and pull the two helmets into his lap. Settled, León grinned at her but trepidation kept Violetta’s feet firmly planted on the ground. Her stomach roiled and her mind whirled.

“León, you’ve been driving for a while, right?” She didn't bother to hide her fear as she stared unblinkingly at the bike.

It did not go unnoticed.

“Since I was sixteen,” León’s answer was soft, his eager smile sliding off. She felt his warm strong hand take hers but he didn't tug her closer, just wiggled one of her fingers to get her eyes on him instead of the bike.

“I figured we’ve already conquered one type of bike, why not the other?”

Violetta was still unconvinced. This was not the same as learning to ride a simple peddle bike. “You’re sure I won’t fall off?”

León grinned, crooked and mischievous, “Only if you don't hold on to me really tight.”

Violetta huffed a laugh at his bouncing eyebrows and made up her mind. Though she was still tense as a plank of wood, Violetta plopped the helmet over her hair with care and settled behind León, her front pressed against his back, arms locked around his middle in a grip of steel. He wouldn't have brought the motorcycle if he didn’t think he could handle the drive and really, new experiences were never as scary as they could be when León was with her.

Before he started the bike, León grew still and serious. “We can walk if you’d rather. It’s no big deal.”

His offer, so earnest and given without a thought except to make her comfortable, was enough to swell her heart with love and bolster her courage. Always so thoughtful. Violetta bumped her helmet against his. “I’m good. You’re with me.”

León patted her hand and turned forward. The engine reeved to life, the bike rumbling beneath them. Violetta vibrated under the machine's steady droning, the feeling oddly reminiscent of the way the bass thrummed through the stage floor despite the motorcycle being far louder by far. She squeezed León once and he was off; the wind pelting against her legs, the neighborhood whipping by, and her heart pounding with the exhilaration of the freeing speed.

[hootysblog]

Last day of the 31 day fan fiction challenge!

I have had so much fun writing all of these! I hope you all enjoyed reading them (or not, I don't judge!)

Anyway, as stated yesterday, this is a continuation of Day 29 and 30.

Pure fluff and happiness ahead.

A couple of notes: it's a long fic

Anything bracketed by * and * is a new book (you'll understand).

Have fun reading and thanks everyone!!

Engagement

"I'll be there tomorrow, I promise."

"Luz, you said that last time and you had to cancel."

Eda looks up and sees Amity walking outside of the Owl House, talking on her scroll.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry for missing most of our dates the past few weeks."

Amity sighs, "You know I can't stay mad at you, I just miss you."

"I miss you too, mi amor, but I'm looking forward to tomorrow. It'll be magical to see you again."

"You're saying that because it's the Wailing Star tomorrow night."

Luz laughs. "You caught me, but I promise I'll see you tomorrow. Love you."

"I love you too."

Amity hangs up and sits down to watch the waves on the Boiling Sea.

Eda smiles and takes out her scroll and text Luz.

Little does Amity know, her life is going to change tomorrow night.

_______________________________________________

Amity waits for Luz in her secret room, well their secret room now. She is patiently waiting for her girlfriend to arrive. She was a little disappointed that Luz couldn't come until later tonight, but she understood. Camila has been busy at the clinic and then she got sick, so Luz had to take care of her.

Hearing a noise outside the room, Amity starts to smile, but then the noise goes away. Amity frowns but then notices a ball of light coming towards her. She's confused, but notices that her room is open and heads outside. She looks around and sees that there are light spells in the hallway, seemingly directing Amity somewhere.

Her curiosity has peaked and she starts walking along the lights. She sees that the Wailing Star has started and wonders where Luz is. She turns a corner and sees books left on the table.

"I swore I put all of the books back before my shift ended," she thinks.

Amity walks towards them and grabs the first one. The book says "Open me Amity".

"I'm a little worried here, but here it goes," Amity thinks and she opens the book.

The first book is the first, real interaction she had with Luz. *"Who are you? What are you? I WANT ANSWERS!!!"* She flinches at the memory, but chuckles thinking about how far she has come.

She grabs then next one:

*"Say it. Say it you're not a witch!"

"I'm not a witch..... But I'm trying hard to be one."*

Next book:

*Plays the memory of Amity saving Luz from Otabin*

Amity smiles and grabs the next one:

*"Say it with me we can fix this together!... C'mon say it"

"We can fix this together."*

Next one:

*"If you don't defeat Grom everyone on the island will have to live out their worst nightmare."

"You wanna here MY worst nightmare?"*

Amity laughs and is glad that memory is there. She turns the page. *"Amity Blight, I'll do it. I'll defeat Grom in the arena and be your fearless champion!"

"You've done things I could never do."

"Yeah right! You're going soft on me Blight?"

"In your dreams."

"What if I went to Grom with you instead?"

"Really?"

"That's what friends do!"

"Well, if that's settle then, may I have this dance?"*

Amity smiles at the memory playing out in from of her. She keeps going.

*"Oh wow... Sports"*

Amity blushes and facepalms.

*"Hey! Stay away from my Luz!"...."Luz, are you okay?"*

*"Everything's changed since you came here. Being around you makes me do stupid things and I wish I didn't!"

"It's okay. I do stupid things around you too Amity."

"Don't worry, you always have a way of sneaking into peoples' hearts."*

*"I have no idea what my future holds but it would be so cool if you are in it, so...."

"DO YOU WANT TO GO OUT WITH ME?!?"....

"Amity Blight, do you want to go out with me?"

"Yes!!"*

*"I'm so glad my awesome girlfriend is okay.*

*"Luz, I know you'll find a way to get back home and when you do, we'll all be there to help you."*

*"I don't want to lose you Amity."

"You won't lose me, I promise. We'll figure this out together."*

*"Luz, there's something I have to tell you.....I love you."

"I love you too Amity."*

*"STAY AWAY FROM HER!!" Luz launched a coven guard away from Amity.*

Amity knows what memory is next for them, and she slowly opens the book. The memory is from when they were fighting the Emperor to stop the Day of Unity.

*"AMITY!!!!" Luz rushes over and cradles Amity in her arms. "No no no no no. Please, please don't leave me."

Amity opened her eyes, "Luz?"

"I'm here Amity."

"We won, right?"

"Yeah, we won. We're going to get you out of here and get you healed."

"Luz, if something happens..."

"No, don't say that."

"But just in case," Amity groaned, "Luz Noceda, you have been the best part of my life. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you."

Luz cried, "I love you too, mi amor.".....

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Amity."

"I'll try not to."*

Amity cries and keeps going.

*"May I have this dance, Senior Grom Queen?"

They danced and Amity said, "I think you should know that you were the one that I wanted to ask out all those years ago."

Luz smiled and then it hit her..."Oh my Titan. I said "that's what friends do" about asking you out to Grom. I'm an idiot."

Amity laughed, "Yeah, but your my idiot."*

There's only one book left. Amity opens it, but there's nothing in it. She looks down and notices a note on the table that reads: This book needs a memory. Come outside and we'll create one.

Amity, still holding the book, walks outside and sees Luz standing there. She is dressed up like she was at their last Grom.

"You're a little late, Noceda," Amity jokes.

"Yeah, but I'm late for good reasons. I see you found all of the books."

Amity blushes and nods. "What are you thinking here?"

Luz walks towards Amity and grabs her hand.

"First off, I want to apologize for missing all of our dates the past few weeks, and I'll explain after I'm done here."

Amity raises her eyebrow, but lets Luz continue.

"I remember seeing you for the first time all those years ago. I remember thinking that you are not a nice person. Then I came here and saw you reading to the kids. After that, we started to get to know each other more and I started to fall for you. It wasn't until you saved me at your parents presentation that I knew for certain that I liked you."

Amity is smiling.

"Every day has been an adventure with you. We've fought off Grom, Belos, and other monsters. And I want more adventures with you. You are the love of my life and I want to spend every day with you for the rest of my life."

Luz starts to get onto one knee and is reaching for the ring. Amity drops the book. Everything starts to play in slow motion for Amity and her mind is racing.

"Oh my Titan. This is happening. This is actually happening to me. I can't believe it."

Luz opens the case to reveal and silver band ring, with a purple-cut gemstone.

"Amity Blight, will you be my fearless champion for the rest of my life?"

Amity is crying and looks at Luz, who is grinning at her and looking at her with love in her eyes.

"YES!! YES!! YES!!"

Luz jumps up and Amity grabs her, pulling her into a powerful kiss. After they break apart, Luz puts the ring on Amity's finger. Amity admires the ring.

Suddenly, the Owl Gang starts running up the library stairs to congratulate the newly engaged couple.

"How did you all get here?" Amity says after they are all done congratulating them.

"Well, Luz needed our help setting up so we told her we would help her," Eda explains.

"The only condition was that they could watch me purpose to you," Luz comments.

"I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate us," Amity replies and goes in to kiss Luz again. "I love you, Luz Noceda."

"And I love you too, Amity Blight."

They spend the rest of the night at the Owl House, rejoicing in their engagement.

[fa-by]

Hi, Faby I'm finally free of homework. I loved your theory on all these years. I laughed at the memes. many CS say we have a version of Camila with all these years, but we don't have a similar version of Lauren but at the time that Camila and Lauren weren't together (after Camila left the group) Lauren kept thinking about Camila because she kept writing songs based on her relationship with Camila like all night. Can you make a song analysis of all night?

Hello to you, dear @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 I'm glad you're free from your homework 💪🏼 I'm also glad that you loved my interpretation and that you laughed at the GIFs.

So. About All Night, I can tell you it's track n° 11 of Steve Aoki's Neon Future IIIalbum. Both Laur and Steve loved the time spent together in the studio, and Steve totally loved working with her: “She’s got so many ideas and the problem is, they’re all good. She’s very meticulous. The attention to detail Lauren has is something I don’t find in many people. She’s very attentive to the detail. She’s got those ears, she’s got the sensibility and the vision, and I’m just totally inspired to be in the studio with her”.

As for the lyrics, were already there, but Laur rewrote them and wrote the bridge from scratch. Vocally speaking, she did all the backgrounds and vocally self-produced. So the vocal production? It's hers. It was her. Yeah. She's thattalented, and people still sleep on her. But anyway. Let's move on to my interpretation now, shall we?

Verse 1:

“My heart beats a little faster

When our eyes meet, in the middle of a crowded room”

Typical reaction of when we meet someone we like. You know? Heart beating fast as Laur says, along with butterflies in the stomach, cheeks blushing, palms sweating, adrenaline, dry mouth, palpitations, hot flashes, etc., etc.

“In knee deep, testing waters”

What does ‘in knee deep’ make us understand? That it wasn't an ordinary person that she just liked, but that it was a person that she really liked very much. *cough Mila*

“I've got a feeling, and I don't know what to do”

Why? Because she knew it was different and contrary to the past, she didn't know how to act.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it”

As I think you know, ‘paralyzed’ in this case is intended as being blocked by a strong emotion (such as amazement). Mila got her paralyzed. Their situation and feelings were so strong, so deep/in knee-deep, that Laur was petrified by it. But despite this, as I said before, this was different. Unlike anything she'd ever felt before. And she liked it.

“Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no”

It caught her by surprise because she didn't expect it. And we know why she wasn't usually like that. Because she'd been in denial all her life. Because she'd always fought against these feelings.

“Got me paralyzed, don't think I can help it”

She couldn't. Even if she tried, she couldn't. She couldn't help herself.

“Why's it feel so right?”

Why did what she was taught to be wrong made her feel so good/right? Because it was. It was in general, but it was even more so with her. With Mila.

Post-Chorus:

“Let's keep this going all night

Going all night

Going all night

Going all night”

Freedom. Without thinking of tomorrow. Tomorrow's tomorrow.

Verse 2:

“The crowd fades, tunnel vision

In a daze, and the only thing I feel is you”

Because she was the only important thing. The only thing that mattered. All the rest? They were just surroundings.

“In perfect, syncopation”

Syncopation can be a rhythm, a passage, or a dance step. Syncopation in music occurs when a rhythm is unexpected and is played off-beat. It's like, an oscillation in a soft and not stiff way. It's an imbalance and prolongation of a note in the middle that creates an effect of, precisely, oscillation. Flamenco is the simplest first example that comes to mind for both musical rhythm and danced rhythm, but syncopation is used in many music styles. From the classical music of Mozart and Beethoven, to the ragtime ancestor of jazz, jazz itself, rock, metal, reggae, hip-hop, pop, house, salsa, etc.

To give you a practical example to help you understand better, count 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud three times in a row. From the fourth time, keep counting out loud and, at the same time, use the palm of your hand or the clenched fist on a surface to hear the rhythm yourself and understand how stable it is. Do this three times or even more until it’s natural for you to keep up the pace without having to keep counting 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud. Once you've done that, keep counting mentally and hit/tap 5 a little bit harder with a little pause, and then just 7, 8. It would be like: 5, no hit/tap, 7, 8.

FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight.

You can slow down or speed up as you like, and this, dear @camilalauren0327 and babies, is an example of syncopation. If you guys want, to listen and understand better, I also found this for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-H6oXpF-tw.

But anyway. What's my point? Why explain all this to you? Because for many composers and producers, syncopation is a vital element because it helps them tie the rhythm and the melody of a song together. The use of syncopation in music in general, but more precisely in a song, makes the track different and even unique at times.

And now that you know this, Lauren did or didn't use a beautiful metaphor with a simple one-word to describe her and Mila? *she was so phenomenal and romantic 😍*

“Face to face, tell me do you feel it too?”

Sounds weird that Laur was wondering, right? Well, it actually isn't because this song is about the moment in the timeline they were in the Like Friends Dosituation. Laur was still in denial and therefore they didn't speak. She didn't know if Mila still wanted her or not, and most likely, it was just before Mila started her relationship with the mystery girl because it coincides with Lauren finally accepting herself and her feelings for her.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it

Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no

Got me paralyzed, don't think I can fight this

Why's it feel so right?”

The difference between the first chorus and this, is the ‘don't think I can fight this’ here. As I said before and as we know, Laur had been in denial all her life and she’d always fought against these feelings, but this time it was different. Thiswas different because Camila was different. Hell, Lauren herself was different. The environment she was in was different. Different especially from home and from what she was used to there. Her feelings were different. More powerful. Nothing like the crushes she'd had on other girls in the past, and she knew, because she knew, that she was going to lose this fight. Here, or rather at the time at that moment, she was simply admitting it to herself.

Bridge:

“But maybe I should wait

Let it fall into place

'Cause I keep going over

The things that could come from me feeling this way (Way)”

She was having second thoughts here. Her fear took over. Fear is the most powerful tool in the world. It makes you do unimaginable things and it makes you not do what you really want.

“And I don't wanna play (I don't wanna play)

This emotional game (This emotional game)

But when you pull me closer

I cannot deny that I want you to stay”

BUT, she finally gave in. She overcame her fear by finally admitting to herself that she wanted her, and not just physically. The ‘stay’ is tricky because if it's read just like that, it only means a physical action, but for Camren? It means so much more. An example that comes to mind now is the ‘It's almost 2AM and I can't ask you to stay’ that we find in Feel It Twice. For them, the ‘stay’ is not just a physical action. It's deeper. It means staying with each other. It means staying/being together.

After the bridge, we have the post-bridge and then the chorus again (in which that raspy, mature high-note occurs on the “I cannot deny this love”, which honestly leaves me dead every time) which I've already explained, so that's it, dear @camilalauren0327. All Night is a song about Laur's acceptance of her feelings for Mila.

I hope you liked it, and, I don't know where you live, but I hope you're having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter. Sending you a hug 🤗

For you guys, on the other hand, I hope you too are having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter wherever you live 😊 I'll try to keep answering your asks whenever possible until I get home in September (damn places with no connection and only one wi-fi).

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[possibilistfanfiction]

nightmare for the one word prompts

[a little sad but mostly very silly, butch bea universe]

//

'i really don't have to go today,' beatrice says, kissing your forehead before settling down next to you on the couch. you know she means it: beatrice means everything she says, first of all, and you have grown — despite your brain's best efforts to steer you otherwise — to trust her when she offers care. you take her in: her fresh haircut that she gets done every month now, usually neatly parted on the top, messy from sleep; her tender wrists; the soft skin of her thighs; the soft sweater you bought her last christmas, sleeves pulled down over her hands, which are always cold.

you sigh. you had had nightmares — more than one, which is rare this many years later, after the worst of it — and woken up with scars that you don't think about too often, or at least with too much pain or sorrow anymore, aching all over your body. your legs had been pins and needles — worse, you've discovered, than feeling nothing some days — and your spine had ached, the halo feeling your sorrow, sharing in it. beatrice had skipped her typical surf session this morning, partially because she'd woken up with you both times last night, and partially because she's worried. she doesn't try to hide it anymore, her concern written all over her gentle face, in her sweet eyes, her soft hands. you find it nestled along all the small things she did for you in the past two hours: bringing you pain meds along with an easy breakfast of scrambled eggs and your favorite rosemary sourdough toast, doing a few snuffles with korra's morning unkibble so she's calm and ready to work today for whatever you need, helping you, after your glum nod, transfer from bed to your chair. you twist the wedding band around on your finger, focus on the few freckles that sit on the tops of her hands because of her time in the sun. your life is real, you remind yourself. your time on the other side, every endless day you spent in hell, was worth it for this, for beatrice quietly and patiently sitting next to you, soft and always becoming more herself; for your family visiting at the end of the week, camila begging to go to universal studios, lilith grumbling but giving in; for the respect people owe you now, and ready give; for your dog and your bar and the edibles you share with beatrice some nights, easy with laughter, and the farofa you feel confident in making for dinner when your friends come over, a warm offering.

'no,' you decide on, firmly, and you know beatrice will trust you. 'we should go. it'll be fun.'

'it will be fun,' she says, the same gleam in her eye you remember from years ago when she was ready to "maim or kill" (lilith's words) anyone who was in the way of her and the mission, especially once you became involved.

'you remember this is, like, your weekly tennis match for fun, right?'

'of course, ava.'

the way she cracks her knuckles tells you that the for fun is lost on her for the most part. it's endlessly amusing to you, though, and quite harmless — although maybe not to her opponent's pride — so you don't bother to argue any further. 'okay, well, i think angela and ruth wanted to have lunch anyway today after their jazzercise class, so we can watch you play.'

'no catcalling.'

you pout. 'you're my wife.'

'not from you, not from ruth or angela.'

'they're old, bea. let them have some fun.'

'at my expense? no thank you. i need to focus while i compete.'

she's already sitting up straighter, eyes lively. she's playing david today, you think, if you remember the club's "adult intermediate to advanced tennis league" rotation correctly. he's a decent player, and their head to head record is relatively even. he's also a bit of an asshole, and a venture capitalist, so it stands to reason beatrice despises him.

'fine.' you squeeze her hand. 'but can you change your shirt between sets?'

'ava.'

'gratuitously towel off or something at least.'

'ava.'

'whatever,' you say. 'i'm wearing a bikini. at least ruth and angela will appreciate it.'

'oh, i'll appreciate it,' she says, and then laughs softly and leans over to kiss you.

/

everything about beatrice, you decided years ago, is endearing. can she kill a man in, like, one second using just her hand? yes, sure, but you've seen her very skillfully practice her forms every morning for years, barring injury, and frown when anything is off, even by a breath. most people find her precision in all things kind of terrifying, but you've learned that some of it is a trauma response — from her childhood, from being a soldier, from losing you — and some of it is really just how she is. her books sorted exactly how she wants them — by genre, subgenre, and then author's last name — on the bookshelf; the meticulously labeled spices in your pantry, always in both their language of origin and english; her surfboards waxed perfectly and neatly stored in the small shed in your yard. everything about her precision is endearing because you understand her and you love her, and maybe the most endearing, or at least you think some days, is the way she treats rec league club tennis.

no matter how many times you've jokingly reminded her that your club isn't wimbeldon, she likes to wear all white little outfits; men's shorts and, your favorite, a neat polo. in the summer, she favors tanks, which you are not complaining about. she has three racquets and a very impressive bag like all the pros carry onto the court, special towels, pristine sneakers, and, when you're most amused, a wristband she very sincerely wipes her sweaty forehead on. since you'd met she'd loved watching tennis, and she'd taught you — as patiently as she has always taught you anything — the rules, her favorite players (not that it was, like, hard to think serena williams was the best athlete ever), common terms to know. you'd gone out with her a few times to the courts and she'd shown you proper form; you'd found out, eventually from her, that her dream as a little kid was to be a tennis pro, which was so charming and a little unexpected. you had thought she would've wanted to be some kind of scientist, maybe a really good lawyer, but her brother had dug out some pictures of little beatrice in her tennis getup, her expression so, so serious for a nine year old, and you'd fallen in love all over again.

she listens to her "pump-up music" — a lot of pop, surprisingly — as she drives you both to the club, focused already in her tennis outfit, complete with a quarterzip warmup top and everything. you're endlessly amused by her, in a way that most people are too intimidated to be, and you think it's good for her, to feel human, to not be taken so seriously when she should get to just enjoy things. your pain meds are helping by the time you get to the club, the pins and needles down your legs leveling out, the halo shaking off some of its deep sorrow, the memories of torture and abject aloneness that sometimes show up in your dreams. today is bright and sunny, the bluest sky, and your friends wave to you once you get out to the tables near the tennis courts. beatrice says a quick hello and then bustles off to start her very precise warm up routine, and you all wait until she's out of earshot to share a fond laugh.

'david today?'

'i swear she was rewatching coco and iga's last match yesterday to prepare.'

ruth pats your hand and angela orders a charcuterie for the table, gets prosecco for ruth and herself and — they both know you well enough by now that your chair usually means you've had to take medication, which you don't mix with alcohol — a cranberry soda for you, your favorite.

david shows up a few minutes later as you're gossiping, angela gasping at ruth's latest escapades with her new boyfriend while you laugh delightedly. he's the kind of muscular dude that likes to run along the beach shirtless because he thinks it's impressive but really it just looks ridiculous, the kind of dude that would give unwanted pointers in the gym. you don't have a disdain for him like beatrice does, because he's never done anything abhorrent to you personally, but when you see her steely gaze as he goes to his bench on the court, you get it. and, also, it's hot, so, like, you shoot a quick thanks to david and his douchey backwards cap for that.

/

things go just about as you'd expected: beatrice plays with the amount of passion you'd see in a wimbeldon final, and angela and ruth relentlessly whistle and cheer and boo. the charcuterie has a new truffle havarti you're all in love with, and the bottle of prosecco gets split happily while you watch. it's a fairly even match — david hits harder than beatrice but is slower and definitely stupider — and she wins the first set 6 games to 4. she gets mad at him for serving too slowly, and they briefly have an argument over whether or not one of his backhands was in. it's all deeply ridiculous for an afternoon at in an amateur club league, but beatrice and her overhand serves get you every single time.

she's down a break in the second set when she hits a drop shot that has david falling over his own feet, and you know it's over then. the second bea realizes someone is truly out of sorts, in any scenario, she's already won.

they shake hands after the match is over, beatrice taking the second set much quicker than the first, and then she makes her way over to your table and sits, very satisfied, in the chair next to you, a towel around her neck.

'my champion,' you say, and she rolls her eyes, accepting the congratulatory beer angela had already ordered for her as the last game was winding down with a thankful nod.

'great match, beatrice,' ruth says, half-sincere, half-teasing, but beatrice smiles anyway. sometimes, things are not good; sometimes, on the worst days, even now, even still, even with all this love, you still remember what it was like to suffer alone — without feeling, with too much feeling — for so much of your life. but beatrice slips into her quarterzip next to you and you smell sweat and laundry detergent and the pomade she puts in her hair, you feel the sun warming along your back and you hear the small group of children starting their lesson, laughing brightly. beatrice holds your hand and you'll nap later; you'll order takeout from your favorite thai place and watch the sunset on your patio; you'll fall asleep in her arms. you'll wake up and do it all over again — the loneliness, the pain, the longing — just for this.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Library Series (Pt. 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader 

Chapter Summary: Thanksgiving is next week. 

AO3 Link

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey all! I am still working on this story no matter how long it takes me and no matter who sticks til the end. To those of you who have just discovered it or those who are still reading, thank you so much. This chapter sets up the next one and it’s super fluffy. I hope you all have been doing well, staying safe and healthy during this crazy time we live in. In the meantime, enjoy some Matt Murdock college fluff. And message me if you have... anything to say! About your life, Marvel, anything. I’d love to catch up again. OKAY ENJOY <3 

Wet fog. It sticks to the dorm window. Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s barely seven in the evening. You wipe the window with the sleeve of your pajama shirt to see outside.

There’s not much going on. It’s a week before Thanksgiving, and everyone on campus was just finishing up exams. Many have already went home for the holiday. Marci left two days ago with Foggy. Which left your dorm room all to yourself, and… Matthew.

Ever since that night outside the cafe, he’s been spending time with you a lot, which you had no problem with. You’d finish your late class on Thursday and see him waiting for you patiently at the end of the hall, cane in hand, leaning against the cement wall. The two of you had lunch together every Tuesday because that’s the only time the two of you don’t have a class at noon. You walk him home, and you text him when you get back to your dorm.

Right now, he’s here again. There’s a record spinning at a low volume, and you’ve lost track of what it was you and Matt were listening to. You laid down after dinner and got sleepy, and let Matt take over flipping the discs, raiding your collection. You knew he couldn’t see what he was picking, but he always managed to play some of your favorites.

You slump down from your dorm bed and join him on the fuzzy carpet, leaning against the side of your bed. Your arm brushes his and you feel the urge to bring him into an embrace. But you don’t.

It dawned on you that tomorrow, you’d be leaving for Thanksgiving break yourself. You were excited: you hadn’t seen your family in weeks and the cafeteria food was starting to get old. A home-cooked meal was exactly what you needed. But at the same time, you felt like you were going to be missing something, and it was painfully obvious what it was. In fact, the reason why is sitting next to you right now, behind red tint glasses and an aloof grin on his face.

“I love this song,” Matt smiles as he stretches his arms. It’s a song by Big Star. You don’t reply. You smile instead.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks you after a short period of silence. You forget he can’t see your smile sometimes. A guilty feeling wells in your chest.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Matt finds your hand and holds it.

“Yeah, I am,” you say uneasily. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving? I forgot to ask.”

Matt replies after a moment, “No. I’m not.”

You quirk an eyebrow. You realize you never asked Matt about his…family. You know his father passed away, and he’s never mentioned his mother. You didn’t feel like now was the right time. You decide to play the fool.

“Do you usually go anywhere?” You ask him carefully.

“I usually go with Foggy every year, but this time he is at Marci’s. It’s okay, though,” Matt gives a small smile, “I told him it was okay after he denied to a hundred times.”

You sort of felt silly in that moment. Why didn’t you bother to ask Matt if he’d like to join your family on Thanksgiving? You honestly assumed he had somewhere to go–but now you think you know why it was never brought up. Matt probably didn’t want you to feel bad. You notice he has a tendency to do that–hide how he really feels.

“Well, you are welcome to come to my Thanksgiving. If you want!” You nervously add the last part in. You suddenly felt embarrassed. Were you moving too fast? Were things getting serious? Were you okay with that? More importantly, was he okay with that?

“Uhm, yeah,” Matt answers you sheepishly. For some reason, the nerves make him let go of your hand. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, he’s dying to have a little getaway with you, and get to know you even more. Matt is just… really happy you asked.

"I leave tomorrow, and it’s last minute, but I’d really love for you to be there with me. You’ll get to meet my family, if that’s not scary,” you ramble on. The rush inside you can’t be stopped: the thought of having Matt all to yourself for a few days sounded magical. “And my family isn’t big, if big families intimidate you. It’s just my folks and I.”

“Big families?” Matt laughs, “I’ve been to Foggy’s for the holidays for a while now, and I’m still sure there’s a distant cousin I haven’t met before. I think I’m ready with just having to introduce myself only twice now.”

“Okay!” You turn to face him, this time taking his hand back in yours. “I’ll text my Mom now to let her know we’ll need another plate at the table. You can stay in our guest room. Or mine, and I’ll take the guest room. Whichever you’re most comfortable with.”

Matt could hear the excitement in your voice. “We can figure that out later,” he says. “We can share, you know,” Matt reminds you in a low whisper.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You let out a soft laugh and gently push him in a joking way, “no way am I getting in bed with you, Mr. Murdock. I am too much of a blanket hog. You’ll be cold the entire weekend.”

Matt lets out a laugh. He pulls you in close and kisses your ear.

“We’ll see about that.”

The shivers his kiss sent down your spine are hard to hide. You don’t care. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder.

Matt quietly says your name.

Tilting your head to look up at him, and you reply, “yes?”

His auburn hair that usually falls perfectly in place now fell so it was covering half his face. You reach up to move it aside but his fingers latch to your wrist and slowly bring your hand back down to his lap.

Matt doesn’t have to see you to know you’re confused by his movements. That’s all he can really do, to show his feelings to you. He can’t possibly find the right words to describe how much he likes you–words fail him in that sense. He has so much to say to you, there’s so much that he feels. All he can do is hold your hand tighter and kiss your forehead.

“I like this a lot,” is all he can say. Foolish, he feels. The most beautiful girl you’ve ever talked to, the most sincere heart you’ve ever known is sitting right next to you, and that’s all you have to say?

You let out a soft laugh, “I’m glad, Matt. I was hoping you’d be staying a while.”

He knows what you mean by that. Not just staying a while in this dorm with you but staying a while in your life. Matt smiles.

“How are your classes, by the way? Are you feeling as overwhelmed with work as I?” He asks.

You shift, lifting your head from his shoulder.

“Yeah, a little,” you trail off, “I kind of jump at the work when it’s presented to me so I don’t get overwhelmed. And the faster I finish the bullshit busy work, the faster I can continue my investigating on that robbery.”

That robbery. The word takes him out of reality for a moment. Matt hasn’t roamed the streets since you both made up. He made a promise to himself to not let himself get distracted so he can put more time and energy into you, and he has. But hearing you bring up the robbery again stirs something inside of him: anxiety.

“Oh, really?” Matt asks, covering the worry in his tone. “Are there any…updates on that?”

“Any leads you mean?” You correct in jest. “Well, after break I’m going to the woman’s house for an interview. Her name is Camila Fredrick. I’ve already set up dates and everything. She’s more comfortable meeting after the holiday, which I totally understand. I’m just happy she agreed to speak with me. ‘You must be more pleasant than the real media’ she said in the email back,” you laugh, “I guess the title Undergrad comes off nicer.”

Matt forces himself to laugh at your jokes. He can’t stop his heart from beating so fast. Sure, you’d be meeting with the woman, Camila, in her own home, but how do you know you’d be safe from someone who could potentially be stalking her?

“Well, that’s lucky, I guess,” Matt replies.

“Yeah. She’s lucky for surviving, too. And I think she’s safe from the shooter… he’s in jail. His bail is like, almost $10,000, so I don’t think he’ll be getting out anytime soon.”

The last few words made Matt calm down just a little more. Still, what you didn’t know (that Matt does know) is that Neil isn’t the only player in this game.

“Whatever you do, wherever you go, ___, just be careful,” Matt tells you in a hushed voice. “This city is great, but it’s ugly.”

“I know, Matty,” the nickname slipped from your lips. Matt doesn’t seem to mind it. “I’m a tough girl, ya know?”

He smiles, “you are.”

For a moment, a fleeting moment, his mind plays an awful, cruel, trick on him and replaces Camila with you. The amount of rage that fills his blood, God forbid you were ever put in such danger… he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He wouldn’t wait for the law to bring justice. He’d serve it for you, even if that meant getting his hands bloody and bruised again.

The record has stopped playing. You glance at the clock. It’s not late yet, but you do feel sleepy. You sigh and stretch. If you and Matt were going to be going to your home in New Jersey, you’d better get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is a day of packing, and then leaving the next day.

Matt says he’ll meet you in the morning for coffee and then he joked that you may need to help him pack his suitcase tomorrow. Joke or not, you’d be there in a heartbeat. You looked forward to spending the next few days with Matt.

He kisses you goodnight. The sound of his cane echoing down the hall almost puts you to sleep.

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 14

Word Count: 1.45k

Warnings: Brief mention of anxiety.

// * // * //

Charlotte texted Shawn two photos just before he was set to go live. The first was what she referred to as her IG Live set up; a ripe cherry VIVEAU, a bag of Hickory Sticks, and a pair of over-ear headphones. The second was a selfie. She was wearing a low-cut, white, V neck tee and her hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, one strand tucked behind her ear. She was sticking out her tongue.

// * // * //

Shawn saw his audience rapidly grow with every minute he was live. In the beginning it was mostly just a flurry of “I love you!”, “omg!”, “where have you been?”, “I/we missed you!”, and the ever present “come to...” and whatever country they were watching from.

He read a few and replied with “I love you too!” and “I missed you back!” He called people out and said ‘hi’ to them specifically. He thanked everyone again for their patience and unwavering support.

Once his watcher count rose into the mid-tens of thousands, he asked for more specific questions and promised to answer as honestly as he felt comfortable with.

Shawn tried to remember to repeat the questions he was being asked before answering.

“Are Camila and I still friends?” He had anticipated a lot of questions about Camila and the breakup and had prepared himself for them. “We’re giving each other space right now. I hope one day we can be friends again.

“Am I going to delete the photos? Of Camila and I on Instagram? No. She’s part of my life journey. I learned a lot from our relationship and we made amazing memories. Why would I want to erase that?

“Any chance we’ll get back together? I will always care about her, I will always have love for her, but no, I don’t think so.

“Am I ready for another relationship? Broken hearts take a while to heal. Even though I’m closer to being ready than I was last month, no. I don’t want to rush into anything. Right now I’m just surrounding myself with people who make me happy,” he smiled.

He played chords on his guitar and sang a little bit between questions.

“Am I currently working on new music? I am actually,” he grinned. “Will you hear it soon? I hope so.

‘My most meaningful song I wrote and why? Still ‘In My Blood’, as most of you probably already know. Speaking your truth about something you struggle with and having so many people respond positively to it, and connect with it, that’s pretty special...

“I’ve recently written something that might end up meaning more if it turns out the way I want it to,” he teased. “Will I play it for you? Oh no, no. It’s nowhere near ready.” But he played a new chord from another new song that he had been working on. His fans’ reaction was overwhelming and he blushed.

“You’ll just have to be patient! Sing ‘Patience’?” he chuckled but obliged them and sang the first verse.

“Where do you go when everything is overwhelming and why that place? Shit. You guys are on fire tonight, such great questions; I love it. I missed this so much...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I go home. Back to my parents’. Lay in my old bed and listen to the sounds of the house I grew up in. Sometimes I take a walk with no destination in mind, find a quiet bench in a park and just sit and focus on my breathing...

“Yes, it’s definitely a form of meditation. There are a lot of you saying that you meditate too. That’s beautiful,” he smiled.

Shawn continued responding to the little remarks he was seeing from his fans. A few of his other musician or celebrity friends were popping up too, and he acknowledged their comments about returning to LA, catching up, how great it was to see him looking so healthy and happy, and their desires to get into the studio to collaborate.

“Yeah man, I’ll call you,” he replied to Niall, playing a few chords of one of Niall’s songs. The fan reaction went into overdrive.

“Play something else for you?” Shawn messed around on his guitar few moments before settling on the chorus of Harbor In A Hurricane by Andy Kong.

“I'll be your harbor in a hurricane I'll give you shelter through the pouring rain So tell me baby that you'll do the same When the world goes changing I will be your sure thing...”

“What kind of music or who am I listening to right now? I have a friend who sends me the most amazing playlists. She throws in all of these obscure songs that I don’t know if I would have stumbled across on my own, and they’re fantastic. She’s huge into music that fuses all different types of sound. I’ll throw a few of them up on my Instagram for you after this,” he said.

“What’s the one thing I would like to change about myself? Hm... I don’t think I’d change anything. We’re all changing always anyway, aren’t we? We all change naturally as we mature and experience life. I’m not the same guy I was two years ago, or two years before that. I won’t be the same guy I am now in two more years. So yeah, I guess I wouldn’t consciously change anything.”

Shawn scanned some of the comments and questions coming in next, looking for something to respond to when he caught Charlotte’s name.

@starlit_charlotte Except maybe your cooking skills? 😂

Shawn laughed loud and bright.

@starlit_charlotte How far have you gotten on your culinary journey?

“How far have I gotten on my culinary journey? You should know!” he giggled. He then answered for his fans, “I made dinner with a friend of mine tonight and I didn’t burn my kitchen down? ”

@starlit_charlotte I’m proud of you. 💖

He didn’t repeat her follow up comment, he simply grinned like a fool, cheeks pinking up again.

“How would I describe my best friend? Incredible. Uplifting. Supportive. Hilarious. One of my favorite people in the world.”

Shawn ended his Instagram Live shortly after that with a big thank you and declarations of love for all of his fans. He blew kisses to the camera before signing off.

// * // * //

Seconds later, Shawn’s name popped up on Charlotte’s phone with a Zoom request. She answered with a small laugh and asked, “Why do we never talk on the phone like normal people?”

“I like looking at your face, and I know you like looking at mine. You do that a lot,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

“Pretty sure you once, recently in fact, referred to it as ‘stupidly magnificent’.”

“Feeling pretty confident tonight, are you?” she teased.

He sighed contentedly, his eyes softening. “My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.”

Charlotte grinned back. Her affection for him would have been obvious to anyone who could have seen her just then. When he was happy, she was happy.

“I hope Brian appreciates the nice things you said about your best friend.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was talking about you.”

"Poor Brian," she snickered. If someone would have told Charlotte only a week ago that Shawn Mendes would become her best friend, she never would have believed it. “Replaced by someone you’ve known for only a week. And a chick, nonetheless.”

“He’s not as attractive as you are, and he doesn’t make me laugh as hard as you do. He’ll get over it,” he chuckled, then smirked. “How’s your follower count?”

“Climbing quickly,” she laughed.

His smile began to fade and his eyes changed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, babe?”

“Talking about you in my Live?”

“Wasn’t that the plan if the chance presented itself?”

“Yeah, but was it too much? My fans are private investigator scary sometimes.”

“Which we anticipated.”

“What if you start to regret it?”

Charlotte quickly noticed the signs of an impending anxiety attack. She didn’t want that for him after such a positive high from his fan chat. “Shawn. Hon. First, pause and breathe...”

She continued, slowly, hoping he would concentrate on her words and not what was bumping around in his mind, “We already talked about this. You told me it was my decision to make and I made it. I’m jumping into the deep end. Sure, with a little trepidation, but being your friend and a part of your life.., no matter how insane things may eventually get.., is worth it.”

Thankfully his anxiety backed off as quickly as it had started to set in. “You always know the right thing to say,” he exhaled, smile returning.

// * // * //

Part 15

[naancypants]

Reparations

(Ao3) | 1,528 words

---------------------------------------

Things for the Claw Crew have been less than ideal lately. The Marvin Empire is pulling Bess farther and farther down an uncharacteristic road of ladder-climbing and cold, uncaring business deals. George & Nick are on the outs because of an ongoing emotional disagreement. Now, to top it all off, an angry spirit named Camila Carmody is vowing to make good on George’s old blood bucket curse by claiming her life before midnight.

Enacting a ritual to capture Camila’s vengeful spirit for good is the only way to ensure that she will never terrorize another soul in Horseshoe Bay again. Nancy and her friends are all stationed at different areas of an abandoned hospital by the ocean, preparing to do just that.

As soon as Ace shuts the slotted storage room door behind them, Nancy sinks to the ground with a pointed heaviness. “Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse - here I am! Hiding in a closet because we’re going to kill an angry sea ghost that’s after.. my friend’s.. blood.”

The way her tone quiets down at the end of her sentence reveals to Ace that there is more beneath the surface she wants to say. He drops to the floor next to her and patiently waits to hear what she is thinking.

“First my dad got arrested. Then my dad wasn’t my dad. Then my dad was Ryan Hudson... and then my boyfriend died. And now that I’ve finally had enough time to process everything, I thought it would start to feel better and yet it doesn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing wrong. What am I doing wrong?”

“...Do you want me to answer that question?”

Nancy lets out an incredulous huff, causing her strawberry blonde curls to bounce a little with the movement of her shoulders. “At this point, I’m open to suggestions.”

Ace takes a moment to decide how best to put what it is he wants to say, then states in a soft tone of voice, “I think you’re bein’ too hard on your dad.”

Without missing a beat Nancy breathes out a sardonic, “Which one?”

“Both.”

Another silence envelops the small room.

“...But especially Mr. D.” Their eyes meet, and Ace is struck by her surprisingly calm demeanor; one that quietly urges him to elaborate.

“You know he raised you. He took you in when he didn’t even have to. All that means nothing now that he kept one secret from you?”

“Yeah, well it’s one hell of a secret.”

“You keep secrets, too.”

“None like that! I mean that’s - that’s my entire life.” There’s a certain quiver to her voice, a fleeting break in her usual stoicism that Ace can only imagine she hates to hear from herself. Without giving much thought to the action, he places a comforting hand on her knee.

“Everything he does is for you, Nancy.”

He looks over at her with as relaxed a face as ever. The next words fall lithely out of his lips, “People are gonna disappoint you. Don’t hold it against them.”

An unsettled feeling begins to claw at her conscience. She knows who she is - strong-willed, determined, and stubborn as an ox when it comes to admitting her pride - but she also knows who Carson Drew is. Kind, compassionate, and far more forgiving than she could ever deserve.

So then why does she still feel so indignant, as though she has been wronged and betrayed by the one person she had always trusted the most? No, she isn’t ready to forgive him.

But when will she ever be?

While Ace is looking away she examines the vaguely-lit angles of his face, contemplating. She breaks the tension with a lighthearted quip. “Well you never seem to disappoint me, Ace.”

A small grin forms on his face as he glances back at her, this time holding her gaze for more than a few seconds.

Suddenly the walkie-talkie in Ace’s back pocket crackles to life, and this time, the glance they exchange is out of mutual understanding that it’s time to take action.

------------------------

Hours after a successful mission, the crew is gathered at the Claw as per their usual habit of unwinding after a day full of chaos; the clock, however, is going on 11PM and everyone - especially poor George - is exhausted. Nancy watches with wistful eyes as Nick slides George’s arm across his muscled shoulders, acting as her literal and metaphorical rock in spite of everything they’ve been through. They amble their way out the back door as Bess exits through the front, Ace having silently taken on the task of finishing up the closing process for the Claw.

As the only other remaining soul on site, Nancy slides into a bar stool with hands folded in front of her. “Hey. I, uh, didn’t get to say it before, so thank you. For listening.”

Ace glances up only briefly as he finishes loading a storage cart with wine glasses, “Yeah, no problem.”

Her eyes follow his frame as he places the cart on top of another inside a lower cabinet. He slides the door shut with a single swift motion and wipes his hands on a dish towel. The quiet atmosphere is rather nice, Nancy finds. Peaceful - but she knows that its existence is only temporary, at least until she crafts another sentence to fill it with.

“I know I have a tendency to get stuck in my head,” she starts, “And I know how much it... pushes people away. I’m just having a hard time reconciling who I thought Carson was with who he turned out to be,” she observes Ace’s soft expression as he steps up to her spot at the counter before bitterly finishing, “A liar.”

The silence that follows would have been bearable if not for the fact that her words cause him to be noticeably disappointed in her, as evidenced by the way he shifts uncomfortably when sliding his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. He pouts his lips for a moment and looks down at the counter. “I don’t really think that’s fair.”

She starts to protest, but decides against it. Her mouth closes and she lowers her face, trying in desperation to ignore Ace’s gaze boring right through her.

“Your father’s a good man. He deserves to hear it from you.” Ace says simply. The words are so haunting that the same unsettled feeling from before returns in full swing, this time leaving an icy chill in its wake.

All she can do is stare at him in awe, though it’s a sentiment she manages to keep blanketed under an impenetrable facade.

His eyes only linger for a moment before he turns and disappears into the kitchen, from where Nancy eventually hears the back door.

She sits unmoving in the dim restaurant for longer than is perhaps necessary.

------------------------

At some point she picks up her keys and closes the Claw behind her. On the drive home, Nancy begins to wonder what her friends are doing at that moment - how they are coping.

George is wrapped up in a blanket, safe and secure at home. Nick has still not left her side, offering up a hot herbal tea from Victoria’s recipe book and sitting with her in front of the fire. He drapes a gentle arm around her shoulders, relieved to finally have all worries of danger and arguments forgotten & behind them - for the time being, at least.

Sitting at her vanity table at Aunt Diana’s, Bess numbly traces a finger down the multiple scars she acquired tonight and inadvertently smears blood along with the removal of her makeup. Bess’s internal struggle has only been worsening; that inevitable divide between the family she has always dreamed of and the cold, steely disposition that comes with being one of them.

At last, breaking through her thoughts, Nancy arrives home.

As she steps into the entryway the first thing she sees is Carson Drew dropping a stack of papers onto the dinner table. In addition to a teal button-down, he also wears the same resigned, dejected expression that has become his default since the truth about Nancy’s parentage came to light. Carson has more or less bound himself to a vow of silence so as to maintain the fragile peace between them. Watching her dad move so lifelessly, with Ace’s words echoing in her head, it dawns on Nancy how completely and unacceptably unfair that is to him.

When he takes notice of his daughter’s presence across the hall, he is able to identify the prick of tears in her eyes, but says nothing.

Neither does she.

Rather than exchanging words, Nancy feels safer exchanging an embrace. In an instant she has closed the distance between them, arms wrapping around his midsection as though her very life depended on it. It surprises her how quickly he manages to reciprocate the action, despite being caught off guard by it, gripping her tightly with an overwhelming abundance of love and affection that surpasses any mistake she could ever possibly make.

[mentalpolaroids]

CH | 17. here for you

CH 16

🔸

Kevin took Dustin home after making sure I was fine. I wasn't, but I had to pretend to be so my brother could give me some space. The fight with Noah kept replaying in my head, making me keep fighting the tears from falling, even if I was alone to cry all I wanted. I hated being mad at people or having people mad at me and the fact it was happening with Noah was making it very difficult to process. I refused to accept that my best friend disappointed me and it led to me yelling at him and feeling angry with him. It was a feeling we both have never experienced before and it was hitting me harder than I could ever imagine. I cleaned the house while Kevin was gone, not only because it was messier than I thought it could be considering the five of us didn't leave the couch all night, but also to try and distract myself. I could wait for my brother and have him help with the cleaning but I was in a desperate need of keeping my mind out of Noah and our fight. Our first fight. It almost sounds like we're a couple. We're not, but it hurts as much. I had just finished brooming a corner by the couch when Kevin entered the front door. My back was turned towards him but I could feel his eyes on me, unsure what to say or ask or even if he should say something at all. I was unsure either. I wanted to cry and vent but at the same time I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to talk about the fight and relieve it over again. I've done that enough in my head and it was killing me slowly.

"Do you need help cleaning?", Kevin's voice was soft, as if I would break if he spoke louder or arsher. I probably would.

"No, thanks. I'm pretty much finished." my head was low as I spoke, still not looking at my brother now standing behind the couch.

"I'm gonna make us something to eat, ok?"

I didn't answer but I think he knew I was grateful for his gesture and company, my body language showed it. I put the broom back in the laundry room and went to sit by the kitchenette counter waiting for the food Kevin was cooking, enjoying it's smell that was honestly calming me down. After a few more minutes, Kevin sat a plate of pancakes in front of me and a cup of hot chocolate. I smiled lightly at the view in front of me and at how well my brother knew me.

"All vegan, as you like it."

I looked at him and smiled wider while he sat next to me and dripped some caramel on top of my pancakes. He put some on his too and we started eating quietly. I was just waiting for him to drop the question and I was mentally preparing myself to answer it. He probably heard some of it but I knew my brother: he wanted the words to come out of my mouth. It was something he always did to help me stop keeping everything to myself and suffer in silence. I hated the process of it because sometimes it was really hard to talk about some things but, in the end, it helped. I just hoped this time it would help too.

"So,", here we go, "what happened back there? Dustin and I were making up conspiracy theories of why on Earth were the best couple of best friends to ever exist having a fight."

I couldn't help but laugh at his dorkiness and I started imagining the two guys talking to each other jokingly but with a serious face about what Noah and I's fight was about.

"Friends fight too."

"Yes, but not you two. You've been to hell and back for each other and never once did I see you two fight, not like this."

"Did you hear what it was about?"

"Not really."

I took a deep breath and a sip of my hot chocolate before dropping the bomb.

"I found a pack of cigarettes in Noah's bag."

"Oh."

And so I told him every bit of our fight and why I was so mad at him.

"I just don't want him to go down the way Dylan did."

"Yeah, me neither. But, even though I understand why you're mad at him I still think fighting is not the best way to talk him out of smoking."

"Kevin, we've been through this before..."

He interrupted me.

"I know, that's why I'm saying fighting won't solve anything. You're mad because you're scared and Noah is smoking because he's scared too. He's not doing this to hurt you, he's doing this because he is hurting and this is how he copes with it."

"He promised me he would talk to me anytime he felt like smoking when he was feeling down."

"And do you?"

I looked at him questioningly, genuinely confused with his question.

"Do what?"

"Talk to anyone about how you feel or about your problems when you're down?", I looked down, not wanting to admit he was right, "You keep things to yourself because, as you say, you don't want to bother anyone with your shit, even after everyone tells you they're here for you no matter what. Noah is just doing the same."

"Yes but this is different..."

"Is not that different, sis. You should talk to him, like, really talk to him. Make him feel like he can be the most vulnerable with you. Noah... fuck, he loves you, Kelly. I know he will open up to you whenever he's ready, he doesn't trust anyone else as much as he trusts you. He's there for you and is patient with you no matter what, you just need to be patient and be there for him as well. I know you love him enough too to do that."

A tear slid down my cheek and Kevin immediately cleaned it up. He was right, I was being harsh on him for something I'm also to blame for. I guess we really are a great pair because we're both stubborn asses. I lean closer to Kevin and hug his torso. He hugs me back tightly and kisses my forehead.

"How about you call him later, huh? I hate seeing the second hottest couple ever not talking to each other."

I blushed at the couple thing but then I looked at him grinning teasingly

"Who's the first hottest couple?"

"Dustin and I, obviously."

"No way! For real?!"

"Yup."

"Oh my God, Kevin, I'm so happy!"

I hugged him again and he laughed at my enthusiasm. I was really, really happy, I've been waiting for them to get together since they met each other and it was finally happening, so containing my excitement wasn't even an option.

"Me too, sis, me too."

After teasing Kevin a little, something I just had to do, we both finished breakfast, me in a much better mood than I was before our conversation. Kevin insisted on me taking a shower instead of helping him clean the kitchen, since I didn't take said shower I was supposed to because the fight with Noah made me forget about it. The water helped me relax completely and clear my head. The remains of negativity and fear in my mind were washed away and I felt ready and determined to make things work with my best friend and call him later. Until then, I wanted to spend time with my brother, have the day for the two of us, it has been a long time since that happened and I missed teasing him and making fun of him. I knew he missed doing the same to me too. I went to the living room dressed in my favorite pair of sweatpants, a cropped sweater and my black sleepers. A comfortable outfit to match my relaxed state, which was rare lately and especially after that morning. Kevin was on the couch with the tv remote in hand scrolling through Netflix, so, as the good sister I am, I sat beside him and yanked the remote from him. I tried hard not to laugh at the bitch face he made my way.

"Oh hell no, it doesn't work like that.", and with that, the remote was yanked from my hand and it was my turn to make a bitch face that, by the entertained expression on my brother's face, was a pretty good one. Kevin selected a random movie while I tried to get the remote back and I guess I was really in need of a chill day because it didn't take long for me to give up and accept whatever Kevin chose. Through the movie, we would comment about everything and anything and make jokes with each other and laugh our asses off, even though the film wasn't even that funny. I missed having these moments with my brother, it reminded me of when we were little and he would watch my favorite movie with me over and over again. Oncd, we were watching it in the living room and he made a joke about a specific scene of the movie and I laughed really hard. I remember thinking it was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my 8 years of life and, since then, every time I felt like watching that movie, I would make him watch it with me so he could tell that same joke, and I would laugh as hard as the first time I heard it. We were making our own jokes now and I was having the best time. It was therapeutic.

"Doesn't that woman look like an older version of Camila?"

"It does... wow, she's going to be a MILF. I'm jealous." Kevin laughed.

"Speaking of Camila, I ran into Julio the other day, he even paid for my coffee."

Remember the good, great, amazing mood I was in? Yeah, it died. My body tensed, my smile faded and my mind started racing. Kevin noticed and paused the movie.

"Kelly?"

I didn't answer at first, my brain was still processing the unpleasant thought of Julio and all the uncomfortable situations he has put me through. My brother called my name again.

"Hmm?"

"You ok?"

I opened my mouth to say Yes but I quickly changed my mind. It was time. I didn't want to ruin the amazing lazy day we were having but it was time to tell my brother what our best friend's boyfriend was like.

"I have to tell you something about Julio.", my voice was low, compared to a few seconds ago, "You're probably going to get mad at me for not telling you sooner but Noah knows and he's been helping me..."

"Sis, what are you talking about? You're scaring me."

And so I told him everything. The first time I saw him outside the restaurant with a woman, when he paid for my lunch, the times he was outside the company, the night at the club... Everything he did, said, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel and how Noah has been helping me and keeping me safe.

"Fuck..."

"Yeah."

"You have to tell Camila."

"I know."

"Seriously, Kelly, that's really fucked up. And how the hell did I not notice? I mean, I remember you acting weird that night we went out but I thought it was just the sexual tension between you and Noah..."

"Kevin!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm... I just wasn't expecting that. Shit."

Kevin's body was leaning hard against the couch and his leg was bouncing. He was getting anxious.

"When are you planning on telling Camila?"

"I don't know. I had some opportunities but I always chickened out or wasn't sure if it was just me acting paranoid."

"You're not paranoid, Kelly. Fuck, if Noah noticed too and even saw him waiting for you outside... Jesus, that's messed up.", his voice trembled, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could help too."

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, really. It was because of the same reason I didn't tell Camila, and also because you weren't at your best when this started."

"Right.", he looked down and I grabbed his hand that was anxiously fidgeting with the other.

"Hey, don't go blaming yourself now, I'm fine. Noah's been helping me and taking care of me."

"I know, I believe that, trust me. The dude would kill for you."

I rolled my eyes but the blush was inevitable. Besides the weight of Julio's presence in my head, I felt even more safe and relieved now that Kevin knew. It took us some time to put this subject aside but we managed to go back to the movie, this time watching it a little less enthusiastically.

I was about to take my sweater off to replace it with the oversized one I use to sleep when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but I picked up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Kelly?", a man's voice answered on the other side, a voice I couldn't associate with anyone I knew.

"Yes?"

"It's Dylan."

"Oh, hi."

To say I was surprised, mostly shocked, was putting it lightly. First, I had no idea Noah's brother was already out of prison and second I totally didn't expect him to call me. Everything about this call was unexpected so it took me a few seconds to process.

"Look, I know it's late but can you please come over?"

He sounded like he was in a rush and desperate, if the emphasis on the please was any indication.

"Are you at Noah's?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, especially because I know you probably weren't expecting me to call but I...", he interrupted himself to take a deep breath, like talking was making him tired, "I think he needs you. Can you please come over now? I'll pick you up if you want."

"No, it's fine, I'll drive. I'll try to be there in five."

"Thank you so much, Kell. See you soon."

"See ya."

I rushed to put some sneakers on as I left my room. I only had time to grab the keys to Kevin's car and take my phone out of my sweater's pocket to text him and let him know where I was going, since he was already in his room and I didn't want to waste time explaining to him why I was going to Noah's so late, especially when we weren't exactly on speaking terms. Driving, my mind kept making up reasons why Noah "needed me", what the hell happened, why Noah didn't call me himself and the fact that Dylan was free. Like, the later alone was enough to make me confused and anxious, and it showed by the constant tapping of my fingers on the steering wheel. It took me exactly five minutes to get to my best friend's house. I rushed to the front door and rang the doorbell. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel my entire body shake from it's pulsation and my mind was racing with thoughts and possibilities of what I would find on the other side of the door. I just wanted to know what was going on. The door opened a few seconds after and there was Dylan. I almost didn't recognize him from our high school days. He looked older but in a healthy way and his posture, besides shaken up, was more mature. Nothing compared to the troubled boy I used to know. Dylan looked kind of surprised to see me too and that was understandable. Puberty did me good, I admit, and I wasn't as shy and timid as I was before, which reflected in the way I presented myself. I was more confident and sure of myself, even though I was an anxious mess at the moment.

"Hey, you got here fast.", he said, his voice tired, matching his eyes.

"Yeah, I did.", he let me into the house I knew so well and turned to me, closing the door behind me, "It's good to see you."

"You too, Kell.", he smiled weakly and I mirrored it, feeling the familiarity of the nickname.

We stood there in an awkward silence just staring at each other. We both changed a lot and I guess we were having a difficult time taking it in. I cleared my throat and broke the silence.

"So, what happened?"

"Right, I'm sorry again for dropping this on you this late."

"Don't worry about it, it's fine."

He took a deep breath.

"Well, as you already noticed, I was released from jail.", he looked down, shame in his eyes, "And I asked Noah to pick me up. He didn't know I was being released today, nobody knew. I wanted to surprise him and our parents but... I didn't get the reception I was hoping for."

He looked up, his eyes averting mine, but I saw them shine with tears wanting to fall.

"My dad was livid. He didn't want me coming home, let alone unannounced, so he tried to put me out of the house in a not so nice way..."

"Dylan..."

"He was about to punch me but Noah stepped in front of me. I tried to stop him but I think he was drunk and Noah was trying to defend me and then I tried to defend him but... he just took everything and I could barely do anything to stop it."

The tears fell and his eyes finally met mine.

"I'm so sorry, Kelly, I didn't want this to happen, I..."

"Dylan, it's ok, it's not your fault. Are you ok?"

He nodded.

"Where's Noah?"

"He's outside.", he pointed to the door that led to the backyard, "I know you guys had a fight this morning but, please, Kelly, just talk to him, he's definitely not ok." I took a deep, shaky breath and, after hugging Dylan, I went to the backyard. I stepped outside and the first thing I noticed was the broken pieces by the grass. It was from a ceramic vase Noah had on the wooden table that was situated in the middle of the yard. I presumed he broke it when he arrived home in an attempt to get rid of some of the frustration. Then I looked to my left and saw him sitting on one of the wooden chairs that matches the table. His elbows were on his knees and his head was between his hands, that were gripping his hair. I felt nervous, for a lot of reasons. One, he looked mad and I hated when he got mad. Two, I didn't know how to approach him without scaring him. Three, I didn't know what to say or do because we had a fight and had yet to talk about it. But I guess that could wait, all I wanted was to hug the hell out of that man and fix him. So that's what I did. I walked in his direction and kneeled in front of him. He looked at me in a quick move, not expecting anyone to be there. I froze when I saw his face and, honestly, I just wanted to do the same to his dad (as if I had the chance, but my anger towards him was burning). He had bruises near his left eye, a cut on his lower lip and I could tell he bled from his nose but cleaned it up messly. He also had tears in his eyes that grew closer to falling as soon as he saw me. As if his state was a force calling for my help, I hugged him tight, my arms around his neck and one hand holding his head and massaging his hair, afraid he would disappear if I let go. Noah didn't exitate to hug me back, pulling me closer with his arms secured around my torso. He hid his face in my neck and broke down in tears and sobs.

🔸

CH 18

[dontworrysunflower]

Señorita | Shawn Mendes

(Not my gif)

A/N: I had to, like... I don’t care how much I don’t like Camila, I can’t not. THE SONG IS A FUCKING BOP. Also please, send in some requests, I have promptlists (none of which I own) in my masterlist!

Warnings: not so subtle hints to the video, badboy!shawn, eludes to smut but not really

Enjoy! Masterlist in my bio

•••

“Your little boy toy is here.” Milly, the only friend you’ve made since you moved here six months ago, teased, turning her back to the counter and smirking at you, one hand on her hip.

You roll your eyes as you finished tying your hair up. Grabbing a waist apron from the metal table and tying it around yourself, you said “We’re just friends.” Milly hums before she turns back to serving the customers and you turn around to grab three plates that sat on the little open space looking into the kitchen.

Milly had told you months ago to not mess with him, but of course, you didn’t listen. You just like to keep him on his feet that’s all. Haven’t done anything, barely even spoken to him, it’s just fun seeing the ‘bad boy’ of the town so enthralled by a girl. An entertainment, of sorts.

You walked around the counter, smiling kindly at some customers that sat on the high stools. The short dress started riding up your thighs as you walked to a booth, your eyes flickering to his. He’s leaning back on the booth, one arm draped over the back of the cushion as his eyes trailed on you. God damn. You stop, placing the food in front of the customers, smiling. You wipe your hands on your apron, taking a deep breath when you look back at him again. Milly stands in front of him, placing down his order, but he scoots on the booth, moving to look at you some more, his chocolate curls bouncing along with his movement.

●●●

“Aye! We should totally go clubbing tonight.” Milly exclaimed as she picked at her sandwich while you were on break.

You popped a chip into your mouth, your face contorting in guilt. “Uh, I don’t know Mil, I’m still getting used to this city-”

“And this a great way to do it! Please? You’ll get to meet some of my friends. Maybe you can even invite you little boy-”

“Fine. I’ll go, and I’m not inviting anyone.”

She giggled before she was interrupted by your boss, yelling at the both of you to continue working.

●●●

Of course he had to be there. And of course he had to look so fucking good in suspenders. And of course, he had to be so talented plucking at the guitar strings.

You tried to distract yourself from him. Made small conversation with Milly’s friends, which you hope soon will become yours. Drank as many alcoholic drinks as you could. You even flirted with some other guys, but none of them could ever live up to Shawn. Ever.

About two hours into your rather uneventful night, you lost sight of him. His tall lanky figure seemed to disappear whenever you were enjoying the little eye candy.

But as you stood by the bar, you felt a hot presence behind you. His calloused fingers touched the soft skin of your elbow, your breath catching on your throat when you felt him lean down, his lips grazing your ear before he whispered, “Would you like to dance, señorita?” You turned around, slowly looking up at him, his breath fanning your face.

You suddenly stumbled closer to him, your hands immediately flying to his chest when you turn around to see that Milly had pushed you. Shawn’s hands move down to your waist, holding you close to him as he lead you to the makeshift dance floor by the sand.

Your fingers grazed the soft hairs on his muscular arms, your nails digging into the soft ridges of his biceps as you absentmindedly trace his tattoos, moving your hands up to place behind his neck, your fingers getting tangled in his curls.

In a matter of seconds, he grabbed your hands to pull away from you then spin you around and pull you close, swaying to the music.

Then this is suddenly to much for you, just how perfect this seems to be and just him and you can only think of one thing to do.

Run away.

•••

You tried to forget about it. You really did. The way his hands kneeded the skin of your waist. The way he moved you across the dance floor felt so effortless. Because he’s done it with a bunch of other chicks.

And that thought really helped.

It also helped that he never stopped by the diner, you were able to work without the beautiful distraction.

It was a long day. No one appeared to be concentrated, bitchy customers, some of your coworkers drropped a couple plates, everyone was frustrated. “Go on.” Milly smiled at you in the dimly lit diner. She knew how’d you’d been feeling lately, and she offered to stay later to count profit. You thanked her profusely before making your way out the back door.

“Hey wait!” His soothing voice startled you to a stop. You turned around as he looked at you with a look you could only describe as lost and distressed. He quickly stood up and scrambled to stand in your way before you go any further. He just stared down at you for a moment, nothing said. Just his eyes trailing around your face as you gave him a slight smirk. His hand found your wrist as he smiled sweetly at you. “Come with me?” He asked with a voice just full of seduction and need, but you knew better.

“Nice try.” You muttered as you moved to the side to step away from him, but he gets in your way again. “Shawn seriously, just leave me alone-”

“But I can’t (y/n)! I don’t know what your doing to me but I like it.” He leans down to plant his forehead on mine, his hazel eyes boring into mine, his grip on my wrist loosening and moves down to your waist, his fingers moving in circles over your clothes. His touch just as intoxicating as the first time.

“Uh, I kind of want to change into some other clothes.” You shift your weight from leg to the other, the few buttons he has undone on his loose white shirt call to you to just unbutton the rest.

“We can stop by your house, señorita.”

You weren’t going to say no.

•••

You looked at yourself in the mirror, you mind going through all of the excuses you could give him to not go.

But he was already here, waiting for you patiently just outside the bathroom door because he wants you.

You tightly wrapped the cardigan around yourself to brace yourself from his eyes as you left the bathroom.

But he just smiled and held his hand out for you to take. “Ready, señorita?”

He pulled you out of your home and got on his bike, looking back at you as you gingerly scoot in behind him, your arms engulfing his leather-clad torso.

•••

Your eyes were locked with his as you stood against the wall, your hands balling the knitted cardigan because you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You found enough confidence to waltz over to him as he pulled his tank top over his head before he stood, towering over you. You stared up at him for what felt like hours before you moved up on you toes to link your fingers together behind his neck, your lips crashing with him in a feverish kiss.

His hands were secured around your waist in an instant, bringing impossibly closer to his chest before he pull you off your feet and spun you around, your back falling onto the bed, his arms on either side of you. You gasped as your hair sprawled across the bed, and Shawn took that advantage to slip his tounge into your mouth, swallowing the moans that came out of you.

His slow kisses trailed down your neck, his hands moving under your shirt and quickly pulling it off, throwing it somewhere else in the small hotel room.

•••

You didn’t want to admit it, but you loved watching him sleep. The even breath that passed his pink lips you got to kiss throughout the night. His chocolate curls a disheveled mess atop his head, the memory of your fingers in his hair as he did this and that with his tounge. His beautiful god like body a piece of art that you got to admire as the moonlight cascaded into the room.

You untangled his arms from your body, roaming around the room to locate your clothes. You were pulling on your shirt when you heard him shuffling and groaning behind you. You turned back around to face him, and you were met with a sleepy looking Shawn, one arm behind his head as he smirked at you. “G’morning, señorita.” His groggy voice spoke out in the silence as he watched you move around the bed. You gripped the yellow curtains and pushed them back, the sunlight cascading over toned torso as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” You mumbled, the natural light a beautiful aura around you as you smirked at him.

“C’mere.” He held his hand out to you and instead of taking it, you just stood in front of him, his other hand going to your thigh to pull your leg around his torso.

•••

It happened a couple more times. The sneaking away. The late night motorcycle rides. The sex. The sweet nickname he had given you rolled off his tongue like a praise whenever you were together. Then he’d sneak away, saying it was just business. You didn’t want to be that kind of girl. You knew he wouldn’t give up his lifestyle for you if you asked, not that you ever would. You weren’t anything to him and he wasn’t anything to you, it was just for fun, you kept telling yourself.

But the fun was soon over when you stopped hearing from him. Never came by the diner or your house. You were left on voicemail every time you called.

You really tried to pretend you were fine. But it was even hard to believe yourself. You knew you should’ve never gotten involved with him, in any way. But it was so damn hard. Just the way he looked to the way he made you feel, was enough to keep you trailing behind him, and you knew it was the same thing for him.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Hey.” Milly’s voice brought you back to reality, a sad smile playing on her lips as she sat next to you on the bench. “You okay?” She rested her hand on your thigh.

You gave her a tight lipped smile, noding out into the distance. “You were right.”

She sighs and leans back on the bench. “Yeah but, you could really tell you meant something to him. I was wrong about how he would treat you. I’m sorry it had to go like this (y/n).”

You two sat in silence before she got up and head back into the diner.

There were so many thoughts going through your head. What did I do wrong? Was I not enough? Was I not ‘bad’ enough? Not pretty? Didn’t make him cum enough? (Even though you certainly did.)

You could feel the tears flooding in your eyes because whatever you and Shawn had meant so much more to you than what you’d admit.

You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind, pulling down you dress before walking back inside.

You weren’t his señorita anymore, even though you loved it.

And loved him. 

[summerhuntresses]

no grave (can hold my body down)

[ao3]

After Harrow passes out in a bone cocoon, Gideon takes care of her while studiously avoiding any inconvenient revelations.

Gideon could say, with great certainty, that she had never once been concerned about the wellbeing of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. She had been concerned about the actions of Harrowhark Nonagesimus in the past, and how said actions would impact her own life in new and unpleasant ways, but the actual physical wellbeing of the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth was not something she lost sleep fretting over.

 That being said, it was extremely disconcerting to find herself fretting over Harrow now. Gideon had initially laid her down and simply wiped the blood and dirt off her face, worried about the other woman waking up in a fury over her ‘gross overstep’, but now…

 Well, Harrow had been unconscious for hours and Gideon was starting to worry about her necromancer.

She had already cleaned Harrow up as much as she could without undressing her - worried or not, that was a boundary that she was not willing to cross - and now she was just… waiting. Waiting for the woman to wake up.

 It was difficult to keep her eyes away from Harrow, honestly. Gideon knew that she wasn’t going to just stop breathing in her sleep, but the image of her lying there covered in dirt and blood and bone wouldn’t leave her alone.

 Honestly, Gideon had never really noticed just how small the woman was. True, Gideon wasn’t exactly small herself, but she had to have a good foot on Harrow and at least a hundred pounds. Looking closer, Gideon realized that she could see the individual bones in Harrow’s wrist jutting out against her skin.

 “Well, fuck.” She sighed and sat back, arguing with herself even as she knew that she was going to do something stupid. “I mean, I know I wouldn’t want to lay around for Ninth knows how long marinating in my own filth. It would be too much of a temptation for the Eighth, at the very least.” Gideon nodded decisively, smacking a palm on the bed in emphasis and nearly jostling Harrow onto the floor. “Whoops. I’m doing my duty, Nonagesimus. That’s what you’ve wanted me to do for ages.”

 Harrow, still unconscious, did not respond.

 Gideon sighed and stood. “Look, I know this is weird, but… You’re tiny, Nonagesimus. Your name is bigger than you are, for Necrolord’s sake!” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care what you have to say about it, I am getting you in clean clothes if it kills the both of us.”

 Mind made up, Gideon moved quickly to avoid pussying out. Hauling Harrow into a sitting position with one hand, she stripped her out of her heavy outer robe with the other, immediately encountering a dilemma when she realized that she needed a third hand to keep Harrow upright. 

 “Aw, fuck.”

 Never once in her life had Gideon ever even considered the possibility of hugging Harrow. It would have been like hugging a spiked mace, if the mace was malevolent and actively trying to remove Gideon’s ribcage with its teeth. Six year old Gideon would have run away from anyone suggesting the idea to her. Twelve year old Gideon would have done her level best to break their kneecap. The Gideon from a week ago would have laughed until she cried.

 The Gideon of the here and now had Harrow in what could only be described as an embrace as she struggled to pull Harrow’s damp and disgusting undershirt over her head.

 “How did you even manage to get this gross, Nonagesimus? I thought you were all about dignity and shit, this is just nasty.” Gideon took an experimental sniff of the shirt, recoiling and chucking it across the room nearly immediately. “If we didn’t pack so light I would burn that, Harrow. Burn it.”

 Sitting back, Gideon looked at the girl in her lap, Harrow’s absolute stillness highlighting just how small she really was. Gideon frowned, running a gentle finger over the ribs visible on her side. “Damn, Harrow, what’s wrong with you?” She pulled a new shirt over the other woman’s head with none of the haste she had felt earlier, taking care not to jostle the necromancer. “Eat a sandwich, witch bitch.”

 Her hands betrayed her, though, smoothing the shirt down Harrow’s side with care and sliding back up to carefully extricate a few straggly curls from the collar. She stroked the woman’s hair absentmindedly, lost in thought and ignoring the weirdly damp feel.

 A shiver under her hand made her frown. “I guess all your energy goes to being a prick and not to keeping yourself warm.” She stood and grabbed her spare cloak from her blanket nest, wrapping it around Harrow. “That seems kind of stupid, Harrow. Just sayin’.” She pulled the other woman back into her arms as she tied the cord around Harrow’s neck.

 Harrow shifted slightly in her arms, brows furrowing and a soft grumble rolling from her throat. Gideon looked down at her in surprise. “What? Not used to people touching you, Reverend Daughter?” She stroked a hand down the side of Harrow’s head firmly, the nearly rough touch seeming to calm the woman. Gideon snorted. “It can never be easy with you, huh?”

 A knock on the door startled Gideon badly, arms tightening around her necromancer and eyes darting toward the chest at the foot of the bed with the hidden longsword.

 “Gideon? Gideon, it’s me. Palamedes Sextus. Of the Sixth. And Camila as well.”

 Rolling her eyes, Gideon gently laid Harrow back against the cushions before getting up to throw the door open. “Sorry, I’m not sure I know who you are. Do you have some ID or something to make it clearer?”

 The door swung open to reveal Palamedes frowning at her. “Ninth, I’m positive you should be able to recognize who I am from my name and House. Are you feeling all right? Did you take a blow to the head down there?”

 He put a hand up, seeming to try and check her forehead for a fever before Camila smacked his wrist down, glaring exasperatedly at Gideon. “I honestly preferred it when you didn’t talk, Ninth.”

 Gideon gasped dramatically, clutching her hands to her chest. “Are you saying you don’t love my wit, charm, and dashing good looks, Cam?” She dropped her hands and grinned her most obnoxious grin, the one that made Harrow froth at the mouth and bleed from the eyes in rage. “Bullshit.”

 Palamedes swung his gaze between the women, uncertainty written across his features. “I… don’t know what’s happening right now. But! I wanted to come by and check on the Reverend Daughter. She overexerted herself badly when she did whatever she did, but she should be fine. Cam and I checked her over briefly and she showed no signs of shock or physical trauma beyond the exertion. Try and keep her warm just in case.” He smiled reassuringly at Gideon. “She needs rest, and a lot of it, but she’ll be on her feet terrorizing the Fourth before you have time to enjoy the quiet.”

 Cam sighed from her place at his side. “Somehow I get the feeling that the rest of us will never get to enjoy peace and quiet. Ever again.”

 Throwing her a wink, Gideon said, “Admit it, you like my braggadocious tenacity.”

 Cam blinked. “Nav, do you even know what that means?”

 Shrugging, Gideon told her, “No, but it sounds awesome.”

 “How did you even hear that phrase, Nav?” Cam looked perplexed, which increased the range of facial expressions Gideon had seen her wear by a factor of two.

 Gideon shrugged again. “Nonagesimus yelled it at me when we were like twelve. No idea what it means or where she picked it up, but it sounds cooler than anything I got from Necrotits Prime, volumes three through eleven, so I stole it for my own use.” She grinned. “Good, huh?”

 Camila and Palamedes shared a look that Gideon couldn’t interpret before turning back to her. “You know what, Ninth?” Palamedes sounded more uncomfortable than anything else as he addressed her. “I think you’ve got this handled on your own. Just… just keep her warm and comfortable and don’t let her get out of bed for the next twelve hours at least.” He was in motion before the words finished leaving his mouth.

 Cam watched him go with a raised eyebrow before turning to Gideon. “Good luck, Nav. She seems like she’ll be a fun patient.” She left immediately, missing Gideon’s one-finger salute as she went.

 Gideon slammed the door childishly, muttering curses under her breath as she did so. When her eyes landed on Harrow again she deflated, the irritation draining from her at the sight of Harrow practically swimming in Gideon’s spare cloak. 

 She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the edges of the cloak tighter around Harrow’s throat. “I can see you shivering, Nonagesimus. That’s honestly pathetic, it’s practically tropical here compared to the Ninth.” Sighing, Gideon stood up once more and picked Harrow up in a bridal carry. Several minutes of cursing and jostling and nearly dropping her necromancer later, Gideon had managed to tuck the other woman under both the blankets and her spare cloak.

 Harrow twitched, brow furrowing again and head rolling from side to side. “No… construct….. how...” She muttered random words in her sleep, anger and fear written on her face as she did so. 

 “Hey. Hey, Nonagesimus.” Gideon shook her gently, not wanting to harm her further after the unpleasant bone incident from earlier. Harrow didn’t respond beyond tossing her head away from Gideon, muttering continuing unabated. Gideon shook her harder. “Nonagesimus. Hey. Harrow.”

 The other woman shot straight up in bed, eyes suddenly wide open and blazing. “No grave can hold my body down, Nav.” 

 Gideon yelped and fell backwards, tumbling straight off the bed. “What the fuck, Harrow!”

 Harrow glared at her. “It’s freezing in here.”

 Sitting up, Gideon stared incredulously. “It’s cold? You wake up from a fucking coma spouting that creepy bullshit and your concern is that it’s cold?” 

 Harrow hunched in on herself, frowning as she snapped, “What are you talking about, Nav?” She drew the cloak further around herself, not seeming to recognize who it actually belonged to. 

 “Ugh.” Gideon pointed at her accusingly. “You are weird, Nonagesimus. Weird and lucky.” 

 Her finger, righteously jabbing toward Harrow, faltered somewhat when Gideon noticed the shivers wracking Harrow’s frame. She looked around helplessly, but there were no more blankets to be seen in the room and no other people either. Gideon sighed. “If you bite me I’m letting you fend for yourself, you gremlin.”

 “What-”

 Harrow’s question was cut off by Gideon flinging herself over Harrow to crash land next to her. She immediately grabbed Harrow around the waist and bodily hauled the smaller woman into her arms, wrapping her in her own cloak and drawing the blankets up around them both. Harrow spluttered, arms flailing pathetically.

 The sight of Harrow in the throes of speechless bafflement was somehow endearing, a thought that Gideon shoved into the deepest recesses of her brain to never, ever revisit.

 “What are you doing Nav.” 

 Gideon shrugged. “Sex Pal said you had to rest and you had to stay warm. You generate zero body heat on your own because you took ‘bone necromancer’ too literally, so really this is your own fault.” She relaxed back into the pillows, dragging Harrow halfway onto her chest and pointedly not making eye contact as she desperately tried to maintain her chill.

 Harrow continued to flail. “This is utterly inappropriate get your hands off me I am fine this is unnecessary what kind of cavalier do you think you are.” Despite her words, Gideon could feel the shivers receding, her own body heat making its way past the shell of ice that Harrow kept wrapped around herself.

 She tucked Harrow’s arms into the blanket. “If you sleep for twelve hours without being a prissy bitch I promise I won’t make fun of you about this for the next twelve to fourteen years.”

 Grumbling, Harrow let herself be manhandled. “Fine.”

 “Fine.”

 (Neither of them ever mentioned how they woke up - with Harrow’s head nestled under Gideon’s chin and Gideon’s hands up Harrow’s shirt. Except that Gideon totally did and Harrow absolutely tried to murder her for it.)

[janelevy]

"If you don't want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don't just lie and say it's fine" + your choice

feel free to send me an ask/message me with any ava bekker related prompts! i’ll take anything sfw, platonic or romantic, with or without any other med characters.

summary: sarah’s acting weird late one night after work, and ava can’t get to the bottom of it. ((since it was left to my choice, i went with reesker because i wanted to try my hand at writing them. thanks for the request camila!

warnings: implied assault at the very end

It only became apparent something was amiss when Sarah refused to walk through the hospital parking lot at night anymore.

Ava had driven them to work that morning, and her girlfriend had been fine then. Sarah was flashing that smile of hers, but flashing wasn’t even the right word to describe it because her smile was too sweet and gentle to be flashy. Sarah had talked to her that morning in the car, sitting in the passenger seat, messing with the radio until she found the soft rock station she liked.

But now it was night and dripping shadows dappled the parking lot like puddles of oil. A handful of weak lampposts dotted the path to where Ava’s red Volkswagen was parked, and in the distance Ava could see her car waiting for them behind a cloak of dim, uninviting light. She could certainly understand the creepiness this scene gave off - but everyone at Gaffney was used to it, had accepted the fact that any broken or failing light bulbs would take weeks to be replaced. The staff parking lot was dimly lit and a bit unsettling at night, and that was that.

So why was Sarah now next to her, shuddering and hugging herself like they stood before a haunted house? Ava frowned and lightly rested a hand on her shoulder, only to be violently shrugged off.

“Reese cup, what is it?” Ava asked softly. “Reese cup” was a silly pet name she had thought of a million years ago when they got together. It was based on the candy, of course, because Sarah was the sweetest girl Ava had ever been with, and the only one who contrasted her bitterness so well. Sarah usually groaned when the name came up, and liked to point out that Ava disliked peanut butter (and Ava would then remind her she would choke down a thousand Reese’s peanut butter cups for her sake, and that would shut Sarah up); so Ava only saved it for certain occasions. This seemed as good an occasion as any.

Sarah barely acknowledged her, though. “Nothing,” she muttered. “I just... um... do you think you could, like, bring the car up here?” Brown eyes darted up to Ava’s face, where the concerned wrinkles in her forehead only deepened.

“Why?”

“I- I don’t want to walk all that distance. I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

Ava rolled her eyes, hoping to cut into some of the tension with teasing. “So you’re going to make me walk all that distance alone?”

That only appeared to make things worse. Sarah shifted her weight and tugged at the strap of her bag. She looked everywhere else but her girlfriend, and that was enough to convince Ava. She was too tired to provoke any conflict tonight. It had been a long shift with three back-to-back surgeries and she just wanted to go home and fall into bed with Sarah in her arms. If Sarah wanted Ava to bring the car right up to her Uber-style, then she sure as hell would do it.

“Okay, fine, hon. I’ll be back in a minute.” Ava lowered her head a little and captured Sarah’s eyes so they couldn’t wander off again. “Will you be alright here by yourself?”

Sarah nodded rapidly, relief coloring a blush into her cheeks. “Yes... as long as I’m in the light, I’ll be okay.”

Ava furrowed her brow at her, but she wasn’t offering any other info, so Ava turned and started toward the car. As she walked away, she could’ve sworn she heard Sarah repeat the phrase. “As long as I’m in the light...” What did that mean?

She made it to the car without incident, tossing her bag in the backseat. She would’ve offered to bring Sarah’s things with her too, but the younger woman had looked quite comfortable clinging to her bag for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping her from being sucked away by some invisible force. Ava had noticed that about her girlfriend; Sarah always liked having something to hold. If Ava’s hands weren’t immediately available to be clasped, or her hair wasn’t free to be stroked and loosely braided, Sarah needed something else to do with her hands. A clipboard to hold, a keyboard to type on, thighs to drum on absently.

Ava had been that way growing up, and she liked to think that was part of what made her a good surgeon - years of picking at pencil erasers in class had led up to nimble fingers on the operating table. Maybe, Ava thought as she backed out of the parking space and drove slowly up to the curb, the ghost of a surgeon’s fingers lived in Sarah’s hands. (Both of them knew how to use their fingers to melt the other into useless, blubbering puddles, after all.)

She braked and unlocked the door, allowing Sarah to hop inside. The second she was in and the door was closed again, Ava wasted no time getting out of there. She had one thing in mind, and it started with a bed and ended with the sweet, sweet release of REM sleep.

Well, no, she quickly reminded herself; she had two things in mind. She glanced over at Sarah, who was gazing out her window and picking at the lock on the door, because those hands could never stay still.

“Do you... want the radio on?” Ava asked hesitantly. She received a silent headshake in response.

“Sweetheart,” Ava implored. The silence was eating her alive like locusts. “Seriously, what’s the matter?”

Sarah bit her lip and picked off balls of lint from her sweater. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine.”

At this point they were just a few blocks away from Sarah’s apartment. The car rolled to a halt at a red light, and Ava turned on her. “Sarah, please listen to me. I don’t know what happened between the last time we drove to work together and now. But this isn’t you. Since when are you scared of the dark in the parking lot? Everyone knows it’s creepy there.”

“Because I just am!” Sarah snapped. It was so uncharacteristic of her, and Ava reeled back for a moment, grasping for words in empty air. Sarah wasn’t done, though. “I’m not your patient, Ava, you don’t have to question me! Why can’t I just tell you I’m fine and leave it at that?”

“I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist,” Ava said, her voice low, “but even a goldfish could tell you’re not acting yourself right now. I know you’re not telling me something important, Sarah, and I know you’re not okay.” The traffic light changed to green, and Ava floored the gas pedal a little more than she meant to. Over the roar of the car engine, she growled, “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine. Because I know that’s not the truth. If not all of it, then don’t I at least deserve some of the truth, rather than none of it?”

“Did I not make it obvious that I don’t want to talk about it?” Sarah whined, voice breaking partway through.

They were silent the entire rest of the way to the apartment. By the time Ava had parked a few minutes later, though, she recovered enough to say, “Baby, I’m sorry. I... shouldn’t have pushed you so much.”

Sarah wasn’t smiling, but she was once more softened again. Ava was relieved; she hadn’t liked the spiked edge to Sarah’s words earlier.

“It’s how you are. I get it,” Sarah murmured. Ava reached out to twist some of those irresistible curls around her index finger.

“I’m sorry,” she told her again, the apology feather-light.

Sarah nodded. “I’m not ready right now. But I’ll tell you... I’ll tell you what happened one day. I promise.”

They both leaned over the console, collapsing into a sniffling hug. Ava inhaled the scents of the hospital that had sunk into her girlfriend’s hair and clothes: stale coffee, faded hand sanitizer. Then an image was projected into her brain, something she hadn’t thought about in nearly a week. Sarah coming home later than expected last Wednesday, her sweater rumpled, jacket hanging off her hunched frame crookedly, and frizzed hair falling over a bruise that seemed to fade before Ava could find time to point it out.

And Ava realized she should have asked then.

[deckerstarwrites]

wanted plots for my 1x1 blog @mostpxculiar as well as fcs I’d like to play/play opposite to. please like this post, or dm me if you’d like to discuss any of these plots further! tw: nsfw/smut plots cheating, pregnancy, murder/blood,  under the cut.

plots i want, but also please come at me with plots YOU want!

a plot based off of fleabag/hot priest from fleabag

someone should give me a plot with this big bad gang leader and his super soft and cute girlfriend that has him wrapped around her finger. like he’s a feared man, which she doesn’t really care about. and she’s there to patch him up and while he usually tries to hide her away from the cruel world he’s in whenever he isn’t there with her, she just patiently waits for him when he’s out and about doing his business and he’s so fascinated by her and no matter how much of a bad guy he is, he’s just so soft for her and he’d do anything for her!!! and then his most precious possession gets kidnaped and shit goes down snsnsns (m/f, f/f)

f/f plot where a snobby, graceful, poised and rich prima ballerina falls in love with a reckless pole dancer who is super hot with a 6 pack and colourful hair and the girls are total polar opposites pls hmu

a plot where muse a just needs to get away from everything so she packs up everything into her small shitty car that barley runs and just drives. she loses count of the boarders she crossed until she lands right into the middle of a small town where the population is like 2 thousand and her car breaks down. so she goes into a diner that she sees is open and she asks about a mechanic so the lady in the diner calls up her friend who happens to be muse b, the local mechanic. so muse b comes over and tells her that he wont be able to check her car out until morning bc its like 10 pm now so muse a is going to check into a motel or smth but muse b offers to put her up for the night and bc shes broke she says yeah and basically they end up banging with the intention that after tomorrow they are never gonna see each other again - wrong. muse b goes down to his shop and looks at the engine and a really important parts gone in it and its going to take a couple weeks for it to come in and basically muse a has to stay in this shitty small town for the next couple of weeks AND THEY FALL FOR EACH OTHER AND WE CAN FIGURE THE REST OUT! (m/f, f/f)

I really want a one night stand where she snuck out before he woke up and he tried looking her up but he didn’t even know her full name, so he moved on. Move on years down the road and he’s just gotten engaged and at the engagement part he’s introduced to her sister that’s been living overseas for the past few days, but who is it, that girl from all those years ago. Better yet, meet her child, wait, why do they his eyes.

modern hades and persephone where persephone is a tired college student and when she finds out the god of the underworld wants to make her his bride she’s like “become queen of the dead AND never have to go to an 8 AM lecture again, not to mention watch with popcorn as my ex dies and finds out my new boyfriend is his new king? YES PLZ” and just fucking swandives down into the underworld and hades is like “…i had a carriage prepared but okay that works too”

plot three. six months ago he let the nanny give him head. he has been avoiding talking to her since, and is really flustered. she is a full time, live in nanny in their giant mansion. i’m getting a ‘living in england’ vibe, but i’m not sure. he has 3-4 kids running around with his wife of years. the nanny can’t stand the wife, but is obviously polite. his wife is bitchy, whiny, and all she cares is about appearances. who cares if you’re actually happy? just play happy. pretend to be happy. the nanny loves to fluster him when the wife isn’t home. she’ll wear short outfits, lean over, not wear underwear, forget to wear a bra. it was a holiday. so they invited the nanny to eat dinner with them. she starts rubbing him under the table. later on that day, he pulls the nanny to the side into the bathroom or something to tell her that she had to cut it out and that it was a one time thing. out of the blue  - he kisses her hard. just give me lots of behind the wives back, and maybe she gets pregnant down the line?

ok but i need a plot where there’s these two idiots who are roommates, and they bicker and act like a married couple constantly, and can hang out like bros but they’re completely platonic, no we’re not in love that’s preposterous!! and it’s so evident that they’re into each other like whenever one goes out on a date, the other is all bitter like ‘no i’m definitely not jealous’. and they like leave bars together at some stupidly early hour and their friends tease them and they just go home and get drunk together instead. and like domestic washing the dishes and fighting over who does what and flinging soap at each other. and then one day it kind of just clicks, you know, like wow you’re my best friend but i think i might love you as more this is so difficult and just, give this to me now.  (m/f, f/f)

not to be dramatic or anything but i really want a sugar daddy/sugar baby plot where the muse a is “ happily ” married ceo of a big company with shit tons of money and muse a goes out to a local bar just to chill when they meet muse b. ofc they hit it off and go in muse a’s car and fuck all night and in the morning muse a offers muse b a proposition, if muse b agrees to be muse a’s mistress then muse a will give muse b anything they want starting their sugar baby/sugar daddy relationship. it’s all good until muse a sees muse b all over another guy and looses it and gets into a huge fight with muse b that ends with muse a fucking muse b up against his car and yea gimmie this smut i need sneaky around and sexting while around his wife nd getting him riled up like yes pls thank  

bloody , murderous & psychotic couples who love killing people for the thrill and make out with bloody lips and high five each other by the mountains of dead bodies they made . fuckyeah ?  give me this crazy shit . serial killer couples . vampire couples . dark romeo & juliet couples . modern au persephone & hades couples . couples who compete to see who kills the most or the most gruesome . give me gore . give me bloodshed . GIVE IT TO ME !  (m/f, f/f) (focusing a lot on hades/persephone, vampires but willing to go the bonnie and clyde or serial killer route)

no offense but i need a messy exes plot where they can’t get over one another no matter what they do and they always tell themselves they’re not gonna go back to them yet every time they get done with a date they end up knocking on the other person’s door and just jealousy and angst and heartbreak and crying because they don’t know if this is ever going to work out but they can’t walk away because this person is still their whole fucking world and they don’t know how to move on  (m/f, f/f)

faceclaims I’d like to play and play against or both  but also literally come at me with your fcs!!!

Inbar Lavi

Tom Ellis

Lauren German

Sophia Bush

Trevante Rhodes

Zoe Saldana

Madelaine Petsch 

Camila Mendes

Lesley Ann Brandt

Manny Montana

Diane Guerrero 

Adria Arjona

Ana De Arms

Aisha Dee

Chris Evans

Ryan Gosling

John Krazinski

Matt Czuchry

Lana Condor 

Elizabeth Lail

Anya Charlotra

Victoria Pedretti

Zazie Beetz

Shay Mitchell

Candice Patton

Margot Robbie

Florence Pugh

Lucy Liu

Jodie Comer

Katie Mcgrath

Justin Baldoni

Indya Moore

Oscar Isaac

Matthew Daddario

Tessa Thompson