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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of��When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

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hopefulromances · 1 year ago

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Dude first of can I say I bloody love your writing second of all I just read that piece of reader and Jamie watching finding nemo and I had an idea. What if Jamie is watching when Harry met Sally for movie night with the team and it literally gives him the biggest mindblown lightbulb moment that he’s in love with the reader aka his best friend of over 10 years. The ending of it always makes me cry.

This is crazy did you read my other drabble where Jamie and reader watch when Harry Met Sally (I love that movie) But I LOVE THIS idea.

The boys filed into the rec room, the chairs already set up for the boys to be able to watch whatever movie Ted picked out for tonight. You were in there, finishing setting up the projector cause lord knows that if you didn't do it Ted would never be able to figure it out.

"And there!" You finished, throwing your hands up in success. "All you have to do is press play."

"Well, now, thank you (Y/N), you've been a big help," Ted grinned. "Alright now, folks! Let's file in, get your seat we're gonna get started soon!"

"(Y/N)!" Jamie called over to you. You looked over at him and smiled and Jamie's heart about stopped. Sure he was in love with you. You were brilliant. But it wasn't like he would ever say anything and ruin the friendship you had. "Over here."

"Sorry, Jamie, I got work to do, won't be able to stay tonight," you told him walking towards the door. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

You walked out of the door. Some of the team pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as they walked by. Was it really that. obvious? How could you not see it?

Jamie elected to slump down next to Sam and Isaac instead, unable to keep the pout off his face.

"It is alright, Jamie," Sam comforted, nudging him. "She's just busy tonight."

"Yeah! Anyone with eyes can see she's into you," Isaac agreed.

"Thanks, lads, but I think it's hopeless," Jamie grumbled.

"Alright, greyhounds, now!" Ted clapped his hands getting the attention up at the front. "Tonight we're watching a movie about friendship, and love, and how friendship and love walk a very dangerous line. But all you need is that one push to spill your guts."

"Fucks sake," Jamie muttered, adjusting his seat.

"And without further ado, When Harry met Sally!" Ted scurried out from in front of the projector. Jamie rolled his eyes and settled in for another rom com that he didn't enjoy because all he could think about is (Y/N),

But what surprised him was how great the movie was. The writing, the flirting, it was all so comparable to his own life. By the end of it, he was leaning forward in his seat as Billy Crystal rushed down the streets of New York to find Meg Ryan.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jamie felt him mind racing as he listened to that line. He thought about you and the butterflies that followed him around whenever you were near. The smile that lit up the room. The laugh that could save lives. He wanted to be with you and he wanted to be with you right now.

Just as the lights turned on, Jamie shot up out of his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the boys cheered as he did.

Ted turned to Beard. "I reckon you owe me 10 pounds."

Meanwhile, Jamie was rushing to your room. When he arrived, he knocked fiercely on the door, not letting up until you opened it.

"Jamie? What on earth-"

"I love you," he blurted out. You eyes widened, trying to take in what he was saying. "I love you. Like I love the way you smile, I love the way you talk, I love the way you always seem to know what I want for lunch even though I don't know what I want for lunch."

"Jamie wha-"

"I love you," He repeated. "You know my hair dye brand, you know that I like the temperature in my house to be 18 degrees. Not 20, not 15, 18 degrees. I love you (Y/N)."

You were speechless. You couldn't form a thought into a word if you wanted to. You just looked back and forth between Jamie's eyes trying to decipher if this was a joke.

"(Y/N), I love you and when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you-"

"Want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible..." You finished the quote, smiling softly.

"I know this is sudden, and whatever, but I just... I need you to know."

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me now?"

"God, yes."

And he did. He kissed you. He kissed you quite a lot actually.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #drabble night #drabble #fluff

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miindfucked · 11 months ago

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benedict bridgerton fic rec

nsfw fics are marked with🔞. all work has been credited to their respective authors.

It Had To Be You by @fayes-fics

Summary: Modern AU romcom. A love story heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, (ongoing)

Whatever the Poets Say by @pagesfromthevoid

Teaser: “What if I wanted to wait for you, Benedict?” She repeated, finally using his name. The way it felt on her tongue was almost sinful; but she loved it. “What if I am willing to walk to the ends of the earth and back, simply to see if you could love me?”

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen🔞, eighteen🔞, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two🔞, epilogue.

Foolish Endeavor by @murdockparker

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was certainly no fool. Bad at cards, sure, a bit taller than most, that was a given, but he was seldom called a fool. Though, one could argue that falling for your best friend was a foolish endeavor, indeed.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven🔞, (ongoing)

Somewhere Only We Know by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Five hours of snowfall, four miles from the nearest paved road, three weeks before Christmas, two old friends and one bed….

From A Father To A Son by @thebabblingbrookenook

Summary: Benedict has held his father’s words close to his heart for his entire life. The model of love that his parents provided set an uncompromising standard. All of the pieces to the puzzle didn’t fully align until he fell in love with you. Although his father is gone, Benedict gets to experience the love of his life through the lens of his father’s parting sage wisdom.

(Be)Longing by @fayes-fics

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

This Is My Idea by @theship-thewalrus

Summary: based on the song 'this is my idea' from The Swan Princess

This Book Is Dedicated To... by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. Benedict helps cure some writer's block.

to be loved and to be in love by @desertno3

Summary: You had been best friends with Benedict for as long as you can remember, your relationship forged during the years your mothers were preoccupied with the youngest children and your fathers were busy instilling leadership qualities in the eldest children. It seemed to be a perfect match for a future marriage, or so everyone had thought. However, your first season had come and gone and Benedict had not been as active a participant as his mother had hoped he would be. You had left London betrothed to someone else and that was that. But news about your disastrous betrothal reaches Aubrey Hall in the spring. And it changes everything.

When The World Is Free by @fayes-fics

Sypnosis: It is late summer 1939, when you arrive in Paris from New York to begin a year of adventure. A deal struck with your parents to see a little of the world before settling down and marrying your ‘childhood sweetheart’ Stanley.

You soon find yourself with a spirited young English housemate Eloise, enjoying all that the cosmopolitan European city has to offer…. Until a few weeks later when war is declared. In this newly uncertain world, Eloise’s mother dispatches her brother to bring her home. Your plan is to board a ship back to America… but circumstances conspire to leave you possibly trapped in France with no way home. Eloise refuses to leave the country without you, even as you secretly grow attached to her beguiling brother, Benedict, who is everything Stanley is not.

There appears to be only one solution to your dilemma to ensure safe passage out of the country as invasion seems imminent… but it will mean your life is forever changed, even when the world is free again.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, (ongoing)

Innuendo Bingo by @fayes-fics

Summary: Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms…

Truth or Dare by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. A drunken game of Truth or Dare leads to an interesting development.

Rhythm by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. Filthy talking and dancing with Benedict.

All The Love (Under a Mistletoe) by @seasonsbloom

Summary: modern!au. you have been in love with your best friend's older brother for years. on Christmas eve, things finally come to a head.

Summer Nights by @murdockparker

Summary: Benedict was born to be a father, she was sure of it.

Waking Up by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. What is the best way to be woken up…?

In the Oven by @murdockparker 🔞

Summary: She was never all that good at baking, so perhaps a bit of assistance from her husband would be a sufficient help?

Inspiration by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict just needs a little inspiration to complete his artwork.

Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict's wife gives him the best possible birthday gift.

Transitions by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU, friends to lovers, it’s very distracting when a Bridgerton becomes a triathlete…

Breaking and Fixing by @fayes-fics

Summary: Benedict’s wife likes to fix things (and break them).

Mine by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict's wife gets lots of male attention at a party and he gets very jealous.

A Treat by @fayes-fics 🔞

Prompt: “don’t be shy; come sit on my face, love.”

Acting Up by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Your husband Benedict gives you a treat during a Bridgerton family dinner.

Sonnet #29 by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Your husband Benedict and you have a late night tryst in the billiards room of Bridgerton House.

Lightening & Lilies by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Simply put, greenhouse sex during a thunderstorm.

Tell me (all the ways you missed me) by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Having been apart for 3 weeks, you share an eventful carriage ride.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fic rec #farzana's recs

78 notes · View notes

heartthrobin · 1 year ago

Text

making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

comment and repost if you enjoyed <3

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

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dramioneasks · 3 months ago

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Do you have recommendations for a cozy rainy day? I love the atmosphere in Out of Mind by galfoy. Some sweet tender moments, angst and a small mystery!

baby classes and reconnecting with old enemies - riddikulus_puff - T, one-shot - It has been twenty-five years since the end of the Second Wizarding War and it seemed as though everyone had moved on with their lives. Many of the students who had fought in the war had moved to the countryside or even across the sea to somewhere they could be aware of the trauma they had experienced. Draco Malfoy was haunting Malfoy Manor, the cries of his five-month-old son echoing throughout the corridors as the two boys mourned the loss of their late mother and wife, Astoria Greengrass, who had died five months ago in childbirth. He avoided everyone until Pansy forced him out of the house and made him attend baby classes that were happening in the local library with other parents and their children. This was where he was reconnected with Hermione Granger, learning that she too had a five-month-old and was also mourning the loss of their partner. A one-shot for the 2023 Twenty-Five Years Later Fic Fest.

To All the Wizards I’ve Loved Before - takenbytheview - M, 7 chapters - “What if—” Malfoy begins, twisting his signet ring with the forefinger and thumb of his other hand. “What if you didn’t tell him?” “What?” “What if we let people think we were actually together? Just for a little while. Not just the Weasel. Everybody.” A Dramione Eighth Year adaptation of Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.

Lovefool - WillowingScribe - E, 12 chapters - Draco gets doomed by the Ministry to live without his magic for a year. Hermione, tasked to chauffeur the proud but now magically-impotent wizard to a small cottage in the middle of nowhere, never imagined she would be responsible for teaching her former nemesis how to use a toaster. Neither of them would’ve thought that through their forced collaboration they would learn to appreciate each other beyond their wildest imagination. OR A decade spanning love story inspired by When Harry Met Sally but with a much heavier dash of spice.

Jamais Vu - CosmicCthulhu - M, 15 chapters, Words: 123,328 - After a fall (from the world’s smallest step-ladder, mind you) Draco lost his memories, and all he can remember was his life as a teenager in the middle of a war. It was certainly going to be hard to adapt to this new life he knew nothing about – especially considering that he was married to Hermione Granger, of all people.

The Malfoy Mystery - kkavyaa - G, 23 chapters - One day, Draco felt himself changing. No, not like puberty, but something else. He discovers things about himself that his family has hidden since his birth. His family, his entire life had been a hoax. He has trouble accepting this reality and has to balance this as he attends his last year at Hogwarts after the defeat of you-know-who.

-Lisa

#anonymous #angst #mystery

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 1 year ago

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hii do you have any fics where kurt has to fight for / woo blaine after a fight/breakup/conflict ?

HI - we have so many great reconciliation or reunion fics that have been written. I can't always remember which are Kurt trying to woo back Blaine, but here are some examples which I hope are what you are looking for. ~Jen

Passed down like folk songs by dizzywhizz

A story of Kurt growing up, meeting his best friend and losing him and finding him again, discovering himself in the process.

~~~~~

A Song For Cordelia by MelissaMotown [PDF] [EPUB]

Kurt never called Blaine after the break up, despite Isabelle’s advice. It was not out of spite, or because he didn’t believe she was right, but because his heart didn’t know how to forgive. Five years later, when their paths cross once more, Kurt and Blaine decides to be friends again - just friends. But where the heart goes, the man follows…

Part Two: One of the Good Guys [PDF] [EPUB]

Part Three: Carry Me Home (never completed) [PDF] [EPUB]

~~~~~

A Week in the Hamptons by Afvampd Read at: [PDF] [EPUB]

Faced with a “live or die” situation in his career, Kurt Hummel, a small fashion designer in New York City, decides to take a breather and escape the city for a week in a retreat organized by his best friend. Thinking he has left his nightmare behind, he heads to Southampton, but what awaits him there is a far bigger nightmare; the love of his life who broke his heart 6 years ago. One week stuck in the same house, will Kurt regret having left the city, or is this nightmare really a blessing in disguise?

~~~~~

The Luckiest by wordplay

Blaine broke Kurt’s heart 3 months before high school graduation. Now, four years later, their group of friends reunites at a lake house to marry off two of their own. With luck, Kurt and Blaine will also be able to finally mend something that’s stayed broken for far too long.

~~~~~

Someone Like You by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of “When Harry Met Sally” for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is… they’re both in committed relationships.

~~~~~

It’s A Wonderful Life by DireDyre

Kurt never forgave Blaine for cheating, they never got back together, they moved on, married other people, started other families but ten-years-later when Rachel invites them to a party they realize they never moved on at all.

~~~~~

Since Sense Sensory by @gleefulpoppet

One rainy night, nestled at a patio table of a small café, Kurt broke off his engagement with Blaine in a moment of heated frustration that had been building for weeks. That was 12 years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since. Suddenly, they may find themselves reunited in a place they never expected. If you had a second chance with your first love, would you take it?

~~~~~

Stick Season by BlurglesmurfKlaine @jinglejavey

After Finn dies, Kurt leaves everything he knows behind without a trace. His hometown, his family, his boyfriend. When his dad has a medical scare, he returns to Lima, one year after breaking Blaine’s heart with no explanation.

A non-chronological series of one shots and drabbles set in this universe. Based on the Stick Season album by Noah Kahan

~~~~~

With Every Broken Bone by @spaceorphan18

After finding that living together is proving to be too difficult, Kurt Hummel breaks off his engagement, and finds himself alone in the city that summer. As his life heads in a new direction, Kurt's forced to look back at the past, and re-examine his future, where he learns a little about himself, a lot about love, and that second chances are always a possibility.

Set at the end of season 5, a canon-compliant story that examines the question -- What was Kurt's journey between season 5 and season 6?

~~~~~

Hush, Hush The world is Quiet by starsandcologne

AU Prompt: “Have you noticed how exhausting it’s been ever since you moved back in?” Blaine’s ears rang. But instead of reacting in anger that night he just quietly apologies to Kurt ending the argument. After that Blaine becomes a virtual ghost in their apartment. Its not that hard considering he’s had plenty of practice growing up. It just hurts that his Dad was right all along about him being a nuisance. Luckily he knows how to fix it. Live by the motto “Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.”

~~~~~

Reprise by Calliope_Melpomene Read at: [PDF]

During Kurt’s senior year at NYADA, a life-changing event causes him to take a leave of absence and what was supposed to be a short stay turns into years. His life certainly isn’t what he expected, but he’s not exactly unhappy. His name is not lit up in lights on Broadway, but he’s involved in community theater and LGBTQ groups in Columbus and has friends who love him and casual lovers. But turning 35 has made him restless and he’s longing for the life he had before. Burt talks him into taking some classes at Ohio State University to finish his degree and start focusing on himself again. What Kurt finds on the OSU campus is much more than he bargained for.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #reconciliation #reunion fic

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type-three-djinni · 10 months ago

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March in media

📚 readings

Ron Kamonohashi - Deranged Detective (vol. 3 to 8): not sure exactly how I feel about how the story deals with bloodlines and this "sickness" but I am having fun with the character dynamic so we'll see where this is going 3,5/5

Sanji's food wars: my pretty wife using Zoro's sword??? Being successful and pretty? 5/5

Hanako-kun vol 18: the hananene/mitsukou parallels truly be paralleling in these chapters 4/5

Spy x family vol 12: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ENDING WHAT THE FUCK 4/5

Daughter of the moon goddess: I have to be honest, I didn't finish this book during March despite my new year commitment because I had to study for some tests, but I was missing only the last few chapters and I finished it on april 1st so I'm counting it. Anyways, I really liked it! And a lot of stuff happens, but without feeling too much, I had a lot of fun 4/5

🍿 movies

When Harry met Sally: romcoms are my Achille's heel, and the insane sweater game of this movie makes up for the sheer stupidity of "men and women cant be friends" 4/5

Catherine Called Birdy: the cast is effervescent, and, while it sways a bit in terms of tone, it was a fun watch 3,5/5

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind: one of those movies that leaves you feeling emptied out, but in the good way. 4,5/5

Red, white and royal blue: their banter is so fucking cute that I almost forgot how much of a nightmare they must have been for their security detail 4/5

Spirit, stallion of the Cimarron: when I was a kid, this movie rewrote my entire dna. Now that I am an adult I can also marvel about the dark magic they must have done to make horse faces emote and communicate without words 10/5

Colorful: the main character is so irritating good lord 2/5

Lilo and Stitch: I missed this movie so much 5/5

Madagascar: oh the good old classics of my youth 🥩/5

📺 series

Overlord (season 1): the premise is very interesting and yet. I was so bored. 2/5

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justagalwhowrites · 2 years ago

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hello love!

I hope you’re doing amazing and taking care of yourself I wanted to ask you since we gotta till 2025 for season 2 of TLOU I don’t know what to watch in the meantime so what shows or movies do you like or recommend???

OMG hi lovely!

I'm doing great thank you so much for asking! I hope you are, too!!

I haven't been watching much lately, I've been spending basically all my downtime writing lol BUT here's some stuff that I've generally enjoyed over the past few (maybe 10?) years!

Shows:

The Sopranos - Watched this right at the start of the pandemic and almost immediately saw why it was considered one of the best TV shows ever made. The idea of a mob boss going to a therapist? 10/10, fabulous. (HBO/Max)

The Newsroom - I'm a former journalist and lover of Aaron Sorkin so this show was addictive for me. Give me a good walk and talk dialogue sequence any day. Season one is far and away the best but the other two ain't bad. (HBO/Max)

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - This show was CRIMINALLY underrated. Several new musical numbers every episode, the writing is so damn brilliant it should be taught in school if it's not already. It also tackles mental health beautifully and is hilarious without being overly silly. (Netflix)

Fleabag - Brilliant, insightful, funny and heartbreaking all at once. Phoebe Waller Bridge is a genius. The worst thing about it is that it's so damn short. (Amazon)

Andor - Probably the best Star Wars series so far (SORRY MANDO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH) the storytelling and character work here is so damn good. If you haven't seen it yet, make it a priority. (Disney+)

Movies:

Baby Driver - A love letter to what you can do with sound in film, it's got so much to enjoy. Great performances, editing that's pure genius, excellent storytelling with fun action and a great script. Watch it if you haven't!

500 Days of Summer - in my opinion, this is the best "romantic comedy" (not sure it can REALLY be called that) since When Harry Met Sally. A really critical look at what it means to put the idea of someone over the actual person, it's funny and insightful while making its point.

Promising Young Woman - It's dark and funny and truthful and cathartic all at once. It's a movie length middle finger to the patriarchy and I'm all about it.

Knives Out - Everyone's probably already seen this but the fact that Daniel Craig plays a southern gay detective and is having the time of his life now that he's free of James Bond, it brings me so much joy. The mystery is great, the performances are top tier, it's damn near flawless. Will watch at any time. (Adjacent recommendation: Logan Lucky, a heist movie with a bunch of rednecks robbing a NASCAR race including Daniel Craig debuting his kooky southern drawl. Super fun!)

Nightcrawler - This was one that was super underrated (even though it was up for Best Original Screenplay at the oscars), a noir psychological thriller about a stringer who shoots video freelance for local TV stations. The appetite for bloody content pushes him further than you would expect. It's dark but so well done!

These might be a bit all over the map but hopefully there's some stuff here you've never seen and it's helpful!

Thank you for asking and for being here! Love you!

#ask #tv recs #movie recs

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newstfionline · 1 year ago

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Saturday, September 9, 2023

Adams Says Migrant Crisis ‘Will Destroy New York City’ (NYT) In a sharp escalation over the migrant crisis, Mayor Eric Adams claimed in stark terms that New York City was being destroyed by an influx of 110,000 asylum seekers from the southern border and said that he did not see a way to fix the issue. Mr. Adams, a Democrat in his second year in office, has clashed with leading members of his party as New York City has struggled to provide housing and services to the migrants. The mayor pointed to new projections that the city’s budget gap could grow to nearly $12 billion. The surge of migrants crossing the southern border has overwhelmed the city, with nearly 60,000 occupying beds in traditional city shelters and in more than 200 emergency sites. Migrants who are living in the city said on Thursday that they did not want to be a burden, but that they also did not want to be vilified. Winder Donald, 53, who is from Nicaragua and has passed through a few different shelters, said he was looking for work and had only found temporary construction jobs. “I don’t know if we are going to be the ones to blame for ruining the city, but the truth is that I think many of us made a mistake coming to New York because we cannot work here,” Mr. Donald said. “Without work permits, we can’t contribute.”

King Charles’s first year (Washington Post) It’s no longer difficult or weird to say “King Charles” and not “Prince Charles” in the way it was in the first months after Queen Elizabeth II died. A year since Charles III ascended to the throne—on Sept. 8, 2022—a majority of Brits say he is doing a good job as monarch, though he’s not as popular as his mum was. Charles, 74, still has much to prove in terms of how successfully he can wield soft power and maintain the relevance of the monarchy in modern times. Expectations that he might “slim down” the institution—in terms of how many senior royals are involved, but also the costs—have yet to be met. And he doesn’t appear to have made much progress on what to do about his disgraced brother, Prince Andrew, or estranged son, Prince Harry. Royal biographer Sally Bedell Smith credited Charles with being more open, connecting with the public and showing himself to be a “very good extemporaneous speaker, much better than his mother.” But a year in, “what we don’t know yet is what big picture Charles has in mind,” Bedell Smith said. Unlike his mother, he is known to have strong opinions—about climate change, architecture, hedgerows. He spent a lifetime advocating for his causes. And yet there’s an idea that political neutrality is essential for the survival of the monarchy in modern times.

Russia learned from mistakes to slow Ukraine’s counteroffensive (Washington Post) Three months into Ukraine’s inching counteroffensive, Russian occupying forces have largely been able to hold their positions, often by learning from past mistakes. They have reconstituted decimated units, swapped in new ones and turned from sweeping attacks to the defense of heavily fortified front lines, showing that despite heavy losses, Moscow is willing to dig in for the long haul and wait for the resolve of Ukraine’s Western backers to diminish. The relatively well-ordered defense marks a return to long-standing Russian military doctrine and a shift from the early days of the war, when Russia overextended its forces in lumbering advances into territory it could not hold, at great cost. “It is an example of adaptation,” said Ian Matveev, a Russian military analyst for the Anti-Corruption Foundation, founded by imprisoned Russian opposition figure Alexei Navalny. “They are using their experience of this war,” he said, to fight Ukrainian forces to a grinding standstill.

Proximity of Russian attacks on Ukraine’s Danube ports stirs fear in NATO member Romania (AP) The discovery of drone debris on Romanian territory this week has left some local residents fearing that the war in neighboring Ukraine could spread into their country, as Russian forces bombard Ukrainian ports just across the Danube River from NATO-member Romania. Moscow aims to disrupt Ukraine’s ability to export grain to world markets with a sustained campaign of attacks targeting Ukrainian Danube ports, and has attacked the port of Izmail four times this week, Ukrainian officials say. Across from Izmail, pieces apparently from a drone were found near the Romanian village of Plauru, Romanian Defense Minister Angel Tilvar said Wednesday. It was unclear if Romanian authorities had determined when or from where the drone was launched, and Tilvar said the debris didn’t pose a threat, but the development has left citizens in the European Union nation feeling uneasy.

Teams Try to Rescue Sick American 3,000 Feet Down in Turkish Cave (NYT) Emergency teams are trying to rescue a 40-year-old American man who fell ill while more than 3,000 feet under ground during a cave expedition in southern Turkey, recovery crews said on Thursday. The European Cave Rescue Association said in a statement that it received an initial report of the illness on Saturday, and it soon became clear that the man, Mark Dickey, himself a cave expert and rescuer, had gastrointestinal bleeding and was unable to leave the cave on his own. The association said the rescue from the Morca Cave in southern Turkey would be challenging given how deep Mr. Dickey was. The Speleological Federation of Turkey, which is helping with the rescue, said Thursday that Mr. Dickey’s condition had improved and that he might be able to leave the cave with help. “Mark is getting better,” the federation wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter. “Doctors will decide whether it is possible for him to come out without a stretcher.” The Morca Cave is the third-deepest in Turkey, with a depth of 4,186 feet, or 1,276 meters, according to the Turkish federation. It is more than 13,000 feet long.

Can India’s Global Ambitions Survive Its Deepening Chasms at Home? (NYT) Inside a sprawling golf resort south of New Delhi, diplomats were busy making final preparations for a fast-approaching global summit meeting. The road outside was freshly smoothed and dotted with police officers. Posters emblazoned with the image of Prime Minister Narendra Modi bore the slogan he had chosen for the occasion: One Earth, One Family, One Future. Not far away, however, were the remnants of bitter division: grieving families, charred vehicles and the rubble of bulldozed shops and homes. Weeks before, deadly religious violence had erupted in the Nuh district, the site of the resort. The internet was shut down, and thousands of troops were rushed in. Clashes quickly spread to the gates of Gurugram, a tech start-up hub just outside New Delhi that India bills as a city of the future. These scenes sum up India’s contradictions as it basks in its moment this weekend as host of the Group of 20: Its momentum toward a bigger role in a chaotic world order is built on increasingly combustible and unequal ground at home. His party’s efforts to rally and elevate Hindus—both a lifelong ideological project and a potent lure for votes—have marginalized hundreds of millions of Muslims and other minorities as second-class citizens.

Powerful quake in Morocco kills more than 600 people (AP) A rare, powerful earthquake struck Morocco late Friday night, killing hundreds of people and damaging buildings from villages in the Atlas Mountains to the historic city of Marrakech. Morocco’s Interior Ministry said Saturday morning that at least 632 people had died, mostly in Marrakech and five provinces near the quake’s epicenter. Another 329 people were injured. Casualty figures were expected to rise more as the search continues and as rescuers reach remote areas. Moroccan television showed scenes from the aftermath, as many stayed outside fearing aftershocks.

South Sudanese Flee War in Sudan (NYT) Nyamut Gai lost everything four years ago when armed militias stormed through her village in South Sudan, a landlocked African country tormented by civil war, famine and flooding. Desperate, she and her family fled almost 600 miles north across the border to Sudan, where she worked as a cleaner in the capital, Khartoum, and began to settle in. But then, a fierce war broke out in Sudan in mid-April between rival factions of the military, sending her packing yet again. As she and her family made the weekslong journey by foot and bus from Khartoum, her 1-month-old son began coughing and withering away from hunger, and soon died. When she finally crossed the border into South Sudan, any sense of relief she felt was shattered when her 3-year-old son succumbed to measles. “We are not safe anywhere,” Ms. Gai, 28, said on a recent morning at a muddy and congested aid center in Renk, a town in South Sudan. “People fled war here. There’s a war in Sudan now. There’s war everywhere,” she said. “It never ends.” The war in Sudan has set off a mass exodus of people who years ago fled a bloody civil war in South Sudan to seek safety in Sudan. But they are returning home to a country still in the grip of political instability, economic stagnation and a massive humanitarian crisis—many of them without actual homes to return to.

Something Past Its Expiration Date: the Expiration Date Itself (WSJ) Some numbers are bad because they mislead. Expiration dates on our food are worse: They’re downright destructive. Food experts broadly agree that the expiration dates on every box of crackers, can of beans and bag of apples waste money, squander perfectly good food, needlessly clog landfills, spew methane and contribute to climate change. Contrary to a common perception, “those dates are not about safety, that’s not why they’re there, that’s not what they’re doing” says Martin Wiedmann, a professor of food safety and food science at Cornell University. “For many foods, we could completely do away with it.” The dates originated as a coded system for manufacturers to communicate to retailers when to rotate stock. Consumers clamored for information on the freshness of food, and in the 1970s and 1980s consumer-facing dates became widespread, though never standardized. Food manufacturers have tried, largely in vain, to explain that these are mostly general indicators of when food is at its peak quality. Most foods, properly stored, remain edible and safe long after their peak.

Nearly every modern car shares or sells your data, according to Mozilla (Quartz) Forget snooping smartphones and spying smartwatches. Modern, connected cars are “the official worst category of products for privacy that we have ever reviewed,” Mozilla concluded after studying two dozen brands. Mozilla, the not-for-profit behind the open-source Firefox browser, revealed yesterday (Sep. 6) that “every car brand we looked at collects more personal data than necessary and uses that information for a reason other than to operate your vehicle and manage their relationship with you.” And 84% of the cars sold or shared the personal data they collected, Mozilla said. Cars are not just collecting car-related data like mileage and geolocation—they’re collecting, storing, and sharing information about passengers, pedestrians in the vicinity, and more. They also have access to several types of information, including connected devices (read: phones) and apps like Google Maps.

#headlines #news

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stevensaus · 1 year ago

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The Toxic Past -- And Better Present -- Of Rom-Coms, Featuring "Love And Monsters" and "No Hard Feelings"

TL;DR: I highly recommend 2020's Love And Monsters and 2023's No Hard Feelings as fun romantic comedies with far less of the toxic behaviors. Just like Jay and Silent Bob at the beginning of Dogma, I used to think that Shermer, Illinois (from all the John Hughes movies) was real. Or at least, the shape of the stories there was real. That the ways the stories went in Hughes' movies -- and in so very, very many other rom-coms -- were the ways that life was supposed to go. There's plenty of think pieces out there talking about the toxic effect these stories have on what we think of as normal, expected, and even required behavior in relationships. And it wasn't just a few films over a short period of time: The first two lists of movies with romanticized toxic behaviors that came up in search results (from Bustle and Buzzfeed) have 13 and 14 entries each. And only one film is included on both lists. The trope I whole-heartedly bought into was the "but the nerd wins in the end." The one where the cool, desired character realizes that the nerd was worth caring about and falling for after all. Sometimes it involved a makeover -- the quintessential "nerdy girl with glasses" gets contacts and a new hairstyle kind of thing. Sometimes it involved adults, like The 40 Year Old Virgin or Zack and Miri Make A Porno. It's the opposite kind of end than Pretty In Pink ... except that even Pretty In Pink originally started out with the "nerdy" character being chosen by the girl. All of them have the same refrain. Eventually, the romantic gestures work. Eventually, that special person realizes that yes, you are the right one after all. /me squirms nervously. Look, out of all the toxic things from rom-coms, the idea that you'll eventually be recognized as being worthwhile is a lot less creepy than some of the others. Doesn't make it great, though. So I've spent some time thinking about the why of that belief, and I realized that was pretty much the only choice ever showed. The protagonist got the romantic partner, or it was a tragedy. There was no other option. It wasn't -- isn't -- just rom-coms. Damn near every story with a romantic plot element presented only those options. Romantic success, or utter failure. Yes, even When Harry Met Sally. Because while it shows them being friends... that's not how it ends. And if that's the only options you've ever seen, if that's the constant mythology surrounding you since your eyes opened... Well, that explains a lot in my life. Let's just say that. So it's not just the snark and whimsy that made 2020's Love And Monsters and 2023's No Hard Feelings so enjoyable for me. Both of these films share the same DNA with past rom-coms... but both deftly smooth down (if not eliminate altogether) the toxic implications of yesteryear. They aren't perfect, and they have their (occasionally) problematic elements of their own {1}. But if you are looking for something that feels like rom-coms used to, but without nearly so much toxicity, I'd firmly point you toward these two. Yes, I know. If you watch the trailers or read the blurb, they look like they're going to be just like all the others. But these films show other ways. They take different paths, and manage to do it without losing the feel of a rom-com. When I saw the trailers for each of these movies, I thought, "Man, that looks fun. But it probably ends up in the same stupid tropes as all the old ones. But I wish it didn't." So I'm just telling past me -- and you -- that neither of them does. I hope you enjoy them. You can find ways to stream, rent, and buy Love And Monsters at Justwatch and buy (at present) No Hard Feelings at Justwatch. {1} Most notably, Andrew Barth Feldman's character in No Hard Feelings -- who sure came across coded neurospicy to me -- adapts pretty suspiciously quickly to being out of his comfort zone in the final third. But I'll forgive the film that due to the fact that it also does not demand that his character change and conform to "normal" society either. Read the full article

#moviereview #relationships #review #rom-com

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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 5 - This Was Never The Way I Planned

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Modern AU

Summary: A double date with an unexpected outcome...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, public sexual acts.

Word Count: 3.0k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, Benedict and reader attempt to set each other up, but it does not go at all to plan. This chapter is dedicated to @musicismyoxygen84 and published today to commemorate the birthday of Mr Thompson, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. Enjoy <3

18 months ago (3 months later)

“Your face is naked!!”

“Not quite the greeting I was expecting,” he laughs and leans in to give you a quick hug.

It’s New Year's Eve, and Benedict has shaved his beard off since you saw him a few days before Christmas. He looks younger and older at once, somehow, without it. Very handsome, though. His strong jawline is even more apparent now. Bastard.

You’re at some fancy rooftop party somewhere on Shoreditch High St., agreeing to be each other's plus ones, both of you not wanting to stay home and get maudlin about how your lives have changed since the last New Year celebrated with other halves.

“I like it,” you offer, “I can see more of your face.”

“This is indeed my face,” he laughs. “I figure new year, new me,” he shrugs, and you completely understand his reasoning. You briefly considered dying your hair for a similar reset.

A few hours later, you’re both quite a few drinks in, sitting at the bar. Most people, by this point, are dancing. The music has a hypnotic, heavy bass that makes you sway subconsciously on your bar stool.

“Come on, let’s dance then,” it’s almost a defeated sigh as he hauls you to your feet, two large hands landing on your hips as he walks you forward from behind. The touch surprises you, but it’s most definitely not unwelcome.

“You don’t dance,” you laugh over your shoulder as he propels you towards the dancefloor. Then gasp as he grabs your hand and expertly spins you away and back, your body curled into his—a warm solid mass.

“Don’t I?” It’s silky, murmured into your hair, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“Benedict Bridgerton!” You admonish as he starts to lead you expertly in a salsa-type dance. “How dare you keep this from me!”

He spins you away again with a devilish grin, then back into his arms, your bodies swaying together. Something in your tummy flutters as he leads you in a dance, his hold always respectful but the moves undeniably sensual. You can feel the latent power in his body as it flexes around you. It makes your thoughts scatter in directions they shouldn’t—like when you got a preview of his sexual prowess, although for comic effect, in the restaurant weeks ago. The way he growled ‘look at me’ has occasionally popped into your head at the most inopportune moments since, making you squeak self-consciously. Last week, you dropped the gravy at Christmas dinner when it happened.

“TEN SECONDS TO NEW YEARS!!” the DJ yells, cutting into your abstraction and turning down the music.

There is an awkward moment where you stop dancing but stay holding each other as if you are, as everyone around you starts counting down. Your gaze falls from his eyes to his lips unconsciously.

“Do you want to get some air?” he blurts out, and you nod, grateful. It suddenly feels too hot on the dancefloor.

He releases his tight hold and slots your hand into his, leading the way, weaving through the crowd until you are out on the terrace. It’s so cold and crisp that few other people brave it. You stand awkwardly, half facing each other as party poppers go off inside, people yelling, and couples kissing.

His eyes cut to yours as you share a slightly awkward smile, uncertain, even tipsy, about what you should do.

“Happy New Year,” Benedict says softly.

“Happy New Year,” you reply, a flutter in your gut as he moves in for a hug and a friendly kiss.

It’s just a peck on the lips, but your stomach leaps regardless. His lips are warm and soft in the cold night air. You long to linger, grab his clothing and draw him in for more, bow your body into him, and let him plunder from you. The want for much more is electric. However, it’s over in a second, and when you pull apart, something in his expression looks thoughtful, almost puzzled.

Just as you go to say something to cut the tension of the moment, someone very drunk stumbles out of the party and projectile vomits right next to you both, narrowly avoiding your shoes.

“Seems an apt metaphor for the year we’ve just had,” Benedict comments drolly. And just like that, the odd spell between you is broken as you share a laugh and quickly move away.

——

“I’m not sure about this,” Kate wavers as you drag her down the pavement with your arm looped in hers on a cold Thursday evening the following March.

“Ben is a great guy; I really think you’d like him. It’s just dinner; where’s the harm?” you cajole.

This is a plan you and Benedict had hatched over dinner last week. He softly admitted he thought he might be finally ready to start dating again and did you know of anyone single. Your first thought was, of course, Kate, wanting her to find a good man to pull her out of the toxic thing she has with that married man. The idea of your two closest friends potentially finding happiness together gives you such a warm glow. You suggested a double date, a safe way for you to introduce each other to people you know. That’s when he lit up and said he was confident you’d like his older brother Anthony.

So now you are marching towards the restaurant to meet Benedict and his brother.

“I still don’t understand why you are trying to set me up with this guy if you have deemed him not good enough to date yourself,” she grouses.

“Kate, that's not it at all. He’s a fantastic guy. Definitely good enough to date. We are just friends, that’s all,” you insist.

She shoots you a side-eye.

“Listen, I’ll admit, this is going to be his first date since his marriage breakup,” you hold up a silencing hand when you see her go to protest, “but that’s a good thing. He has taken the time to heal and is finally ready to date again. He is a nice guy and available, unlike someone you know,” you conclude pointedly.

She sighs.

“He’s never going to leave his wife, Kate,” you add, knowing where her thoughts have run.

She slumps her shoulders. “You’re right; I know you’re right. Okay…” she concedes.

“Explain to me why you’re trying to set me up with the woman you are in love with,” Anthony drawls as their Uber crawls through Soho traffic.

Benedict splutters. “I’m not in love with her!”

“You talk about her ALL the time,” Anthony says pointedly, looking at him sceptically.

“She’s my best friend; of course I do,” Benedict frowns. “And you just said you wanted to meet someone who isn’t - I quote - so dumb you want to smack yourself. She’s smart, and I think you’d get on really well.”

“Fine,” Anthony capitulates, “but you’re paying for dinner, and if it goes tits up, remember, this was all your idea.”

“Guilty as charged,” Benedict concedes, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Twenty minutes later, you are sat around a circular table, close to Anthony, opposite Benedict, who sits close to Kate. You wouldn’t deny that Anthony is a handsome man, and you can see the family resemblance, even though his eyes are brown to Benedict’s blue. He’s different in personality, though, no-nonsense, forthright and every inch the CEO he is. Very different to Benedict’s more laid-back temperament that you are so used to. It’s obvious Anthony runs on a schedule, whereas Benedict lives in the moment.

How different they are preoccupies your mind, to the point it overshadows your listening to him as he speaks. Too caught up in your own analysis. The conversation is one-sided as he waxes lyrical about the things he loves - apparently mostly sailing and investments so far - topics you struggle to contribute to.

“Kate,” you pipe up when there is an awkward lull after you have all placed your orders. “Benedict used to live in France, just like you,” you offer as a conversation starter for them.

“Oh, where did you live?” she asks him.

“Paris. You?”

“Grenoble.”

And they sort of both look at you askance, wondering what else you can do to assist. It’s obvious there is not much chemistry there, and they are struggling even to make small talk.

“Anthony,” Benedict leaps in, seeing it is quiet on your side too, “y/n here’s parents used to live in Twickenham, right by your beloved Harlequins,” hoping that will help you.

“Urghhh, Harlequins. Really?” Kate cuts in, unable to school her disgust. You forgot about her somewhat incongruous love for rugby—what started as something about wanting to see thick thighs morphing into a whole pastime for her.

Instantly you see Anthony bristle. “What's wrong with the Harlequins?”

“Umm, I think you mean, what’s right with them, don’t you?” Kate shoots back over the table, tapping a painted nail on the surface. “Your team has been shit this year,” she opines, forthright, tossing her hair.

“What do you know about rugby?” Anthony leans in, his whole demeanour changing, suddenly looking very engaged for the first time this evening.

“More than you ever will, probably,” Kate raises a challenging eyebrow and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Before you know it, they have launched into a heated, complex debate about the sport, gesturing wildly and arguing back and forth. You’ve never seen Kate so animated. And while you don’t know Anthony, anyone could read from his body language how invested he is.

Your eyes drift across the table to Benedict and his to you. Realising what is happening, feeling guilty, the person you have brought for each other is not a good match for either of you. A little shocked at how instant Kate and Anthony’s connection, albeit antagonistic, is.

As the meal is served and the wine bottle content diminishes, conversation flows easier between the four of you than your pairs. But it seems like, at every opportunity, Kate and Anthony find a reason to challenge each other on everything from what should be included in a full English breakfast to the state of politics. As your dinner plates are taken away, they are fighting about Netflix.

“You are saying people should be able to share accounts, ad infinitum? Do you have any idea how much that is abused?” Anthony decries, very much in businessman mode.

“Oh yeah, poor little rich boy Netflix. They are so impoverished they were only able to spend, what, $20 million per episode on the last series of Stranger Things? Positively bankrupt. Pass me a tiny violin,” Kate sneers rolling her eyes.

Benedict's gaze cuts to yours, concerned, but you just shrug. It seems like they are getting pleasure from riling each other up; you see how Kate’s eyes flash, and it's not in annoyance. She is stimulated by it, sparring with a handsome man who can actually keep up with her for once. It’s more than a rare thing; it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it.

So when Anthony’s phone rings and he insists he needs to take it, Kate uses the break in their bickering to head to the loos.

“Bloody hell,” Benedict blows out his cheeks as you are left alone together at the table.

“They either hate or adore each other, I think maybe both,” you opine, taking a gulp of wine.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” he confesses, shaking his head disbelieving.

“It's a long time since I've seen Kate be quite this animated, I’ll admit,” you shrug.

As dessert arrives in their continued absence, you and Benedict chat amiably, shifting your seats closer to sit next to each other. In fact, it's only as you put down the spoons after sharing a creme brûlée that you notice Kate and Anthony have been gone for quite a while now—fifteen minutes or more.

“Where are they?” you frown.

“Ant headed that way when he took his call,” Benedict states, nodding towards a corridor.

“I think that's where the loos are,” you hum, thoughtful.

You exchange looks.

“Do you think they bumped into each other and continued arguing outside? I think there’s an outdoor space back there,” his tone intrigued.

You shrug. “Maybe?”

“I need the gents anyway. Let me go check,” he smiles.

“Okay,” you nod, reaching for your phone to text Kate.

Y/N: Where are you?

You've barely scrolled through a few Insta posts when Benedict is back with what you can only describe as a haunted look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” your question is a reflex to his expression.

“Yeah, uh, they’re not fighting,” he stutters.

“What happened then?”

“Uhhh, they are umm…” you've never seen him look so awkward and embarrassed.

Then the penny drops.

“Fucking hell!”

“Yeah…” his eyebrows shoot up.

“I have to see!” you stand up.

He reaches out and grabs your elbow. “No… you really don't.”

“Are they actually fucking?” your ask is a whisper.

“Pretty much,” he exhales, “I walked away when I saw… movement.”

“Wow,” you utter, then after a few minutes of silence. “Still sort of want to see,” you murmur, and Benedict looks at you with intrigue. “What?” you add, defensive.

“Never took you for a voyeur…” he comments, an element of gravelliness there.

“Oh, come on, our best friends are fucking on some outdoor dining tables. We should at least check they are okay,” you answer in a playful tone; you cant help.

“That's my brother,” he reminds deadpan.

“OK, fine, you stay here,” you stick your tongue out fractionally, feeling his incredulous gaze as you stalk down the corridor, shooting him a wink over your shoulder as you go.

At the far end of the hallway is a glass door, and as you pull up, you survey the outside space; over to the left, there is an outdoor deck filled with outdoor dining tables. The light is low, but there indeed is Kate, perched on a table edge, her shapely, beautiful legs wrapped around Anthony, her skirt pushed up around her hips as they kiss hard. If they aren't doing it, they are doing an excellent impression of it, him rocking against her slowly, everything concealed by the expensive dark wool coat he wears.

Somehow you linger, almost hypnotised by how good they look together. Part of you is so very pleased for your friend, completely unsurprised she would just go for it like this; when she wants something, she grabs it with gusto. Apparently, that includes one Anthony Bridgerton. If you are being honest with yourself, an even more significant part of you is jealous. It’s been a while since you shared a passionate moment like that.

Taking a deep breath, realising there could well be CCTV of you peering at them, you turn around to return to your seat. At the other end of the corridor is Benedict, watching you. He looks mildly troubled, to the point you feel self-conscious as you walk towards him.

“You watched them for a while,” he comments with a slightly uneven tone, a little vein in his neck pulsing.

“They look good together, not going to lie,” you offer with a neural shrug as you pull up next to him, and something makes you look up into his eyes. His pupils are slightly dilated. It's a very beguiling look on him. You don’t seem able to look away.

“Do you often watch other people have sex?” It’s an odd cadence like he’s attempting nonchalance and failing.

“I don’t make a habit of it,” you respond truthfully, keeping your voice low, not only not to be overheard but also to ensure he has to stay close to hear it, enjoying the proximity when he seems so flustered. “I was trying to figure out if they were actually doing it or just something else.”

“Something else?”

“Maybe just hand stuff?” you suggest.

“Yeah…I shouldn’t have asked,” he admits, pulling a face. “I don’t want to think about my brother doing.. that. Or anything really.”

“Let’s get out of here then?” you offer, moving towards the table and picking up your coat from the chair back.

He glances back towards the glass door and then nods. “I already paid. We could,” he comments. “Do you think they’d be okay with it?”

“I doubt they even remember we were here tonight,” you comment dryly.

You and Benedict retire to a pub a few doors down, grabbing a drink and sitting in a quiet corner. Just as you go to take a sip, your phone pings.

Kate: Where did you go?

“Looks like they emerged,” you inform him as your fingers fly over the screen, composing a reply just as his phone pings too.

Y/N: We left. We saw you guys…

Kate: Oh… you dirty little pervs 😉

Y/N: Says the woman fucking on a public dining terrace

Kate: We weren’t fucking!! I gave him a handjob, and he fingered me at the same time.

Kate: I did it to shut him up, tbh. It worked. 😌

Kate: Such an arrogant twat.

Kate: Fuck, he has a nice cock, though.

Kate: Oh God… I really like him. 🫣

You chuckle as you watch your friend unravel in real-time. You glance up and see Benedict is head down in his phone, too, probably texting with Ant.

Kate: Fuck it. I’m going home with him. He just asked.

Kate: I can’t say no to a cock (all senses of the word) like that.

Kate: Ciao Bella xx

Kate: if you don’t hear from me in 3 days, send an SOS. I don’t want a pussy prolapse…

Y/N: Wow, the ✨romance✨

Kate: No joke, I think imma marry this one.

Y/N: 🤣🤣🤣

Kate: Bitch I’m serious. You’ll see…

“They are going home together,” you mutter to Benedict as he puts his phone down.

“So I hear,” he raises his eyebrows with a twisted lip.

“What does it say about us that we thought they would be a good match for you and me? When it seems they were a much better match for each other?” You ponder aloud, almost vulnerable in tone.

“Shut up and drink your wine,” he grumbles.

That is an entirely fair suggestion.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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smashboxgirl26 · 2 years ago

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i will keep falling

bakugou x gn! reader / college au a/n: happy birthday to me ig >:))

It’s funny to think of the way you squeezed your way into Bakugou’s life without much effort.

Sure, it started off through a randomly assigned group project — but he’d rather not think of it that way. Maybe it was all the romance novels he’d jumped back into after he’d met you, but he liked to think that it was planned —

That you would both be paired up, and that the two of you would end up going to Kirishima’s stupid Halloween party together after only two weeks of friendship just to become inseparable ever since.

It was strange to think that a person he’d never even talked to until a couple of weeks ago was now the first person on his mind everyday, the person who appeared most on his notification bar (in both calls and texts), the person he wanted to tell everything to (though he believed he’d already told you almost everything there ever was to know about him) — and he knew that it was vice versa.

It was — strange, to say the least, to feel that open with someone while whole–heartedly knowing they felt the same way as you did. The wall he’d so meticulously built had fallen with just the tap of your finger — and he hadn’t tried to stop you.

The weekends you would end up crashing at his apartment after a party, stumbling through his hallway while drunkenly laughing at everything he did to try and keep you quiet; the quiet moments spent in the library that were supposed to be for studying though they always devolved into you doodling in his notebook; sleeping on top of him during movie nights, your head on his chest, his fingers running through your hair — every moment spent with you made him feel awake, as if every experience with you was something new.

“It’s so weird that we wouldn’t have been friends if it wasn’t for that group project,” you’d said to him a couple of days ago — the both of you sat under the tree in the quad to soak up the last good weather before winter hit.”

“That’s true,” he’d murmured back, though he rolled his eyes because he was doing his math homework while you just scrolled on your phone. “But I still think we would’ve ended up meeting somewhere.”

“How?”

“I dunno,” he looked up, pen now resting against his textbook. “We would’ve met at Kirishima’s party anyway, right? ‘Cause your friend was dragging you there before you even knew I was going.”

“That’s true,” you hummed — staring off while the sun melted in your irises. “Or at the Journal meeting, since they assigned us to work on that article together.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we were just destined to be friends,” you turned to him with stupidly sweet smile, one that he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding at. “Seems as though we were gonna meet at some point, right?”

And maybe it was just the little asshole that still resided within him, but he couldn’t but respond with — “Don’t get all cheesy on me just ‘cause we watched When Harry Met Sally yesterday.”

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed true. Though their situation was different, it was also kind of the same — two people who seemed destined to be together, even if it took them through the more scenic path to get there. The only benefit was that the both of you didn’t have to lose touch with each other over the span of several years to get to this point — it was almost instant.

And now, even through the noise of the cheering crowd around the rink, Katsuki could only find himself staring at you in the stands as you waved at him, encouraging him to play his best with his large letterman sitting atop your shoulders.

The effect you still had on him — the one you had on each other — was huge.

And while sometimes he would love nothing more than to stand on the ice and just think about every aspect that you've both shared with each other, as your boyfriend, he couldn’t exactly let you down — not when you advertised so proudly who you were rooting for.

He’d win this game for you and kiss you as hard as possible as soon as he could make it up to the bleachers.

#keke.writes #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou drabbles #katsuki bakugo drabbles #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fanfic

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ghostbeam · 3 years ago

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there was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more (than to feel you deep in my heart) | Katsuki Bakugou

There is no way that Bakugou Katsuki, the same boy you had been in love with since your first year at UA, is telling you he loved you in Kaminari’s messy room during a New Year’s Eve party.

Notes: Happy new year everyone!! I hope 2022 is a great year for all of you!! This is a little Drabble inspired by when Harry met sally, and I wrote it cause I was listening to Haley Blais’ Auld Lang Syne cover. Hope u enjoy it!!! <3 (title from pictures of you by the cure)

Warnings: None

Words: 1.1k

You can’t believe him. Honestly you can’t. After years of friendship, Katsuki decides to spring this on you now, on New Year’s Eve.

You stand in the middle of Kaminari’s room, your champagne glass in one hand, and your best friend in front of you.

“I love you.” Katsuki speaks, his voice firm, completely sure. You grin widely.

“Aw, I love you too, Kacchan!” You giggle, surprised at your friend’s sudden burst of affection.

“No. No you-“ he lets out one irritated breath through his nostrils and speaks again, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

You’re shocked at first. How could this was the same boy it took a whole year to befriend, the same boy who had told you since you met that he didn’t have time for relationships?

There is no way that Bakugou Katsuki, the same boy you had been in love with since your first year at UA, is telling you he loved you in Kaminari’s messy room during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Are you drunk?” You ask him. He frowns.

“You know I’m not.” He answers. You do, in fact, know he isn’t. Katsuki hates champagne, which is what mainly occupies the kitchen fridge other than some cheap beer and seltzers. He also hates not having a clear head, especially around groups of people, so of course Katsuki isn’t drunk.

“You sick?” You ask, holding the back of your hand up to his forehead. He scoffs and pulls your hand down from his head, intertwining your fingers. You look down at your hands, surprised at the gesture and comforted by his thumb running over your knuckles.

“Cut that shit out. You heard me.” He says. “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours? Get on with it.”

“Get on with it?” You scoff, pulling your hand away, “You don’t just confess to a girl out of nowhere like that, Katsuki.”

“I just did.” He quips. You shake your head.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’ve spent years pining over you! Years listening to you completely reject the idea of relationships altogether!” You huff, “which is fine! That’s your choice, but you don’t get to confess to me after I spent all of forever trying to get over you!”

“Princess—“ he starts, the nickname you like so much rolling off his tongue easily. It sounds different now that you know how he feels, and you turn away, not wanting to dwell on it too much

“No! I’m not doing this tonight.” You protest, walking towards the door and turning the handle. You swing the door open, entering the living room, noticing that most of the guests have moved to the balcony the closer it gets to midnight.

You should be happy. You should be ecstatic. But you had a plan. You were going to ring in the new year without your feelings for Katsuki distracting you. It had taken years for you to get to a place where your crush on him wasn’t completely overwhelming, and now that’s completely ruined.

But he loved you. Bakugou Katsuki loved you. You had been dreaming of this since you saw him take the villain bots down during the entrance exam. And he was there, surrounded by Kaminari’s dirty laundry, but he was there and he loved you.

“You are doing this tonight!” You hear his voice from behind you. His fingers wrap around your wrist, spinning you around to face him, “I have been agonizing over your dumb ass for years! You drive me crazy! I’m not waiting any longer! We’re doing this tonight.”

“You have?” Your voice goes soft. You couldn’t believe that he had ever agonized over anyone in his life.

“Yes.” He sighs. He takes a step towards you then.

“Why?” You question. You watch him chuckle and throw his head back like he can’t believe that you don’t know.

“Why? Because no matter how hard I try, and believe me, I’ve really, really tried, I can’t get you out of my head.” He begins, “You’re persistent, and stubborn as fuck, and that’s the only reason you got as close to me as you did in the first place. But I love that about you now. I love how your nose scrunches you when you laugh. I love watching you kick ass when we’re on patrol. I love that you don’t let me get away with being an asshole. I love you. I don’t care that you’re trying to get over me. I never want you to get over me. I fuckin’ love you.”

“Goddammit, Katsuki.” You cry, crossing your arms in front of you. He takes another step forward, and pulls your arms away from yourself. You can hear your friends begin to count down outside, signaling the beginning of the new year.

“Tell me. If you want me to walk away, I will, but you love me too. You do.” He says, placing his hands on your hips. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself, like he needs to reassure himself that you do, even though you’ve just told him you spent the last few years loving him.

“They’re counting down.” You point out, trying to change the subject.

“Tell me.” He commands. You can hear your friends counting from ten now, and you know you won’t be ringing in the new year with them, not when Katsuki is looking at you like this.

“I do. I love you. You know I do.” You tell him, and it’s all he needs to hear before he presses his lips against yours.

You had never been kissed on New Years before. You spent the last couple of years with your friends, most of whom were taken, and you never wanted to kiss anyone but Katsuki.

Now you’re glad you never did.

His lips are soft on yours. You can hear your friends screaming outside, blowing party horns and laughing with each other. Auld Lang Syne blasts from the speakers, and you run your hands though Katsuki’s hair.

You’d expected him to be more rough. You always thought his kisses would be bruising, but Katsuki holds your face in his hands like you’re made of glass. His mouth moves over yours, and it’s you who slips your tongue into his mouth first. When you pull back, his face is flushed and his lips are swollen. You don’t know if you’d ever seen your best friend look so content.

“You know, I never knew what the fuck this song was about.” He says, listening to the the old New Year’s Eve tune on the radio. You shake your head, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You don’t know? It’s about old friends.”

🔖: @sugarbkg (hope u enjoy<3)

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x female reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #ghost.writes #ghost.fic

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