#modern love series

[nipuni]

So I watched Good Omens 😊 It is very cute, I really enjoyed the character design!

[stareggie]

regulus: i won the idgaf wars.

james: u walked all the way to my house because i wouldn’t answer ur text because i was in the shower.

regulus: do not spread misinformation. i apparated.

[mia-nina-lilly]

Holly Black's fairy universe is so rich, expansive, and solid that one can have some certainty about the nature of her fey without it being affirmed all the time.

For example, one thing that seems clear is that fairies feel, and they feel intensely. If they hate, they can hate for centuries. If they love, they will love eternally and be willing to give their life for their beloved. In "The Darkest Part of the Forest," this is told as a horror story. In "Modern Faerie Tales," Kaye's entire adventure is based on her desire to become Roiben's consort.

In "The Cruel Prince" trilogy, Balekin hints at this difference when he talks strangely about how humans love — this is all without mentioning Tiernan and Hyacinthe, who became enemies and still love each other enough to fight for each other, or Lady Nore with her late husband's hands around her neck.

We see this firsthand with Cardan not once, but twice! The first time occurs when he throws himself in front of Jude to save her from being hit by one of Grimsen's traps, and the second time is when, similarly, Cardan throws himself in front of Jude to save her from having a blade buried in her body.

The first time, he shows surprise with himself. It was the moment he realized he loved her on that level — in fact, he just loves her as is natural to his species. The second time, any surprise seems to have vanished, as if he had already accepted that he would do it for her a thousand more times if necessary.

That is, the fairies indeed love as described in the poems, and that is simply fantastic on the part of the author because, let's face it, it makes perfect sense considering the aesthetic of the fairies and everything else. Yes, all of this is about how much I love Holly Black and her skill in creating such wonderfully subtle wonder-filled settings ✨✨

[jelliessoap]

Idea! he team found out about Price's husband on a tv game, which they were watching out of boredom. His last name on the jersey is [lastname]-price. They think its a coincidence. But when he makes a winning shot, and the camera pans to him, he dose this specific hat thing, like pinch and smuge the rim of his hat, like when you pinch salt. They realize, its what Price dose! Coincidence I think not!

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!!! IM !!!!!!!

hehehe some hcs under the cut thank you anon!

no warnings i can think of, m!reader, reader is a pitcher in this!

- john would have the game on at the base, ultimately forcing the rest of the task force to watch as well

- literally put the remote in his pocket so they couldn’t change it. they just assumed he really liked the sport for some reason and watched it as well.

- soap was and gaz ended up being the only ones truly paying attention, ghost would give the screen a glance every now and then, mostly just listening to the announcers voice as background noise.

- price only paid attention when you were on the field as per usual, sat next to gaz puffing away at his cigar, soap sat on the floor ( swears its more comfy ), with ghost at the opposite end of the couch

- it was bottom of the 9th and the opposing team’s bases were loaded, 3 balls 2 strikes and 2 outs. your team was up by two points but if they managed to hit a run or walk there was a good chance they could catch up. you needed to strike him out.

- price was stressed. his body tense as he leaned forward eyes fixed on the screen.

- gaz is looking at him like ‘???’ because price never mentioned being a baseball fan.

- it wasn’t that he kept you or your career a secret, it was well known he was married. he was just never questioned about it by the boys and the topic never got brought up

- he also figured it might be safer for both of you seeing you were such a public figure and he had plenty of threats with his job, it wasn’t exactly something he bragged about at work. should your identity fall into the wrong hands he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to you

- ghost ever the observer couldn’t help but notice the way price paid extra attention to the player with, [last name]-price on the back of their jersey. though he figured it was just coincidence

- soap was just excited to be watching a sport tbh, thought it was boring but started to understand as the game went on. now that things were tense he was at the edge of his seat.

- “c’mon luv…” price would mutter under his breath barely audible as you prepared for the pitch that could make or break the game

- you threw a strike with precision, striking their batter out and earning your team the win for the night

- you had your signal to price, it’d become a bit of a signature move for you. as your teammates joined you on the field, cheering and celebrating everyone pumped full of adrenaline you smiled brightly eyes searching for the camera

- as soon as you found it you pulled your signature move, pinching the bill of your baseball cap and smudging your fingers along it while shooting a small wink to the camera. every one of your movement a direct communication to price. that you’d played for him, you won for him, that you were still thinking of him

- gaz noticed your gesture and looked to price in slight confusion. he’s seen price make that exact gesture with his boonie hat more times than he could count.

- ghost noticed too, also taking note of the way price’s lips twitched upward when he watched you and your team celebrate on screen. he was already sure there was something deeper to price’s interest in the game

- soap of course was the first to open his mouth

- “s’like he’s yer soulmate er somethin, captain.”

- “he is.” price would state so seriously, not a hint of joking in his tone. only fondness, even a bit of pride, his eyes never leaving the screen clinging to every bit of you he could get while so far away

- gaz’s eyes would get all wide and he’d say something like “right way to go cap.” finds the fact that price would watch a whole baseball game just for you and your on screen silent communications really romantic ( hopeless romantic gaz truthers rise up! )

- ghost pats himself on the back mentally, muttering a “knew it.”

- then there’s soap who turns his head so fast he nearly gets whiplash, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “YER GAY??” which earns him a light nudge in the side from ghost’s boot and a chuckle from price

[nerdynatreads]

 ☆☆YouTube | Tumblr | Instagram | Storygraph ☆☆

book review || First Comes Like by Alisha Rai

video review || Still Riding That Wave -- June Wrap Up || 10 books!

This was pretty cute, but I felt as though it both moved too slowly and too fast. I liked the initial setup of the catfish situation, but once they met, the romance felt very Insta-lovey. Then, we hopped into the fake dating (engagement?) scenario pretty quickly. All ended with a very fast marriage. I think Rai was trying to be respectful of Muslim culture (since most of what we see from Jia is pretty devoted), while still giving her readers the spice we expect from her. A clever twist on a culturally arranged marriage. However, I really had a hard time with how little Jia and Dev really knew one another. The chemistry just didn’t build for me. Katrina (FMC from the second book) makes a comment about knowing how one another communicates, but this only comes up after they are already married.

I thought Jia was very realistic and true to the character previously established. She could be kind of aggravating at times, but it made sense for what we’d seen about her. Dev, initially, was very intriguing to me and I felt as though he was strongly written, but by the end of the book, he felt pretty flat, unfortunately. The two of them together were pretty cute, particularly in the small, intimate, moments between them, like Dev respecting Jia’s job as an influencer. I just wished we had less of their families getting involved and more time for their relationship to develop naturally. The third act drama was both pointless whiles also reinforced my previous points that they clearly need more time to get to know each other. The spice level was pretty tame in comparison to the two previous books in the series.

So… I kind of like this? I’m not really sure about my feelings, honestly. Also, the audiobook was terrible. Do NOT recommend.

3 / 5 stars

2 / 5 chilis

[booksteacupandreviews]

Flirting with Fifty (Modern Love #1) by Jane Porter - romance in the golden years of life

Have you read any #contemporary or #romance in golden years of life? If so which is your favorite? #FlirtingwithFifty #ModernLove #JanePorter #BookTwitter @BerkleyRomance @BerkleyPub Read full #bookreview on my #bookblog ⬇️

Flirting with Fifty is lovely, heartwarming, slow burn, clean work place romance in the golden years of life with second chance trope. Flirting with Fifty (Modern Love #1) by Jane Porter Publication date : May 24th 2022 Publisher : Berkley Books Genre : Contemporary / Romance Pages : 336 ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 3.5 out of 5. Tea for this book : Disclaimer – Many thanks to Berkley for eARC via…

[t00thpasteface]

(insert guitar solo here 🎸🎸🎸)

[coffebits]

Leia is just like her mama I- 🤧🥺

[tangents-within-tangents]

Just some things I think deserve a super accurate movie/show adaption in a beautiful 2D animation style:

The How to Train Your Dragon series

Gregor the Overlander

Artemis Fowl

The Adventure Zone

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (fr so much was left out of the 1939 film!)

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass

The actual Little Mermaid story (there are a ton of adaptations I haven't seen yet so maybe it exists somewhere but we all know Disney’s didn’t even come close)

[th3e-m4ng0]

[uncanny-tranny]

"haha, are you an art gay, a science gay, or a math gay"

Actually, I find the division between art, science, and math to be a very nebulous idea and useless when you actually interact with the universe. The more you learn about the world, the more you surround yourself with art and science and math, and you'll never be able to see it any other way and it will be beautiful. When I take your hand, it won't be the science of our atoms closing the distance between us that we will experience, but the math of our fingers interlocking and the art of our bodies that we will experience. You are math and you are science and you are art, and nothing will make you any lesser💛

[chaoswithmusic]

Lin-Manuel Miranda is in my fucking walls.

I could be watching a show about a greedy duck and "oh what is this familiarly awkward high voice?" IT'S LIN FUCKING MANUEL.

I'm watching this super cool cop show and "oh poor Amy her brother sounds slightly pretentious" DAVID SANTIAGO IS LIN-MANUEL FUCKING MIRANDA.

This well beloved book of a lot of people's childhood based off Greek mythology is getting turned into a show "lemme check the cast of the gods in this show, I kinda like Hermes he seems like a fun god-" IT'S LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA BITCH.

[spacenintendogs]

zippleback heart!!!!!

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

4.2k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series

epilogue warnings: see that fun little e word? yeah you're missing a whole bunch, and I strongly encourage you to head to the masterlist linked above and read their story! I had fun writing it (most days), I hope you have fun reading it | there's a hint to a lovely little thing @rebelfell wrote for Eddie on Halloween Party night and I am not only incredibly touched that something I wrote inspired her to write, but I am grateful for the blessing to leave his story open for more exploration using her story 💛 | mentions of the holiday Christmas being celebrated by reader | minor descriptions of PIV smut, but ultimately it's some good old fade to black movie shit

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world. 

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips. 

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath. 

“You liked it.” 

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower. 

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love. 

Eddie’s nose presses into your navel, fingers adjusting on your hips as you squirm. 

“Eddie!”

“Hold still!” He laughs, your green plastic shamrock hanging from your neck knocks against his forehead as his arms move to wrap around the back of your thighs. 

“We’re on the other side!” Robin screams into her phone. A boy with a jug full of nauseating lime colored liquid brushes up against her, smiling with green tinged lips. She wrinkles her nose as he hiccups, liquor and kool-aid sloshing from the jug out onto the sidewalk and narrowly missing her shoes. 

“I can see-Fuck!” You shout, arm raising to wave but body hunching, falling over Eddie’s head as he adjusts and almost drops you. 

Fingers grip his curls at the sudden balance issues, eliciting a quiet “Ow,” from him and a soft “Sorry,” from you. 

Robin huffs into the phone, craning her neck and hand hovering behind your back like she alone could prevent Eddie dropping you over the railing and into the river. “I’m wearing green - well light green!”

Eddie snorts a laugh into your hip as he pushes you higher, your fingers wrap around the cement and you pull yourself up, waving your arms wildly to bring attention to your group as Eddie holds your lower half up, bracing his back against the railing.  

Just on the other side of the bridge, you see him clinging to a light pole, body slowly circling it, head swiveling in all directions with the phone pressed to his ear. His hair has gotten darker from the lack of sun, longer too, and it curls slightly behind his ears and at the nape of his neck, blowing in the light breeze. 

When he makes his final turn, he sees you as your arms drop. His grin widens, bright even from this far. You watch his mouth move as he speaks into the phone without taking his eyes off of you. 

Robin calls up, rolling her eyes, “He says you’re really pretty.”

Your head throws back in a deep laugh, the movement causing Eddie to panic and adjust his hands holding your legs and you both topple to the ground, taking Robin with you as your leg bangs against the cement railing at just the right angle, hard.

The people of Chicago simply walk around the three of you, as you lay on the cold and dirty sidewalk moaning. 

“Your foot is in my spleen Edward, get off,” Robin whines, shoving at his shoulders.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m not the one who decided to fall!” He rolls, but freezes as you wince.

You sit up, rubbing at your knee, closing your eyes with a choked off whimper, willing the tears that want to spring out from the sharp pain away. 

“Shit, uh, ice? I can go see if someone has ice?” Robin asks, eyes wide and blinking down at you when you open yours.

Eddie’s nose scrunches, head tilting as he asks, “Why would anyone have ice just walking around?”

“I don’t know, it’s St. Patrick’s Day, people need it for their drinks! Oh! I can call Nancy, she’s still sleeping, but-”

“Robin,” you laugh, cutting her off, “I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

As you press your palms to the cement and brace yourself to stand, you wince again and his voice is suddenly right in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop.” 

Looking up, Steve is crouching down, hands reaching toward your leg. Light jeans and a deep, hunter green sweatshirt revealed to you under his now open gray peacoat. Dark strands of hair fall over his forehead, slightly covering the lines of worry deepening as he frowns at your knee. Something inside your chest swells, like thousands of butterflies are waking up and migrating to your stomach and causing dumb and unfiltered words to fall out of your mouth. 

“Do you have a band-aid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, eyes bright, the sweater making the moss in them outshine the brown as he looks at you with amusement. Robin and Eddie boo in tandem behind your shoulders.

Steve’s hand curls around your ankle, gold ring on his middle finger glinting as his thumb brushes the skin under your pant leg as he shakes his head, “Honey, I’m gone for two days and look at you. How am I gonna be able to leave for three months?”

“They said yes?!” Forgetting your pain, you lean forward, hands grabbing his cheeks as he nods, bottom lip fitting between yours as he kisses you with a sigh. 

Steve's hand curls around your neck, thumb sliding down along your jaw as he kisses you like you are very much not in public, your stomach swooping as his tongue traces the curve of your top lip. 

“You're both sick,” Eddie gags.

“May I remind you,” Robin starts as Steve and you part, breathless, his eyes rolling and mouth fighting a smile as she keeps going, “That the sidewalk is probably covered in piss and puke and who knows what else and we are not that far from the spot where Dave Matthews literally dumped shi-”

“We know!” The three of you call out in tandem, interrupting the story you all could recite with the same inflections and punchlines she does. 

“Steve, I'm so happy for you. Those kids are gonna have the best time,” speaking quietly to him, your fingers curl the hair around his ear that's turning pink and he dips his head, bashful. 

“I hope so. I think it's cool that these players are gonna take breaks in their schedule and donate their time to teach them. I mean, they're gonna get experiences and lessons that they would never have gotten if not for this program and…sorry.” He shakes his head, biting back his excitement.

You lift his chin and give him another soft, and chaste kiss. The thundering of your heartbeat in your ears is worse than it’s ever been, the words sit ready on your tongue, but just don't come out. 

His eyes bounce between yours, like he’s waiting, before he finally looks down, clearing his throat as he gestures to your knee. “Can I?”

Feeling warm from the missed moment and under his concern, all you can do is nod silently. Steve’s thumbs slide over the sides of your kneecap, pressing gently and you wince. He tilts his head, fingers moving up to prod at the spot again and you grab his wrist with a whimper. 

“Well, I think bar hopping all day is out of the question,” Steve smiles sadly at you, “I think we should get some ice and heat on it. Prop it up.”

“But-” you start to protest and Robin interrupts.

“Already called an Uber, we can head to Nance and I's, have a chill day and then head to Murray's later tonight like originally planned.”

Sighing because you know you'll never win against the two of them teamed up, you nod. Steve’s arm curls around your waist as he helps you stand, both of you looking around with a frown.

“Where's Eddie?” You ask, head swiveling. 

Robin shrugs, gesturing behind you. “I don't know, he just took off running across the bridge when he got this look on his face. He was gone before I could ask.” She punches Steve’s shoulder, smiling, “Congrats Dingus.”

He smiles and lets you go, fingers slipping from your side as his arms wrap around her in a tight hug. As they squeeze each other, you take the opportunity to glance up at the circular, familiar towers. The stream of green clad people entering and exiting the House of Blues and you smile to yourself, thinking about the first time you were here and how far you’ve all come in just a year. 

Eddie rounds the corner, coming off the bridge then. His hands shoved in his leather jacket’s pockets, dirty sneaker dragging and kicking a pebble as he shakes his head, shoulders dropping in disappointment. 

“What’s the matter, tough guy?” You pout, tilting your head.

He waves it away, shrugging, “Nothing,” and your eyes narrow as he claps Steve on the shoulder, “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” They both hit each other’s shoulders in a hug and you make eye contact with Eddie over Steve’s shoulder, arms crossing and eyebrows raised at him. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing you know it isn’t nothing and he will not be able to run from you. 

“Uber’s here!” 

Steve’s nose buries itself deeper into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling even with deep breaths. You brush the hair from his forehead and kiss his temple. 

Smiling against his skin, you look up to see Eddie staring at the two of you. A deep frown pulls his lips down, his thumbs dragging against the label of the beer in his hands, shredding it slowly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, hoping the sudden movement of your chest and noise of your voice doesn’t wake Steve. “I just missed him. I know the PDA is gross.”

“Hmm?” Eddie hums, like he didn’t really hear you, blinking at you confused. 

Gesturing with your free arm to him you explain, “You look kind of upset about our cuddling. And you were all grumpy at the river.”

He was fairly silent during the ride to Nancy and Robin’s, letting you prop your leg up on his thighs with your back against Steve’s chest as he stared out the window. Robin disappeared into their bedroom an hour ago, claiming to go wake Nancy who’d gotten in after midnight from chasing a story on the east coast, but you’re certain she’s asleep next to her. Steve had helped you to the couch, gingerly rolling your jeans up, mumbling his diagnosis around a wince at the sight of your swollen knee. He set you up with ice and a pillow, and you couldn’t blame him for also falling asleep after his busy weekend of meetings and flights. 

And Eddie was silent through it all, the only sound in the apartment being Charlie running around on screen trying to catch a Leprechaun in an episode of It’s Always Sunny. He just shakes his head, avoiding the question. 

“Come on Eddie, spill the beans. Open the door.” Prodding him with a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders. 

He smiles around a sip of beer, but shakes his head again. Eddie stands, punching the mantle lightly, before he turns and looks at Steve, then you as he blurts, “How’d you do it?”

Your brows pinch together as you question, “How’d I do what?”

“Fall in love again after…after being so hurt. What was the first step?”

His question surprises you, palms sweating as your skin prickles from a familiar burn. Glancing down at Steve before you stumble over a response, “We’re not…I’m not…I haven’t…”

Eddie gives you a look of disbelief, like you’re really trying to lie to him and he sits down on your other side. His eyebrows furrow under his bangs as he looks out the window seeming to be looking at something much further away.

“Okay, fine, easier question. Do you believe in soul mates?”

“What?” Blinking at him and wondering where he is going with all of this, your body squirming under the weight of Steve growing heavier. 

Eddie waves his hand around, searching for the words. “You know destiny. Help from the universe. A plan for everything. Fate and shit.”

Cocking your head to the side, you ponder his words. Steve’s arm sits curled around your waist and a soft snore leaves him, breath hitting your chest and you smile. “Yeah, I think I do. Never used to…but I don’t know. I think it’s nice to believe in those kinds of things sometimes.”

Eddie nods, the last of the label ripping and he swallows harshly before looking back up at you. His big, brown eyes blink at you seriously, full of more hope than you’ve ever seen in a person before. 

“Do you think you’re not supposed to meet them until you get your shit together? Like you’re meant to meet them at the right time? And how do you know it’s the right time? What if the right time passes you by?”

“I think,” you start, careful with your words as they come out. Your fingers brush through Steve’s hair carefully, whispering your answer as you stare at his cheek, “I think that sure, when you know, you know about someone. But that doesn’t mean admitting it to yourself, or anyone else for that matter, is easy. And maybe there is a plan, a person for everyone, but it’s up to you to decide when the time is right. Because,” you laugh quietly and Steve adjusts against you, his legs sandwiching your thigh and you look at Eddie, “Your shit is never gonna be together without that person, if they really are the one, right? Because wouldn’t your life not be perfect, whatever that means…or not on the right track, without them? Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly at his bottle, brows furrowing even deeper, “Yeah it does. Thanks.”

He looks at Steve and then back at you, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you really haven’t told him?”

Swallowing loudly, your heartbeat picks up as your mouth parts to blurt out an excuse. Eddie only raises his empty beer bottle with a smirk, and stands, leaving you alone with Steve. 

It’s just not that simple. 

You’ve wanted to say it so many times over the last year, but the words never come out. Despite the work you’ve put in with yourself and your relationship, despite knowing it’s better to say it than spend your life wondering what if, saying that is still scary. 

Love is a powerful emotion and word not to be thrown around, but you also know the words are never just going to come out on their own. You will have to actively decide to say them, to take the leap into the unknown and leave your heart open even more for Steve. 

“Oh no,” Robin laughs around a moan. 

Nancy and your shot glasses hit the table, tart lime releasing over your tongue to counter some of the sting of the tequila flowing down your throat. Robin shakes her head and gestures to the stage and a cackling laugh leaves you as Steve winks at the table, tossing the microphone in the air from his spot waiting on deck for karaoke. 

“Oh, god, we need more tequila,” Nancy laughs, fingers covering her smile as she hiccups. 

Robin points at her. “No more tequila.”

“But, babe, this is going to be bad,” Nancy whines, “You’ve heard him-”

“Oh no.” You bury your head in your arms on the sticky table as the name of his song choice flashes on the screen. 

Robin starts laughing uncontrollably and Steve clears his throat, looking directly at you where you peek out from behind your hands. “This is for you baby.” He points to you as the beginning notes of Rocketman by Elton John begin to drift from the speakers and the crowd cheers and whistles. 

“Here, you’re gonna need this when he hits the falsetto,” Eddie hands you a beer, distributing more drinks around the table, shaking his head. 

You can’t help but have a smile so wide that your cheeks hurt as Steve sings to you, dramatic facial expressions and pressing his hand to his chest, winking at you as he declares he’s a rocket man. You can’t help but cheer, and feel hot under his stare, can’t help but think about saying those words right then and there, what if you just screamed them across the bar for everyone to hear. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie sputters on his beer next to you. 

“What?” You turn, confused, worried you actually did blurt them out. 

“She’s…she’s here. I thought I saw her at the river, that’s where I went, and l lost her, and she’s here. She’s…”

“Who, what?” You step closer to him, leaning in and he spins your shoulders and points to a girl at the bar.

“I met her at that disastrous Halloween party a year ago and she was perfect and awesome and you and Steve had to go and pretend like you weren’t in love and fuck it all up.”

“We weren’t-”

“Please, who shows up in a couples costume accidentally. Boy loved you then and he loves you now. But none of that matters because she’s here.” His cheeks are pink, staring at her and gulping. “That’s a sign right? What do I do?”

“Go get her.” You shove his shoulder with a smile and his eyes widen, but he nods, taking a step towards the bar. 

He pauses, and you wonder if it’s his moment, his what if, his leap. You smile as he squares his shoulders and keeps going, stopping in front of the girl who looks at him surprised. She smiles as he extends his hand, ears red and talking nonstop. She takes it, shaking it and nodding. 

Steve is bowing to cheering from Robin and Nancy as he approaches the table and Murray clears his throat in the microphone. 

“Well, uh, that sure was somethin’ huh?” He frowns at Steve and deadpans to the crowd, “We’re gonna take a break now.”

You hide your laughter into the beer as Steve drums on the table, smiling at you, leaning in close. Lips brushing over your ear as he teases, “I cannot believe you have a thing for Elton John.”

Your head throws back in a laugh as he kisses under your ear, his smile sticking to your skin as you nod. “You got me, Harrington.”

Steve and you stand close together and he smiles at something over your shoulder and clears his throat, “Hey, um, how’s your knee? Feel like sitting for a little?”

His fingers tangle with yours, his voice soft, and something in you melts under his gaze as you nod.

“Great,” he kisses you lightly, pulling away and guiding you across the room, coming to a stop in front of the vintage photo booth. “I think we should try this again.”

As he pulls the red curtain back and sits, this time, you don’t hesitate when he pats his thigh. Your heart hammers inside of your chest, the metal armor around it clatters to the floor with one final knock. 

Steve’s arms wrap around your waist easily, fingers slipping together as he clears his throat and leans forward, looking at you as he asks with a smile, “Ready?”

In that moment, you wish there was a photobooth to capture every moment of the last year - every memory. 

You nod, the machine whirring to life as you smile at each other for the first photo. As the flash happens, Steve lets out a shaky breath, your hands moving up to his jaw without really thinking about it. Your fingertips trace over his face, eyebrows, his nose, the pair of freckles on his cheek and his cupid’s bow as his hands squeeze up your waist and sides. 

You wish there had been a camera when Steve surprised you with dinner that first week together. Your favorite food, a bottle of wine, and then he slow danced with you to ‘It Had To Be You’ in his living room. You could have said it then, a week of barely dating, but it felt so easy. 

Steve leans into your touch as the second flash happens. You twist in his lap, breath coming sharper as you straddle him, your nose brushing up his as you smile. 

If only there had been a camera when Steve came over to your apartment and found you crying over your phone screen, the animal shelter page was brought up and he went with you the next day. Why didn’t you blurt it out then, when back at his place, he was on all fours, a small black lab’s head tilted at him curiously. Steve held a plush sword and whispered in a terrible voice “Your name is Inigo Montoya, I killed your father, I’m prepared to die,” and pretended to be impaled by the sword when the rescued puppy pounced on him. 

Steve’s hand moves up your spine slowly, his other cupping your jaw as your lips just brush when the third flash goes off. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, it’s been an active fight to not say those three little words to him since Christmas. You had a fight, and of course it was about money. How you had seen the package with European stamps and he said it was a present for you and you yelled about how he can’t just buy expensive things because he can and what were you supposed to do, how were you supposed to get him a gift of equal value. That’s when he ripped open the brown shipping package, lifting out of packing peanuts, a glass blue dish - just like the one that shattered. He held it carefully, shaking his head, apologizing for breaking the original, for knowing that he couldn’t replace it, but he searched and searched and found this one. Nobody had a camera, and you didn’t say it, because that’s when you knew. That’s when it got really scary and really real. 

Steve’s lips press to yours as the fourth flash happens, your stomach dropping like a roller coaster as his breath exhales into your inhale. 

Easier than breathing. 

“Will you move in with me?”

“I love you.”

Both questions asked in sync and you blink, shocked. Steve keeps going, eyes closed as he speaks, “I know it’s a big step, but I think we’re ready and…”

“Yes.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

Steve’s eyes shoot open, your response and his question leaving you both at the same time again. 

Your eyes are full of tears, laughing as you cup his cheeks and exhale, repeating the words. 

“I love you.”

The fifth flash goes off as Steve smiles, thumb holding your chin as he gulps around the words. “I love you too.”

Steve’s fingers fumble with his keys, refusing to separate his lips from yours until you’re speaking into them, an ache in your gut as your fingers scratch at the back of his head.

“Baby, hurry.”

He whimpers into your lips, “Not fair.”

It’s a mess of keys hitting the floor and shoes and coats ripped off, easy laughter as he attacks your neck with hot presses of his lips, frantic as he speaks around them, “Fast enough for you, huh?”

“Steve,” you stutter over your laugh, toes curling against the carpet as he sucks on that spot he found just below your ear.  

He’s smug, speaking into your neck as his hands on your hips guide you backwards until your knees hit his bed. He gasps out a desperate plea as you both fall. 

“Say it again.”

Your fingers curl the hair around his ears, swallowed whole by the forest in his eyes, you want to be buried there as you raise your head from the sheets. 

“I.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Love.” He exhales as your lips skim over his jaw. 

“You.” Lips dragging over the two moles on his neck and he melts against you. 

He lifts himself, palms pressed to the mattress next to your head, saying it right back like it’s a promise. 

“I love you.”

He unbuckles your jeans, carefully removing them. Kissing your ankle, your knee, and then the crease of your thigh as he murmurs into your skin, “I love how you slap my shoulder when the colors in a sunset change. And that you mouth along the words to your favorite movies.”

His fingers drag up your shirt, lips and nose grazing up your stomach as you squirm beneath him. 

“I love the way you dance in the kitchen as you burn anything you touch and sing so off key into your shampoo bottle in the shower.”

He keeps going, telling you every little thing he’s grown to love about you, only stopping when you start to interrupt him and do the same. Soft touches and lingering kisses between words whispered to each other that replace your breaths, because it’s not easier than doing so, it’s what gives you the ability to be able to. 

When his hand flexes on your waist, a slow thrust in and your back arches, his head dips into your neck and he pauses his movements. Steve’s nose drags along the gold chain that rests between your collarbones. He props himself up, free hand grazing up your side as your hips roll once slowly, and he lifts the little gold ‘S’ hanging from it. 

“Mine,” he whispers.

You nod, body shivering with the word and the gentle tug he gives the necklace. 

“Yours.”

Lips meet desperately, as your bodies melt together, declarations of devotion spoken between sweet kisses and praise. Steve’s fingers lace with yours as you both climb higher and higher. Gripping each other’s hands, pushed above your head and into the mattress, as planets align, euphoria breaks over you like waves crashing, flames burning hotter, stars exploding, and you finally meet each other where you’ve always been meant to - calling it love. 

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

[constantcrisis19]

Bleeding Out - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I personally headcanon that Ghost has sociopathic traits, which is why he's a bit not good in this fic and I kinda see the dynamic between him and the reader being a "I hate everyone except you" type of deal. If that's your cup of tea (pun intended) then enjoy!

Main Page

Warnings: War, violence, bombs, blood and injury, very heavily implied suicidal intent.

Ghost carefully picked his way through the blackened rubble, avoiding the broken glass and tall flames that swayed in the warm breeze as he jogged by, steadily making his way back to where they’d set up base camp. 

The private that he had secured across his shoulders in a fireman's carry remained quiet despite how dizzy Ghost’s every step had to make him feel. The younger man was clearly concussed, the deep gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes and leaving a subtle trail behind them as Ghost walked. 

From what Ghost could put together from the private’s garbled attempt to explain what had happened, a chunk of concrete had been thrown by the explosion and had hit him directly in the middle of his forehead, knocking him out, which had probably saved his life. 

There were fairly blatant signs that other people had recently been in the area, as evidenced by the copious boot prints covering the fractured ground, so it was obvious that the enemy had assumed that he was dead during their initial sweep through the destruction for any survivors and had left him alone.

Others hadn’t been so lucky.

Ghost’s breaths were slow and even as his eyes scanned over the substantial damage around him, paying particular attention to the more sizable chunks of debris that were big enough for someone to hide behind.

The bomb that had gone off not twenty minutes ago had leveled almost the entire town, leaving behind only carnage. His gloves creaked as his hands tightened on his rifle, a feeling of dread sinking in his gut as he walked through what was essentially a graveyard.

They’d had two teams in the immediate blast range, one having accidentally come across the bomb, the leader only getting a short warning out over comms before a deafening explosion rocked the city. It wasn’t long after that that the gunfire had started, a frantic voice coming over the radio to warn the rest of the teams about the ambush.

Ghost recognized the voice as Bravo team’s leader, the very same group that you’d been assigned to.

Ghost felt something in his chest tighten when -after one last flurry of gunfire- everything had gone eerily quiet, the sound of static the only answer when he tried to get a hold of someone on Bravo team for a sitrep, the dead silence putting him more on edge than any gunshot or explosion ever could. 

"Bravo team, this is Karma in the blind, how copy?" Your voice suddenly broke through the white noise that had taken over the channel, weary and labored. “I repeat, this is Karma, does anyone copy?”

"I read you Karma, what’s your sitrep." Ghost spoke into the radio, pausing his determined march to let the private he had a hold of rest for a few precious minutes. Ghost didn’t feel relief at hearing your voice, that feeling of foreboding he had becoming stronger at how shaky you sounded.

"I got separated from the rest of Bravo team during the ambush and I'm running low on ammo. What's your position, maybe we could link up?" You asked, your breaths coming out heavy in between bouts of talking. It was abundantly clear that you were running on fumes and Ghost nearly shattered the plastic casing on his radio when his grip tightened.

He couldn’t abandon the injured private that he was carrying, no matter how badly he wanted to come to your aid, it was against protocol and wouldn’t be fair to the private.

“Negative.” He barked into the speaker, his helpless frustration making his tone sharp and angry. “I've got a private with me, WIA.” Ghost replied, and you both knew full well what that meant. 

He was heading out of the town in order to reach base camp, which meant that Ghost was traveling in the opposite direction of your position and wouldn’t be able to come back until the private was secured.

"Shit. How bad? Are they gonna make it?" You cursed over the line, but you didn’t sound angry or accusing, you just sounded worried. But not for yourself, all that concern in your voice being solely reserved for the random soldier that Ghost was hauling around, the very one that kept him from running to your side.

And that was just like you, wasn’t it? Painfully altruistic, even at your own expense.

He felt the inane urge to laugh -an angry, bitter sound- but he swallowed the horrible noise down because he knew that it wouldn’t make the shitty situation suddenly change to something a little more palatable. 

The sound of you loading a new mag into your gun sounded over the line, drawing Ghost’s attention back to you, before you spoke. “Ghost? You still with me?”

“Always.” Ghost replied as he began moving again, being careful not to jostle the private as he went, as if his extra caution could possibly make up for his overwhelming desire to just drop him to the ground and leave him for dead. 

If you were suspicious of Ghost for withholding the exact nature of the private’s injuries, you didn’t say, the only sound on comms for a moment being the subtle shift of clothing as you adjusted your position.

"I'll try to hold out as long as I can. Until then, stay frosty, Lt." You finally sighed through the radio, breaking the loaded silence that had descended over the two of you. 

"I'll keep the radio on me. Don't let your guard down." Ghost ordered grimly before the radio clicked off, allowing him to turn his focus back to his surroundings and the person he was carrying as he picked up his pace, returning to the light jog he was at before you’d contacted him. 

He was about ten minutes out from his intended destination when the familiar sound of distant gunfire rang out, the echoing crack of gunshots continuing on for a few minutes before abruptly cutting out, that knot in his chest seizing until he felt his breathing became labored. 

The image of your bleeding, broken body flitted through his mind's eye, taking inspiration from the various gorey scenes from all of Ghost’s missions that he had filed away in the back of his mind, making each new image his memory conjured up worse than the one before.

He could just begin to make out the perimeter of camp when Ghost's radio came to life, white noise filling the oppressive quiet, the soft static somehow more ominous than the previous silence.

Ghost freed one of his hands and snatched up the radio on his shoulder all without once breaking his stride. “This is Ghost, how copy.” 

"Fuck, Ghost. It’s not looking good.” You breathed shakily over the line and Ghost immediately picked up on your distress, cataloging every tiny scrap of information he could glean from just your voice as he ran across the last few meters separating him from the medical tent.

He wondered if you were aware of the small, almost inaudible sounds of pain you were making with every careful breath.

“Head wound, severe concussion.” Ghost barked at the medic that tried to protest against him depositing his cargo onto one of the first empty cots he came across while aggressively pointing at the barely conscious private, watching as the medic took a step away from him at his curt tone, eyes wide as they warily watched him.

He turned his back on the medic and the private he’d hauled to safety, stalking back out of medical. He ignored the painful-looking double takes that the soldiers milling about shot his way as they scrambled out of his warpath. 

He didn’t care about the looks he was getting or that he was making people nervous; his skin felt too tight -like an ill fitting suit- and it made him feel unstable… inhuman.

“Sitrep, now.” Ghost growled at you as he stalked over to the tent where they had set up a supply cache, loading up on grenades, ammo, knives and anything else that he thought would be useful in case he got cornered at any point during his journey. 

“I got pinned down by enemy fire and had to shoot my way out. A lucky bullet took a fucking chunk out of my thigh. I can’t move and I'm pretty sure our little confrontation signaled my position to everything unfriendly within a five mile radius." There was a moment of silence before you continued with a rueful laugh. “And I've only got eight bullets left. What a fucking shit show." You muttered the last bit to yourself, snapping your mag back into place.

"What other weapons do you have?" Ghost asked, already mentally running through several different strategies and contingencies for every plan he came up with as he double checked his gear before marching back out of the tent. 

"A couple knives and two grenades. Though I was saving the explosives for if I was surrounded with no way out. I figured that I could at least take a number of the enemy with me if push comes to shove." There was a tense pause before you audibly swallowed. “I’m not going to let them take me.” You added with a grim determination, more than prepared to use the grenades to keep that exact thing from happening.

"Give me your location." Ghost demanded, his voice low and dangerous as he passed one of the pairs who were assigned with patrolling the perimeter of camp, neither woman daring to stop him.

“Negative, sir.” You responded without hesitation, your bold refusal to comply with a direct order bringing him up short, his dark eyes narrowing as he glowered into the middle distance, watching the plumes of dark smoke from the destroyed town rise up into the sky.

“Private-” Ghost began, his voice holding a thinly veiled threat, but his warning was cut short when you spoke again.

“I'm in the middle of enemy territory. This place is crawling with hostiles, there’s no way-” 

“That changes nothing.” Ghost shouted to be heard over your useless protests, his chest heaving as the radio in his hand creaked threateningly in his fierce grip. 

“It changes everything, Simon! Coming after me at this point is suicide!” You raised your own voice as much as you dared in response to his outburst, still aware of the danger posed by potential enemies in the area, and the uncontrollable anger wound tighter in his chest at the mere implication that he should leave you, his closest friend -someone he couldn’t bare the thought of losing- behind to die.

“The way I see it, you can either give me your location now or I can wander around the warzone until I find you.” Ghost was forced to stop and focus on his ragged breathing in order to rein in his fury when the darkness roiling just beneath his skin bled into his voice. And, once he felt more in control, he continued, his voice ice cold. “Though I feel inclined to warn you that, if you refuse me again, I’m going to make you regret not following a direct order and, mark my words, I will find you.”

There was a long moment that seemed to stretch on for hours, though it had to have been only a few minutes, where all Ghost heard was your breathing. He closed his eyes for a couple, calming seconds and focused on the rhythmic sound as he stared out at the wreckage, using it to ground him as he waited for your reply. 

Though, it honestly didn’t matter what you decided in the end because he was coming after you either way, a location would just make his trek to you that much faster.

"I'm holed up in what I'm pretty sure used to be a gas station on the south side of the town." You begrudgingly replied, every syllable that dripped from your lips laced with fury at Ghost basically forcing your hand. 

“Copy, hold your position” Ghost ordered, his eyes snapping back open before he impatiently input the coordinates you followed up with into his GPS device, letting it load the map before he spoke into the radio. “I’m twenty mikes out.” He gave you a moment to process the information, standing there until he realized that he was wasting the already very little time he still had to get you to.

"And if anything- if I don’t-" Ghost cut himself off as he began to make his way back into the rubble, various scenarios playing out in his head. You bleeding out all alone or -even worse- being found by the enemy and promptly executed, your precious, beautiful mind splattered all over the uneven ground as you stared sightlessly up at the smog-filled sky.

If he let himself think about it for too long, he began to quickly unravel, so he bottled up every emotion except for the ones that would be useful to him as he gave his rifle and gear one last through check.

"Use your grenades if I don't make it.” He finally settled on, his tone grim.

"Affirmative, sir."

[teddyhoneybear]

In a modern AU, Elucien seems like the type of couple to choose a bycicle over a car to help the environment (probably obsessed with recycled or reusable things). Or the one that lives in a van and uses filtered rainwater omg, travelling the world with their cute dog, minding their own business.