#Pope In The Equation

[bruceslatonpite]

example - Wiktionary

example – Wiktionary— Read on en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/example

[insidekatmind]

A Moment of Escape~ Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language.

Afternoon light filtered through the curtains of Pope Heyward's room, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. You were there, lying on the bed, while Pope was sitting at his desk, immersed in his homework. You could feel his frustration growing as time passed and his gaze got lost in the sheets of paper.

“Pope, you need to stop focusing on those equations for a moment,” you urged, moving closer to him. “You need a break.”

“I know, but I have to finish this project by tomorrow. I can't afford to fail,” he replied, without taking his eyes off his books.

“But it's just a plan,” you replied, moving even closer. “There are more important things in life, like… this.” You smiled, trying to distract him from his frenzy.

Pope finally looked up and stared at you with eyes full of indecision. “And what would be so important?”

You moved even closer, now sitting next to him. “A moment of leisure can help you think better. And I can offer you a great way to relax.”

"Really? And how do you intend to do it?” he asked with a smile, the tone of his voice betraying a certain curiosity and naivety that you liked so much.

You stepped closer, your eyes shining with mischief. “Let yourself be surprised.” Then, without further warning, you leaned down and kissed him softly.

His body tensed for a moment, but then gave in to the sweetness of the moment, kissing you back with a passion you had never shared before. The outside world seemed to fade away, and the only sound that filled the room was the beating of your hearts.

You continued to kiss each other as the kiss continued to get hotter as you began to pull down his pants and boxers. Pope's heart began to beat fast as he unconsciously blocked your hands.

"What are you doing?" He said in a whisper as you began to kneel towards his cock and you smiled giving him a kiss on his hands and washed them as he continued to take off his boxer shorts.

“Relax you'll like it” you told him and he nodded.

When you lowered your head and saw how big he was you moaned and started taking him in your hands to wank him up and down, all over his cock touching his balls and he moaned closing his eyes.

“Oh god y/n” he said and you smiled as you continued to jerk him off and see how he closed his eyes and moaned.

You began to take the tip of his cock into your mouth, dragging your tongue along his cock to help pleasure him and he moaned. He reflexively put his hand on your hair to support you and you started sucking his cock hard while holding onto his thigh with one hand while the other was touching his balls.

Moans and praise filled the room as you continued to suck his cock, with a mastery that made Pope feel like he was in heaven.

It was Pope's first blowjob and he could tell that this thing he was feeling was better than anything.

You started sucking him harder as you tried to take all of him, you didn't care if you could choke or gag on his cock, you wanted it all and you loved how Pope was enjoying it.

You were sucking his cock and you were looking into his eyes while he had a hand in your hair while he was trying not to guide your movements, he had his beautiful hair messed up and he had his eyes closed with his mouth half open as he moaned softly so they wouldn't hear by anyone.

You took your mouth off his cock and placed your hand as you called out to him. "Love, open your eyes and see how I'm sucking your cock" you told him repositioning your mouth on his cock as you looked at him and Pope opened his eyes and moaned as he now began to move his hand in your hair as he moved your movements to his liking.

Pope could have come even at that moment just by seeing you on the ground looking at him while you were giving him a blowjob.

“You are so good y/n, you feel so good” He said moaning increasing his thrusts.

Pope was coming and you started to increase your sucking and licking as Pope started to raise his hips to let you get his whole cock in your mouth and you started to gag but you didn't care, you wanted to please Pope and you were succeeding .

Two more strokes and he came in your mouth and you swallowed his cum while licking what came out on his cock and he moaned as he looked at you.

When you pulled away from his cock you were still on your knees trying to catch your breath but you were smiling seeing Pope's blissful expression and how, he was trying to catch his breath too.

You stood up as you positioned yourself on his lap and kissed him softly.

“I hope this helped distract you a little” you told him with feigned innocence and he chuckled softly kissing you softly.

You loved that boy too much.

[princessbrunette]

OUTERBANKS: THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU — THE LORE ♡

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CW: depressing tones, violence, death, blood, gore.

AN: okay, so i don’t really know what this is — but i wanted to open this up as an au i could write drabbles for with reader x character and i decided to write some extensive lore behind the universe i’m creating. i’ve always loved zombie media so i wanted to combine my fav things n create this little au for you guys. this isn’t really a fic but more so an opener to inspire drabble requests n ideas in my inbox, kind of like an experimentation. okay, hope you enjoy !! ౨ৎ

“We got gate one locked down, I repeat Pope— we got gate one locked down. Proceed with opening gate two. Over.”

“Got it, thanks JJ. Over.”

The squealing of mechanics shakes the dusty ground as the old gates begin to slowly slide, squealing as they open up revealing the long forest road up ahead. John B readies himself for a simple supply stake out, headed out alone to check out an old warehouse one of the runners had scoped out a week prior. As he exits the gates, he looks right and then looks left — stepping on the squishy skull of a previously dealt with Infected, its body lulling out from the old rickety grafitti’d sign reading Kitty Hawk.

The world went to shit back in 2020. Some sort of pandemic that had people biting others, their brains overpowered by aggression and hunger for flesh. One day everyone was cleaning up the beaches after Storm Agatha, the next day people were tearing into flesh right infront of your very eyes. At first, the people of the Outerbanks had moved out onto their boats, living out on the water with the occasional supply run. It worked for a while, the infected couldn’t swim so as long as your boat was afloat — you were safe from their bloody unforgiving jaws. However, supplies started to run out pretty fast, and people began to turn on eachother. Hopping boats and pirating until no one was left standing and the water was tainted with blood— the infected gathered on the shore to feast on the bodies slowly being washed up by the tide.

The pogues had found you by week six, your body curled on the pier by the Chateau crying into your hands having lost everyone you’d ever known. You were sure to soon perish— no supplies, no weapons, no food. Life had become bleak, hopeless — until for the first time in your life you’d felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed to the back of your head.

“Who are you and why are you out here?” Kiara barks, a khaki green bandana tied to cover her nose and mouth.

“I’m— i’m just looking for shelter. I don’t have any weapons on me I swear I’m safe, please just —”

“Are you bit?”

“No!”

“Turn around.”

When you slowly turn, you’re met with two female faces, one more familiar than the other. Besides Kiara stands Sarah Cameron— a girl you went to school with. She looks more unsure than Carerra, hand resting on the pocket knife wedging out of the waistband to her denim shorts.

“I don’t think she’s bit Kie… hey, I think I know this girl.”

It was Sarah who had convinced Kiara to bring you back to the Chateau and let you stay. It was also Sarah who got you accustomed, explaining the role everyone played. She was a negotiator, her social ranking in the old world aiding her in communicating with people outside of the barricades they’d made. Kie was in charge of supplies, stock take and recruiting. She decided who was in and who was out. Pope was the brains, did all the mathematical equations to help the group understand their circumstances and chances of survival better. JJ, a fighter — most skilled in dealing with firearms and building bombs, which came in pretty handy when clearing out what was left of Kitty Hawk. John B was their leader, he often came up with the main strategies and stuck his neck out on the line.

Everyone was their own cog in the well oiled machine they’d built to aid them in surviving an apocalypse. It was uncertain what you could bring to the group until you’d mentioned that you’d been studying to be a nurse.

“S’good thing you come in useful ‘cus I was totally gonna suggest we use you as bait. Y’know, cos of the whole doe eyed damsel in distress thing you got goin’ on.” JJ jests with a smirk, and you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you to make sure you knew he was only kidding around.

You became a lot more useful for patching people up once you’d cleared out Kitty Hawk. The pogues and yourself had began to collect a larger group of survivors, creating a small town to live in what once was the behavioural-correctional camp. You’d collected gardeners, seamstresses, doctors — people of all ages looking for shelter and safety to live in the many dormitories the land had to offer. You had the evening shifts, patching up any runners that had return from their time outside of the gates with injuries.

You remember the day Sarah got bit so clearly.

The Twinkie had come barrelling through the gates so fast, the townspeople that protected the entrances barely getting them open in time before the vehicle was speeding in— Kiara and John B ushering the blonde out the doors yelling out for you urgently with devastation in their voices, begging you to amputate the arm she’d been bitten on.

The pogues had gone for what was promised to be a civil meeting with Ward and Rafe Cameron. The two had taken over what was left of Kildare, creating a strong colony in a gated community that Ward had just come into possession of right before the outbreak. They were feared, respected — and they wanted Sarah to return to them.

Of course, the meeting was a set up— and when Sarah had refused to go with them — they opened fire, attracting rogue infected to swarm in on the group. In the chaos, Sarah was bitten — and JJ in a fit of rage had shot Ward Cameron straight through the skull infront of his only son. This started an all out war.

You recall arriving to Sarah, and your heart sinking. It was definitely too late, her eyes blood shot and skin uncharacteristically pale. She was whispering “Its okay.” Over and over. You wasn’t sure if she was convincing you or herself.

Kiara took her out to the forest to put her out of her misery before she got the chance to turn into one of the brainless monsters that had existed outside the gates. She was stronger than you could ever be, holding back her tears as she aims the barrel to the blondes head. You weren’t there, but you heard the gunshot as you were patching up JJ who was skimmed by a bullet. You slept by his side that night without uttering a word about it.

Everyone got a little more serious from that point on. You often stared at the heart with her initials she’d carved into her old bunkbed that now sits empty in her dorm, her things laid out like she was still coming back to collect them one day. John B got a little more stern as a leader, over protective of you as he made it clear he didn’t believe you’d be able to protect yourself out there — banning you from leaving the gates. JJ became a more ferocious fighter, busying himself with target practice out in the forest shooting bullseyes each day to ensure he could quickly take down whoever he needed to. Pope got more reserved, more moody — hanging out by himself infront of maps or in the radio room with Kie trying to find new survivors. Occasionally, just occasionally — the bunch of you would get together and drink round a camp fire. Things would feel normal again, just for one night — the group laughing and telling stories the same way they might have done before the outbreak.

You wondered how long this could last, if there was ever an end to any of this. You also wondered if there was a reason to it all happening, if you were being punished for the way you’d behaved as human beings. Mostly though, on a day to day basis— you wondered when Rafe Cameron would return for his revenge. It was only a matter of time.

[gilsart]

re: doodle requests..... can i pleease have teutonic knigbt s and knights templar 🥺

fun fact: although their purpose was one and shared, the monastic-chivalric orders were often in conflict with each other, although without resorting to weapons.

in 1199 the teutonic knights were equated by the pope with the knights templar, and the white cloak was assigned to both.

however, only in 1220 could the teutonic knights wear it, since the templars protested in front of the pope demanding the exclusivity of the white color.

[disgruntledexplainer]

“Anti-Catholic racism was never a thing!”

My brother in christ, there was once a holiday in the 13 colonies called “Pope’s Day” which equated the Pope to the Anti-Christ.

also prior to the civil war there were roughly 200 books published in america by protestant authors, some of them rather famous, advocating for violence against catholics as a result of the British Catholic Emancipation Act giving irishmen civil rights. many of these involved replacement theory and depicted nuns as sex slaves, because of course horny men can’t help projecting their desires on saintly women. it got so out of hand that they started to be considered a form of pulp fiction.

And in the 1890s 11 italian catholic were lynched at the same time in lousiana for a crime they didn’t commit.

and in the early 20th century one of the primary targets of the ku klux klan were Catholics (along with Jews, Blacks, and Asians), resulting in vandalism and boycotts of business that merely employed even a single catholic employee. their newspapers regularly published articles claiming that the catholics and jews were plotting together to take over the us government.

and when JFK was elected president, a man who could only barely be considered culturally catholic, mainstream american society threw a fit claiming that the Pope was about to take control of the government. which of course he didn’t because that’s not how the government works.

and prejudice against mexican catholics persists to this day. not to mention rumors of the US government sterilizing mexican women crossing the boarder.

in 2020 alone, 172 cases of vandalism against Catholic Churches throughout the US were reported, including at least one stolen tabernacle and a desecrated host. over a protest that WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY RELATED TO THE CHURCH.

and now you yourself are freaking out because the supreme court has catholics in it.

dang brian, both historically illiterate AND racist. and i thought you were “woke”.

[douxbebearchives]

Stories Over 100K Words (N-Z)

Main Masterlist

A-M

*= completed

* Nature V Nurture (M) - Starfish81 / @eatpraylove96

 New Beginnings (T) - kkimberly49 / @kkimberly750

No Life After You (M) - Missschievous

On Stage (M) - KikiOnHiatus

One Shots (M) - MagicInHerMadness

One Shots-Season Five (T) - kkimberly49 / @kkimberly750

Only One (T) - Sahara-hype

Part Of Your World (T) - Da Princes and Me’s

Perfectly Aligned (M) - BritishObssesed

Post-Presidential Love (T) - kkimberly49 / @kkimberly750

Realizing The Dream (M) - A.L. Carrington

Resisting You (K) - lissylou78

Righting Wrongs (M) - Olitz fan 0117

Saving Grace (T) - Da Princes and Me’s 

Scotch & Wine (M) - Parker19

Shattering Expectations (M) - CMW2

Some Other Me (M) - almostfamousoxo / @songbirdstrivestothrive

Someplace Good (M) - Parker19

Something good can work (M) - Poprant

Strangers on a Plane (M) - reneelovesolitz

Thank you Dr Pope (M) - Hydrangeasia

The Candidate (M) - A.L. Carrington

The Constancy of Happiness (M) - BellaDameNoir

** The Fall and Rise of President Grant (T) - kkimberly49 / @kkimberly750

The Game Chose Me (M) - Ivy Amor / @ivymiamor

The Game Plan (M) - mrmswell

The Girl in the White Dress (M) - BritishObsessed

The Hunted (M) - MissHellsing666

The Merger (M) - Sucker4Scandal

The Miracle Maker (M) - kz4valentina

The Paradox Equation (M) - ParadoxEquation

** The Pressure of Cheating Death (M) - igottagetbacktohogwarts

The Right Kind of Madness (M) - almostfamousoxo / @songbirdstrivestothrive

The Summer of Love (M) - joytown18

 The Time of My Life (T) - Da Princes and Me’s 

This Is Vermont (M) - Missschievous

** To Kill A President (M) - fitzgerald1

Trust in Me (M) - Sucker4Scandal

Unexpected Circumstances (M) - PopeAssociates

Unconventional Love (M) - Starfish81

** Unforgettable (M) - Writer Unblocked

** Up Close and Personal (T) - DayDreamLover

* Vision (M) - Hydrangeasia

Walk Away (M) - babycakesbriauna

We Can Figure It Out (M) - Sucker4Scandal

 Weekend Fiancee (M) - anonolitz

Welcome to Las Vegas (M) - sweetness04fj

What Happens Now (T) - kkimberly49

When in Vegas (M) - Missschievous

When It All Falls (M) - Jayismz

When You Least Expect It (M) - Smith39440

With or Without Prejudice (M) - A.L. Carrington

Worth It (M) - Parker19

Yes Mr President, There Is A Santa Claus (T) - Da Prince and Me’s

You Put A Move On My Heart (M) - wild thoughts

You’re All I Need to Get By (M) - MagicInHerMadness

[allieinarden]

An Onion article riffing on Pope Francis’s recently-stated opposition to surrogacy (by the way, breaking news: pope opposed to surrogacy) described Mary as a surrogate used to produce the son of God, and I can’t even bring myself to be too mad about it, given that they accidentally perfectly explained why I can’t get behind a theology in which Mary is a) a variable in the equation that leads to Christ, rather than a hard factor, b) on a temporary term of intimacy with the divine Father of her child that would not preclude her, for instance, having a few kids with Joseph once the Messiah was properly delivered into the world and the necessary obligation fulfilled.

[urmooniee]

Unspoken Feelings - JJ

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

words: around 3k

tw: swear words

taglist

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

It was another lazy summer day on the Outer Banks, and the Pogues had gathered at John B's place. The sun was blazing, and the scent of saltwater hung in the air as the gang kicked back into the living room. John B was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, while Pope and Kiara were engrossed in a debate about advanced mathematics. JJ Maybank sat with a smirk playing on his lips, glancing over at you, Y/N, who was seated on the floor, fiddling with a seashell necklace.

"Y/N, you believe that nonsense Pope's spewing about advanced mathematics?" JJ teased, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You shot him a mock glare. "JJ, you wouldn't know a differential equation from a Sudoku puzzle."

Pope chimed in, grinning. "She makes a valid point, JJ. Math is the language of the universe and can be incredibly fascinating."

JJ rolled his eyes dramatically. "Alright, alright, Ms. Mathematician. I'll take your word for it."

As the day wore on, the group migrated to the beach, and a spontaneous bonfire was set up. The warm glow of the fire danced in JJ's eyes as he stared at the flames, lost in thought. You sat next to him, and there was an unspoken connection between the two of you.

Pope noticed the tension and decided to intervene. "So, JJ, when are you going to make your move on someone special?"

JJ blinked, caught off guard. "What? Who said anything about that?"

Pope grinned knowingly. "Come on, we can all see it."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, but you hid it behind a smile. "I'm on board with Pope. You should go for it."

John B, always the mediator, added his two cents. "Seriously, JJ, you should just go for it. Life's too short to play it safe."

JJ looked at you, his eyes searching for something. "Y/N, what do you think?"

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress your feelings. "I think you should follow your heart."

JJ's gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then he turned to the group. "Alright, guys, I'll take your advice."

The banter continued, and the night wore on. As you all sat around the fire, it became clear that there were unspoken feelings between JJ and the subject of his affections, and between JJ and you. The group's playful teasing had given JJ the push he needed to confront his emotions.

As the night deepened and the bonfire's flames waned, the Pogues remained nestled on the beach, their bonds growing stronger with each passing moment. The evening had deepened their friendships, and unspoken emotions lingered just beneath the surface.

JJ cleared his throat and looked at Kiara. "Kie, could I talk to you for a moment?"

Everyone shared a confused glance at each other, wondering what was going on. Pope and John B exchanged sly smirks and whispered, "Ohh," and "Ohh, damn, that was fast," thinking that JJ was about to confess his feelings to Kiara.

Kiara, equally perplexed, shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure," as she got up, her eyes briefly meeting yours in a puzzled glance.

As JJ and Kiara moved a little farther away from the group, Pope, John B, and you exchanged puzzled glances. It was clear that the two of them were having a private conversation. The night held a promise of unexpected revelations, and the Pogues were about to find out whether their assumptions about JJ and his feelings were correct or if something else entirely was in the air.

Pope raised an eyebrow and quipped, "Well, that was unexpected."

John B chuckled, sharing a knowing look with you. "Yeah, we thought JJ was going to ask you, Y/N."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "What? No way, never. JJ and I are just friends, nothing more than that."

Pope and John B shared a smirk, and Pope replied, "Well, you know what they say, 'friends to lovers' can make for a great story."

John B nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's not uncommon for close friends to discover deeper feelings for each other."

You rolled your eyes playfully, still not convinced. "Guys, trust me, there's nothing like that between us."

The three of you continued to watch JJ and Kiara, curious about the outcome of their conversation. The night was still young, and the Pogues were about to discover what secrets lay beneath the surface of their unspoken feelings. 

As JJ and Kiara rejoined the group, JJ looking slightly flustered and Kiara grinning, the anticipation in the air was palpable. The group had eagerly awaited the outcome of their private conversation.

Pope couldn't resist a sly grin. "So, what's the verdict? Are we in for some dramatic love story?"

JJ sighed and shook his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "No, it's not what you all think. We were just talking about something else."

Kiara chimed in. "Yeah, nothing romantic, I promise."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Pope and John B, who seemed a bit disappointed that their theories hadn't panned out. Nonetheless, you decided to make the most of the night and keep the atmosphere light.

"Alright," you declared, breaking the brief silence. "I'm bored. Should we play truth or dare?"

The group readily agreed, and the night took an unexpected turn. Here are some of the truths and dares that followed:

**Truth:** John B confessed his most embarrassing moment, involving a mishap with a surfboard during a competition.

**Dare:** Pope was dared to serenade a random passerby with a song, leaving everyone in stitches as he attempted to sing a love ballad.

**Truth:** Kiara revealed her biggest fear, which turned out to be spiders, much to everyone's amusement.

**Dare:** JJ had to do a cartwheel on the beach, showing surprising gymnastic skills that drew cheers and applause.

As the game continued, secrets were revealed, and laughter filled the night. 

Later on, Pope, with a mischievous grin, turned to you and asked, "Truth or dare, Y/N?"

You contemplated for a moment and then replied, "Truth."

Pope and John B shared a glance and smiled deviously. Pope, not one to hold back, posed a daring question, "Do you have feelings for someone?"

You looked up, and for a moment, it felt like you had stopped breathing. You hesitated before responding, "Hm... no."

Pope rolled his eyes playfully and said, "Y/N, no lying."

You countered with a hint of defiance, "And how do you know I'm lying?"

"It's obvious, so answer the question, yes or no," Pope insisted.

After a brief pause, you admitted, "Yes. Are you happy now?"

Pope smiled warmly and responded, "Yes, I'm happy."

JJ, who had been observing this exchange with a curious expression, couldn't help but think that there might be something more going on between you and Pope. It seemed like he had missed something important, and the mystery added another layer of intrigue to the night.

"Have I missed something?" JJ asked, pointing at Pope and you, his curiosity piqued.

You and Pope exchanged alarmed glances and quickly blurted out, almost in unison, "Oh God, no!" and "Never in a million years!"

Your fiery refusals startled both Pope and you, making you look at each other in surprise. The tension in the air was palpable as you both stood up, now face to face.

Pope couldn't help but challenge, "What do you mean by 'Oh God, no?'" He stood up and pointed a finger in your direction.

You, not one to back down, retorted, "What do YOU mean by 'Never in a million years?'" You also stood up, mirroring Pope's defiant stance.

John B attempted to get in between the two of you to defuse the escalating situation. "Hey, hey, calm down, guys. Let's not make this a bigger deal than it is."

The bonfire's glow illuminated the charged atmosphere, and the group watched in fascination as the unexpected exchange between you and Pope unfolded, with JJ trying to make sense of what he might have missed.

Amid the tension, John B's voice broke through, trying to keep the peace. "We're all friends here."

JJ, sensing the rising tension, chimed in with a hint of mischief. "Come on, guys, don't be so defensive. If there's something going on, it's okay to admit it."

You and Pope shared another glance, this time more embarrassed, and you both slowly eased down, dropping your confrontational postures.

Pope spoke first, trying to defuse the situation with a wry smile. "JJ, you've got it all wrong. We were just caught off guard by the question, that's all."

You nodded in agreement, "Yeah, just a surprise question. Nothing more."

Kiara, satisfied that the tension was dissipating, suggested with a chuckle. "Well, maybe we can change the topic and continue our game of truth or dare?"

After you had excused yourself and headed home due to exhaustion, Pope, after a few more minutes, followed suit. He discreetly slipped away from the group, leaving the bonfire behind.

JJ couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he noticed your departure and then Pope's. He leaned over to John B and said, "Yeah, definitely not suspicious at all."

John B chuckled and replied, "Well, they must be really tired. Let's not read too much into it."

As the night continued, the remaining Pogues enjoyed the bonfire and shared stories. The departures of you and Pope seemed to be a minor blip in an otherwise enjoyable evening. 

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

After you and Pope had left the bonfire, you walked a bit ahead, feeling Pope's presence behind you. Turning to him, you playfully asked, "You following me now?"

Pope chuckled, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice. "I'm not, even if it looks like it."

He then gently turned you around by your shoulders and continued, "Look, what I tried to do there was—"

But he got interrupted by your response. "I know, Pope. It was just—"

Pope interrupted you, his words pouring out with exasperation, "No, shut up. You don't know anything. I tried to make it obvious that you liked JJ back there so he could make a move. It's so tiring to watch you both having feelings for each other yet being too dumb to make a move. I was just so tired, so I tried to help you out, but I just made a bigger mess."

You blinked, taking in the flood of words. "Damn, that was a lot to take in," you said with a chuckle. "Thank you, Pope, truly. But JJ doesn't have feelings for me. If he did, then he wouldn't talk to Kie after you told him to make a move on his crush."

Pope sighed, realizing that things were more complicated than he had thought. He appreciated your honesty and gave a small nod. "Alright, Y/N, if you say so. But if you ever need help, you know I've got your back."

You smiled, appreciating Pope's concern and friendship. As the two of you walked back to your respective places, the complex web of emotions among the Pogues continued to unfold.

You and Pope walked together, you both knew that your homes were just a short distance apart. The night was calm.

As you approached your respective homes, you turned to Pope and smiled. "Well, Pope, it's time for me to say goodnight. See you around."

Pope returned your smile. "Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well."

With a friendly wave, you parted ways, each heading to your own home. The night in the Outer Banks was quiet.

As you returned home, you settled into your space, feeling the comfort of your familiar surroundings. It was a peaceful moment, and you had just started to unwind when your phone chimed with a message.

You glanced at the screen to see that it was a text from JJ. He was asking if you and Pope were in a relationship. You hesitated for a moment, torn between being honest and your reasons for not discussing it with JJ. In the end, you decided to be truthful, even though it wasn't the most comfortable conversation to have.

With a deep breath, you typed your response, "No, JJ, we're not in a relationship. It's not what you think."

Sending the message, you hoped that your explanation would help clear any misunderstanding, even though the conversation was a bit more complex than you had anticipated. JJ's reply came shortly after.

 He typed, "Okay, thanks for being honest. It's just that things seemed a bit strange tonight, but if it's not what I thought, then that's cool."

You felt a mix of relief and unease as you read his message. It was clear that JJ had sensed something amiss during the evening, and while your response had clarified things, there was still a sense of unspoken tension in the air.

Feeling a need for more honesty, you typed your response to JJ, "But what if we were?"

The question hung in the air, and you knew that it had the potential to change everything. JJ's response was filled with surprise and a hint of confusion. 

"Wait, you mean you and Pope? I didn't see that coming. Are you saying there's something between you two?"

You asked JJ, "Would you be happy if we were in a relationship? Me and Pope?"

The question hung in the air, and the future of your friendships seemed to hang in the balance.

JJ's response was a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. "Wow, this is unexpected. I care about both of you a lot, and if you and Pope were happy together, I'd support it. Our friendship matters to me more than anything."

You replied, "Friendship?!"

JJ, replied with a touch of uncertainty, "Well, I care about both of you, and I don't want anything to ruin our friendship. But I also want you both to be happy."

Feeling the complexity of the situation and JJ's mixed feelings, you couldn't help but express your frustration. You sent a message that read, "JJ, you are so confusing." 

JJ replied with a mix of emotions, "I know, Y/N. This is all complicated, and I'm trying to figure it out too. Let's talk about it in person, okay?"

"Sure, at my place?" you suggested, feeling that a private and comfortable setting would be ideal for the conversation ahead.

JJ agreed with your suggestion, "Yeah, your place works. Let's talk things out."

Five minutes later, you heard a soft knock on your window. Curious, you opened your curtains and were greeted by the sight of JJ standing outside. You couldn't help but smile and, with a hint of amusement, you opened the window.

"Window, really?" you teased. "You could have used the front door."

JJ grinned mischievously. "I'm stealthy, like a ninja."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Yeah, right."

As JJ entered through the window, the two of you settled into a more comfortable setting in your room, sitting on your bed.

With a somewhat forced smile, JJ broke the silence and asked, "So you and Pope?"

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't help but respond with a mixture of disbelief and a hint of frustration. "There's nothing between me and Pope, you idiot," you retorted before playfully slapping the back of his head.

JJ, looking sincere, responded, "Y/N, you can trust me, you know."

Your mind was racing, and you mumbled to yourself, "Pope was right, we both are so dumb." JJ overheard your words and questioned, "Pope said what—"

Before he could finish, you changed the subject, your heart racing. "What did you and Kie talk about?"

JJ, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with his ring, muttered, "Oh, um, well, nothing important."

You couldn't let it go and reached out, placing your finger on JJ's chin to lift it so he could maintain eye contact with you. 

"It's important to me," you emphasized.

Confusion filled JJ's eyes as he asked, "Why?"

Frustration and desire surged within you, and you couldn't hold back any longer. 

"Fuck me, JJ. I like you. My heart beats like crazy every time you're close to me, and it broke me when you thought me and Pope were in a relationship. Do you know why? Because I wanted it to be you, not Pope. Pope is my friend, while you are more than that," you confessed.

JJ was silent, his emotions swirling as he processed your words.

"Shit of course I ruin everything—"

But before you could continue down the path of self-doubt, JJ leaned in, capturing your lips with his own. The room was filled with the intensity of your feelings, and in that moment, words were no longer necessary to express what you both felt.

As your lips met, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the connection between you and JJ. The kiss was a culmination of the unspoken feelings and emotions that had been building for some time.

When the kiss finally broke, you and JJ pulled back slightly, your eyes locked onto each other, the weight of your feelings now out in the open. The room was filled with an electric tension, and both of you were processing the weight of the moment.

JJ's voice was soft and sincere as he said, "Y/N, I... I didn't see that coming. But I can't deny how I feel about you."

With a hopeful smile, you asked, "So is that a sign that you like me back?"

JJ's eyes held a spark of affection as he replied, "More than you know."

au/ TWO CUTIESSS!! also we stan pope for being the cutest friend!

[ven8s]

the power of juno (3) ☆

🌟 juno is an asteroid representing the ancient roman goddess of the same name. she is the wife of jupiter and is equated to the greek goddess hera, who is the queen of the gods.

🌟 i have noticed that people with prominent juno in their natal charts are elevated amongst their peers. there is literal royalty here as well, or people with honorary titles / have played royalty.

🌟 they are all crazily attractive (or were) visually, but regardless of visual beauty, their energy and the way these natives carry themselves is immaculate. they tend to come across as open and welcoming as opposed to intimidating when compared to lilith natives, for example.

🌟 royal / religious natives ⌵

prince william, grace kelly, queen elizabeth ii, pope john paul ii, jesus

🌟 played royalty / characters with royal titles ⌵

cameron diaz (princess fiona), margot robbie (duchess of bayridge), anne hathaway (princess of genovia), catherina zeta jones (catherine the great)

🌟 figures with honorary titles ⌵

aaliyah (princess of r&b), beyoncé (queen bey), jungkook (golden maknae), britney spears (princess of pop), michael jackson (king of pop)

🌟 miscellaneous ⌵

mila kunis, brigitte bardot, chris brown, harry styles, robin williams, fred astaire, elton john, pharrell williams, novak djokovic, david beckham, abraham lincoln, kobe bryant, rafael nadal, rihanna

[wonder-worker]

“Although (Elizabeth of York) was presented as the ultimate Tudor trophy wife, her position and popularity were potential threats to her husband’s authority.” - Lauren Rose Browne

*sigh*

When are we going to move past this dismissive, simplistic and frankly rather problematic image of Elizabeth of York? Derek Neal encapsulates what exactly is so troubling about it far better than I could, which I'm quoting below:

“The first Tudor consort is mainly remembered as a dynastic symbol, one element of an equation: York plus Tudor equals peace. In this interpretation, handed down to us by the Tudor chroniclers via Shakespeare, Elizabeth accomplished her most important work, if not without lifting a finger, merely by proffering a finger for a wedding ring.”

We need to stop defining Elizabeth of York by the basic purpose of her marriage and queenship and begin understanding her through the actual practice of her queenship.*

Because the fact of the matter is, Elizabeth of York was a tremendously successful queen. She was an able intercessor, an active administrator of her lands, and a patroness in her own right. We have evidence that Henry listened to her on matters that people often assume he acted alone or only through his mother's advice. She contributed culturally to the court, including festivities and building projects, and played an active and positive role in queenly diplomacy, including but not limited to her involvement in her sisters’ and children’s marriages, her correspondence with the Pope and foreign rulers, and receiving important ambassadors in her husband’s absence**. She may have some discreet influence in some appointments in the Crown Prince's household. In short, Elizabeth of York excelled in spheres of queenship that were both conventional and powerful, because the two could and did co-exist, because medieval queenship was inherently political and the lines between public and private were blurred to the point of non-existence for queens just as they were for kings. As we can clearly see, Elizabeth was not presented as a “trophy wife” any more than literally any queen consort before or after her; she was, in fact, an evidently active and influential queen who greatly inspired both her daughter and her daughter-in-law's queenships respectively.

Furthermore, Elizabeth of York’s position was not a "threat" to her husband. Why would it be? As J.L. Laynesmith (whose reading of Elizabeth I don't agree with either) says, "Identification with Elizabeth of York's kin aided Henry VII in gaining an entire kingdom." The Croyland Chronicle, a contemporary source, likewise emphasizes her importance in cementing Henry VII's position: in Elizabeth "there could be found whatever appeared to be missing in the king's title elsewhere." Elizabeth of York's position, in fact, bolstered Henry VII's kingship, and this extended far beyond his marriage to her. We must remember that while Henry Tudor was Lancastrian in blood and allegiance, his fight for the throne was very much as a Yorkist claimant - specifically, a claimant for Edwardian Yorkists against Richard III's rule (The events of 1483 were a violent conflict within the Yorkist dynasty, not an external threat against the Yorkist dynasty). You could argue that Henry VII's road to the throne was, effectively, as Edward IV's symbolic heir rather than Henry VI's (who was quite irrelevent to the current conflict, tbh): Henry Tudor was the prospective husband of the Yorkist heiress and the 'avenger' of the dead Yorkist Princes. This was the widely recognized interpretation of contemporaries like Croyland and William Caxton*** and was also how he gained the majority of his new support in England which (without discounting his own initiative, actions and clear competence) were essential to both make him a credible threat and ultimately win Bosworth. He relied on several of her father's former councilors as well, ensuring a great deal of continuity between their reigns. In this context, Elizabeth of York's "position" as the Yorkist heiress, cemented by her formal proclamation as Duchess of York, was not a disadvantage to Henry VII but an indispensable advantage to him. Elizabeth herself was aware of this and played an important role in image politics for the new Tudor dynasty: "Her role as a daughter of the house of York was a major aspect of her identity. Whereas her mother and Margaret of Anjou had adopted emblems personal to them...Elizabeth of York used her father's white rose. Other Yorkist emblems such as the sun in splendour and the falcon and fetterlock were also used in Tudor iconography." As you can see, Elizabeth's contribution went far beyond merely standing at Henry's side with a wedding ring; she was actively involved in cementing the image of the Tudor dynasty in her own right, and was equally invested in doing so. In short: Elizabeth of York's "position" was not a threat to her husband’s rule; it was vital to her husband’s rule. In fact, her unique position was so important that, even years later, post-contemporary Tudor depictions gave her a uniquely equal footing to her husband: for example, in the first pageant of the coronation procession for her granddaughter Elizabeth I, Elizabeth of York was depicted as "a stabilising and legitimising force of the dynasty, and, incredibly, as the equal to her husband" - as Lauren Rose Browne herself writes.

You cannot claim that Henry VII needed Elizabeth of York to bolster his kingship and also claim that he shunted her aside because her position was a threat to his kingship. You cannot claim that Henry VII used Elizabeth of York’s Yorkist heritage to his benefit but also claim that he tried to avoid any implication of her royal inheritance. Those are fundamentally contradictory and make very little sense. You're trying to have your cake and eat it too.

Even more baffling is the idea that Elizabeth of York's "popularity" would have somehow been a threat to her husband's authority. She and Henry lived in a world where queens were meant to embody "the feminine element necessary to legitimate sovereignty", to perform their role as Marian-like intercessors on behalf of their subjects, to engage in appropriate charity and almsgiving, and to provide "models of womanhood for the realms' female subjects"****. If Elizabeth of York was "popular" due to the reaction of crowds gathered to watch her coronation, or because of the gifts she was frequently given by her subjects, or because she was hailed as the "most gracious and best beloved Princesses in the world" after her death, her popularity means that Elizabeth was successful as queen and is an indication of how much her queenship supported and endorsed Henry VII's kingship. A popular queen benefitted the King, not the other way around.*****

(What's especially funny about this traditional interpretation is that the only actual way Elizabeth of York's position and popularity could potentially worry Henry and become a genuine "threat" to his authority is if Elizabeth herself was actively opposed to Henry and was using them against him to undermine his rule (for whatever hypothetical reason). Which would automatically indicate agency on her part and ALSO end up contradicting the "trophy wife" image. So....?)

Enough with the traditional patronizing dismissal of Elizabeth of York. Give her the credit she's due.

*What's particularly silly about hyper-focusing on the point/purpose of Elizabeth of York's marriage (a political alliance and dynastic unification) is that fundamentally, its purpose was ultimately no different from the vast majority of other English royal marriage since the Norman conquest (sans, say, her parents'). Most of them were politically arranged and/or politically motivated, just like Henry and Elizabeth's. It would be ridiculous to judge Isabella of France or Philippa of Hainault's lives and queenships solely based on how politically important their marriages were, right? They obviously had an impact apart from that and beyond that. What exactly is different about Elizabeth of York? Admittedly, her and Henry's situation wasn't exactly the same: he needed her as a potential bride to cement his position as a threat to Richard III and as a King of England; and an English princess becoming an English queen consort was unprecedented at that juncture. But ultimately, there's no reason for why Elizabeth of York's entire life and queenship should be defined and decided on the basis of how and why she married Henry VII. She lived for almost two decades after that. It's more than a little frustrating.

**From what I can make out, so much more evidence has luckily survived for Elizabeth of York's diplomatic activities compared to many of her predecessors, and with far more details. I would literally kill to get similarly detailed evidence for Elizabeth Woodville. So it's certainly strange when Elizabeth of York's role in diplomacy is not emphasized more when it comes to her queenship - especially because it is, ultimately, an expected element of queenship which queens were traditionally meant to excel at. My guess is that it's not highlighted as much because it actually gives Elizabeth agency, which historians often refuse to do.

***Edward IV definitely wasn't the first or only one to claim the red dragon (it was used for/used by many others, and some poets used it for Henry himself in the early 1460s). However, at that point in time in England specifically, it would have very much been Edward IV who was most commonly and universally associated with it; after all, he was the one who won the throne and ruled for more than two decades. Its association with Edward IV is also what would have been the most familiar to Caxton, who established himself in England only in the 1470s, and who was a supporter of Edward IV's family (aka: the Woodvilles) during that time. His support of Henry (who he did not know) during this time would have been through that context as well, rather than loyalty to Henry in his own right.

****Obviously, we can recognize how problematic such inherently gendered expectations are now, but contextualization is important.

*****Elizabeth of York's popularity as queen, at least in the beginning, may have been partly due to the fact that she was English princess who grew up in the public eye, was the daughter of a fairly well-liked king, and the fact that her marriage played a vital role in "uniting" the two rival dynasties. So her circumstances probably played a role in her popularity as well. But we shouldn't discount Elizabeth's own affability and charm, nor her evident generosity, nor the fact that however this popularity emerged, it was Elizabeth who maintained it, and it ultimately signified the success of Elizabeth's queenship and bolstered her husband's kingship.

Sources:

Lauren Rose Browne, "Elizabeth of York: Tudor Trophy Wife", "Tudor and Stuart Consorts: Power, Influence, and Dynasty

Derek Neal, "The Queen's Grace: English Queenship 1464-1503"

J.L. Laynesmith, "The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1545-1503"

Retha M. Warnicke, "Elizabeth of York and her six daughters-in-law: Fashioning Tudor Queenship

[bruceslatonpite]

example - Wiktionary

example – Wiktionary— Read on en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/example

[thelightsandtheroses]

Call It What You Want: Chapter 2 - let me put my lips to something

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader (she’s Tom Davis’ half-sister, however there are no physical descriptions)

Summary: Tom Davis’ younger half-sister never expected to move back to Florida, but eight months after her brother’s untimely death and in the wake of her, in hindsight, ill-advised marriage ending, here she is. Frankie Morales is trying to get it together after his relapse on returning to Florida led to the breakdown of his relationship. His priorities now are finding his own place so he doesn’t need to sleep on Pope’s couch, maintaining sobriety, spending more time with his daughter and getting his pilot’s licence back. So when the two of them end up sharing an apartment, it seems like the ideal solution. However, things are never that simple, are they?

Chapter Warnings: Minors DNI (18+ only), language, discussions of drug abuse and addiction, allusions to a previously abusive relationship (not detailed or specified), discussions of death, PTSD.

Notes – thanks for your patience with this one. The chapter title is from Eat Your Young by Hozier.

Word Count: 4.8 k

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Frankie

Frankie curls his hands around the paper cup, his feet tapping the floor.  He’s been thinking about flying again.

It’s been more than nine months since he flew last and he’s not even sure if he should count Colombia. If the helicopter crashes and everything turns to shit, are those miles you want to log?

If he’d just been firmer, if he’d realised Tom was lost in dollar bills and they were all heading the same way. He was the one who’d been to flight school, he knew the weight was a problem.

He could have stopped it.

He could have been slower to the trigger; he could have done it all differently.

No.

No, this was spiralling. This isn’t healthy. Frankie straightens in his chair, takes a deep breath.

If he was more like Will, he’d probably know exactly what number NA meeting this was now. Whatever number it is, it’s too many.

The meeting finally draws to a close. Finally!

Frankie is not sharing today. He has, in the past, but it’s been carefully selected. Frankie offers a creative reimagining of his relapse that removes all criminal liability from the events of the past year, to protect the people he has left. Besides, how would he even start to explain what had happened to anyone who wasn’t there?

It’s frustrating sometimes. He hears people share about terrible childhoods and difficult upbringings and all these things that somehow don’t legitimatise addiction but explain it.

Frankie Morales grew up with loving, if a little stifling, parents and no deep dark childhood trauma. He supposes the army is where it all started to change.

What a fucking cliche.

Maybe you can never really come back from who they make you. He thinks of Will’s paid speeches, of the way he just owns the fact they’ve been trained to manipulate, assess, take your emotions out of the equation. They don’t die though; they just get locked away and weigh heavier and heavier.

Frankie understands how the meetings help him overall, why they’re important but sometimes they don’t work. Sometimes all they do is make him feel like he shouldn’t be there, or they pull his weaknesses out in front of him like teeth with pliers. It’s bloody, painful, unnecessary. Every one of his ghosts will sit in the room with him on those days, silently judging.

Frankie takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes, and tries to pay attention to the rest of the meeting.

Frankie pushes Gaby on the swing further, waving at Santiago as he approaches.

The meeting this morning was rough, but Frankie’s already feeling better. He has his daughter with him gleefully smiling and laughing in the playground. He has one of his best friends back, things are starting to look up. He’s making it through this.

Santiago walks over, slaps his hand on Frankie’s back. “Oh, I see how it is,” he jokes, casting his eye around the playground which is filled with the usual crowd of mothers and possibly nannies. Like Frankie can tell the difference.  “Hey princesa,” he adds, smiling at Gabby who beams up at him.

“She chose the park,“ Frankie says. 

Santi smirks before asking, ”How’s the apartment working out?”

“It’s good. Glad to have my own bed again, fuck I’m too old to crash on sofas.”

“Tell me about it. Are you getting on okay with Tom’s sister?”

“She has a name.”

“Hey, I like her! Look, Frankie, Molly says she asked questions about what went down with Tom, before she moved out of there so just - be aware of that, okay?”

Rain and storms and too much fucking weight on the helicopter flash through Frankie’s mind. He shouldn’t have listened to Tom; he should have been assertive. That’s always been his problem though, that’s what his dad says, he goes along with the crowd. At school, in the army, with Santi and Tom?

Frankie digs his hands into his pockets. “She hasn’t mentioned shi - anything about it to me, barely mentions Tom actually. I get the sense they weren’t close.”

“Sounds about right. You ever hear Tom talk about her?” Santi scoffs. “Families.”

Frankie looks at his daughter. He thinks of Melissa, how they prioritise Gaby. It hurts, the life he could have had with them and the ideas that died with his relationship. They’re still close to friends though, they look after Gaby. Frankie let both of them down but neither of them have given up on him.

He thinks about what Santi’s just said.  Tom barely ever mentioned his sister, barely ever seemed to even talk to you. It’s weird.

He pushes Gabby on the swing, listens to her happy squeals.

“Can we grab a coffee?” Santi asks, “I’m fu - freaking exhausted.”

“Sure,” Frankie says. He seems to remember the bookstore and coffee shop you work in is a short walk from the park and without thinking about why, he suggests that particular coffee shop rather than the Starbucks down the road. It’s better to support small businesses anyway, right?

It’s different watching you to work to seeing how you are at home. You’re wearing a loose black t-shirt, with a band logo Frankie vaguely recognises but can’t quite place.

When you see the three of them, you smile widely. Frankie’s introduced Gabby to you once when Melissa dropped her off at the apartment. Frankie thinks that she wanted to just verify the apartment was as she hoped, and that she could see Frankie was making the right moves.

He’s trying.

The day after that visit she had texted Frankie to say he could have Gabby overnight there next week if he wanted. He’d spent the rest of his shift beaming and wouldn’t tell anyone why.

You smile at Frankie and Santiago when they walk up to the counter.

Frankie lifts Gabby out of her stroller, balances her on his hip so she can see the counter. Her tiny hands clutch around Frankie’s shoulder and she reaches for Frankie’s cheek.

“Hey guys, and good morning, Gabby,” you say as Gabby giggles and then buries herself in Frankie’s shoulder.

“How’s the bookstore and coffee world?” Santi asks, that wry smile Frankie recognises all too well on his face. His voice is honeyed, his whole face has lit up in a way that Frankie’s watched so many girls fall into blushing giggles over. Frankie’s never quite been able to do that; it’s not that he’s necessarily had issues attracting women, and God that feels arrogant to think, it’s more that of his group of friends, well it’s hard to compete with them sometimes.

“Same as ever,” you say breezily, “Where’d you end up then, the park or the zoo?”

“Gabby chose the park.”

“Atta girl. So, what can I get you?”

“An Americano and then another Americano with one extra shot of coffee, right Frankie, and a-” Santi looks over at Gabby and then Frankie expectantly.

“She’s not even two, Santi, she’s not drinking coffee.”

“Hey, I’ve seen how much coffee you drink, I’m surprised that’s not genetically built into her.“

Frankie laughs, but his hairs stand up on his neck. He’s thought about it a lot already - what if his daughter inherits his addictive personality, how can he do that to her.

“Babycino?” you ask suddenly, breaking him out of his reverie, “I’m guessing she’s too young for hot chocolate?“

“Yeah, yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

“No problem, give me two minutes.”

You turn away and start making the drinks as Santi reaches for Gabby’s hand, smiling at her widely.

“You settling in okay?” Santi asks you as Frankie tries to distract Gabby from the cakes in the display.

“Yeah, things have been good,” you say cheerfully, handing the first coffee to Frankie. “I’m taking it you’re the extra shot, Frankie?”

Frankie nods.

“How much do I owe you?” Frankie asks, placing his cup down so he can reach for his wallet cautiously as Gaby squeezes around his neck. He doesn’t want to disturb her too much, doesn’t want to show how awkward this position is for him.

“It’s fine.”

“No, no, I can -” He can’t take advantage of his roommate like this.

“Eh, roommate and friend discount,” you say casually, handing Santiago his takeaway cup of coffee and Frankie a small cup of steamed milk for Gabby; this must be the babycino, Frankie thinks.

“What about her?” Santiago asks, pointing at Gabby who grins widely from Frankie’s arms.

“Oh, like I could charge her anything,” you reply, smiling back at Gabby and then meeting Frankie’s eyes. “You’ve got a special kid there, Frankie.”

“Don’t I know it,” he replies, kissing Gabby’s forehead. “Say thank you for your - I can’t call this a babycino, seriously. Drink, can you say thank you for your drink, honey?”

His daughter giggles and says her version of thank you. Frankie watches how it makes you smile, how he’s noticed when you it’s genuine, you scrunch your nose.

“We’ve got some new books in that she might enjoy,” you say, “If you want to get any of them, let me know and I can use my staff discount.”

“You’re not offering me a book discount?” Santiago asks.

“I just gave you a free coffee! You can afford to pay full price so I can keep my job. Gabby is too young to have an income.”

“That’s not fair,“ Santiago says.

“Life isn’t,” you say lightly, winking at Frankie and then moving on the next customer.

There’s something about you. It draws him in, makes him want to ask more, know more about you. You seem so light around him, Benny and the others and Frankie knows there’s more to you than that. He can see it.

That’s the thing - you can always see it in others, those matching scars and insecurities. It’s a honing beacon, it’s as visible in a stranger’s eyes sometimes as if you are wearing the same football team shirts. We’re the same, it says.

You’re not though. He knows who he is. Frankie is failure and disappointment and regret, all handily tied together in faded t-shirts and too long hair.

Frankie is why your brother is dead.

Frankie is why the mission failed. Santi needed a pilot, one who would stand up and see if the helicopter was too heavy and not back down, who wouldn’t shoot first.

He can be your friend though, surely?

Santi doesn’t say anything to Frankie until the three of them have left the shop, Gabby clutching a brand new book in her stroller while Frankie pushes her with one hand and drinks coffee with the other.

“You’re in trouble, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Frankie asks, suddenly panicked.

“You like her.”

“I live with her, Pope, it helps to like her.”

“Nah, you know what I mean.” Santi stops and touches Frankie’s arm. “Be careful, hermano, please.”

You

Work has been quieter than usual. You spend your days, idly rearranging book displays and experimenting with the coffee grind and tamping, try and perfect your latte art. Making a good cup of coffee is an art; you must get the grind right, then tamp it with just enough pressure. Steaming milk’s the same; it needs to be the right quality, the right amount of air let in, the right swirling vacuum as the process goes on.

You like the routine now. You like talking to customers and reminding yourself of why you loved books in the first place. Academia taught you a lot, skills you use every day and you’re proud of but overanalysing texts sometimes can make you forget why you loved books in the first place. And yes, perhaps you wish more people were actually buying books in the store, but you’re spending your day surrounded by things you love and that’s a luxury.

And oh, you used to love reading. It was the escape from your parents arguing, from a childhood where you felt like an only lonely child because Tom was older and resented you and didn’t want a sister. At least that’s what you’d assumed over the years.

This new life you’re building in Florida; a new job, new and old friends? It feels right, comfortable even.

So, you don’t even notice when Ella starts trying to set you up with the coffee guy.

And when he asks you out one day, you’re so surprised that he would ask you out, that you find yourself saying yes without even thinking about it.

On paper, he’s everything you would look for surely. He’s passionate about coffee, he’s mentioned books he’s reading idly in conversation, he has a good smile and amazing biceps. So, why not say yes? This is part of building your new life, right?

That’s how you find yourself now, walking back into your apartment after what can only be described as an utter disaster, or at least a complete disappointment.

If this is what dating makes you feel like after a divorce, you don’t want any of it.  Your anxiety has run rampant over the last few hours, along with a deepening and worrying sense that the problem is you.

You’re the one who hadn’t felt the connection after all. You’re the one who held back, who just couldn’t bring up the right feelings like a defective clock.

“Hey,” Frankie says, looking up from the sofa as you walk in. You hadn’t anticipated this - you remembered Benny saying that him and Frankie were hanging out tonight which is why you thought you could get away with just sneaking in and had even scheduled this date for tonight. Crap. This makes it even more humiliating.

“How was Benny?” you ask mildly, shrugging your jacket off and hanging it up.

“Yeah, it was uh-” Frankie pauses, “it was good. He’s training for Friday’s fight, are you coming to that?”

“Yeah, think so.” You walk over closer to the sofa.

Frankie’s staring at you. “Oh god, do I - I look stupid, don’t I?” You self-consciously pull the edge of your dress down, wishing that you’d worn something else instead.

“Not at all,” he says, voice low.

“Thanks,” you say as you walk into the kitchen, “drink?”

“Please. So, how’d it go?” Frankie asks. “I take it you didn’t get dressed up like that just to go hang out with your friends.”

“Hey, I could have.”

Frankie holds his hands up. “No judgement here, sweetheart.”

“It was a date,” you confess finally, “I don’t know. It’s weird. I haven’t had to do small talk for years, I don’t know if I like it.”

“I get that.”

It’s easy with your friends; Danny has known you for a long time, Ella is Ella, Benny and Will just get you and there’s no pressure with either of them, you haven’t known Santiago as well but he’s always consistent. As for Frankie, living with him has been surprisingly easy. He’s calm and even and kind - you like living with him now. It feels more natural than living with your ex-husband ever did.

It strikes you that now you count all four of your brother’s former team as your friends - they were your brother’s first, but now, now you wonder if they might be a little bit yours too.

“So other than the small talk, how’d it go?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, “Hey, how long were you and Melissa together again? I kind of remember her vaguely from Tom’s birthdays and barbecues when I was here.” You hope Frankie will take your oh so subtle subject change without argument.

“Five and a half years. What about you?”

“Me and Melissa?” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Ha-ha, you know what I mean. I seem to remember he was always around - it was a long time, right?”

“Ten years, married for nine of them.”

“What?” Frankie looks at you almost in surprise. “That’s longer than I thought.”

You shrug and take a sip of your drink. “My date sucked,” you say after a moment.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I think there might be something wrong with me?”

“What did that asshole say? What was his name again? Want me to go beat him up?” Frankie asks, a crooked smile on his lips that really shouldn’t be so attractive.

“He didn’t do anything, Frankie, it’s me. I - I should have felt something, right, I mean he was literally gorgeous, right? I should have wanted him.”

When Frankie doesn’t reply, you glare at him and jab his shoulder until he shrugs.

“What are you saying?”

“That I should have wanted to rip his clothes off, but I didn’t though.” This is humiliating. “I mean, shouldn’t there have been butterflies, or even just good old-fashioned lust, or something? Right, there should have been something there? I just felt like we were going through the motions. There was no - I didn’t feel any chemistry.”

Frankie doesn’t reply for a moment and you take the time to really look at him instead. Sometimes when you look at Frankie, you wonder how he’s still single because he’s a good-looking man. In the time you’ve lived the apartment, he’s never been on a date. He hangs out with Santiago, Benny and Will and he does go out to other places, but you’ve never seen him go on a date or bring anyone back. Thankfully. You’re not entirely sure how you would feel about that.

“Look, maybe he just wasn’t your type,” Frankie says after a moment. “You’re being hard on yourself.”

“He was into coffee and he had perfect arms. We liked the same bands. How the hell was he not my type? What is my type but that?”

“Everyone likes Fleetwood Mac.”

“No, they don’t.”

“It was the wrong guy, that’s all. You’ve been single for a while and is this your first date since the break-up, right?”

You nod. “I couldn’t really date at Molly’s and I thought I should wait a while anyway.”

“Exactly so maybe you’ve just got to, I don’t know, see what works, let things flow a bit? When you know, you know. Did you even like him before the date?“

You think about it for a moment and shrug. Ella had encouraged you and if you were honest, you’d just wanted to prove that you were over Nate, over the trauma of that marriage, that this was the new you. Maybe Frankie’s on to something. You should have fancied the guy, but you hadn’t.

Reassurance flushes through your body. You’re not broken, you’re not.

“I don’t think I did fancy him. I thought I should, but no.”

“Yeah, so it would be a shit date. Next time, date a guy you really like, or something. Oh man, look I am really bad at this sort of talk.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Can we pretend I am?” he asks, nudging your arm as you both laugh. “Can we pretend so we never have to discuss this again because I am so out of many comfort zones right now.”

“It’s practice for when Gabby dates.”

“No, because that’s not happening. I’m going to do the whole cliched, polishing my gun on a porch thing, and she’s not gonna date until she’s at least thirty. Plus, if you think I could be intimidating, you should see Mel. Like, no-one has a chance in hell.”

“Uh-huh, sure, Frankie.”

“Dammit.”

You laugh and Frankie shakes his head. ”Hey, I’ve got an episode of our show saved if you want to watch it?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses buttons on the TV remote, sets up the streaming platform and you lean back against the sofa, exhale and finally feel relaxed.

Frankie has an arm over the side of the sofa you’re sitting and before he presses play, he looks over at you.

“I’m glad we did this,” he says, “that we got this apartment. I like living here.”

You feel it then, the slight tightness in your stomach, the unsettled butterflies flitting around.

Oh.

Oh.

This is going to be a disaster.

After your realisation about Frankie, everything feels different. It’s like the world has just shifted slightly off axis but only you know. Frankie is thankfully oblivious and so the next morning, things continue in the steady routine you’ve both formed.

You drop the milk back from your spoon into your cereal bowl as you notice Frankie join you in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“My hero,” you reply, pushing your empty mug towards him for a refill.

He laughs. It’s almost self-deprecating; the way he looks away when you compliment him.

You notice the way his T-shirt rises as he grabs a mug from the top cabinet, you notice the line of hair on his stomach right down to the grey sweatpants he’s wearing.

You can’t do this. You quickly try and remind yourself of all of his annoying habits; he never remembers to leave the toilet seat down, he smokes which is a horrible habit.

He hands you a cup of coffee, made just how you like it. He is not helping you at all.

“Are you working today?”

“Yep, hopefully people will actually come in and want to buy some books today. I had like three people yesterday who asked for recommendations, so I spent time with them, I curated a list.”

“Curated?”

“I curated, Frankie, I curated a perfect list. You know what they did?”

Frankie winces. “I have a nasty feeling.”

“They said they’d order online, Frankie, online!”

“Heathens, monsters, the lot of them.”

“I thought academia was evil when I was in grad school, but this is just sick.”

“So, what happens with that?” Frankie asks, “Weren’t you partway through when you left?”

“I was,” you sigh, looking away from Frankie and taking a large gulp of your coffee. “It’s difficult. I burned a few bridges by leaving like I did, without notice and in the middle of the semester. I mean I was TAing and - I can reapply here, try and find a suitable supervisor, but I don’t know. If I’m honest, I have no idea what to do right now, I like where I’m working at the moment. I’m not even sure who I was doing the PHD for by the time I left. I love literature, but I don’t know if I was still in love with it when I left - am I even making sense, Frankie?”

Frankie nods. “Perfect sense.” For a moment he looks haunted. You get the sense that there are a thousand things in his mind at that mind, swirling behind those deep brown eyes. He looks haunted sometimes, there’s more to him then you know. It doesn’t surprise you because you remember seeing the same thing in Tom over the years.

 He checks his phone and curses. “Sorry, hon, I gotta go to work, see you later?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

You watch him make his way to the bathroom. Oh, you’re screwed.

Apart from the quiet hum of traffic in the distance, all you can hear is the evening birdsong and the start of crickets chirping. You’re sitting on the small balcony of your apartment, a half-drunk glass of wine on the table next to your book.

In New York, there was always so much noise, so much activity. When you moved there it felt overwhelming at first, then comforting somehow.

You prefer this though.

The sliding door opens and you turn to see Frankie behind you, a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Hey, you mind?” He indicates to the empty metal chair opposite you and you shake your head.

He sighs loudly as he exhales, stretches his legs out.

“Long day?”

“The longest,” he says, “Work was flat out and oh- I need this weekend.”

“Hey, some of us have to still work tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, an apologetic smile on his face as he scrunches up his shoulders. He’s wearing a beaten old t-shirt with a faded logo you can’t quite make out and grey sweats. Frankie removes his hat for a moment, revealing unruly curls that he sweeps back before replacing his hat.

“What’s the story with the hat?” you ask, your curiosity finally getting the best of you.

“Why’s there gotta be a story?”

“There’s always a story, like -” you pull at the familiar necklace around your neck. “This was a graduation present from my Mom and I wear it every day.”

“Cute. I don’t know. I guess I got used to wearing a hat after I joined the army. You have the buzz cut and it gets cold, and then I don’t know - I guess it just feels like me now.”

“I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. I mean, your hair is cute without it -”

“You think my hair’s cute?” Frankie looks up at you, his expression almost childlike with wonder but all you can think is how you’ve definitely ruined everything now.

You stand up and immediately grab your wine glass before moving back inside to the safety of the kitchen.

You down the wine and rest both your hands against the edge of the counter, try and take deep breaths.

In for four, hold for four, out for four.

“Hey, hey,” Frankie says from behind you. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t do anything, I should say sorry.”

“Why the hell would you say sorry?”

“I don’t make things awkward.”

“’S not awkward,” Frankie says in a low voice, gently turning you around to face him. “We’re good, right?”

You nod tentatively.

“So you think my hair’s cute, huh?” he teases.

You shake your head and look down, mumbling his name as you place your hand on his shoulder. You notice Frankie’s hand is still on your waist.

“Don’t tease me,” you say.

“I’m not teasing,” Frankie murmurs, “I’m surprised.”

“Why? You’re a good-looking guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t quite sound like he believes it.

“You are.”

He leans in closer to you, his other hand framing your waist now. “You’re beautiful, you know? And smart. I’ve gotta wonder what the hell would you want with me?”

“Frankie,” you say gently, running your hands down in his arms in an effort to reassure him. Is this happening? Is this actually happening?

You can feel the butterflies, feel that warmth of desire and want in your body. You haven’t felt this in years, hadn’t remembered how intoxicating it was to long for someone. Frankie was right, when you know, you know.

Without thinking, you close your eyes and lean in.

“Mmm, this - this is a bad idea, right?” he asks, lips dangerously close to your neck.

“The worst,” you mumble.

He smells like sandalwood shower gel, there’s a hint of tobacco on his clothes and the sharp smell of mint trying to cut through as he moves, his lips just inches from your own.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Nope.”

“It’ll make things complicated.” His fingers lightly trace your collarbone to your shoulder and he leans in closer. You swear you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I’m used to complicated,” you say gently before you meet his lips.

It’s bold, for you, you never initiate, never make the first move normally. It’s only he’s there and you need him.

It’s been months since you were last kissed.

He gently pushes you against the counter, lifts you so you’re sitting on it while never breaking the kiss, deepening it as you open your mouths.

He tastes like hope and promises and new beginnings.

You wrap your legs around his hips, wanting him closer.

“You’re so goddamn pretty,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck to your throat.

“You’re - oh, fuck,” you groan.

“Yeah?” his voice is teasing, lighter than you’ve heard it since you’ve moved in.

“What do we do now?”

Frankie smiles at you, his smile lighter than you’ve ever seen it. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

“I can think of some things.”

“Oh yeah?” He kisses you again, skims his hands down your arm and moves even closer against you. He’s so warm, so solid against you. “Well, we better get started, huh?”

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 11

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455

~~~

"For the record, I think this is a horrible idea, Pope." 

Something about a desperate teenager scaling the wall of a century-old church with rotting wood screamed dangerous to (Y/N). Pope was a geek. A nerd. Someone who could recite mathematical and scientific equations without blinking an eye. Someone who notably sucked at gym class- per JJ's words- and had almost no muscle definition. Pope was lanky and tall and only exercised when he had to run from something or someone. He was no Peter Parker or Miles Morales. He was Pope Heyward, son of a fishmonger. So why the hell had they let him climb up the wall and onto creaking pillars with only minor protesting?

Hitting the side of one of the beams, Pope called down to them with no regard for their worries. "Alright, this one's solid wood. I'm gonna try the other beam."

"Pope, that's rotten as shit right there, okay?" JJ called out to his best friend but his words went in one ear and out the other. Pope moved around the wooden beams, propping himself up and hitting the side of the middle support beam. "I hate to break it to you, but that's just wood."

"It has to be here," Pope muttered and stood, arms wrapped around the beam as he traversed around it.

"Just, watch out for that wasp's nest above your head, Pope! Move slow, alright?" JJ called out again. Pope eyed the nest and set his foot down near the last beam, the wood there proving to be unsteady when a piece of wood fell down near the group on the ground. Pope panted softly and craned his neck, eyes squinting at the last beam when he hit it.

"It's hollow. I need a crowbar." 

"I'll be right back." Sarah sighed and turned on her heels, walking back out toward the cars. (Y/N) rubbed his forehead, feeling the base of his neck start to ache. He glanced back at Sarah when she returned with the crowbar and tossed it up at Pope, a wide proud smile breaking out on her face when he caught it. Pope began chipping away at the side of the beam, bits and pieces of wood falling down. The more he chipped and tore away from the beam, the better look they got at what was inside. 

"Is that..." (Y/N) felt his breath hitch in his throat, the gleam of the setting sun peering through the windows and lighting up the inside of the beam. A golden glitter came from within. Pope tore away a large chunk of wood and there it was. A myth turned reality. The cross of Santo Domingo.

"Oh my god... Oh my god!" Kiara squealed as JJ and John B whooped and hugged each other, jumping up and down in excitement. Sarah laughed and jumped as well, hands shaking and grabbing onto Kiara for support. The blonde spun around and threw her arms around (Y/N), eyes shining with glee. (Y/N) snapped himself out of his shock and laughed breathily, slowly wrapping his arms around Sarah. 

"We did it!" Pope cheered, hacking away at the side of the beam until the cross was fully and completely exposed to them. He shoved his hands up in the air and let out a gleeful cry, attracting the attention of the wasps flying above him. Pope's cry turned from excited to pained as the wasps swarmed and began stinging him. The crowbar fell from his hands and landed on the ground with a clatter, and soon, his foot slipped and the sudden weight shift caused him to fall over, forcing him to cling desperately onto the support beam.

"Cover the ground with something soft!" (Y/N) called, tearing himself away from Sarah and snatching up the cushions on the pews. The Pogues scattered, grabbing anything that looked soft while shoving away the pews and furniture to ensure Pope wouldn't fall on them. 

"I can't hold!" Pope screamed, one hand slipping from the beam. They tossed the cushions down on the floor, pushing them around to make a landing pad of sorts. With one last screech, Pope fell from the beam and landed on the ground with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust. They surrounded Pope immediately, asking questions and checking him for injuries. Pope winced and cracked open his eyes with a small groan, only for his eyes to fly open. He shoved (Y/N) and JJ aside and they looked up, scrambling out of the way as the cross fell onto the ground, breaking through the floor.

"Pope, you okay?!" JJ rushed to his side but Pope waved him off with heavy pants. (Y/N) pushed himself off the floor and got closer, crouching down to look him over. The wasps had gotten him good, covering his neck and hands with stings.

"Give me... a minute to... catch my breath." Pope gasped.

"You did it, Pope." John B whispered and (Y/N) lifted his eyes off Pope to look at the cross. It was big, bigger than all of them. Designs and carvings had been engraved into it with a small square right below the crystal-imbedded center where a key could be inserted. (Y/N) felt dizzy just looking at it. The Pogues fawned over it, hesitantly running their fingers over it as if scared it'd fall apart if they were too rough. (Y/N) felt Pope move and turned to watch him, noticing the stings were forming into large bumps on his skin. One of his eyes appeared nearly swollen shut. (Y/N)'s throat tightened.

"This belongs in a museum." John B breathed.

"Are you kidding me?!" JJ exclaimed, whirling around to look at him. "If we melted her old bones down, we'd be making high billions, dude."

"Hey! It's my ancestors' cross!" Pope shouted, bracing himself against one of the pews and wincing. "This is bigger than money, and the world's gotta know the truth."

"And if we don't get this shit outta here before Limbrey gets here, nobody's gonna know. So, saddle up." 

"Pope, Pope, hold on a second. Are you okay?" (Y/N) stepped in Pope's way before he could stand and attempt to pick up the cross. Pope nodded but then staggered, bringing a hand to his chest and curling his fingers around his shirt. He coughed and collapsed back onto the pew, beginning to gasp for air. (Y/N) froze.

"Pope? Pope! Shit, what's wrong with him?" JJ appeared at (Y/N)'s side and grasped Pope's shoulder, panicked eyes flickering all over his friend.

"He's having an allergic reaction." Kiara mused, bringing a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Shit, Kie's right. The stings are causing a reaction. We need to get him to a hospital-" Pope's eyes suddenly rolled back and he began convulsing. "-right now!" (Y/N) slung one of his arms over his shoulder while John B got his other arm. The girls ran up ahead, opening the church doors and holding them open as they dragged Pope out. JJ lingered behind, attempting to cover up the cross as best as he could. (Y/N) and John B got him to the Carrera truck, laying him back across the backseat. Kiara got in with him, keeping his legs elevated and checking on his pulse.

"W-What do we need?!" JJ asked, his voice high with panic.

"An epi-pen. Where's his epi-pen?" (Y/N) turned to look at the boys but received silence in response. "Why doesn't he have one?!"

"We didn't know he was allergic, b-but I know where to find one!" JJ's face brightened and he got in the driver's seat, quickly turning on the truck. Groaning quietly, (Y/N) got in the passenger seat and watched Sarah and John B get in the back before JJ stepped on the gas and took off down the road, making quick turns and definitely breaking at least a few road laws.

Swerving into a neighborhood, the truck came to a screeching halt in front of a house. JJ flew out of the driver's seat and sprinted up to the front door, knocking rapidly and shouting for help. (Y/N) helped John B and Kiara get Pope out of the backseat, listening to his labored breathing as they took him up the driveway where a shirtless and pantless man swung the door open with a scowl. 

"Ricky, please, he can't breathe!" John B pleaded with the bearded man. Ricky groaned and ran a hand over his face, begrudgingly opening the glass door for them and letting them inside when he saw the state Pope was in. Sarah and Kiara hurried inside, clearing out the man's dining table by knocking over his basket of laundry and any stray clutter. (Y/N) and John B lied Pope across the table and Ricky got a good look at him.

"What's wrong with him?" 

"He's having an allergic reaction to wasp stings and needs an epi-pen right now." (Y/N) explained to Ricky, each gasp for air sending a shot of anxiety down his back. He should've stayed home. If he had, he wouldn't have to steal with drenched clothes and a potentially dying friend. So much for wanting a peaceful year.

"I gotta get my kit." Ricky turned and headed deeper into his house, prompting JJ to quickly follow him and help search for his kit. Sarah and Kiara tried speaking to Pope, attempting to keep him conscious and focused on their voices. (Y/N) stepped back, spotting a fridge in the next room and walking toward it. He opened the freezer and searched it, grabbing the first ice pack he spotted and closing it. 

"What's that for?" John B asked only for (Y/N) to press it against his chest and shove him down onto the couch.

"For you, Routledge. Stay off your damn ankle and keep that pressed against it." He barked and John B clamped his mouth shut, bowing his head and placing the ice pack over his ankle. Kiara cupped Pope's face, eyes beginning to well up with tears as she softly spoke to him. Ricky jogged past them and entered his garage, still searching for his kit. He emerged from the garage with a black backpack in hand and set it down on the table beside Pope's head.

"What do we do now?"

"You don't do anything 'cause you're not a paramedic," Ricky replied and took out a syringe and a small bottle, poking the syringe into the bottle and sucking up the medicine inside. "Here's the thing, I don't have a proper epi-pen on me right now but I have this. This is a pediatric dose of epinephrine. It is ten times a normal dose. So if it doesn't stop his heart, it'll help him. But I gotta use the whole thing, or it won't work and I'm not going down if he dies." 

"Okay! Fine! Do it!" JJ shouted when everyone else stared at Ricky wide-eyed. Oh, (Y/N) should've stayed home. He should've stayed home on his cozy couch. With JJ's permission, Ricky injected the dose into Pope's arm, taking out the needle once done and sighing heavily. Pope remained unresponsive on the table and Kiara began panicking, shouting and cursing at Ricky until Pope suddenly gasped. Pope groaned and sluggishly sat up, muttering about feeling hot and shrugging off his jacket.

"Okay, now we go to the hospital. I'll pay for the bills if you want-"

"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me but we have to get that cross." Pope slid off the table, stumbling past (Y/N) and JJ. He shoved open the door and staggered out, pace quickening as his energy returned to him. Everyone quickly followed after him, attempting to steer him toward calming down but Pope simply whooped, threw his jacket on the ground, and got into the truck. Or more precisely, he got into the driver's seat.

"He's high as shit," Kiara whispered and followed him, getting into the passenger seat. The others followed, having to squeeze in the backseat with JJ basically sprawled out over John B and Sarah's laps.

"Should we be letting him drive?" (Y/N) tentatively asked, feeling the truck lurch forward when Pope stepped on the pedal and began driving. Kiara's worried look didn't ease his concern, especially as night fell over them.

Pope continued to drive as fast as he could, his burst of energy prompting him to act impulsively and recklessly. The truck occasionally swerved from side to side, forcing the four in the backseat to squish together further. JJ's elbow met John B's chest a couple times while his foot stepped on (Y/N)'s calf about every few minutes. Pope even swerved onto the other lane to drive past another car, shouts and screams coming from them when he nearly crashed into an oncoming vehicle. 

"We're not gonna get to the cross if we're dead, Pope!"

"We're not gonna die. It's our divine right to get that cross."

"Pope, look at the road!" John B hollered and Pope suddenly swerved the truck to avoid another collision, forcing the truck to begin spinning out. (Y/N) grabbed onto the assist handle on the ceiling of the car, holding onto it as Sarah fell over his lap and JJ's heel nearly collided with his abdomen. The back of his head hit the seat when the truck crashed, the sound of a window shattering and the airbags expanding filling his ears. He groaned and opened the door, stumbling out of the truck and catching himself before he could fall. Sarah and JJ followed him out, taking a moment to catch their breaths and try to soothe the growing aches in their muscles from whiplash. 

"Kie, one word: totaled." JJ flashed the light from his phone over the front of the car and (Y/N) cringed at the sight, resting his hands on his knees and shakily exhaling. A fully cracked windshield and a crumbled hood. Not to mention the other dents in the truck. Guess he could cross getting into a car accident off the bucket list. (Y/N) straightened up, rolling his aching shoulder and looking over everyone. Nobody appeared injured, aside from some minor bruising.

"My parent's are gonna kill me." Kiara breathed.

"We're gonna have to walk the rest of the way. I'm going to get my cross." Pope stated and began walking down the side of the road. John B followed, stepping in his way and trying to stop him from continuing in his agitated state. The sight of headlights growing closer caught (Y/N)'s attention and he watched the truck drive closer until they drove past the group. (Y/N) made eye contact with the driver and a chill shot down his spine.

Rafe.

"The cross..." (Y/N) whispered, staring after the truck as it drove down the road. "They have it." 

"We gotta get back to the church!"

Forced to sprint the rest of the way back to Freedman's Church, (Y/N)'s legs ached and cried by the time they arrived at the doorstep and entered to find the cross gone. He collapsed on one of the pews and slumped back against it, letting his body rest as JJ angrily rambled. Sarah took a set behind him, equally as exhausted. She leaned her head against his shoulders and closed her eyes, chest heaving and covered in a light layer of sweat. Kiara sat down across from them and buried her face in her hands, breathing slowing down. Pope slowly stepped toward the podium and stood behind it, looking down at one of the things his ancestor created.

"Denmark would've stood right here... preaching to everyone he set free. A slave, the sole survivor of the Royal Merchant,  he got the gold and the cross, and he brought them both to shore and used it to free every person who walked through those doors. He made a church, a family, a congregation... a home. And the Limbreys took everything from him." Pope stepped down from the podium, an air of calm rage to him. "They sicced dogs on his wife and his kids, and when he tried to get her remains, they hung him. Well, I'm done. I'm tired of that shit. That is not how this is gonna end. We need a win, guys. I'm going to get my family's cross."

He walked forward and cracked open the door, pausing to turn his head to look at them. "You guys coming?"

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

The drive back to Tannyhill had one obstacle. Shoupe had pulled the van over when they neared the crash and forced Kiara to go with them and return home to her parents or else he'd bring them down to the station for fleeing the scene of an accident. Despite leaving them with a deep frown and a heavy heart, Kiara gave them her blessing to continue on without her. So they did and arrived at the Cameron Residence well into the night. 

"Stay low, stay low," Pope whispered to them as they got out of the Twinkie and crept up to the stone fence, seeing the truck from before pulling into the driveway. Rafe got out of the truck and swept his gaze over the front yard before stepping inside the mansion. "How much you want to bet Rafe's got the cross inside there right now?"

"Only one way to find out," Sarah decided and stepped away from the fence. She didn't look back as she began walking toward the gate leading up to her house, to a possible trap. (Y/N)'s feet followed her before he could think twice about it and his hand caught her wrist, brows knitted together in worry when she turned around to face him. 

"Rafe's in there, Sarah-"

"I know. It's why I have to do this. I need to do this." She told him softly and placed her hand gently over his, fingers curling around his and affectionately squeezing. (Y/N)'s lips pressed together, eyes flickering between hers. Sarah's lips parted and she inched forward, head tilting upward to stare him directly in the eye. She went to speak but before a single word could leave her mouth, John B suddenly shoved himself between them, forcing (Y/N) to step back and blink. Sarah's jaw clenched at the sight of him.

"What is it?" She asked, a hint of irritation laced in her voice at his interruption. 

"I need to talk to you." He pleaded softly, staring into her eyes as she had done to (Y/N). 

"About?"

"Us." (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

"Us?" Her brows rose in disbelief. "Really? You want to have this conversation now? John B, now's not the time-"

"No, no, look, Sarah. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." John B croaked and reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn piece of string and offering it back to her. Sarah looked down at it, letting him drop it in her palm and curl her fingers into a fist. He held her hand in his, thumb running over her knuckles. He lifted his other hand toward her face and cupped her cheek, eyes trailing down to her lips. He slowly began leaning forward.

"John B, no, not now." Sarah leaned back and pressed her hands against his chest, gently pushing him back. JJ and Pope hissed quietly in the distance and (Y/N) nearly snorted at the dejected look on John B's face. Sarah's tongue darted out between her lips and she sighed quietly, wrapping the string around her wrist and giving John B a tight-lipped smile. 

"Sarah, I-"

"I don't know what I want right now, John B. You hurt me. You weren't there for me, after everything I did for you. I-I care about you. But I don't know if I want there to be an 'us' again. Not when there are... others." John B's shoulders sagged and his head turned to (Y/N) with a fierce glare. Sarah gently took his chin and turned his head back toward her. His gaze softened again. "Now's not the time. Pope needs our help. We'll talk about this later." 

"But-"

"Later." Sarah turned around and walked away from them, slipping past the gate and heading up the driveway. John B's jaw clenched, hands turning into fists and he turned his body to face (Y/N). He shoved an accusatory finger into (Y/N)'s chest.

"If you weren't here-" (Y/N) brought his foot back then forward, kicking John B's ankle with the front of his sneaker and making him reel over in pain. He clamped a hand around John B's mouth before the teen could yelp and kept his hand pressed firmly against him as he dragged him back over to Pope and JJ. Both boys had their brows raised, staring at the withering John B. 

"You learn a thing or two hanging around Rafe and Topper." (Y/N) mumbled and peered over the fence to check on Sarah, finally releasing the Pogue. John B crumbled against the fence, cupping his ankle and whimpering quietly. JJ and Pope exchanged glances and joined (Y/N) back up against the fence. Sarah approached the truck and looked inside, presumably searching for the keys but coming up short. She turned around and motioned toward the house, raising one hand to motion for them to stay behind. 

"No, no, don't go inside!" Pope shook his head rapidly but Sarah merely turned and walked right into the house. Cursing under his breath, Pope and JJ braced themselves to go over the fence in support but (Y/N) spotted headlights going toward them and yanked the two back down. A golf cart rolled up, horn beeping and a gun cocking. Shit. (Y/N) swallowed and walked forward, staying in front of the Pogues and putting on his best smile.

"Mr. Sumner! Is that you? I hardly recognized you! Is that a new coat?"

"(Y/N)?" The old man lowered his shotgun and adjusted his glasses, stepping out of his golf cart and squinting at him. A smile suddenly broke out on his face, realization settling on his features. Looking down at his coat, he nodded. "Why, yes it is. Martha got it for our anniversary, ain't that nice?"

"Going on forty years, right?" 

"I didn't expect you to remember!" Mr. Sumner laughed heartily and nodded, running a wrinkled hand over his new coat. 

"How couldn't I? Mrs. Sumner mentions you every time she brings around that lovely meatloaf of hers. Always talkin' about how good of a husband you are. She loves you a whole lot."

"Yeah, that sounds like my Martha. Such a sweetheart she is." Mr. Sumner chuckled sheepishly and adjusted his glasses again to peer over (Y/N)'s shoulder. "And, uh, who might these fellas be? I couldn't help but notice they looked awfully suspicious tryin' to climb over the fence."

"Oh, these guys?" (Y/N) turned his head to look at them. The three of them put on polite smiles for the old man, glancing helplessly at (Y/N) and huddling closely together. "Well, this guy is Booker. He had an accident the other day and hurt his foot real bad but he's such a hardworking guy that he came right over to help the Camerons' with, uh-"

"Mr. Cameron's memorial, sir." JJ piped up, taking off his baseball cap and holding it to his chest. He walked forward and stood beside (Y/N), forcing his voice to tremble as he spoke. "You see, we were his yard workers, sir. While everyone else looks at us and just sees three delinquents from the Cut, Mr. Cameron saw potential. He trusted us to do his yard work, sir. He-He was such a good man to us. He really tried to help us young men from the Cut stay off the streets. He said he saw himself in us." 

Forget being a motivational speaker, JJ should work toward being an actor. (Y/N) stared at the blonde as he went on, speaking about Ward Cameron with enough passion and heartache to make anyone believe he knew the man personally. JJ conjured a whole story from nothing and Mr. Sumner ate up every single word that came out of his mouth, even growing teary-eyed one time. (Y/N) wordlessly nodded along to his tale, backing up every lie JJ told the poor old man until he finished, wrapping it up with a perfect little bow. "-But don't worry, sir. The Knight of the Rhododendron lives on in all of us. It's why we planted those flowers in his honor. Don't you smell it?"

Mr. Sumner took a whiff of the air. "What is that, night-blooming jasmine?"

"No, that's more like, uhm... natural Viagra," JJ answered and (Y/N) cleared his throat loudly when Mr. Sumner's eyes widened. He stepped forward and gently took the older man by the arm, leading him back to his golf cart as Pope quietly scolded JJ for choosing Viagra of all things. Mr. Sumner sat down and placed his shotgun beside him.

"Martha must be worried about you, now, Mr. Sumner. If you'd like, tomorrow morning, I'll come by and drop off these fine gentlemen's business cards, alright?" 

"See that you do, will you, son? I'd like to see if I can get some of those flowers planted in the garden." 

"Right, of course, Mr. Sumner." (Y/N) forced another polite smile and patted his shoulder, taking a step back and waving as Mr. Sumner drove off. Once he turned the corner, (Y/N) spun around to face JJ and gave him a deadpan look that JJ snickered at.

"What? It worked!"

"Yeah, uh-huh." 

The four of them hoisted themselves over the fence and landed quietly on the other side, although John B's ankle buckled underneath him and he was forced to clutch the wall for support momentarily. They crept through the front yard and ducked down behind some bushes when Rafe came out of the house with no sign of Sarah in tow. (Y/N) kept his attention on the front doors, waiting to see Sarah attempting to sneak out while JJ and John B went back and forth. Pope suddenly took off, chasing after the truck going down the driveway and jumping up, getting a hold of the side of it and clinging on.

"The hell was that?" 

"No idea. But with Rafe gone-"

"Guys." (Y/N) roughly tugged on JJ's shoulder, eyes focused on Rose and Wheezie as they took out a limp Sarah and brought her to a black car. Rose got her in the back of the car, likely spouting some lies at Wheezie to get her help. "She's drugged..." (Y/N) concluded and backed up, watching the car head down the driveway and onto the street.

"Come on, let's get to the Twinkie, man!" JJ shouted, rushing down the driveway with (Y/N) and John B in tow and running out onto the street toward the van. They quickly climbed in and John B turned the van around, driving after Rose's car. The pursuit went well into the early morning, reaching the wharf just in time for the van to sputter and roll over to the side of the road. (Y/N) opened the door and hopped out, looking over the fence surrounding the wharf. 

"What's our best bet?" John B asked, eyeing the security guard.

"I say we rush him. Three against one-"

"Or we wait for another cargo truck to come by to drop off its shipment and use it as cover." (Y/N) proposed and JJ pursed his lips, nodding. He shook his head and looked back down the road, waiting for a semi-truck to undoubtedly head inside the wharf. Luckily, they only had to wait a couple of minutes before a large red truck drove by. They ran up behind it and headed down the opposite side of where the guard was, successfully sneaking into the wharf undetected and hiding behind some large equipment. 

"Shit, wait. The Coastal Venture. I know that ship. My dad did legs on her last summer. It's a total tramp steamer. I worked on her in port." JJ told them, pointing to the massive blue and red ship waiting at the dock. 

"And there's the truck and Rose's car." (Y/N) pointed the two vehicles out. They were parked alongside the ship with a large wooden box sitting beside the truck, conveniently the same size as the cross. The workers got it strapped and it was hoisted into the air before being lowered down onto the ship. Rose got out of her car next, opening the back door for a worker who pulled Sarah out of the back seat and escorted her onto the ship with Rose. 

"Howdy." The three flinched and turned around to face the last two Pogues. Pope looked battered and bruised, dried mud clinging onto his face and clothes. A grin spread across Kiara's face, a soft snort escaping her. "You looked scared as shit."

"How'd you even find us?"

"Geo-located your phone," Kiara answered JJ and stood beside (Y/N), looking out at the ship. "We gotta get on that boat, huh?"

"But first we gotta get past the goon squad," JJ murmured, nodding to the side and creeping forward. (Y/N) and Kiara followed, only pausing and looking back when Pope turned in the other direction.

"I've got an idea. Trust me, okay? I'll meet up with you guys." He assured John B before disappearing behind some equipment. (Y/N) turned back to Kiara and JJ only to flinch and duck when an explosion sounded off and Pope hurriedly ran back toward them. Workers immediately ran toward the explosion, giving them time to find access to the ship. Pope coughed and crouched down beside them, pointing out a white container.

"That container's going on the ship. We can get in that way." Pope told them and stood back up, leading them toward the container and climbing inside. John B followed him in, walking further into the container and disappearing behind the cargo. (Y/N) swallowed, staring into the container. The chances of them getting back out without consequences were low, especially if they were dealing with the Camerons. Kiara's fists clenched and unclenched, eyeing the container as well. 

JJ stepped forward, taking Pope's hand and getting up into the container. He turned and smiled down at them reassuringly, extending his hand out toward them. "Nothing to lose?"

"Nothing to lose," Kiara repeated under her breath and took JJ's hand, pulling herself up into the container and heading in deeper. JJ watched her go before offering his hand to (Y/N), quirking a brow. (Y/N) licked his lips and inhaled deeply, lifting his head to meet JJ's eyes. His mind screamed at him to reject the offer and stay behind, to stay on land where he'd be safe. But the Pogues were his friends and Sarah needed him. Nodding to JJ, he took his hand.

"Nothing to lose."

[redlyriumidol]

im gonna be real i think it's kind of silly to equate aveline being a city guard in a fantasy story to like... a real life cop, particularly when this is used as evidence of how problematic she is or whatever. but i hope everyone is also doing that for the templar characters and their real life parallels. or the characters who become the pope. or the characters who are monarchs. or the military characters. or

[watchyourbuck]

wip game + tidbit tuesday

(cuz I’m a menace lmao and I can’t do two posts) tagged by @wildlife4life @housewifebuck @theotherluciferr @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @forthewolves @911-on-abc @eddiediaztho your works make me so excited!!💗

The castle burst in chaos, with servants running from one side to the other indiscreetly, desperate to be useful. The procession and welcoming of the royals was going to be glorious, worthy of the Pope, and it had been everything anyone could talk about since the king gave the order earlier that morning. A lot to do, too little time.

To be fair, the preparations had been paid for many weeks in advance, but nothing set off perfectionists like a royal announcement, so the atmosphere had become unbearable.

Prince Edmundo seemed to be the only piece missing from the equation, deliberately taking his time in getting dressed, excusing himself in the lack of available servants. Not that any servants had touched him at all since he was seventeen, but his father didn’t need to know that.

I think it’s quite obvious which wip this is from shdjdjdj but to be fair I’m obsessed with it so pls bear with me🏃🏽‍♀️🤪

Tags!! @lover-of-mine @cowboydiazes @eddie---diaz @giddyupbuck @911onabc @firemedicdiaz @eowon @thosetwofirefighters @thewolvesof1998 @alyxmastershipper @honestlydarkprincess @fionaswhvre @fatedking @try-set-me-on-fire (and anyone else who’d like to share💓)

tags for readers! @clairelejohnson @dancerfourlife98 @mattsire @butraura @made-ofmemories @juliaor @idealuk @your-catfish-friend ✨

[gentil-minou]

I hate a lot of things about ai generated everything right now like it's disgrace to creativity and humanity and its insult to the trials and tribulations of the creative process but I think the worst and absolute worst thing is how it's made it so easy to put a real person's face on anything and make them do whatever

Like yeah "haha deepfakes so funny haha" no are you kidding me???? That's horrifying. "LOL the pope in a puffy jacket he'd never wear slay queen" LIKE NO ARE YOU KIDDING STOP

It takes consent completely out of the equation. It's puts people in such disgusting situations. Its not just keanu reeves doing stupid shit on tiktok. It means celebrities being put in sexual positions theyd never consent to and god what's next some disgusting portrayal of them doing even worse? I tried to imagine it and I dont want to cause it makes me so sick to my stomach like god the thought that someone can find old pics of me and put me in some situation I didn't consent to is actually the closest life has ever been to a horror film and yet people are laughing and making it a meme this feels like the worst black mirror episode or Jordan peele's next film this cannot be our reality.