#sorry my tags are worded weird i forget the beginning of my sentences by the time i finish them

[maddy-ferguson]

every time i see the word malewife my life expectancy decreases

#sorry #it's always so annoying people say it when they talk about a guy in a straight marriage who they think is gay? and they also say it about #guys in a #straight marriage who are supposedly good husbands (supposedly because i saw it earlier in a post about jeff yellowjackets and well.) and i #think it's even more annoying to me like i know it's lighthearted and fun or whatever but if a man loves his spouse that means he's #actually not a husband he's a wife?😭 like idk if you know what i mean it's just like he's a girl to me in a way but also okay i know it's a #fandom thing so it's not that serious people aren't doing activism or anything but don't you want husbands who are loving partners why #is him being like usually it's a man who supports his wife and puts her needs above his own why does that make him a wife. albeit a 'male' #one #i know about statistics and things and like society i know it's because that's the usual role of a wife in a marriage i'm not stupid but i #find it really irritating like it's just not funny to me at all #so many things people on tumblr do are literally just gender stereotypes to me or just misogyny but ~progressive~ and it's just not funny😭 #sorry my tags are worded weird i forget the beginning of my sentences by the time i finish them #and like i say: brf slt

[tokoyamisstuff]

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction. 

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes. 

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he  pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

 “May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble -  but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter 3 Part 2 + Epilogue (A Helmut Zemo x Reader Fanfiction)

(Thank you to everyone who has joined me on this unexpected journey. If you’d like to start from the beginning, you can find Chapter One HERE)

Synopsis: At the end of the day, Helmut and his wife fall back together as they always do, and rediscover their intimacy in the wake of their past arguments with no more games left to play. 

Tags: Smut, Fingering, Kisses, Neck Kisses, Married Sex, Soft Sex, The Morning After, Fluff, Banter, Excessive References To Old Literature, Wuthering Heights

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Swearing, Mentions of Alcoholism/Alcohol Withdrawals

Word Count: 10,500~

This work has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

The two of you stayed there for a moment, your heart alight with an almost childlike wonder as you relished in the pure bliss of your husband’s hand holding your own. It was as familiar as your own name and yet so new, so different than it had been before. Had he ever held your hand this tenderly? Or looked at you with such adoration? You couldn’t say for certain. Definitely not while you were so distracted by the romance of it all.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and after what could have been an eternity or a moment Helmut pressed one more kiss to your hand before lowering it back to the bed.

“Your trembling has stopped,” he muttered, more to himself than you, “that’s good. Are you still in pain? You could still take one more naproxen if you think it would be helpful,”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I think I’ll be fine for now,” Slowly, you stretched up, your joints cracking loudly as you yawned. Across the room, the clock on the wall ticked silently past 8 o’clock. Could it really be that late?

Helmut seemed amused by your little movements and mental musings. With a sweet smile, he leaned back in his chair. “Tired already?” He teased, but there was no fire in it. You didn’t have anything in you to make a funny quip with, so you opted for simply giving an honest nod. That was enough for him. He dimmed the bedside lamp a bit and picked up his novel once again before he spoke. “You can rest now, Schatz. I’ll be here if you need me,”

Then, nonchalant as can be, he opened up his book and started reading again.

It was a bit… strange, the idea of falling asleep while being watched, even if it was just by your husband. You settled into the sheets, but the thought of it irked you enough that you had to roll onto your side in the hopes that once he was out of sight you’d forget about him being there. It didn’t work. Then, you rolled onto your back thinking if you just closed your eyes, sleep would come eventually. That didn’t work either. You were quickly sat face to face with a conundrum: You couldn’t sleep.

Not in your current situation at least.

As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut peered to you from above the pages of his book. “Are you reconsidering my offer for pain medication?” He asked.

You groaned. “No, I just can’t sleep. It’s weird being watched,”

Helmut watched over you with kind eyes. He didn’t set down his book as he watched you toss and turn until you finally rolled onto your side to face him, but he did tilt his head slightly as he studied your face. Once he was sure you weren’t in any pain, he gave a curt nod. There was something almost awkward and adolescent about the expression that crossed his face as he spoke.

“Are you… I’m sorry, would you rather I leave?”

The thought of being alone, even if it meant not being watched, made your stomach drop. You had spent so long wanting to fall asleep with Helmut at your side once again. To have him leave now, after everything you’d worked through? It felt like a massive step backward in comparison to all of the progress you’d made. That being said, him sitting at the edge of your bed like some sort of visitor at a hospital bed wasn’t what you wanted either.

No, you wanted him closer.

Needed him closer.

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea of how to ask for what you wanted. It had always been so simple before. Ever since you had broken him out of the raft you had fallen into bed together exhausted every night with very few exceptions. There was no asking about it, you just did because that was what a married couple would do. That wasn’t even mentioning the nights you’d fall together after the throes of passion onto the nearest soft surface, fully satisfied and boneless and exhausted, but you didn’t want to think about those times. They brought a flush to your face and other places long neglected. You pushed the feeling down. It wouldn’t get you anywhere to be thinking of things like that in your current situation.

Back to the problem at hand, you started to think about if there was a possible, non-awkward way to ask Helmut to lay with you.

After a minute you became acutely aware that there wasn’t.

He was still waiting for an answer though, dark eyes watching you with an intent care and fascination as you struggled to sort through your thoughts, ever patient and careful with you. From your position on your side you had to tilt your head up slightly to see him fully upright in the lamplight but it didn’t matter much. He was still stunning, even sideways. Slowly, you took a deep breath. “I want you to stay, it’s just a little weird to have you watching over me like that,”

The words were soft and delicate in the moonlight. Helmut, thankfully, took them at face value and nothing more. He was still wearing that same strange expression from before, awkward but not painfully so, as his eyes flitted around the dark room. “You… last night and the night before you woke up a lot, inconsolable and vomiting. I didn’t want you to choke or make too much of a mess, so it was easier to sit up and watch you, just in case,”

“Oh,” Your soft lips parted as your heart fluttered, “I’m sorry, I guess? And thank you? I don’t know quite what the right response to that is,”

“There’s no need to apologize, it’s nothing, and I don’t need thanks either. I’m not doing anything any other decent husband wouldn’t do,”

“Well, you’re only halfway decent, so I’d consider this a win,”

Helmut laughed then, something low and throaty that made your chest feel fuzzy and heavy with warmth. “Touché, Schatzi. Now try to sleep? You need your rest,”

You obliged him once again, letting your head hit the pillow. Your eyes remained open, though, as you admired his features in the darkness. He hadn’t shaved properly in a few days and it was obvious from the dark stubble forming on his cheeks and chin, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, you found it incredibly endearing. His turtleneck looked thick and soft as it hugged every plane of his soft chest.  Even his face, furrowed in slight concentration as he found his sentence once again and began to read, looked sweet in the lamplight, framed by unkempt locks of his chestnut hair that had fallen out of their usually precariously kempt style. He looked like an angel there, illuminated from the side while his eyes flitted back and forth down the page.

Part of you yearned to reach out and touch him, because at that moment he seemed far too beautiful and idealized to be real.

After a moment, though, his eyes met yours again. You spoke before he had a chance to offer pain medication a third time.

“What are you reading?”

He regarded you with a practiced gentleness. This was a game all its own that you were both intimately familiar with, and it was much more fun than the ones you usually found yourselves playing. Helmut loved his books, but he never read one without reason. You were curious to see what he found appropriate for the occasion.

“Wuthering Heights,”

A small grin spread across your face as heat rushed to your cheeks. “Really? How morbid,”

“If you think this is morbid, you should have seen me last night,” he chuckled, “I was still neck-deep in Anna Karenina until the early hours of the morning. It did nothing for my nerves,” Somehow, his accent seemed thicker as he rolled the title gently on his tongue. If you closed your eyes, you could see the scene in your mind; Helmut watching you intently in the darkness as you shook, his eyes flitting back nervously to the words on the page before darting back to you again as he read of love and infidelity and death… it was almost too much to bear in the best of ways.

“What will you read next?”

Helmut paused, but his decision came quick. “Pride and Prejudice, I think,”

“How fitting,” you hummed, “I like Pride and Prejudice,”

“As do I, Schatz. As do I,”

The two of you sat with that silently for a moment as you took in a deep breath of cool nighttime air. Outside, you could hear the soft sound of distant passing cars in the darkness, but that did little to soothe the thoughts now racing through your head and making your heart beat faster. Suddenly, and without deliberation, you acted with your heart alone and not your mind.

“Helmut?” you called softly into the darkness.

He lifted his eyes from his book without a hint of annoyance at your repeated interruptions. “Yes?”

Suddenly, your throat felt very tight. “Do you remember the last night we spent in Berlin?”

“Of course I do,” he hummed, but he offered you nothing more to work with. Trembling slightly from the effort, you tried again.

��You read to me that night and it helped with the nightmares. Do you think…” your voice petered off, but came back stronger when you steadied yourself again, grounding yourself in the warmth of Helmut’s eyes, “do you think you could read to me again?”

The smile he offered you was brilliant and kind.

“I would like nothing more,”

With a bit of adjusting, Helmut scooted to the front of his chair so that his knees brushed the edge of the bed. You stared spellbound up at him. If you reached out, just the smallest bit,  you would be able to rest a hand on the warmth of his leg and relish in the feeling of his soft dress pants. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to be even closer, surrounded by him, entirely engulfed by the warmth and strength and scent of him.

“Do you believe such people are happy in the other world sir?” Helmut began, reading aloud in a voice reserved for you and you alone in these incredibly rare moments, “I’d give great deal to-”

“No,”

Helmut looked up from the novel with a soft ‘hm’ of confusion.

“I-'' you stuttered, “I want you to lay with me while you read, like you did back then,” His eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed as you floundered for some sort of excuse or placation that would explain your sudden boldness. “You don’t have to! I just… I thought it might be nice. If it’s not, that’s more than okay, I didn't mean to upset you. I guess what I’m trying to-”

“Shhh, Schatz. You’re okay,”

At the sound of Helmut’s soft reassurance, your heart slowed down a bit from its jackhammer rhythm against your chest. What? He was… agreeing? Slowly, he stood from his chair and rounded the bed before sitting on the opposite edge. You had to roll over to watch him go, but when he finally sat you reached a hand out to him, which he took into his own without a hint of hesitation.

“It’s not good to work yourself up like this,” he cooed as he toed off his shoes and socks, moving them away with his free hand. “I’m still your husband, just as you are still my wife. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be held,” Your cheeks burned with shame, but somehow you didn’t feel like he was chiding you. He slipped below the sheets then, resting his back on the headboard and beckoning you forward to rest on him. You were scrambling towards his warmth before he had to say another word.

Then, you were finally safe.

There, with your cheek pressed flush against his chest and your arms wrapped tight around his middle, you breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed for the first time in… well, since you could remember really. He chuckled, but you didn’t notice. No, you were far too busy enjoying your newfound warmth. Your limbs were trembling a bit again, but not from your withdrawals. Instead, you seemed to have so much love running through your veins that you just couldn’t manage to keep still. Slowly, you swung your bare leg over Helmut’s clothed one before interlocking them to ensure your closeness.

Helmut smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he smoothed down your hair with one hand and re-opened his book with the other. “Now where were we? Ah, yes. Here we are. Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I’d give a great deal to know,”

You tuned out his words quickly, instead opting to focus on the timbre and lilt of his tone as he made his way down the page. There was a lightness to it, an honesty that came with reading words that came from another’s mind and not his own. There was no room for bartering when he read, no way to twist the sentiments of the author into his own narrative. Instead, he spoke plainly and often from the heart. You liked to think that was why he spent so much time choosing the books he read. They were, for him, a beacon of clean, clear-cut honesty to cling to even as his brain fought to deceive himself and everyone around him.

As he continued, though, you did notice something strange.

Your husband, especially when focused on a task like reading, wasn’t one to let his mind wander. If he wanted to do something he would simply do it without hesitation. Needless to say, it was also very difficult to distract him once he got fully invested in something. That being said, as he turned the page and continued to speak, his voice seemed to be losing its focused intensity by the second. He also was squirming. Well, no, squirming wasn’t quite the word for it, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable below you. It was clearly not the weight of your body that bothered him though, nor was it the temperature of the room. Only when you shifted your leg up slightly and heard his breath hitch roughly in his throat did you notice the growing hardness in his pants.

Oh.

Oh.

There was something almost giddy about knowing that you could still affect him the same way you always had, even while half delirious with sleep and suffering through one malady or another, and while a small part of you grew nervous at the thought of reuniting with Helmut like that for the first time since your initial argument all those months ago, on the whole, every nerve in your body was longing to feel him against you again. You smiled softly at the discovery. Some things truly never changed.

As you determined the best way to go about initiating something, you tuned back into his words again. His voice was still sweet and low with his heavenly accent cutting through the old language in a way that made butterflies erupt from your stomach down towards your newly aching core, and yet there was an inconsistency to it.

“She lies with a sweet smile on her face,” he muttered, breath hitching slightly once again as he blinked, long and hard in the darkness, “and her latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle dream - may she wake as kindly in the other world,” As he finished his sentence he looked down from the page to you, prone against the broadness of his chest. His pupils were blown wide with lust in the yellow lamplight and, after a moment struck mute, he licked his lips. “Schatz-,”

“Don’t stop now,” you breathed into the darkness, “we’ve only just gotten to the best part,” Slowly you rose from your place slotted against him. The loss of contact was difficult for you both, but you quickly amended the issue by placing a hand flat against his upper thigh. It was so close to his growing length and yet so far away at the same time.

Helmut regarded the digits with a sure disbelief and mild amusement. “Don’t stop what?”

“Reading,”

Somehow the word sounded obscene as it dripped syrupy and saccharin from your lips. You leaned in closer now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off your husband’s body as his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Despite your words, though, Helmut was quick to mark his page and reach to set the book down on the dresser beside his side of the bed.

“Do you want me?” he gulped, letting himself brush his fingertips ever so lightly against the bottom hem of your sleep shorts. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, after everything,”

You replied with a question of your own:

“Do I look like I don’t want you?”

He was quick to shake his head. It was his turn now to steady himself. “I’ve yearned for you every day since I left,” he whispered, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips from the proximity alone, “I never should have gone, Schatzchen. Not then and not before. To be without you is torture. I’ve wasted so much precious time...”

You replied with a simple, breathless, “Kiss me,”

Who would he be to deny you?

With the slightest of smiles, he leaned in and captured your lips with his own.

You had kissed him hundreds, probably thousands of times and yet you never got over the feel of his mouth against your own. Hot and wet and always ever so slightly minty from the small, sweet lozenges he kept in his right breast pocket, it laid claim to you. When you kissed him, there was nothing except him and him and him for eternity. You never considered yourself much of a wordsmith, your talents were elsewhere, and yet you could write sonnets about the bliss that came only when you connected in these brief, close moments of peace.

There were no threats here, not now. There was only Helmut, with his dark eyes and wild hair pulling away from you just long enough to breathe in the darkness of the room before dragging you back in to kiss him again.

Time had no bearing on you then. You could have been sitting there and kissing him for hours, your soft hands gently exploring each other once again but never daring to touch where the other wanted to be touched more than anything. Eventually, though, Helmut pulled away for a meaningful period of time, letting his forehead rest gently against your own as you both breathed heavily, hands finding each other blindly to clasp together in your lap.

When you felt like you were finally grounded to your body again, you chuckled softly, paying careful attention to the way the dim light accentuated the soft blondes and reds hidden in your husband’s brown hair.

“What is it?” he cooed in the darkness, “What could you possibly be laughing at now,”

“I thought I asked you to keep reading, Baron. You stopped at my favorite part. How am I supposed to focus on this when all I’ll be able to focus on is that once we’re done, I’ll finally get to hear what Heathcliff has to say,”

Helmut didn’t respond to your gentle ribbing, not at first. Instead, he leaned back in for one last fleeting kiss before letting his hands rest at the bottom edge of your sweater, bunching up the excess fabric. You assisted him in removing it by pulling your arms from the sleeves as he lifted it over your head. Then, you were finally semi-bare before him.

The cool, dark, nighttime air felt frigid in comparison to the almost burning heat of Helmut’s hands as he ran them down your sides. It made you shiver. That being said, it was nothing in comparison to the full-body tremble he evoked a moment later when he leaned in close to your ear with a sinful smile.

“May she wake in torment,” he quoted softly. The sound of it, so lewd and yet so refined, only added to the wetness between your legs. It didn’t help that his hands had moved on to find purchase on your breasts. He took a nipple between his fingers, rolling it ever just so as he continued. “Why she’s a liar to the end,”

Distantly, you just barely had enough complex thought to marvel at the fact that your husband had memorized your favorite passage from Wuthering Heights. It didn’t surprise you in the least. The last thing that crossed your mind before it clouded fully with lust was that there was something so tender in Helmut’s eyes when he looked at you that you just couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t long after that, though, that Helmut let one of his hands creep under the elastic waist of your shorts to cup your mound and you lost all ability to think about anything other than his soft voice and the feeling of his hands on your skin.

He touched you as if he knew you, and he did. You had known him carnally in more ways than could be counted. Though a bit rough with time, his fingers fell easily into their usual rhythm as muscle memory took over. He relished in dragging you to the edge in a way only he knew how to, and for the first time in months, you let him.

“Where is she? Not there,” he purred against your cheek as his fingers caught just so against your nub. You arched into his touch without a thought. “Not in heaven,” Slowly, his mouth departed from your face. He trailed wet kisses down the sensitive column of your throat, and yet he never broke from his steady rhythm of stroking down your wetness before letting his fingers come back up to circle your clit.

“Not perished,” As Helmut paused, he sucked a deep purple bruise into the soft nook where your neck met your chin, “Where?”

It had been so long. So long since you’d been with him, since you’d touched yourself. You could do little more than cling to him and gasp his name as he played you like a well-tuned fiddle.

He delighted in the feeling of your fingers in his hair, yanking at the nape of his neck and urging him lower and lower as he continued to bring you towards completion. In all honesty, he was smitten with you, and anyone who saw him as he was in that moment, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at just the sight of your pleasure, would know it. Still, his devotion was lost on you, especially in your current position.

That was fine by Helmut.

As long as you were happy, he would be too.

“Oh! You said you cared nothing for my sufferings!”

“Helmut!” You gasped low and sweet and right as he nipped at your collarbone.

The grin that you found when you met his eyes again didn’t do anything to help you put your mind back together, nor did it prepare you for two of his thick fingers to suddenly breach your sopping wet entrance.  He paused then, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or hesitance, but he was only greeted by pure and utter bliss on your end.

Good. That was his goal.

With a soft tug to his hair, he was off to the races again.

“And I pray one prayer,” His mouth was on your breast now. Your hips canted and bucked to meet the quickening thrusts of his digits, which were curled ever so slightly and dragged at that rough right spot inside you with every push and pull. “I repeat it till my tongue stiffens,”

Then, suddenly, his eyes found yours again, and you felt you might perish then and there from the pure ecstasy of it.

“Y/N L/N, may you not rest as long as I am living!”

His fingers dragged across your sweet spot once again.

“Helmut, darling-”

Your voice was a stunted wail against his quiet, sure tone.

“You said I killed you - haunt me, then!”

His mouth was on your peaked nipple, your throat, your collarbone.

“Darling I’m so close-”

“The murdered do haunt their murderers,”

You were climbing, soaring, flying.

Higher, higher, higher…

“I believe,” he faltered for a moment. It was all too raw, all too real. God, how you loved him. “I know that ghosts have wandered on earth,”

You were up on your knees now, and Helmut had followed you up. He held the weight of your body on his clothed chest as he added a third finger. If you thought you had reached the heights of pleasure before, you had broken all the way through the ceiling, up through the sky, and into heaven now. Words dissolved on your tongue as spittle dripped warm from your open mouth down to the messy sheets below.

Suddenly, though, in the heat of it all, there was a tenderness.

The hand that had come to wander your body and assist Helmut’s mouth when it was preoccupied came to cup the back of your head and hold your gaze to him, keep you a captive audience to the way he looked at you; full of lust and love and adoration of the basest most human kind.

“Be with me always,” he urged, and the words were his . There was no more Heathcliff in them than there was Brontë or Austen or Tolstoy. “Take any form,” Tears, big and fat and wet dripped down your cheeks at the sight of it. This was your husband. Husband . Oh, the wonder of such a little word! How had you gotten so lucky? You feared you’d never know. All you truly knew was the sound of his voice as he drove his fingers into you with a mad fervor. “Drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Finally, your words seemed to return as you soared to your completion.

“Always!”

It was a wail. A cry in the dark. A promise.

“Oh, God!”

“Oh, God! It is unutterable!”

Just two more lines.

“Helmut, please,”

Something inside of you was breaking by the second as you clung to him.

“I cannot live without my life!”

“Yes, yes, yes-”

“I cannot live without my soul!”  

He crooked his fingers just so.

You snapped at the finality of it all.

Wordlessly you spasmed against him, hands clinging to every single part you could find purchase on. His neck, his arms, his back; you only had half the mind enough to kiss him as he pulled you through, never stopping his steady rhythm of thrusts. He kissed you back just as eagerly and wiped your tears with his free hand while he did. How could he be so perfect and fucked-up and yours?

You didn’t think to ask.

Instead, you rode through your bliss before slumping bonelessly into the arms of your husband, smiling and crying and utterly alive.

What a gift it was to be human, short life notwithstanding.

You had almost forgotten that.  

After a moment, Helmut slowed his ministrations. He pulled his slick fingers from your body and out of your sweat-soaked sleep shorts and all the way up to his mouth, where he deposited them and sucked the remnants of your release off of the pruned digits. You would have considered it extremely sexy if you weren’t still recovering from a leg-shaking orgasm to end all orgasms. Instead, you just laughed weakly as he removed his fingers from between his lips with a wet slurp and wiped the excess spit onto the sheets.

“How the hell did you manage to remember all that?” You finally asked, nudging him softly in the side as he chuckled above you, settling down once again against the headboard.

He shrugged before he replied. “During my incarceration, I had nothing more than the books you sent me and my own mind. After discovering that particularly filthy annotation you included in my copy of Wuthering Heights, I found I was eager to reread the highlighted paragraph quite often. With time and repetition, the words simply remained,”

You held him closer to you in the darkness.

Outside, the crickets were still singing their sweet song to the sleeping world, dancing along the wisterias and honeysuckles down in the yard, planted long ago with love and care to be pressed and sent along in the very books Helmut had previously mentioned.

“It’s a shame you had to leave it behind when James broke you out. I put a lot of effort into my notes,”

“Take a closer look, Schatz,”

His words were an incentive that provided enough energy for you to just barely push yourself up from his chest on shaking limbs. Sure enough, though, and true to his word, the copy of Wuthering Heights sitting on the dresser beside you was the same well-loved copy you had mailed to him in his first months of imprisonment.

“You never miss a single detail, do you?” You asked, incredulous. He answered you with a simple kiss.

“Do you want to get cleaned up? I could run you a bath,”

The question had your mind wandering to the luscious jetted bathtub in your ensuite bathroom, sitting unused as it had for months in the wake of your fight with Helmut. Perhaps the memories of your endless trysts in that very tub would no longer haunt you as they had before. Despite the temptation of it, though, you had other plans.

“Helmut,” your voice was barely a whisper as you brought your hand to cup him through his pants, “you didn’t get to finish yet,”

Despite the way his breath hitched in his throat, he shook his head. “You’re tired, Schatz, and I will be fine to wait for another occasion. This was about you,”

Excuses, excuses.

You tutted softly as your hand wandered towards his belt.

He made no move to stop you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” The admission escaped you in a breathless sigh. You needed him. Needed to see him, to feel him, to connect with him, trembling hands and aching head be damned! Helmut seemed to understand that because as you released him from his belt and unzipped his pants he busied himself with removing his turtleneck. “Every night, I swear I thought of you every night while you were away. I would lay here alone and close my eyes and hope, so foolishly, that when I woke up you’d be right there beside me again,”

Shuffling out of his slacks, he discarded them haphazardly into the darkness of the room along with his boxers. “Lay down, Schatzi. I’ll take you if you’ll have me,” His words were tender in the night. You did as you were told. In the yellow glow of the old filament bulb, you could see his proud cock, thick and leaking, and it made you want. For what you didn’t know, but you wanted. You needed.

You yearned.

The yearning didn’t last for long, though. There were no games to be played that might make your husband taunt you or force you to work for your pleasure. It had been far too long for that. Instead, you lifted your hips and let Helmut pull the soaked sleep shorts from your legs to deposit them with the other clothes. Then, you were both laid bare.

There was no need for words past that point.

Helmut lined himself up with your opening and, gazing down into your soul, pressed each and every inch of himself into you as he groaned like a man possessed. You clung to him, bringing your arms up around his shoulders, and for a moment the two of you stayed put, connected and completed in a way only the two of you ever could be. Languid kisses were shared. You passed them back and forth like secrets from wet and swollen lips. Only after an eternity when you dragged your pelvis up the slightest bit to grind against him did he move once more.

When he pulled himself from your wetness, just about halfway, he did so with the same slow precision he entered with. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

There was no desperation to it like there had been when he got you off, no fast-paced need driving you together in frantic breathless shouts. Instead, Helmut kept his pace slow and deliberate. It was like he wanted to memorize the feel of every inch of your body, inside and out. So, he took a snail’s pace as he worked you open below him.

The lack of speed didn't mean there was a lack of passion, though.

Oh no, you both possessed passion in spades and it reflected in the breathy moans that filled the chamber of your shared room. Your room. Your bed. Your home. The thought of it brought you closer to the edge by the minute.

In that darkness, lit by your little lamp and the light of the brilliant moon outside, you could pretend things were different and yet the same. Helmut was simply a businessman who traveled often. You were his little wife. The home was cheery and filled with light, and he would come home to you every weekend with a smile on his face and flowers in his hands. There was no danger lurking in every corner, nor was there the threat or separation at every turn. Instead, you could leave your house freely to buy groceries or visit the Sunday market in the city square down the road. Things were happy. You weren’t going to die.

Oh god, you were going to die.

It was a fact you both knew, now, and had accepted. Your fate was sealed the second you chose to stay at his side all those years ago. Still, it was all approaching so very quickly, you barely had any time left to prepare.

Despite it all, though, you had this time.

You had this moment in the darkness where you could wail and moan and cling to your husband without fear. He had you in his arms and under his chest and filled oh so good with his cock and for just a second, just a sweet blissful tick of the clock, you could forget. You both could. So you did.

Your second orgasm didn’t come on in a steep climb like the first.

No, it crept up on you without you even knowing it was coming. Helmut fucked into you good and slow and deep for an eternity before you felt those telltale jolts of pleasure urging you towards your end. He felt it too, felt it in the way you tightened around him and arched your back when he pulled back only to push into your heat once again.  

There were no words. You didn’t ask for permission. Instead, you just let yourself fall into a pit of your own pleasure as you kissed Helmut and clung to his hips with hands that left bruises in their wake. He followed quickly behind. In the wake of it all, his return and your seizure and the fight and your recoupling, you felt a bone-deep ache of heartache and peace. Then, Helmut pressed a kiss to your forehead and collapsed beside you, pulling the sheets over the both of you and wrapping you in his strong arms. The skin on skin contact was divine.

“Your doctor is going to be very cross with us,” he muttered into the crook of your neck.

You let your fingers dance lightly down his back, slick with sweat, as you chuckled. “Let them be cross, then. I needed you. Besides, you started it,”

He nodded against you. Slowly, you both shifted to a more comfortable position. Helmut laid his head on the pillow, propped up against the headboard, while you opted to use his chest as a pillow instead, running a finger through his chest hair and looking up at him with tired eyes. “I will take full responsibility for my actions,” he said softly, “both recent and past,”

“I’m still mad at you, you know,”

“As you should be, Schatz, I’ve been a poor husband and partner as of late,”

“But you’ll stay now, right?” Your voice was more uncertain than it should have been as your husband reached for the dresser once more, retrieving his book.

Helmut met your gaze and nodded ever so slightly in the darkness.

“I will be beside you from now until I draw my final breath. Now sleep, Schatzchen. You’ll still have me when you wake,”

Slowly you let your eyes drift closed. You were pretty tired out… Wrapping an arm around his soft stomach, you murmured softly up to your husband. “I love you, Helmut,”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he replied, and as you drifted to sleep you could still hear his soft voice, ebbing and flowing with the breeze and cricket song in the nighttime.

“He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled…”

“What is it with you and bathtubs,” You chuckled, sitting on the lid of the toilet as Zemo straightened out his well-gelled hair in the mirror. Beside you, the body of a man sat bloody in the tub as rigor mortis set in.

Helmut shrugged. “I don’t like to leave behind a mess for those unfortunate enough to find the bodies,”

His words were heavy, but that didn’t stop you from humming an upbeat tune idly as you watched him work. In the end, you had been the one to land the killing blow on… well, whoever was now starting to smell as his bodily fluids crept towards the drain. You didn’t care much about him enough to remember his name. No, not while you could be watching Helmut with an intent fascination. He hadn’t trusted you with his plans, not fully, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try to figure out what they were by watching the minute twitches of his muscles as he gazed at himself through the thin glass.

If there was one thing in the world you were good at besides killing, it was deciphering your traveling companion’s expression. He looked… tired.

“We’re reaching the end of the line, aren’t we?” You asked.

The words made him pause, catching your eyes in the mirror, but he surprisingly answered you straight.

“Yes, my plans are almost complete,” he hummed, turning to face you, “The Soldat will be moved into his cell to be evaluated tomorrow. I shall assume Mr. Broussard’s identity and, if everything goes according to plan, I shall be traveling to Serbia from there to kill the remaining super soldiers and stage the final fight between Iron Man and Captain America,”

You leaned forward from your perch on the toilet lid, letting your legs sprawl out towards the wall. “So that’s it? Just one more day and it’s done?”

He repeated your words; an affirmation.

“Just one more day and it’s done,” his eyes remained glued to you as you laughed lightly, leaning back to let your head rest against the cool wall behind you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you snorted, “I’m just trying to figure out where you’ll drown me now that the bathtub is already in use. The sink?”

The look that crossed Helmut's face was between amusement and disgust as he let one small huff of laughter escape from between his lips. Slowly, he closed the small gap between you and leaned against the opposite wall. From his new position, you could see all of him more clearly. The rough beginnings of stubble on his chin, the bloodstains on his sweater, the way his hands fidgeted nervously at the edges of his pockets; everything about him was endearing. You had to remind yourself that both of you would be dead in a few days to push down the burgeoning feelings that began to bloom in your chest.

Besides, Helmut was still in love with his wife. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting in a cheap hotel bathroom with him and a corpse in the first place. Still, it wasn’t terrible to have fantasies. You were a woman, after all, a woman with needs you were sure Helmut would understand. Distantly you were glad you’d be dead before you had to part ways with him. If it was a choice, you weren’t sure you’d ever choose to leave him.

“About that,” Helmut said, low and sweet. He licked his lips after he spoke. If you didn’t know him better you would have assumed he was nervous. About what, you had no idea. Then it hit you.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

As Helmut nodded, you took note that it was the first time you had ever seen someone look ashamed for choosing not to commit murder.  He gulped down a breath before he began his attempts to explain. “I try not to kill without reason. The deaths of those innocents at the UN are already weighing on me more heavily than I anticipated. It’s only a precaution, but I fear that if I killed you, the guilt would eat at me enough that it might interfere with my mission,”

“Mhm,” your response, a low hum, came with a slow nod that told him you were far from convinced with his reasoning. “It’s a real shame you dragged me all the way to Berlin just to make me find my own way home. I wish I would have known I was making it out of this alive. Maybe I would have remembered to grab my wallet before we left the house,”

“That is another thing I wish to talk to you about,”

You raised your eyebrows in mild disbelief. “There’s more?”

Helmut nodded. His formerly nervous expression was now replaced with a loose smile. Well, as loose as it could be on the face of a former colonel and current terrorist.

“We’re both aware that I will not be making it out of this little escapade alive. Now, I wanted to thank you somehow for your assistance, and I figured leaving you a monetary endowment of some kind would be a good way to repay you,”

“How much are we talking?” Without even noticing it you leaned forwards towards him. He grinned all the while, wolflike and half-mad. You adored it. Adored him.

“At least one million euros,”

Your jaw dropped.

“I’ve gotten in contact with my butler and have taken the liberty of purchasing you another hotel room across town, far from where the Winter Soldier will be set loose. You can check in any time after noon and stay there for up to a week. If you choose to accept my offer, my butler will meet you on the seventh day of your stay with the money, papers to create a new identity, and free transport to wherever you want to go. After that, should you want it, you will receive monthly payouts to help pay for any bills or extra expenses after you get the lump sum. Now, if you’d like something a bit more… permanent, I could also arrange for an extra few million to be delivered in cash up front for you to purchase a house. You will be free of your past, free of everything that has bound you. You can start over and live like any other person. Does that seem like something you’d be interested in?”

Before you could even speak you had launched yourself into Helmut’s arms. He smelled warm, like cedarwood and mint and fresh-pressed linens as you clung to him like a lifeline. There were no words you could say to express your gratitude, nothing you could do to beg him to change his mind and stay. You just held him there, close as you could manage to, as you smiled into his chest.

You were free.

You were free.

“I assume that’s a yes?” He asked. His voice was almost a coo as he finally wrapped his arms around you and reciprocated the affection. The motion caught you by surprise. You didn’t mention it, though, not when you were so deeply entrenched in the feeling of his pulse soaring under your ear.

“A million times yes,”

“I’m glad,” he whispered, “It will give me solace to know you’ll be taken care of. Now, where will you go? What will you do? I want to hear it all. I need to know what I’ll miss once we’ve parted ways,”

You let an almost goofy grin cross your lips. “I’ll retire, buy a little house somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere France with cash, and spend the rest of my days on this earth living in delicious sin. There’ll be no more killing, just cooking and cleaning and painting. I might take up watercolors again. Maybe I’ll even stop by the castle on my way and grab that big painting of you as a token to remember you by,”

Helmut cringed beneath your cheek. “You wouldn’t,”

“I would,” you quipped back, “and I will! I’ll hang it right in the middle of the living room so all of my guests have to pay homage to the man who set me free,” The fact that you wanted to see his face every day as you sat on his couch went without saying. It was simply implied. Helmut seemed to gloss over that fact entirely.

“What will you tell them about me?”

“That you were a good man. A dear friend. Someone who left the world too soon after doing what had to be done,”

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely,”

As you breathed him in, Helmut became fully aware of just how close the two of you were, pushed tightly against the off-white wall of the bathroom as the smell of lemon cleaner just barely masked the sweet rot of death. If he minded, it didn’t show. You only pulled away from him when a soft knock on the door of the main room broke you from your reverie.

“That’s breakfast,” you muttered, “I’ll keep her from coming in,”

“You do that,” Helmut replied, but he hesitated before turning back to the mirror. “Y/N?” He called softly.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t get another chance to say it, thank you for everything. I won’t forget the kindness you’ve paid me,”

“Neither will I,”

“Will you stay with me till the end?”

“Always,”

Morning came quickly.

Not quick enough for your rest to feel unsatisfying, but still too fast. There would never be a period of time spent in Helmut’s arms that felt like it lasted long enough. In the end, though, you woke feeling a full-body warmth from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was no blaring alarm to rouse you this time, no spasms wracking you and dragging you out of your peace, there was only the soft chirping of birds and the gentle humming of the air conditioning unit as your eyes fluttered open and your arms stretched out to the bed beside you to find… nothing.

You paused.

After a moment of adjustment, you found that your eyes agreed with your hands. Helmut was gone.

Even in the worst heat of the fight the night before, you had never felt quite as upset as you did in that moment while realizing he had left you again. Tears pricked at your eyes. How could he? After all of his promises, he had left you alone the same way he had before. Knowing his schedule, he’d be long gone by now; off the runway and up in the air if not already on the ground at his next destination. The only thing that kept you from bursting into an angry choked sob was the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.

You clutched the sheets to your bare chest expecting one of your guests. Then, Helmut stepped into the bedroom.

What? He had stayed?

Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight of him.

He smiled broadly, with the sleeves of his striped cotton button-up bunched at his elbows and a dirty dishrag in his hands. His voice was soft and tender as he approached. Everything about him seemed so domestic that it almost brought you to tears all over again. “Schatz!” he cooed, reaching the edge of the bed, “did you sleep well?”

Nodding mutely, you offered a wet smile.

“I’m glad,” he said. One of his large hands found yours, still knotted up in the soft fabric of the sheets. The silver wedding band on his ring finger gleamed brightly in the soft daylight. “I hoped I could be here when you woke, but Sam and James requested breakfast and I didn’t want to wake you up quite yet. You seemed peaceful,”

“I was,” you let yourself lean into his touch and smiled when he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I am,”

Helmut sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to crawl back into bed with you and enjoy that peace. Unfortunately, I still have to finish cutting up fruit downstairs. I just wanted to make sure you were doing well when I found a minute to sneak away,”

“Well, I appreciate it,” your voice was light as you brought up your free hand to Helmut’s collar and pulled him down for a proper kiss.

He fell into the familiar rhythm with practiced ease. It was brief, just a momentary press of the lips, but it made your heart beat just a little quicker when you felt him against you, warm and real and solid. As soon as it began, though, it was over, and Helmut was pulling back with a smile. All the while, he never let go of your hand. The two of you sat silent for a while, happy to just relish in the feeling of being together, but a clang from downstairs urged a deep sigh from your husband as he finally stepped away. You hated to see him go.

“Duty calls,” He chuckled, accent thick, “Do you think that was James or Sam?”

You nodded softly. “My money’s on Bucky, but knowing what I do about those two it was probably both of their faults. You’d better go survey the damage before they break anything else,”

“I suppose I should,” Helmut paused, turning back to you with his hand on the doorknob. “Will you join us downstairs for breakfast? Or would you rather I bring you up something to eat once I finish entertaining our guests,”

It took a moment for you to respond.

There was a certain safety to remaining in bed. Helmut would be sure to return as quickly as he possibly could, doting on you once again with the same soft vulnerability. You would probably even be able to pull him back into bed with you if you waited long enough. Getting a few more hours of holding him would be a luxury, one rarely afforded even when things between the two of you weren’t rocky. Something, though, urged you towards the other option. Maybe it was the quiet aching in your legs or the urge to see if your husband was able to keep his commitment to bettering your relationship outside of your bedroom, there was no knowing, but the universe wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was for you to get out of bed.

“You make leaving our room seem like I’m exploring some wild, new frontier,” you snorted, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. You both ignored your nakedness, though Helmut’s eyes did linger on the swell of your breast as you stood. “But yeah, I should probably get up. I need to clean up anyway, after… well,” you gestured to the mess of dried slickness between your legs, “all that,”

Despite the fact that you had been married to Helmut for over a year and had known him much longer, there was a bashfulness in your regarding of the events from the past night. It might have had something to do with the absolutely caddish grin on his face as he beheld the reminder, though.

“I’ll set you your usual place at the counter,” he said, watching you wander over to the closet like some bare goddess in the morning sunlight. Before slipping away back downstairs, though, he indulged you with a sweet “I love you, Schatz. I’ll await your arrival downstairs eagerly,” Then, he was gone, having closed the door behind him and retreated back down the stairs to deal with whatever nonsense Sam and Bucky had gotten up to in his absence.

You giggled softly to yourself.

Sure, your head still ached slightly and there was a tremor in your hands that wouldn’t quite go away, but for the first time in months, you had hope. The sun seemed to shine extra brightly thanks to that fact. Inside the walk-in closet, Helmut’s cologne was once again just cologne, light and pleasant as you gathered up a soft t-shirt and some sweatpants. After some deliberation, you grabbed another one of his awful thrifted sweaters too.

It didn’t take long for you to take a quick shower next. You washed away the evidence of your coupling under the warm spray, and as you did, something told you that you’d be doing a lot of that in the future. The water was heaven on your aching limbs. About 15 minutes later, you were dry, dressed, and patting the dampness from your hair on the edge of the bed.

Beside you, the nightstand was almost entirely cleared off. At some point in the night Helmut had taken away the tray with the long-forgotten toast, but in its place sat your wedding ring. It seemed to stare up at you with a gaze all too human. The decision wasn’t an easy one to make, far from it actually, but as you pulled on your husband’s sweater you grabbed the ring and slipped it back onto your finger where it belonged, and where you hoped it would stay into the distant future.

With one last deep breath, you made your way out the door and down the stairs to find out exactly what your guests had gotten up to in your absence.

You heard them before you saw them.

“I said cube, James,” Zemo groaned from the kitchen, “not slice. Mangos are best enjoyed cubed,”

Sam chimed in next. “Dude, it’s just fruit! Does it really matter which way he slices it?”

“Maybe if you cared so much about how your fruit was cut up,” James added, “you could do it yourself!”

You crept softly from the landing to the archway leading into the kitchen only to find exactly what you expected. There, crowded around the island and all dressed up in matching aprons, were the three men, all fussing over some part or another of what looked to be a breakfast spread fit for a queen. Well, baroness. Same difference. The sight was one you enjoyed a little too much, so kept yourself quiet for the chance to witness just a little bit more of their natural conversation. Between them, in a high necked vase, sat the salvaged bouquet of spring flowers you had abandoned on the front table. You were glad to see they had made it through.

Zemo was the next one to speak, walking to the stove where he flipped a delicious smelling slice of french toast.

“I believe you were the one who offered to help out this morning. If you hadn’t I would have happily completed breakfast on my own,”

“Yeah, I offered because I’m not a complete jackass,” Bucky quipped back.

“Language, James,”

“God, please don’t ever say that to me again,”

“Apologies,”

Sam noticed you then, your soft chuckles a giveaway. He smiled warmly and set down the strawberry he was coring as he addressed you. “Hey! Look who it is!” In an instant, all eyes were on you. Somehow, though, the attention wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, your presence seemed to calm the constant animosity between your husband and your guests. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You replied with a smile. “As good as I can be. Did you guys break anything while I was upstairs?”

As you passed the men to take your own spot at the end of the island, Bucky looked up from his butchered mango almost sheepish. “No, no we didn’t break anything,” Quickly, he added, “It’s good to see you up and running again,”

“He broke a plate while playing catch with Sam this morning,” Zemo added, “Nothing important, we won’t miss it much,”

Bucky blanched.

The domesticity of it all was almost painful as the room shook with everyone's combined laughter. Even Bucky joined in once he got over his mortification. For a moment you all seemed like an odd sort of family, bustling around that kitchen as the last bits and bobs of breakfast were sliced and fried.

It smelled heavenly.

When you had the mind to sit down at your spot on the island to eat you found Helmut had just barely beaten you there and was pouring you a mug of coffee beside your full plate. Oh, how long had it been since you’d had coffee in the house? Probably since last January, when the short days were spent watching out the window for a man who wouldn’t come back. You disregarded the thought as you examined your plate. Tropical fruit, french toast, and a small portion of omelet (with more waiting in the pan), sat, fragrant and saccharine and ever so tempting, but instead of digging in you watched intently as Helmut poured your cream and doled out your sugar. He caught your gaze just as he set a small spoon in the mug to stir it with.

“You still remember how I take my coffee?” You asked.

Instead of answering, Helmut just watched as you brought the mug to your lips. It was, as expected, perfect. Sweet enough but still biting at your tongue as you swallowed it down. Hot, but not too much so. Just heated enough to warm you from the inside out. Perhaps it was Helmut’s gaze that warmed you too.

He turned back to the stove then, gathering his own plate, but you knew he was still watching you even when turned away.

“Of course I remember how you take your coffee,” he finally replied, “You’re my wife,”

“You didn’t get me perfect coffee,” Sam added from his place beside you, beginning to pick at his food as he stared at the dark liquid in his own cup.

“Yes, Sam, but you are certainly not my wife,”

The room was laughing again then, but in a quieter way. Helmut came back around the island with his own plate and took up his seat on your other side as you ate and drank your coffee in the warm glow of the morning light. There was something so alive about being surrounded by compatriots, even if your truce was temporary. Your husband could see the change in the way you smiled.

Slowly but surely, breakfast was eaten and seconds were doled out. You discovered that Bucky, for all his harshness, had a soft spot for french toast with extra syrup and he, in return, learned that mango really did taste better in cubes. The sun rose higher in the sky and, through glass doors, you could hear birdsong outside as they enjoyed the amenities of your garden. Maybe Sam and James could be put to work digging weeds…

You had to work hard to stop yourself from getting attached.

To the guests, to the laughter, to the house you’d lived and loved in. It would all be gone soon enough, shot through or smashed or burned in the months to come, as would you be. Still, you enjoyed it while you could. If this was to be one of your last true spring days, you would savor every tiny minuscule detail.

It did you no good to live in fear of the inevitable.

Instead, you enjoyed the moments in the hope that when it all did come crumbling down, you could face the end knowing you had truly lived.

Helmut’s voice pulled you from your morbidities as he finished the last bite of his omelet. “We’ll have to run out to the market for more groceries today, I’m afraid,” he hummed, “but perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise. It’s far too lovely a day to spend it cooped up inside,”

You quirked up an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yes. We, Schatz,”

Something about the way that he was trying so hard to write his past wrongs was incredibly endearing. It made you grin into your mug as you swallowed the dregs of your coffee. “I guess I could take some time out of my incredibly busy schedule to go shopping with you,”

“Could you really? I can hardly believe it,”

“I’ll have to actually get dressed first, but I could pen you into my schedule, just this once,”

“I hope that you won’t change out of that lovely sweater, though. I find it ravishing on you,”

“Oh, really? Thank you. It’s my husband’s,”

You said the word proudly, The sound of it made Helmut’s face flush as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Sam’s voice pulled you from the soft display.

“Man, you guys are so cute it’s kinda gross,”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but the set of his jaw made you think he agreed.

“My house, my rules Sam,” you jested, “and my rules are that I get to kiss my husband,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just try not to get all mushy. Some of us are painfully single over here,”

“Like you?”

“No, not me, I get all the ladies. Bucky, on the other hand…”

“Hey!” Bucky interjected.

And you laughed. All of you laughed. You laughed and the world turned and somewhere across the globe, John Walker scoured Madripoor for an informant who could give him a lead on Sam and Bucky, but you didn’t know that, and even if you did, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

Not when Helmut’s hand was in your own, fingers laced together tight, as you brought your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Schatz?”

“Yes, Helmut?”

“I love you,”

“You know what darling? I love you too,”

You really did.

------

a/n: Wow. It feels so surreal to be done with this project. Thank you to every single person who has supported me through this process. It means more than you know. If you enjoyed the series, or want to scream into the void about it, I always love comments, so feel free to leave one! Thank you again!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy​ , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​ , @alanathedeer​ , @your-pixels-are-showing​ , @shit-post-things​ , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus​ , @halefirewarrior​ , @janelongxox​ , @rax-writes​ , @wondermia69​ , @booklover2929​ , @lol-im-done​ , @rorodendra​ , @spookycereal-s​ , @viviace​ , @wxrmh0le​ , @whatawildone​ , @mush-room-princess​ , @aliyahsfantasticlife​ ,  @gredvb​ , @chipster-21​ , @whatawildone​ , @cloud-of-roses​ , @bry-97​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ , 

Please don’t repost my works, thanks!

#zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ANCESTRAL ROOTS

Prompt: On the first night of her honeymoon, Y/N finds a way to demonstrate her love for her husband without using words.

Word Count: Drabble

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: None I can think of..

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360 And as an exception @theworldofotps and @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan because I would love to hear their opinions as well ☺️ (since I’m so damn nervous about this one 😂)

Notes: This little story is basically a sum of my weird mind + Roman + my love for Middle East + mythology + foreign cultures! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

She, who taught me this, was named Mai. She was Egyptian and my grandmother. Every summer vacation, we flew in to Cairo where she taught me everything she knew and learned from her mother and grandmother about old Egypt. The culture, the spirituality, the old gods and goddesses, their worship, the politics, finances and what she loved the most: The dance.

I learned how to dance at a very young age, I was 3 years old. She used to say that ‘when dancing, you can conquer anything you want, albi (my heart). You can demonstrate passion, pain, commitment, devotion..you can tell a story without using sentences and show love without using words’. So what I’m about to do today, will show to my (now officially) husband, how devoted and in love I am with him.

The dance of the seven veils, as was taught by my grandma, was not an erotic dance per say. Originally, the high priestesses danced the seven veils dance in honor to the goddess Ishtar in Babylon, Aphrodite in Greece and Isis in Egypt.

The dance showed self-knowledge and spiritual elevation, by removing the veils one by one it represented the dancer stripping off their material attachments. The veils symbolizes everything that we hide deep down from other people and ourselves. By stripping off the veils you show your true essence to someone.

Grandma told me, ‘Don’t you never, ever perform the seven veils dance to someone if you don’t truly love, respect or wish to be with them forever! This dance is sacred, all the gods and goddesses stop what they’re doing to watch it when you perform it. Therefore, do not disrespect the gods, my dear Y/N, but do make them proud to be the witnesses of your devotion and love to another soul’.

The chosen song? A shortened seven minutes instrumental version of Umm Kulthum’s - Enta Omri. Or as the English translation suggests: ‘You are my life’

I guess it’s pretty fitting for this man who really became my whole life.

“Baby, how long are you gonna stay locked up in that bathroom? It’s been like an hour since you got in there!” Roman yelled from our honeymoon overwater bungalow, in the Maldives.

*Men! Always rushing things* I thought to myself

I spray my body and the last veil with perfume. Pressing play on the song I make my way to the bedroom. Where an eager Roman awaits.

Once his eyes meet my body and he sees the light sand color bedlah (belly dancer outfit) and the seven different colored veils his mouth dropped opened and a faint ‘fuck’ could be heard.

The song starts and I begin to dance for him.

Never forgetting to honor the gods, my grandmother and the love of my life: Roman.

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes #wwe drabbles

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Merging Timelines (Lucifer/MC)

Summary: Your nightmares become less frequent the less you refer to the other timeline as ‘yours’ and the more you convince yourself that this timeline is the only one that exists.

Alternatively: After waiting for you to come back, Lucifer goes searching for you to bring you back home.

Alternatively 2:0: what’s better than one Lucifer? TWO Lucifers!!!! But it really isn’t :(

Word Count: 2k+

Notes: Gender neutral reader (”they”); *throws angst at you* like leaving behind the original timeline wasn’t bad enough; I don't actually remember what Barbatos did to the other timelines-- if it was destroyed or if we just broke off into another junction, but I’m leaning towards the latter theory... yknow, for the angst, (had to repost this because tags weren’t working :’((( )

--

Every time you encounter something that was different or uncomfortable for you in the Devildom, you adapt. Just as you adjust to being in a timeline you had no intentions of being a part of not out of complacency, but out of desperation.

You scramble to make new memories with the seven demon brothers.

You go along with every antic Mammon or Levi pull you in and drown yourself with face masks and new lotions with Asmo. You cook your favorite recipes for Beel and discuss your favorite genres with Satan. You even help Belphie rekindle his relationship with his brothers; it’s familiar, easy for you to forget what you have lost when you’re busy helping others, even though every time he looks at you, you remember the feeling of his hands on your throat.

Your gaze lingers on Lucifer more, trailing after him. Before he notices, you’re already looking elsewhere, pretending like you don’t imagine time and time again when your hands were on his as he bared his heart and finally allowed himself to be vulnerable around his brothers-- around you-- before you were swept to the past you had no right to meddle in. Still, like with the other brothers, you do what you can to make up for lost time, even though you feel a sense of dread that you’ll never be able to have the same relationship with the brothers that you had when you bound together against Diavolo for Belphie.

(Especially not with Lucifer, who had vouched for you to find the truth and save Belphie, who let you embrace him in the catacombs and allowed your hands to give him the reassurance he needed to speak, whose concern was etched on his face as you declared that you would go to the past alone.)

Your nightmares become less frequent the less you refer to the other timeline as ‘yours’ and the more you convince yourself that this timeline is the only one that exists.

And it gets better (as it must) when you spend time with all of them, building your relationship to a point that you slowly begin to truly believe that things will be okay. It starts to actually feel that way when you attend Diavolo’s birthday party, pleasantly surprised at the presents that you are given. You’re warmed by the thought that went into each of them, flushing at the way Lucifer looks at you and pins the brooch right above your left breast with a gentleness you have always known he was capable of (even if he doesn’t realize it himself).

You meet Belphie outside, where there are lights above like stars, at the rocky pavement nearest the lake and accept his present. His pact burns onto your skin like all the other five, and he tells you he has never thought of you as Lilith as neither do the other brothers. Like a bad habit, you think about your other timeline, wondering if you had stayed if this scenario would have happened, and what would have changed otherwise.

“Hey-y-y, whaddya think you’re doin’ over there?! Did you forget who’s the guest of honor tonight?” You hear Mammon’s voice call out from a distance. You laugh when he huffs loudly, “Get back to the party, on the double!”

“Coming!” You reply back, grinning at Belphie who only grimaces at Mammon’s shouting.

“Why are you all the way over there,” Asmo whined, hugging you the moment you reached them.

“Sorry,” you say, returning his embrace gently. (Inwardly, you vow to make sure he has your full attention when asked, though you know he has no idea why you would do such a thing.) “Belphie was just giving me his gift,” you explain, smiling lightly when Belphie flushes at the sudden attention. He gravitates towards Beel as Mammon leers at him and Levi rolls his eyes at how ‘dramatic’ everything was.

“Oh, did he now,” Satan remarks, amusement laced in his every word. Belphie glares. “I understand the need for privacy, but the distance seems kind of excessive, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t you have preferred Lucifer to be more than a few feet away when we made our pact?” You tease, watching as the blond raises his hand to his face and similarly tries to hide his blush.

“W-Well, that was a different time--”

“You’re not exactly wrong,” Asmo comments, pointing to the marble pavilion out on the lake. “Lucifer’s not really that far off when these sort of things happen.”

At the sight of the eldest brother approaching with his black coat billowing behind him, Mammon swears. “Oh crap,” he says, starting to nudge you towards the Demon Prince’s castle. “C’mon, we should scram before he comes and yells at us for leaving the party.”

You laugh. “You say that like it’s something we can avoid,” you tell him, letting yourself get pulled regardless even as you glance back with a twinkle in your eyes at the familiar sight of Lucifer storming up to them in a huff.

That is, until he calls out your name.

There is something wrong.

You’re aware that Mammon and Satan are looking at you in concern when you stop walking, but you don’t have the heart to reassure them when you’re not sure if everything is okay. Lucifer calls out your name again, and you’re startled, heart beating a mile a minute as his voice wraps your name in a flurry of fear and desperation.

You didn’t realize Lucifer could ever sound like that.

Without thinking, you start to walk toward him, mind racing with every worst scenario you can think up of. “Lucifer,” you start to say, concerned, “Lucifer, what’s wrong--”

Lucifer gives you no chance to finish your sentence as he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly, leaving no space in between the two of you. Almost instinctively, you reach up and hold him, confused and worried but happy to provide him with an embrace if that is what he needed. (You wonder if he hugs like this every time, intimately close and comfortably tight, and for a moment you wish you had a chance to do this with your-- the other Lucifer.)

You hear some murmurs and strangled yells (probably Mammon) in the background, but you find yourself more focused on the warmth of his arms around your body and the way Lucifer’s eyes seem to glean in the light of the dark when he reluctantly pulls away.

You open your mouth to ask again when he beats you to the punch.

“Where have you been?” Lucifer asks-- no, demands of you, hands gripping your shoulders. His eyes search over you, as if checking for injuries or ailments.

You blink. “Oh, I was just with Belphie for a moment,” you tell him slowly, unsure why his eyes widen. You bite your lip. “Sorry, I know we’re supposed to be at the party and all but--”

Lucifer shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter,” he says, and hesitates for a moment before brushing his hand across your face gently. “Let’s go back home,” he tells you softly, dropping his hand until he is able to grasp yours.

“Home?” You echo, following his lead with worry. “What do you mean? I thought you’d be mad that we’d leave the ball, but you want to go home?”

At this, Lucifer turns his head with brows drawn together, mirroring your expression of concern. “What do you mean?”

You stop in your tracks, and Lucifer has no choice but to drop your arms as you stand at a distance. “Lucifer,” you start to say, “I don’t understand. Today is Diavolo’s birthday party-- you made me a guest of honor and everything. Are-- are you sure you’re okay?”

Before Lucifer could reply, you felt a hand on your shoulder pull you back. You look behind you to see Beel guiding you behind him, like Lucifer was someone to be protected from. The thought makes your stomach churn.

“Hey, you’re being pretty weird right now, Lucifer,” Mammon retorts, coming up beside you. “Where do you think you’re going right now, anyhow? The castle is that way.”

Looking at Mammon, Lucifer falters, but after glancing back at you, something in him resolves and his face sets.

“We’re not going back to the party,” he says with a tone of finality.

Mammon sputters, “Wh-What--?!”

“Diavolo’s birthday party was months ago for me,” Lucifer tells you even as this statement makes you reel. “I understand this may be confusing, but please trust me. Come back home with me,” he says, this time more gently, holding out his hand again. “To us.”

“No one is going anywhere.”

Your heart jumps at the sound of the familiar voice, and with growing dread, you turn away from Lucifer-- gentle, desperate, firm, and casually cladded-- only to see another Lucifer in his demon form, wings bristling and eyes burning with a dark ember as he sees himself right before him..

The last month comes back to you all at once: the nightmares, the paralyzing grief, and the slow and steady tread to the life you had before in the Devildom. And you suddenly feel the sharp pang of loss again when you see all that you have built up, all this time convincing yourself that you had left no one behind, come crashing down.

There were now two Lucifers: one from the timeline in which you left and the one in which you came to.

The original Lucifer (your Lucifer, your mind croons cruelly) glares at his alterself, giving no quarter. “We,” he says darkly, transforming into his demonic form, “are going to be leaving. Whether you allow it is not of my concern.”

“What is happening?” Levi cries out, glancing between the two Lucifers, indiscernible from each other. “Why are there two of them?”

“That doesn’t matter,” says Mammon, growling. “What’s the deal, huh, Lucifer-- if you really are him.” He puts his hands on his hips and glares. “‘Cause if you really are him, you’d know how important--”

“Trust me,” your Lucifer replies coldly, “I know how important they are. I don’t need anyone telling me.”

The other Lucifer-- the one who pinned the brooch on for you-- steps forward and puts an arm to obscure his counterpart’s view of you. “Then leave,” he demands. “They’re not going with you.”

You can see your Lucifer’s wings spread wide in anger, but he sees you and is once again quelled. (You don’t remember having such an effect on him, but it hurts your heart trying to wonder why you do now.) He says your name again, and steps forward despite his alterself brother’s raising hackles. “Did you ever want to get back home to us at all? Did you ever think of us?” asks Lucifer, putting a hand on his chest, eyes soft. “Of me?”

“Of course!” You cry out before you could think of doing otherwise. You step forward, stopped only by the other Lucifer’s arm blocking your path. You squeeze your eyes against the tears that stung them. “Of course I did! How could I not?”

“You were gone for months,” your Lucifer tells you, voice strained. “No sign of you coming back whatsoever. I held hope that maybe someday you would return to us but--” His eyes flashes with something unfamiliar, something you hoped to see for as long as you have been in love with him. “I will not lose you. Even if it’s to myself.”

“I love you,” your Lucifer says with a voice as sincere and vulnerable as it could be. “Truly and deeply. Please-- come back.”

“Lucifer, I--”

You jump at the hand that grabs your wrist, and you look up to see the other Lucifer look at you with a deep-seeded fear that made your heart clench.

“I will not lose you a second time,” he says quietly to you, and your heart stutters. He glares at his counterpart with an intensity that rivaled even the hottest fires. “You’re outnumbered, you know,” he says coolly.

You’re unsure if the other Lucifer actually means it-- that he would have his brothers fight himself, even from another timeline. The way the brothers shift behind you tells you that this is and never will be an easy decision-- nor it was for you.

“I agree with Lucifer for once,” Satan comments, smiling with a sharpness that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brother or not… it’s a fact that you don’t belong here, and we don’t take kindly to other demons taking what’s ours.”

“Looks like you’re selfish in every timeline, huh, Lucifer?” Belphie goads unkindly, stepping up next to Lucifer with Satan flanking his other side.

Instead of flinching, your Lucifer looks at you before gazing at his brothers, half of whom was hesitant to fight and the other half desperately trying to find reasons to justify it. “Say what you want of me,” your Lucifer says quietly-- dangerously. “I did not come here to go back empty-handed.”

HIs alterself looks at you, searching for something in your face, before pushing you towards Asmo who holds you back. (And you wonder if there was something in his eyes that could rival what your Lucifer had or if you had only conjured up something you hoped to see.) With a flourish of wings, the other Lucifer remarks dryly, “Then I suspect... you will not return at all.”

It’s ironic to think that the two men ready to fight each other to the death are the only ones whom you have not made a pact with. You wonder if you could have. You wonder if both Lucifers would let you.

But as of now, you can only drop to the floor, wallowing in the turmoil of seeing the man you love destroy himself, screaming until your throat is hoarse even though your words go unheard.

In some ways, Barbatos was right. There could only be one timeline-- and you never had a choice in choosing which one it would be.

#obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #i hope the tags work ok!! #im... kinda proud of this one :') #shall we date? obey me

[gyllenhaalstories]

SOUTHPAW, PART 1: HEADCANONS.

notes: dear anon: thank you for making me appreciate jake the rapper! also i know nothing about rap, so i’m sorry if this is pure trash! i never finished watching southpaw because it was too dark for me, but i took some very loose inspiration from it. warnings: mentions of dark past, mentions of sexual content... this got really long (2k words). gifs credits: alphalewolf. extras: if you want more informations about rapper!jake, please scroll through my blog. i have edited some older posts with the tag: topic: rapper!jake, so check it out if you’re interested. i have taken some ideas and put them in this list. (at the end of the list i provided some goodies!)

PART TWO WILL BE UPLOADED SOON, KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT!

attention, attention! please note i know absolutely nothing about rap. i very rarely enjoy listening to rap music, it’s simply not for me. this might be inaccurate and off compared to the actual world of hip hop and other similar genres. i apologize for my lack of knowledge! this is an au in which jake is not an actor or a producer or anything of the sort. his fame, he built it with his music. you must keep that in mind while reading these headcanons or else it will get confusing. also, i’ve taken some loose inspiration from jake’s actual work, but that’s just for the sake of backstory. are you ready to dive in this twisted fantasy?

Jake Gyllenhaal. Known as Hall. He exploded the charts after being picked up by one of the biggest record companies for his first album: Hall of Fame. He was a rookie, yet he was older than most of the rappers you can think of today. He worked his way up undercover. He started participating in poetry and slam nights at local cafés. He became a songwriter, through connections. He sold some songs that are absolute classics today, but he does not care. He did not feel like they fit him anyway.

Growing up, Jake had it rough. There was a lot of fighting at home. His older sister was the perfect angel and him? The absolute disaster child. It was not like he ran after danger and trouble, he seemed to always be at the wrong place in the wrong time, he hung out with the wrong crowd. He managed to avoid juvie on some miracle. What was the miracle, you might ask? He was caught robbing some local bank with his “friends” and the cops, at first, did not believe he was innocent. While his friends were screaming and threatening the innocent clients of the bank, Jake actually tried to help them out of the building safely. The cops arrived at the same moment and thought he was keeping the strangers hostage. He was arrested on the spot. The other guys played the victims, blamed it all on Jake but it was only when Jake wrote the whole story, from the beginning where his friends manipulated him and made of him their puppet to when he felt this adrenaline rush telling him he needed to save the strangers that night. His writing was too sincere, too raw to be a web of lies. The police released him, but they kept an eye on him.

His escape were writing and music. He impressed all of his teachers at school. Talented, gifted, magical. That was how they described Jake at every parent and teacher meeting. Writing dumb sentences that made very little sense and playing with a guitar after school, that did not make his parents very proud compared to his sister who was on top of all of her classes and working hard for a future of wealth and success.

Music was his entire life. He would come home from school and blast music until he was called out for dinner. Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Heart, Pink Floyd, Metallica, name it. He liked it loud. He liked it weird. He liked it with a deeper message, with double meaning.

He worked all types of jobs, some legal and some not so much. He was saving money for college. He applied. He got in. He started his classes. He had big dreams, too, he had ambitions. Maybe he could his talent to good use? He wanted to study philosophy, literature, music, creative writing... Anything that required thought and depth. He made friends, there. He befriended the edgy punk guy, he had tattoos everywhere, he listened to the same bands, he was quiet but his essays spoke volumes.

Jake was disappointed, his illusions were broken. He hated the format of his classes, the feeling like his opinion and his inspiration did not matter, it was always about meeting some stupid requirements to please a rich professor who did not care about passion, about talent, about originality. Jake dropped out, soon followed by his friend. His friend was hired at a tattoo parlor and Jake hung out there all the time. He would stay up until 5 am, 6, 7, all night and all day long. He loved the clients there. He would write and read his writing out loud to the clients when they were tortured by the needle shooting the ink in their skin. Talented and gifted, they all the same thing.

He started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He wrote, not just stories and opinion pieces. He started writing songs, melody and lyrics. He started playing them, he started writing his own poetry too. He was introduced to freestyle battles. And as he fought against other talented thinkers, he noticed he spoke with a tempo, with a rhythm. He was rapping and he did not even realize it.

His career sky rocketed from the moment a music producer attended one of the rap battles. He was famous, he got quite the thick wallet and the connections. Jake was introduced to legends of hip hop. They all influenced him as his career grew to become something overwhelming and terrifying, yet thrilling and addictive.

Hall had a style of his own, though. It was romantic, yet absolutely disgusting and dark. It was aggressive, yet vulnerable and philosophical. He spoke of his trauma, of his hatred, of his envy, of his fears... He used his songs as an escape. He was becoming his own escape.

And his own prison. His family did not care about him, he was a shame, even. Aside from his old college friend, he never built strong friendships. They were all after him for fame and cash. He slept around, guys and gals, threesomes, foursomes... He did not care, anything for some genuine connection, even if it lasted for a very lazy and messy fifteen minutes in the trashy bathroom of a concert hall. Rumour had it he was a great lover, but he was so bad at loving.

Now it gets interesting...

Hall rapped alongsides Eminem, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott... The biggest pop stars were fighting just to get him to rap a line in their songs. Rihanna wishes he was the one singing Love the way you lie, does that give you an idea? He appeared on duets. He wrote more solo albums, sold them instantly. He never left the top of the billboard in weeks, months, if not years. It never really got to his head. He was still that sensitive boy writing about knights and princesses in his bedroom with walls covered by band posters. Fans did not care about this side of him, they loved him for his lyrics about snorting coke, drinking his pain away and fucking whoever wore the tiniest skirt around.

His latest album, Southpaw, was an even bigger hit. Pure filth. Pure gold. Imagine 13 tracks, Cardi’s and Megan’s WAP but reversed. He does not rap about how good he fucks people. He raps about how good they feel. That’s some real depth here, no pun intended.

You met him at one of his concerts. Your friend won VIP passes, so you were standing in the front and got to take a picture with him. You did not understand the hype around taking a photo with this guy, he just stood there and looked absolutely emotionless.

You hated rap, or perhaps you loved it. You did not care much for Jake, that was for sure. You thought he was just another lame rapper who thought he was the real deal because his lyrics were so explicit, even the clean versions made angels cry. The truth was, you did not know much a bout him. You found him too commercial, like he was scared of becoming irrelevant.

You saw right through him already.

But him? He already cared too much about you. You caught his attention as he rapped his songs. He could not take his eyes off you. You weighted heavy on his mind, caused him to stutter and forget lyricvs. Fans laughed, they said he was probably too drunk or too high too focus. Drunk in love, that’s what it was.

There was something about you. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt you wore. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on your face. Maybe it was your plump lips he wanted to kiss. Maybe it was the sight of you laughing with your friend that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact you treated him like a normal person even if you had not spoken to him first.

So, you met backstage.

Your friend was beaming from ear to ear, showering Jake in compliments.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jake asked you.

“For someone who shows no emotion, sound dead inside and look like they wish they were doing anything but making dozens of thousands of dollars by singing a couple of semi mediocre tracks, yeah, it was not that horrible.”

He was up for a challenge.

You two exchanged insults like it was a boxing match. Each round was getting more and more intense. It was no longer insults, it was straight up flirting. You noticed when your bodies were so close you could smell the scent of watermelon chewing gum that escaped from his warm breath. You could hear the way his raced even faster than yours.

You were snapped out of this fantasy by his bodyguard, indicating other fans waited for him.

He remembered the name your friend called out, saying he needed to bring you home before something bad happened.

It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

He hung out around that concert hall for the next couple of days. At the bar nearby, at Starbucks, at McDonald’s, anything for the sake of seeing your face again.

And he did.

You were walking out of the record store with a vinyl of Heart squeezed under your arm. You looked so happy. You had paint stains all over your clothes. You were erasing the memories of a terrible relationship by decorating your tiny apartment, and you needed to set the right ambiance. You needed guidance, you found it in the strong minds of the ladies behind Heart, in Joan Jett, in Stevie Nicks. You found your silver lining in music.

Jake ran behind you, he pretended he was out jogging and he mysteriously bumped into you. He grabbed your vinyl before it could fall on the ground.

“Nice pick.”

“We finally agree on something.”

Another round of flirty insults...

... That ended in the two of you fucking like animals on the floor of your apartment.

And fucking on the couch the next day.

On the kitchen counter the morning after.

And finally, on the bed. That was a really special one. Jake was the first person to be on your bed since the departure of your ex. He could feel that you were not in the mood for a rough battle for dominance.

That night, he made love to you.

For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, he expressed his love directly to somebody. “Princess, baby girl, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing”, he showered you in compliments, and praises. The slow movement of his hips, the intense passion in his eyes and love in his heart spoke louder than the music you were playing in the background to set the mood.

You were not just another trophee to hang on the wall. You were special.

He was special too.

He bought you every record that reminded him of you. He bought you collector items of your favourite bands. From the silliest decoration to a new car to replace your crappy one, passing by tickets to exclusive and sold-out shows, Jake had never felt more famous in his life than when he was with you.

His fans noticed the change in his songs, in his lyrics. They were just as explicit, just as rotten and just as corrupted. However, they came from a place of light and love, not of darkness and rage.

He sang about how good your felt when you climaxed around him. How drenched he was whenever he made you squirt. How he loved to taste himnself on your lips. How he was full of love and of lust for you. How he would quit everything if it meant he would live a normal life, for once, and with you.

You inspired so many songs that became massive world-wide hits.

You travelled the world with him on tour. You helped him design his new merch and you wore his t-shirts with pride. You attended concerts in your freetime. You loved staying up all night, painting and drawing while he was writing about this mirage of a goddess, blessing his existence with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

He was addicted to you.

He was crazy for you.

And he went crazy on you.

for research purposes and not because i wasted my time hearing eminem talk about stuff i don’t understand so i could stare at jake’s thighs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP_cKP4OjsA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whV5oQDvVWE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGqC9URTJIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5imXD1LPnwo

and finally, for good measure :

@gyll-yee-haw​ ily

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #topic: rapper!jake #series: southpaw

[nonawaaa]

20 question fanfic writers edition 

Thank you for the tag @nightowl27-writer ❤ even though I'm not that active lately due to school and work 😭

How many works do you have on ao3? 

6 and it’s not increasing anytime soon 💀

What’s your total word count? 

47,864 (I mostly write short drabbles soooo...) 

p.s. I'm just not good with words lmao

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 

jkandkan probably 2 or 3 not really sure. Of course I mostly write Naruto and sometimes Boruto, the other 1 or 2 are either still in my drafts or I cringe about it so no no.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

Drabbles 

We & Us 

Limited Strings Attached 

New Generation x Originals 

Lovers Series: Forsaken Story 

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 

I always try to respond I promise! It’s just that I respond to most of the comments IN MY HEAD and forget to really post it 😭 So if you ever commented on my fic/s and i didn’t respond pls don’t be mad I responded to it in my head and forgot to post it I’m sorry and I love you 🥺💖

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 

Ohhhh probably Last Kiss and Sa Susunod Na Habang Buhay (In Another Lifetime) I love giving NaruHina some angst 👀

I’m a sucker for angst I love them

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? 

A Father’s Day Special, it’s a four part series featuring Naruto, Sai, Shikamaru and Sasuke for father’s day. Maybe not the “happiest” but I can say it’s heartwarming and wholesome 😌

Do you do crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written? 

I don’t. I don’t think I’m capable of that. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic? 

Yes. Not really on ao3 but on ffn and twt. People are so weird. 

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

I do 😳 I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WERE KINDS?!

Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Hopefully none but I don’t think I’m that good either. 

Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes. Glances, an entry I did for SS month, was translated to Vietnamese (I think it was posted on facebook). I’m still stoked about it, I didn't think someone would take their time to translate my work but I’m also being a bit cautious lately about someone translating my work so yeah 😬

Have you ever co-written a fic? 

Again, I don’t think I’m capable or even have the ability! If I ever co-write, my co-writer would probably just hate me cos I procrastinate too much 🥲

What’s your all time favorite ship? 

Don’t make me choose! I love all of them though I mostly write NaruHina and SasuSaku. 

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 

If WIPs could kill, I would be dead 3 months ago. I really want to finish some smut WIPs as they fill my drafts but I don’t think I’ll ever will (not now at least) 

What're your writing strengths? 

I don't know I don't really think about it too much, maybe the way I write? Many tell me how can I write with so little words and still get the story clear and out but I don't really think about the word count too much, you can tell a story using a book or a sentence it really depends on how you write it. 

What're your writing weaknesses? 

Words lmao. I find it hard describing things in a poetic way and just ran out of words. I still try though but I think whenever I try it's too obvious since it's not my style. That's why whenever I read something that is so poetic I get really hooked. 

What are your thoughts on writing in other languages in a fic? 

It's fun! English is not my first language to begin with so I've been doing it, I just hope I don't offend anyone. I also enjoy writing and reading something in my own language, I just find it funnier when it's Tagalog but I think it's just me . 

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? 

Naruto is the first fandom I SERIOUSLY ever wrote for. But for the first fandom it's soooo cringey I don't want to say it 

What's your favorite fic you've ever written? 

Awww I love them all! I think We & Us is still at top, even though I don't update that often, I never thought I would write a multi-chapter fic so We & Us is really special for me. For a short series I'm in love with Manila Encounters, I just love the idea of different ships meeting in different places in different circumstances. I plan on doing another mini series but I don't have time!

Tagging @thatsakurastan @airashisakura @secrettastemakerland @pinkhairedlily no pressure!

#well hello there #tag game

[charming-charlie]

One More Chance

Title // One More Chance

Pairing // Anthony Ramos x Fem!Reader

Warnings // Light swearing, fluff, mentions of loneliness.

Summary // It’s been years since you last saw Anthony, one of your high school friends. What happens when you finally see each other during his Hamilton run?

Word Count // 2,879

Prompt // “Be kinder to yourself, alright? For my sake. I can't stand watching you beat yourself up like this.”

You thought for sure Anthony wouldn’t remember you. He was a big, fancy Broadway star. You had to be one of the last things on his mind, if you were even on there. But he came through. After you direct messaged him your address, which was in New York since you never left, he sent tickets and backstage passes to the show that he was a part of. This was a dream come true for you. Not only would you get to see your long-lost friend again, but this was also the first Broadway show you’ll ever attend. Tickets were always out of your price range, and you didn’t make enough money to splurge on such an extravagant purchase.

It would be nice to see him again, but you knew it would probably be wishful thinking that he would remember you in person. It’s been a while since the two of you were in high school. You could go on and on about the memories in English class, but you wouldn’t dare bring those up. No, you are only going just to enjoy the show. That’s it.

Perhaps that was also wishful thinking because the Richard Rogers Theater, on this particular Friday night, was packed. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Hamilton received glowing reviews. People were raving about it. It made sense that it was such a sensation. You found your seat with the help of an usher and you were equally surprised that it was in the center off to the right, close to the stage. You would get a clear view of facial expressions and everything. Damn, Anthony was really taking care of you.

You purposefully left the backstage pass at home. You didn’t want to bother him, or the cast, when they had other fans and people to see. It’d be okay and it was no stress off your back. You just wanted to see the show and have a good time. That was enough for you.

It was curtain time, and everyone took their seats. The lights went dim and you sat there in awe, watching Leslie Odom Jr. take the stage and begin the first song. You didn’t get to be immersed in the musical for long, because there he was. Your long-lost friend, dawning a white coat, hair pulled back, taking the stage as he began talking about the ten-dollar founding father without a father. That was all it took.

You could not take your eyes off him for the entire first half and you swore he saw you too. Though you knew that was impossible, with the dark lights in the theater and everything. But for a few moments, it brought you comfort that perhaps he recognized you and all was well.

His character, John Laurens, engaged in a duel and you wouldn’t admit it but your heart almost stopped at the count of ten. You knew it was fake, but the tension sent you in a bit of a frenzy. Still, you couldn’t hide the fact that you were genuinely upset that John Laurens didn’t make it to the second act, but the playbill said Anthony was credited as two characters. Luckily, he wasn’t done yet. Good, you weren’t ready to see him disappear from your life again.

Intermission came so fast, it shocked you. The pace of the show was fast and upbeat, and you were so engrossed in Non-Stop, you didn’t realize that was the end. At least, for fifteen minutes. Letting out a sigh, you stood up and stretched your legs. You weren’t thirsty but a lot of people were rushing out to grab a drink or use the restroom. You were fine. You checked your phone and tried to occupy yourself until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me, miss.”

You turn around and you saw a tall man wearing a security tag. Sudden panic rose inside you and he could tell. “Can you follow me, please?”

You nodded, saying nothing. The tall security man walked through a side door labeled Employees Only and you were quick against his heels. There was a lot of commotion backstage. People were rushing around, changing costumes, dancing in the stairwell, recording videos and taking pictures… it honestly looked like a good time.

The security man approached a dressing room and knocked on the door. It was Lin’s door. Wait, what? Your breath hitched in your throat. You read that this show was basically Lin’s baby. Were you somehow disrespecting it? Lin opened the door with a smile. He was in the middle of changing clothes, but he wasn’t rushing. “I brought the patron you requested,” the security guard said before turning and walking away.

Lin was adjusting the microphone in his hair and he opened the door to invite you in. There wasn’t much room in the tiny dressing room so you stayed out in the hallway, looking confused but feeling surreal that you were staring at Lin-Manuel Miranda. “Sorry if that scared you, but we’ve been waiting since My Shot to get you back here.” He held out a hand, offering it to you. “I’m Lin.”

You blinked and coughed out your name. “Y/N,” you said while shaking his hand.

He nodded, as if he already knew. “I’ve heard about you. You have some fans back here,” Lin said. He adjusted his shoes, putting on the final touches for whatever he needed for the second act. Fans? Surely he was confusing you with someone else.

He sensed your confusion, and he let out a soft laugh. “This must be a little weird, right? I mean, first Anthony asked for backstage passes for this girl, and then she doesn’t bother showing up with said passes. I’m assuming you forgot them. He thinks you don’t want to see him. Which one of us is right? We have a little bet going on back here.”

You felt like you should be offended but Lin was so polite about it. The way he was talking about it, it made it seem like it was a joke, all in good fun, his attempt at jest.

“I um… I mean, I didn’t think it was…” you were stumbling over your words, not sure how to put it into a coherent sentence. This was definitely off putting, and Lin was sensing your discomfort. His smile fell and he looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Come with me,” Lin said, and he nodded his head in the direction of a hallway. He began walking and you followed him. You passed several people, including some you recognize from the show. It was a bit frantic though. There was not a lot of time between the first and second act, but everyone looked as though they had a routine and it worked for them.

“Hey Anthony, I found your girl for you,” Lin said and he turned to you, “we’ll get you another backstage pass. No worries about forgetting it at home.” He winked at you and left you standing in the doorway of Anthony Ramos, your long-lost high school friend. He was out of the blue coat and was wearing something entirely different. This was probably his second character. You wouldn’t know since you ignored his section in the playbill completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to read about him, not after everything.

He turned to look at you, his eyes alight and a soft smile on his face. “Y/N,” he said, and damn did your name sound good on his lips, “you made it. Come in.”

He extended an arm and you walked into his dressing room. It was jam packed with all kinds of stuff. You sat on the couch and he turned back to the mirror, fixing whatever he needed to do in order to prepare for the next part of the show. He looked at you through the mirror, studying you a bit.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” you said suddenly. Your eyes shot off him, avoiding his gaze. You felt your face get hot. You were not expecting to suddenly just say whatever was on your mind.

Anthony’s smile turned into a slight frown and he turned around to face you. “Really? Tenth grade, Chemistry partners. You, Ms. Y/N, broke a slide under a microscope and I took the fall. Remember that?” he folded his arms across his chest, slightly tilting his head. His voice didn’t sound accusatory, it was more like he was trying to light up your memories that you hid in the deep corner of your brain. You honestly forgot about that situation.

Not wanting to be outdone, you stood up. “Freshman English, Shakespeare partners. We made fun of Romeo and Juliet for their stupid, short love story where like, eight people died in three days. I called it tragic, and you called it teenage drama. We got lunch detention.”

Your memory caused Anthony’s smile to come back and he moved in with his arms outstretched slowly. Since you were now positive that he remembered you, you wasted no time pushing yourself into his arms and hugging him. It felt really good. It felt like old times, like for a split second, a tiny moment, you had your friend back. He wasn’t just some big, hotshot Broadway star. He was your Anthony Ramos, the goofy kid in high school that made you laugh and made school so much more bearable.

“I’m glad you reached out to me,” Anthony said as the two of you let go of the embrace, “how have you been? What’s life been like since high school?”

That was a conversation you wanted to avoid completely. Instead, you turned the conversation back on him, ignoring his raised eyebrows at the sudden topic change. “I never thought I’d see you on Broadway. You look good. I mean… you look happy, not that you look good. I mean, you do look good but that’s… you know what, never mind.”

Damn you and your stupid word vomit. Anthony only laughed.

An announcement above said that there was ten minutes left until showtime and Anthony looked completely unfazed by the sudden voice. He was so used to it, he probably has the intermission down to the second.

“Shouldn’t you get ready?” you asked him, unaware of his overall routine.

To your surprise, he shook his head. “I just have one thing left to do, and I have time. I’m not in the first song when the show comes back.” He could tell you were sort of closed off, and he didn’t want to push, but you could see the curiosity in his eyes. “I had a crush on you in high school, you know.”

Your head snapped in his direction and you refused to believe it. “Stop, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

You folded your arms over your chest, taking on a defensive stance. He was trying to get you to talk, but you didn’t want to tell him. You didn’t want to tell him that you liked him too, and when the two of you stopped talking, you drifted into an unhealthy mental spiral. It was stupid how much you relied on him when you were younger, how much you needed him in your life, and he just left you in the dust. Not that you held that against him, it all worked out. For him, that is.

“Well, thank you,” you manage to say but that wasn’t enough for him. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the arm, but your arms were tightly linked together over your chest. He didn’t relinquish his grip though.

“That’s it? A thank you?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Say what you always wanted to say.”

Of course, he didn’t mean that. That was some word vomit you wanted to keep in. This was the first time in how many years since you’ve seen him, and you didn’t want to say something you would regret. Yet would you regret it if you didn’t tell him what was running through your mind? Your eyes turned to look at him. He looked somewhat sad, a tiny frown twitching at the corners of his lips.

“You left without saying goodbye. Which is fine, you had some great opportunities, but you were honestly my best friend. I liked you too and it sucks because I didn’t think you would leave this giant hole in me. How stupid is that?” you asked, and you practically slammed your mouth shut. No more, you don’t need to say anything else.

Anthony genuinely looked like you slapped him. There was a look of pain that graced his freckled face and he let go of you.

“Here, fresh off the press. Or… the box. Whatever.” Lin laughs while swinging a backstage pass from his fingers. He sensed such tension that he stopped in his tracks, his face fell in surprise and he slowly looped the backstage pass over the doorknob of the dressing room. “Uh… there’s like five minutes until curtain, Ant. Don’t forget to fix your hair. Philip hair, remember? That’s not Philip hair.”

Lin disappeared shortly after that and that was your cue. “Thanks for the invite. I’m going back to my seat now.” You turned on your heels and made one step toward the door, but Anthony’s reach was fast. He grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you back. You stumbled just a bit and regained your balance thanks to Anthony’s grip. The moment you turned to look at him, he stared at you, a sort of boldness now making its way through his face. In the blink of an eye, it all changed.

He kissed you.

You don’t even recall him leaning in. One minute, you were about to tell him off, and then the next, he was kissing you. It was soft and sweet, a gentle touch that let you relax against him. Anthony, however, kept a grip on your arm, which was probably for the best. You liked the fact that he was trying to keep you in place.

His forehead rested against your own and he let space come between your lips and his as the kiss came to an end. He whispered softly, “Be kinder to yourself, alright? For my sake. I can't stand watching you beat yourself up like this.”

Letting you go, Anthony grabbed the backstage pass off the doorknob and looked at it. He turned it back and forth, like he never seen it before. “If I give this to you, are you going to use it this time?”

Your mind was still swirling from the precious kiss and you couldn’t manage to say anything. Instead, you just nodded. He smiled, approached you, and placed the pass around your neck. It weighed next to nothing. Anthony’s fingers traced the lanyard, down to the pass itself, but his hands continued moving. They finally stopped on the curves of your waist.

He was going to kiss you again. God, you hoped he would.

A voice on the speaker crackled through, warning the cast, crew, and ensemble that there was one minute left until curtain and then the second act would be in full swing.

“I need to finish getting ready,” he said, sounding a bit sad.

“What’s Philip hair?” you asked out of curiosity.

Anthony turned to the mirror, reached a hand up to his hair and pulled the tie out. His long hair fell out of place and he grabbed a brush, brushing it out. “Philip hair.”

You laughed which caused him to smile. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He turned back to face you, letting an arm slip over your shoulders as he pulled you in for a side hug and held you in place. His lips pressed themselves against your temple and in that moment, things felt right. He was patching the hole that he left you with. He was fixing you, even though he shouldn’t have to. He didn’t do anything wrong. Still, it felt nice. It was nice that he cared.

“You are free to go back to your seat and finish the show, but I want you back here when we bow out,” Anthony said. The demand was enough to send some butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll be here. Good luck.”

What’d I Miss started playing in the background and he kissed you again. You had to break free and go back to your seat, you were already missing part of the show. It wasn’t difficult to find your way back, and you caught Lin’s eye as your sat back down. You sent him an apologetic look for disrupting the show, but he only smiled and nodded before doing his bit in the song.

This night was the first time in a long time where you smiled so much. It was going to be tough to sit through the rest of the show when all you wanted to do was go backstage and be with Anthony. Your long-lost friend wasn’t long-lost anymore. The hole in your heart was almost filled in. You couldn’t wait for the show to be over. Soon, you’ll be back in Anthony’s arms. He’ll be waiting for you. Finally.

#anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #hamilton #lin manuel miranda

[sunscreenstudies]

hey ik this is random but I was scrolling thru the leaving cert tag and saw your post abt your results. Firstly congrats (even if it is 3 years late haha), secondly I’m currently in 6th year and was wondering if I could ask for some English advice? I’m looking to go up a grade (h3->h2) and was wondering if you have any particular tips for studying english, the exam, technique, or for literally anything relevant to the subject. There’s no pressure to answer this, ty either way :)))

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask and i am so sorry i’ve only gotten round to it now XD

LC English tips below!

Okay so it’s been a while since I did the LC but if things are more or less the same, then you’ve got your three texts to answer a question on.

Tip #1: Even though there is an awful lot to learn, you just need to remember key words, and you’ll sail through! 

In the comparative, you need to compare your texts in every. single. paragraph. You could write a fantastic essay, but if you don’t say “In comparison to this…” “Text 2 however differs from this…” “Similarly…” “The two texts are different in the sense that…” etc. you will get zero marks at all.

When answering your poetry question, you need to keep referring to the style of the poet. Every past poetry question can be broken down into two simple questions: What did the poet write about? and how did they say it? If you can answer both these questions on every poem you learn, you’ll do great! 

Also, do not learn any more than 5 poems per poet and don’t learn any more than 5 poets to begin with. This covers you completely no matter who appears on the day!

Tip #2: Please please pleaseee remember that for the comphrehension section, you must answer one question A and one question B from two different texts! If you answer from the same text you will get 0 and worse than that, this section is worth 12.5% of your total paper which means you will be down an entire grade immediately.

The length of your answer needs to correspond to the marks going for that question. In question A you usually have three parts, worth 15m, 15m, and 20m. Your 20 mark answer must be longer than your 15 mark questions.

For every 5 marks a question is worth, you need 1 A4-page pararaph. Unless you’ve got tiny writing, this is usually 5 to 7 lines of the page.

Your teacher has undoubtedly told you all about timing and “don’t spend any longer than 40 minutes on your question A” and yea they have a point, to an extent. I spent about an hour answering my question A and then sailed through question B because for me, I found the second question a lot easier to answer. Don’t panic if you don’t stick to the “recommended time” because every single person is different and what you find easy might be difficult for someone else.

In saying that, if you are spending loadsss of time on one particular section and you can feel the clock ticking, then move the heck on. Take a deep breath, leave a blank page for yourself to come back to that question later, and start your next part. Every question has a finite amount of marks, so no matter how brilliant your 20 mark answer is, you can only ever get 20 marks for it, and if that answer came at the expense of not getting question B done at all, then you’re down a grade already.

Tip #3: They want your opinion. Let me repeat that. They want your opinion. No matter what the heck they ask you, whether it’s about poetry or your novel or a Shakespearean text, the examiner will be checking to see what you thought of the text. I know firsthand how weird writing things like “In my opion...” or “I believe that...” but this is how you get the marks. Don’t lose the H2 you’re aiming for cause you’re feeling a bit awkward. After the exam, that feeling will never matter again, but your grade will!

Link every single paragraph in every single answer. This doesn’t have to be complicated, you don’t even need to write an entire sentence. Just start every new paragraph with phrases like “However...” or  “Therefore...” or “In contrast to this...”. If you don’t link your paragraphs, the examiner will think that you don’t know what you’re talking about and that you have no opinion of your own (see Tip #3) so use those joining phrases!

Tip #4: For that letter/article/diary entry question B, make sure that whatever part of it you answer, you know the layout for that style. Reports must have a title, introduction, work carried out, findings, suggestions, recommendations, and conclusion sections. Essays need to have a clear introduction, 5+ paragraphs, and closing. Even diary entries should begin with ‘Dear Diary’ which physically causes me pain to write, but it’s what gets you the marks!

Letters are the most asked question B but the most diffuclt to get good marks in. First things first: Figure out if it’s formal or informal. Formal will be editors, principals, government, or anyone that you would address as “sir” or “ma’am” in real life. Informal will be your friends, close family members, penpals, or anyone you’d hug goodbye and laugh with in real life.

Formal letters begin with your own name in the right hand corner of the page, with your own address directly below it. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and be sure to check the question for any hint about what this date should be. If you’re writing a letter to your boss asking about organising a staff barbarcue for staff morale, then you wouldn’t date it in the middle of December, right? Sign off with something professional like “Kind regards” or “Thank you for your time”

Informal letters begin with your own address on the top right-hand corner of the page but do not write your name! It’s an informal letter to your friend; they know who you are.  Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and pay attention to the time of year again. Sign off with something casual like “see you later!” or “talk soon!”

Tip #5: Section 2′s composing section is worth an entire 25% of your paper. If you want to get a good grade, you need to get a good grade in this. If you’re aiming for a H2, then you need to get a H2 in this section minimum.

Your essay  should be between 4 to 6 pages, or 1000 to 1250 words. At least.

Always open with a quote, a rhetorical question, or a shocking statistic. I went online the night before my Paper One exam, and wrote down 10 quotes from well-known people about the most popular topics in life, eg. Education, Love, Money, Travelling, Death, Youth & Aging, etc. and just learnt them off in half an hour. I ended up using three of them on the day, and you have no idea the relief you feel when you’re guaranteed that at least one thing in your composition will get you marks!

Take an entire A4 page and plan your essay before you start. Not only is it just common sense and super helpful to get all your ideas down before you forget them, but if you run out of time for whatever reason, then the examiner will be able to see what you were planning to write, and will give you an extra mark or two. Your plan doens’t have to be complicated and you definitely shouldn’t spend any longer than 5 minutes on it. Just throw down a few words, organise them based on paragraph, and then start writing.

And finally (i’m so sorry that you had to read all that) remain calm! No matter what happens, whether you get a H1 or a H7, as long as you do your best then no one can say anything to you! You are more than your grade and you are more than some English exam that won’t matter in ten years anyway. Stay calm, always put your mental and physical health first, and remember that this paper is not the end all be all of anything. You’ve got this.

#ask #leaving cert #leaving cert advice #leaving cert english #study tips #anon

[halfgclden]

EPISODE 32: A MAJOR OCCURANCE

The sound of spooky intro music plays and fades out. As the microphone clicks on, faint sounds of water and traffic can be heard in the background.

JADE: Hello cryptwizzlers, cryptrackers, but never cryptormentors because we’re all friends here. Welcome to a very special episode of Cryptwins in which we are not actually researching a cryptid. But! Before you shut this off and call us hacks, we are instead researching the recent disappearance of social media fitness guru; Edison Major.

More spooky music plays. There is also the sound of fingers tapping a rhythm. It's typical Joel, unable to contain his energy as he taps the dashboard in time with their intro music.

JOEL: Weeeeeeeell...Maybe we are hacks. —a pause as he laughs— Nah, just kidding. This is the real deal. I'm not sure you're ready for this. This is some spooky, and excuse my French, spooky shit. Tell us more about this Major disappearance? —another laugh— Get it?

JADE: [A short laugh-sigh is let out at Joel’s joke.] Okay, before we begin, two things. One, get ready for the barrage of major and minor jokes, courtesy of Joel here.

JOEL: Got a whole list, be ready! He lets Jade finish, but listeners can still hear the tapping sound while she speaks.

JADE: Secondly, we’re still on the road here, so if the audio is bad or choppy... deal with it? —another small laugh— Anyyyyway. Spooky is right. This all began in September of last year, when @majored posted a picture of himself in a dark basement wearing a weird costume and then immediately went off the grid. And, you know, I’m all for a social media cleanse, people do it all the time. Buuut, what really brought this to our attention was a month later, on Halloween Eve of all nights, when a video popped up of him getting his ass kicked by someone in a Kakashi Hatake costume.

JOEL: Now, I know y'all are asking yourselves "Isn't he a fitness guru? Why was some weeb kickin' his ass?" And to that I say hey! Some weebs are strong, some are Super Saiyan, and others are Kakashi Hatake, the most talented ninja in Konohagukure.

JADE: lets out a laughing wheeze.

JOEL: We don't endorse fighting here. But I digress —a laugh— back on topic. So this guy just up and disappears out of nowhere? And there's not a peep of him until we see Kakashi givin’ him the business. What does this all mean?

JADE: Okay, so, let’s get the full story. @majored goes off the grid, comes back to get his ass kicked by a Naruto character, disappears again, comes back to spit on someone and call them a see you next Tuesday, and then disappears again. And he hasn’t come back online. So what’s up with that? Well... we did a little digging.

Another spooky noise plays over the sound of Jade organizing a stack of papers.

JOEL: Daaaaaaang. I’d say those are some fightin' words, especially from someone who keeps pulling a vanishing act, don’t ya think?

JADE: They really are! I mean, he is from New Zealand, but even so, I think you don’t use that word unless you want to attract some attention. -She clicks her tongue as she gets back on topic- The video was originally posted the night before Halloween of last year, by @ime.are on Twitter. Obviously they got a lot of hate and questions after posting this, but all of them were left unanswered. The only person in the video that was tagged was Major, but upon further examination, this Ime seems to follow and have pictures with someone who happened to be dressed as Kakashi that same night, which has led many to speculate that these ninjas are the same person.

JOEL: So we all know Halloween's a spooooky season. Perfect for parties and all that jazz. But all those costumes make it a perfect time for disguises. Was that even the real Major? Was the person who spit the real Major? Who is this Ime and how do they fit into the story? And who— a pause for dramatic effect and muffled laughter as he tries to stay serious— is this mystery ninja? Tell us more!

JADE: Alright, alright. So this mystery ninja goes by Abel, or @_kllledbycain on the Gram. At first glance, they look pretty much like every other TikTok e-boy; black and white photos, pet snake, the insinuation that they’re dead, whole nine yards.

JOEL: snorts when Jade announces their handle, and again at her eboy comment, wheezing. It's true, it's true!

JADE: And this stuff is so common right now, so nothing really raises any eyebrows, right? Right? Well, tell me, why would a Tik Tok goth go around beating the crap out of a random influencer? Stay tuned for the theory. First, we’re gonna take a step back and look at the whole situation, because, of course, it doesn’t end there.

JOEL: Ohhhh snap! I'm on the edge of my seat, and I bet our listeners are too.

JADE: [clears her throat] So if we go back to the original poster of the video, @ime.are, and we take a look at their Insta, who is on it but... @devinitely? Okay, so @devinitely is in the same place as @majored, clearly, and, for anyone that doesn’t know, she’s been doing a bunch of collabs with @loganvance. This places not one, not two, but three influencers all together in this place where weebs are running around assaulting people.

JOEL: Okay. Okay, I need to know! Where are they? What's bringing all these influencers together? Are @devinitely and @loganvance part of something much more sinister than it seems? [He makes a funny face at Jade and wiggles his fingers, before dropping his voice to a stage-whisper.] Is it some kind of twisted influencer cult?

JADE: Shhhh, Joel, spoilers.

JOEL: [He laughs.] Sorry, sorry!

JADE: [muffled laughter over the sound of more papers rustling.] So, any skeptics out there might say, oh, well, this Ime Are is just a lucky person who happens to be in the presence of more than one social media personality. However, Devin follows the weeb that may or may not have kicked Major's ass. And, according to a cast photo of Rocky Horror, on her boyfriend's Instagram, both the weeb in question and the hot man that tore the two apart were part of the cast. This would be a great time to mention that a link to the video is in the description, as are all the pictures from social media that I'm referencing.

JOEL: [to Jade but loud enough for the mic to pick it up at regular volume] Oh snap, you got everything together in a link? Like, I could click the link to check it out right now? — A pause as he does just that.— Woah, cryptwizzlers, she's not kidding. Click the link in bio, you won't be disappointed. Okay, Jade...hear me out. Given that it was Halloween, the night of nights. Do you think that...maybe it was all an elaborate event? Was it staged? Is any of this real?

JADE: Oh, my dear brother, always the skeptic. Don’t you think that it’s a bit much for him to stop posting entirely in order to get publicity? And we mustn’t forget the spitting on someone in South Dakota, that’s not exactly his brand. Unless he’s trying out something like Taylor Swift and Reputation but... I digress. No, I don’t think any of this is staged, and I’ll tell you why. Let’s go back to the weird cow print basement post. You know who also happened to post something about some cowboy party? Oh, um, Devin’s boyfriend? A picture of him, Devin, and Logan? Which... puts them and Major in the same place on the night that he disappeared.

JOEL: Not a skeptic! Just trying to get all these questions answered. —A laugh— You're right, that's 180 from the online presence he used to have. All theories aside, —a pause— I'd love to go to a cowboy party. Get me a glow-in-the-dark cowboy hat. You know they make 'em. —He laughs again, mouthing 'what?' to Jade.—

JADE: Oh, def. We're getting matching hats. Check out our merch in a few weeks —she laughs— Glow in the dark mothman themed cowboy hats, talk about a niche.

JOEL: Snap, we have to do that now, 'cause I want one real bad. But okay, back on track. This cowboy party. The origin of this theory, yeah? Oh snap...what were those three doing in the same place as Major? And all in cow print too? That's....majorly suspicious! [He trails off into laughter, his voice doing that wheezy thing when someone's trying to finish their sentence before cracking up. Recovering, he adds the following.] Wait, wait, wait. What about—

JADE: Yes, yes, yes. —she cuts Joel off as though he's finished his sentence, chuckling at his joke— Patience, my dear twin, we will get there. —the smile is evident in her voice—

JOEL: I feel like somehow, I ended up as your Padawan for this episode. — he laughs—

JADE: You heard it here, I'm absolutely schooling Joel this episode. — she laughs— First, we're going to backtrack all the way to the original poster again. You know we snooped their whole page, and they're pretty regularly posting pictures with this person, @rengaaay, who isn't an influencer but she makes some of those sick ass roller skating videos... this isn't sus, just cool, link in the description. —a slight pause as she tries to get back to her train of thought— Anyway, what is sus is that she tags two people in her photos all the time... But no joke guys check out their Insta profiles they look different in like every other picture. Which, uh, could just be editing but also could be something.... more sinister? Hold onto that thought.

JOEL: That's such a good handle, dang! Better than @lumberjoel, honestly. I have to say I'm jelly. We should get branded rollerskates, maybe @rengaaay can advertise for us if we ship them. JK...unless? —more laughter as he waits for Jade to get back on the train and pulls up the profiles in question to take a look for himself— Huh...is it editing? Are they masters of disguise? Makeup professionals? —He starts to say something else but is pretty sure he's figured out where Jade's going with this.— What could be more sinister than human chameleons?

JADE: [The sound of papers shuffling can be heard] Oh, yeah, so, it's weird but I think every time the siblings are in a pic together they look more like each other? I dunno if this really makes sense but seriously dudes check the post with this episode because it has a bunch of photos side by side and... yeah. You pull a photo of them by themself and it's like okay, I know what this dude looks like and then you put them side by side and... I dunno, makeup? Contacts? Cloning, mayhaps? And, just so that I'm not just holding on to one thing too much... check their post from August 12th, linked below. Their brother... doesn't have a shadow. Why would you edit that out of a photo? No way are they going that hard to be memelords.

JOEL: Okay, let me look at this. Wha— That's weird as hell. How much hair dye do these two use? Hm. Could be clones? —snaps his fingers—Definitely clones. —he snorts loudly, laughing before clearing his throat— Ahem, uh. No shadow? That's dedication! I dunno, maybe it's some new challenge for the 'gram. Oh...but wait. I found a video. Look, Jade. No shadow. In a video. What the—

JADE: A video, guys. —A moment of muffled laughter before her mic cuts out, but the sound of it clicking on again is followed almost immediately— This is a big family, guys, and a big weird one because their other brother @sleepyfinch... Okay, wait, he himself is pretty normal, super cute, shout out, but guys, ghouls, you know who he has tagged in a recent post? Yet another influencer. Except this one is from Italy? @gaborealis; essentially, he’s a medium, so if you didn’t believe that the supernatural were at play beforehand... buckle up.

JOEL: Wait, wait, I'm still on the video thing. Who has time to edit a video? —his voice cracks when he says video and he covers his laughter as he focuses—

JADE: [wheezing] Shut up —there is no malice in her voice, and she’s laughing too.—

JOEL: So weird, I love it. Oh snap— the @gaborealis? It's time to get ghosty! —echoes "ghosty" and hums the Cha Cha Slide tune for a couple seconds— Okay, so wait. Does this mean everyone's favorite medium is also in the same place as...three? Three other influencers and this weird family of....maybe shapeshifters? No? Too crazy a theory?

JADE: You know what they say, cryptoddlers; no theory is too crazy. Everything Einstein came up with? Theory.

JOEL: Bringing Einstein into it, huh?

JADE: Oh you know it. —a snort— Anyway, according to Devin’s boyfriend’s Instagram, it doesn’t end there. @spencerkeahi, a youtuber and disability rights advocate who comes from Hawaii is also there with that gaggle. Shout out to @elidrising for tagging people and location. So what are these influencers from all corners of the globe gathering together for? Well, let’s take a look at the original poster again. You go on their Twitter, and a few months back it’s all just videos of people... fighting? In some sort of underground place. Mayhaps... the same creepy basement that Major posted his last photo? —a small gasp, as though she’s surprised by this— No, that must be a coincidence... or is it?

Another spooky sound plays

JOEL: @elidrising is the man, dang! Are you tellin' me there's a...—he lowers his voice to a whisper— secret influencers-only Fight Club? I wouldn't put it past @devinitely TBH. Honestly, I'd join one...even though I guess I've broken the first rule but talking about it, huh? Actually— Jay, do you think we'd even be allowed to join? Are podcasters influencers? Poll in my story right now, let us know what y'all think.

JADE: Right now? Joel, this isn’t going up for another week, at least. —She’s obviously trying to sound less amused than she’s coming off— Once we get the blue check we’re influencers, so we’ve got a few million followers to go, I think.

JOEL: Yeah, right now! They'll hear that when the episode goes up and respond in real ti— Oh, no. You're right. Oops. No poll in my story, y'all. False alarm. Blue check, huh? You heard it here, cryptwizzlers, we're gonna get that blue check. Tell your friends, tell your family. Heck, tell that cute barista at your coffee shop to listen to our podcast! We might just do a giveaway when we get that lil' blue swoosh.

JADE: [clears her throat.] You know what’s a great way to get us that blue check, though?

A different, light sort of spooky music begins playing in the background, meaning that it’s time for the ad break

JOEL: Take it away!

JADE: Checking out a little app called Creature Comforts. Alright guys, not that this show isn’t one hundred percent real as it is, but for real, I love this app. A dating sim that features everyone’s favorite... for lack of a better term, monsters. Did you watch the Shape of Water and go, “Damn, I’d tap that”? Do you want to snuggle with a Sasquatch? Do you just wish you could find yourself a GF with more eyes? Well, have we got the app for you. Creature Comforts lets you do all this and more. A choose-your-own-adventure game where you can smooch beasts, marry Mothman, and ignore the outside world. It’s seriously all I want. And, if you enter the code cryptwins— that’s the name of the podcast you’re listening to, no capital letters, when you download the app, then it’s only 99 cents to play without ads. Which, trust me ghouls, is worth it. I don’t want anything interrupting my cut scene with the most stunning eyes in West Virginia.

JOEL: Don't forget that scuba diving date with Nessie! Or, or...that half-day hike with Bigfoot. —he's laughing again smh— There's a reason Jade does the ad reads and not me. But, I can tell you that Mothman is sure to sweep you off your feet. And it's not just because he can fly.

JADE: It’s the —a pause for finger snapping— alliteration for me. But that’s Creature Comforts, exactly how you think you’d spell it, don’t ask us ‘cause we’re dyslexic, and cryptwins, like the name of this podcast. Tweet us @cryptwins to let us know how far along you are, who you’re pursuing, and what mysteries you unlock about their backstories. Now... I think it’s time for a timeline, just to get us sorted out, what do you think, Joel?

JOEL: Personally, I'm still tryin' to land a date with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I guess we'll see what happens. Aw heck yeah! Give us a timeline, give us the dirt. — a laugh — Give the people what they want!

JADE: Okay — the shuffling of paper is heard once more — We start in September: @majored goes off the grid after posting a creepy picture of himself in a weird outfit in a spooky basement. This is around the same time that the Scarlet Surfer was in NYC for fashion week, which @majored accompanied him to, meaning that it isn’t entirely out of the question for him to still be in New York. Also on social media at this time is @devinitely and @loganvance also both is cowboy outfits, though the creepy basement is absent from both of them.

JOEL: I guess September isn't too early for weird Halloween stuff to start? What with the spooky basement and everything. Right? And everyone loves a cowboy moment— or have cowboys become the new clown? I heard there was a clown renaissance and people like them now? I don't really know where we stand on the whole clown— what?

JADE: I see our next hot debate. Cowboys: Hot or not? Personally, I liked cow print, but I can see cowboys going out soon. Once they reach killer clown status is when it’ll be ideal for me.

JOEL: Personally, I vote hot. And uhhh, not to kinkshame you Jay, but killer clowns are a no from me.

JADE: [tsks] Kinkshamed, by my own brother no less.

JOEL: [a loud laugh] You know I'm just kidding. No kinkshaking, ya heard? I'd literally let the Jersey Devil step on me so. To each their own.

JADE: [snorting] Um, gross.

JADE: Now to October: There is a production of Rocky Horror, a cast photo is uploaded to @elidrising, the account of @devinitely’s boyfriend. This places not only @devinitely and @loganvance in Montauk, but it also places @crispyboiz and @_kllledbycain in Montauk too. These are two of the people that are suspected to belong in the video by @ime.are, in which (suspected) @_kllledbycain, dressed as Kakashi Hatake attacked @majored, only to be torn apart by good citizen @crispyboiz. This video is the first that we’ve seen of @majored since his last post, and he offers nothing in response to it.

JOEL: Okay. Okay. Now, you know I love a good shadow-cast of Rocky Horror. I've always wanted to play Frank. I would rock that part. Am I wrong? —he laughs— But okay, that's - count 'em - three influencers in one place? If @elidrising is there, we can assume @devinitely is too because she was in the same location as, uh, whatshername? Logan? And that's the same location as @ime.are. Who took the video of  Kakashi kicking @majored's ass. @_kllledbycain— more like killedbyKakashi, eh? Seriously why are all these people together?

JOEL: [as an afterthought] It's gotta be a cult.

JADE: November to December: Nothing happens with @majored, @ime.are also offers nothing except for quote unquote “#teamkakashi”, which is funny because they never tagged Kakashi, but anyways. Upon deeper inspection, there are videos on their Twitter from last May, of people in a fighting ring. And then people fighting on a lake? But the fighting ring looks super dangerous and I dunno, like you said, cult-y? Fight-club-y? Call it what you will. In any case, we are led to believe that this fighting has been going on for some time in the background.

JOEL: Okay, come on. That’s definitely a cult. I’ve seen the movie, can confirm. — he groans— Literally what is an Italian astrologer doing there? Wait, wait, wait. Montauk? You said Montauk. Montauk, as in on Long Island. As in like —he drops his voice to a stage-whisper— the part of Long Island that peeps believe to be the site of a government cover-up involving kidnapping, mind control, and time travel? The part that inspired Stranger Things? That Montauk? Snap. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together sooner. Jade, Jade. What if this is, I don’t know, like, MKUltra 2.0?

JADE: Yes, yes that Montauk, I’m glad you picked up on that. Look, I’m not saying that it’s an influencer’s-only thing, but I am saying that some might be in the area, and maybe involved. At the same time throughout all of this, we have a culmination of more influencers seeming to know this network of people. @gaborealis, an Italian astrologer, is seen in pictures of @sleepyfinch, who was also in the production of Rocky Horror, and has pictures with @crispyboiz and, god, this name is a freaking nightmare, @_kllledbycain. Not to mention this guy has many pictures of weird… family members? Who sometimes look alike? Okay, but seriously, @kodakola and @sonofpeter, how is your hair not straw at this point? Is it wigs? I think my hair would simply fall out. And y’all using Insta filters or what, cause… I’m not gonna get into it, let’s keep going.

JOEL: Maybe they're makeup vloggers or something. Gotta change up the look for views, right? Don't forget to like, comment, subscribe and uhhhh, smash that follow button— or whatever YouTubers say. —he laughs— Okay but seriously, yeah. @sonofpeter, @kodakola, whatever you two are doing to your hair, let me know because I'm trying to bleach my hair and dye it bright purple without it falling out. And since we're doing it at our next stop, well, your advice will probably be too late. But still, what are your secrets? Is it...clones?

JADE: Joel! —she’s laughing again.— Timeline and then theories. —she clears her throat— After that long silence, a Tweet emerges. January 8th. "Can’t believe @majored SPAT on me and called me a C-Blank-Blank-T when he checked into @SDFamilyMotel last night”. This places Major across the country from where we believed him to be, but acting so strangely that one must wonder… was that really him? Or was it someone that just looked like him? Or was it a cry for help? Nothing’s been heard since from @majored, which I guess… leads us to our theories. —a pause— You were saying… clones, Joel?

JOEL: Sheeeeesh, this is not @majored's year. I gotta say, this sounds totally different from the vibe that this guy used to put out on his social media. Obviously Instagram is fake blah blah blah, you know the spiel, but like. Damn. He spit on them? —a pause as he considers what his sibling has said— You know....I think that's a really good point. Was that even the real him? Will the real Ed Major please stand up?

JADE: I know. It just seems out of character, and terrible for a reputation, but it also would make sense if... One, this is a fake @majored, meant to stir up controversy before he goes underground again. And with an action like spitting on someone and calling them a name like that? Who cares what the dude does after that? Unfollowed, cancelled, whatever. And why would this guy want to go underground, well, I'm glad you're so interested. Well, the official Cryptwins theory is that maybe... just maybe, the crazy, government cover-up Montauk that we all know and love isn't that far from truth. We see that they have means of covering up shadows —she lets out a laugh— and people whose faces just change? And who else is there, @spencerkeahi, someone who explains rehabilitation, maybe someone who has experience helping people get used to being a clone? @ime.are, a nurse who enjoys taking videos of people fighting? It all adds up, people!

JOEL: Yeah, seriously. With the real @majored MIA, there would be no one to combat the backlash from this supposed...clone? Imposter? And maybe that’s what they want. Looks like Montauk isn’t the ideal vacation spot anymore, huh? Even if their seaside cabins are super chill and homey. But I digress. Something sinister is going on. Something bigger than we can even imagine. A secret underground facility that’s...cloning influencers? Training them? Your guess is as good as mine. And that’s why we’re on this road trip, isn’t that right Jade? To get some answers?

JADE: Exactly. —it sounds as though she is holding back a laugh or a cough.— Cross country roadtrip in which we explore different topics like this one, and on the way, we'll document our progress and any spooky encounters. Check out our insta, @cryptwins to get all the updates, and consider hitting us up on Patreon if you want us to be able to afford the gas to get all the way to the east coast.

JOEL: I’ll be posting behind the scenes content in the “ROADTRIP” highlight on my Insta throughout the trip so be sure to check my stories. You might get lucky and find some special codes for Creature Comforts but, hey. You didn’t hear it from me. -he laughs and there’s the distinct sound of a bag of chips being opened- What Jade meant to say is gas and snack money. So yeah, go go go! Check out the Patreon! We might even do a giveaway at the end of our trip, get you guys some cool souvenirs we pick up on our travels. Not a bad idea, eh?

JADE: Joel, my ears are literally bleeding right now. Thanks. Anyway, our second theory will also be exclusive to our Patrons, so be sure to get the full video there. Cryptwins... out...

Her voice fades out and the music from the beginning fades in, takes over, and plays until the end of the track.

#c: jade #c: jadejoel #a major occurance

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (5)

I’m so sorry this is later than I’d said, but life threw a spanner in the works and to make up for it you should have Chapter 6 by tomorrow night!

Previous Chapter. Masterlist.

Warnings: There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed. If I miss something come shout out me for doing so:))

My beautiful beta is @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares 💓

Chapter 5

—————

Get up.

Get up.

Get up now, Elain.

She didn’t know how long she’d been on her knees in that field for. No, that’s not how he should have been told; she didn’t mean to do it like that. But the words he’d said and the way he had said them were still ringing in her head now. Easily forgettable. Like he didn’t even care, she was just someone he could use and dispose of. He had been her first but, that didn’t matter to him apparently, didn’t even ask how she felt. What, he just assumed she was a girl who didn’t care who she gave it up to? This whole situation was completely fucked. With shaking hands, Elain searched through her pockets and pulled out her phone, dialling Lucien’s number. He was only sat out in the car waiting for her, like he always did after a game to give her those few minutes of peace, and she could just go straight to him, but wasn’t sure she had enough strength in her to stand. After the third ring he finally answered, but when she heard his voice, Elain couldn’t stop the tears from falling again.

“Can you come back out here and help me? I- I don’t think I can get up, I’m in the middle of the field.” She hung up quickly, cutting off the end of his sentence, only needing to hear that he was coming for her. Like he always would when she asked. It felt like a whole hour had passed by the time she heard his panicked voice, but it mostly likely had only been a few minutes.

“Elain? Lainy, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

It seemed like she was shaking her head to tell him no, but everything felt numb, like she was a puppet and someone else was doing the actions for her. She proceeded to tell him about her run in with Azriel, the words he’d said and that she’d slipped up and told him about the baby in the worst way possible way. By the end of it, she noticed she was now sat in the passenger seat of his car, realising he had carried her the whole way, and turned to say that he didn’t have to do that. However, he spoke before she could even open her mouth.

“Just rest for a minute, Ellie. We’ll get you home and tucked into bed, and then you and I can watch whichever terrible romance movie you want. Talking about this can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

Elain nodded, giving her best friend a small smile, excited about watching a romance with him because she always found it funny to listen to his complaints throughout the whole thing. That smile was dropped however, when she turned her head to the window and caught a glimpse of the football field once more. She knew what Lucien was trying to do, yet the sight of Azriel’s face when she shouted at him was still playing on repeat in the forefront of her mind. The shock, the anger, the disbelief and then finally, the realisation of what she was trying to tell him. That she was about to tip their worlds upside down, because they weren’t coherent enough that night to think about the consequences.

Part of her, the selfish part at least, hoped he was struggling with the news as much as she was right now. Maybe even worse.

Fair was fair, right?

oOoOo

Azriel had been staring at his shattered bathroom mirror since he’d first put his fist int. He was consciously clenching and unclenching his battered right hand, welcoming the pain, realising now that he deserved to feel it. Deserved to feel the open cuts stretch themselves open slightly more each time after what he had said, after what he had done. Elain was dealing with this too; she was most likely more terrified than he was of what this meant for their future, yet he walked away from her. She needed him and he just walked away. And now a few hours later, he wanted so badly to fix it, to be able to go back to that moment and just stay there to listen to what she had to say.

Fuck, what had he done?

And shit, he’d never meant that Elain was easily forgettable when he’d said it! But now, after having replayed their whole conversation three times over, he could see how she had misunderstood him. Yes, he could barely remember the events of that night and how they’d ended up in bed together, but the few memories that Azriel did have were engrained into his mind forever. The feeling of her nails across his back, soft skin underneath his fingertips and the soft little sounds she had made as they’d moved together. He had never realised it in the beginning, but his first thought earlier when he’d spotted her in the middle of the pitch watching as the sun began to set, was that she was absolutely beautiful. Her hair cascaded down her back in golden brown waves; the delicate little frame of her body had made his steps falter slightly. A weird sensation had begun to build in his chest but he had forced it back down because no girl had ever made him feel that way, so how had she done it?

Even through all of that, there was no way he was going to forget the bomb she’d dropped on him. She was pregnant. With his baby. He wanted so badly to go running to his brothers, to tell them what had happened so maybe someone could tell him what the hell he was supposed to do. But Azriel couldn’t, because then people would know what he had done. Fucking Nesta Archeron would know what he had done, and then she’d have his balls and most likely feed them to him.

Shaking the terrifying thoughts of bodily harm from his head, Azriel made his way back into his room, stripping and placing his clothes in the hamper as he went. Just before he climbed into bed, he stood in front of his mirror for a moment to look at his back, knowing the marks were long faded but part of him still missed them. They reminded him that what had happened was real, that he hadn’t dreamt up what he considered to be the best sex he’d had in his life. Sighing, he climbed into bed and turned off the lamp, engulfing the room in darkness before grabbing his phone to send of a text. Holding out with all the hope he had that he hadn’t blown his chances of making things right.

El? I’m sorry for what I said tonight out on that field. I was wrong, so terribly wrong and I need you to know that you’re not forgettable, you could never be forgettable. I want to fix this, and I want to hear about the baby, to be there for you. If you haven’t already blocked my number and you get this message, do you think we could talk soon? Fifteen minutes is all I ask for and then, if you still hate me afterwards I’d understand, but I’m asking for a second chance. A chance to be better, and to show you how much I really wish I could remember what we had done because you deserve that at least.

-Az

All he could do now was wait, and pray to whatever gods there were that she believed he was telling the truth.

—————

It’s shorter for this one because I took things out that I wanted to go into six instead:) Love it? Hate it? Do let me know!💓 If you wanted to be added/removed from the tags I’ll be happy to do so😁

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @azriel-archeronn @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @judexcardanxgreenbriar

#elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #modern au #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar #acotar fic #surprises #my babies are dumb sometimes #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #cassian #rhysand #lucien vanserra

[8makes1cheese]

f2l with Song Mingi♡

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

RoommateAU, (and like High SchoolAU in the beginning and kinda CollegeAU?)

Tags: cursing, shitty attempts at comedy, fluff, kinda sorta suggestive?, ig drug use and drinking?(booze and weed)

Words: 2.5k

A/N: Okay so, this is my first bullet scenario thing? and its weird...like this is so weird but I tried XD it ended up this weird mix between bullet scenario and oneshot fic and i-

...............all I can do is practice and try to get better but yeah. SO HERES THIS :D (im srry don hate me T-T)

-Finding Your Best Friend-

this bb would be the best-est friend you would have in this world

probably why you fell for him in the first place, but let's not get to ahead of ourselves

you guys met freshman year of high school

your guys' mutual friend Yunho is really the reason why

you just moved to town, and since said town was small, it was clear to you that everybody knew everybody else

you felt pretty lonely on the first day because of that

second day of freshman year is where is all started to come together

you were looking for a nice spot to sit and have your lunch outside because you didn't want to look like the weird loner person eating by themselves in silence

you found a pretty spot under a big tree near the track field, you put a random cool cake making tutorial on your phone and ate your lunch

the video was at a part where they were placing intricate designs in frosting all over the cake when you hear "Whoa, that is so cool!"

you jump about 3 feet in the air and immediately gather up your phone and get up to spin around to see who interrupted your quiet time

a young man, not sure his grade, with peach colored hair and a worried expression on his face, raises his hands in a surrender pose

'okay but what the hell was he doing, watching my phone behind the tree?'

well reader, we'll never know

"I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to scare you that bad! Really, I am so so so sorry!"

you, still in shock, just nod at him

now you're both just standing in front of each other

not saying anything

....well

this is awkward

"I-I'm Yunho...by the way."

you clear your throat, not sure why, nervous habit

"[Y/N].."

"So, uh... Haven't seen you around here before.."

once you explained you were new, and new to the town in general. There was no escape.

you were now best friends with the giant teddy bear and there was nothing you could do about it

yunho immediately took you under his wing and showed you around the campus. Then the town itself after school was out.

but Ro this seems to be turning into a yunho x reader fic/ bullet scenario

stfu I'm getting there

what did this turn into even

so now you and Yunho are bffs

enter giant teddy bear 2.0

you and yunho are hanging out at lunch, it's become a usual for the past two weeks

and Yunhos other bff is becoming sus about why Yunho hasn't been eating with him at lunch or doesn't seem to have as much time after school for him

that's when giant teddy bear 2.0 (if you don't know that its Mingi then idek-) finds his bestie with some random chick

a really adorable random chick

"So this is where you have been?"

you and Yunho start, not expecting someone to find your guys' spot

Also, deja vu, amiright?

"Oh, hey Mingi!" Yunho greets the tall dirty blonde haired teddy bear

And you're totally not sitting there thinking, 'holy shit, he is...wow.'

and that's how it all started

he stayed and introduced himself and you hit it off just as well as you and yunho did

maybe even better..

he started showing up everyday, at the what was dubbed 'The Cool Kids Spot™️' by you all, with yunho

even tho we all know you guys were NOT the cool kids

then it went to him being at the spot before everyone showed up

so he could see you first

then it turned into him meeting you up after class so you both could grab your food together and meet up Yunho at The Spot™️

before you could even realize it, he became your person

you were the first person he ran up to and hugged after him and Yunhos dance group took home 1st place at a competition

he was the first person you called when you were told that your poem won an award

you were the person he'd come to if he needed any kind of advice

and he was the first person you went to if you needed to get out of your head or your anxiety was getting to you

the high school years went by so fast

a lot changed

but what never changed was Mingi, he may have grown

and damn he grew

but he was your constant (and yes, yunho too, we can't forget yunho bro)

-Knowing They're The One-

high school came and went

Mingi and Yunho were accepted by a prestigious performing arts school

you, however, were going to just a regular college

luckily, both schools weren't terribly far from each other

which is why, instead of suffering in dorms, you and Mingi decided to get a apartment together, not far from both schools

yunhos ass stayed with his parents because they live like right next to the school, lucky hoe

you all still make time for each other

but you and Mingi prefer to stay in, order takeout and watch random stuff on YouTube

whenever you or Mingi went out it was always together (unless it was classes)

Grocery shopping? Together. Doctors appointment? Together. Girls night? Together. Guys night? Together.

"So, you must be suffering right now" his friend Yeosang said to him on a rare guys night that didn't involve you.

Mingi looked at Yeosang perplexed, ignoring whatever Wooyoung was talking to him about

"What are you talking about?"

"You and [Y/N] are literally always together, the fact she isn't here surprises me."

Mingi laughed. "We're not always together."

A cacophony of "LIES" and "BULLSHIT" filled the air as all of Mingi friends called him out on his bullshit

Mingi could feel his face heating up

"W-well, so what if we are! Were best friends AND roommates."

"And lovers~" his friend San whispered in his ear from behind and laughed, dancing away before Mingi could hit him

"We're not together!" Mingi exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"But you want to be."

Mingi turned to look at the owner of the voice. It was Yunho, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen everyone was gathered in

He was looking at Mingi with a smirk

Mingi knew Yunho knew how he felt about you

and not because he told him

well...he kinda did

FLASHBACK TIME

it was your guys' high school graduation

more specifically, the night of, and you were all partying and yunhos house

celebrating the fact that you all were officially adults now

lol you thought

and what better way to celebrate that than with underage drinking

be safe kids, don't drink irresponsibly

and Mingi. Got. Wasted.

by the end of the night, he was crying (and maybe puked once or twice...) in Yunhos arms about how beautiful you were, and how amazing and talented you were

wouldn't shut up about how soft and perfect you feel in his arms when he hugs you or vice versa

"She is my soulmate." After every other sentence mentioning how perfect you are

but wait, where were you while Mingi was crying and puking you ask?

That night you met Yeonjun, who is now one of your closest friends

  at first, a friend of Wooyoungs, who you all became friends with junior year, along with his best friend San

Yeonjun, who went to a different school across town, was invited along by Woo and San

you and Yeonjun hit it off so well, drinking and laughing, and talking about how much he loves his boyfriend Soobin, and maybe you drunkingly going on about how amazing Mingi is

however, Mingi didn't know Yeonjun

and what he saw that night was you, enjoying your time with someone who wasn’t him, laughing at jokes that weren't his, hanging all over someone who could never know you as well as he did (and that totally wasn't the reason that Mingi drank like 2 bottles of straight vodka, not at all)

and at that moment

he knew

he fucked up

he was in love with you

OKAY END OF FLASHBACK

Mingi wasn't sure what to say

he could deny it sure, but he knew it was useless

not after every person in the room gave him a knowing smirk after Yunhos comment

“She doesn't-”

“Oh, whatever. you guys are literally already a couple. And dont even try to deny that. If she was here right now, she’d probably be on your lap and you two would be sitting in some corner of the house whispering some weird drunk lovey shit to each other.”

well...

Mingi really didn't have a argument for that

that night he came home sober

but you didn't know that until months later when he told you he wasn't actually drunk

anyways when he got home you were sitting in the living room

music playing away on YouTube while you type away on your laptop

you didn't hear him come in, softly singing along to the song under your breath

he stood there for a moment and just..looked at you

your hair was a mess

you had on the same clothes as yesterday

probably haven't done a skincare routine in months

you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life

he felt so much love swell in his chest

hes known it for a while now but at that moment all that was going on in his head was

“That’s my soulmate. I love her. I love her so much.”

“Hey.”

he wasn't sure if he had said it loud enough but apparently he had because you flinched and turned to see who the ‘intruder’ was

“Oh, Mingi! Shit, you scared me...” you laughed. “How was guys night?”

He made his was over to sit on the couch as you told him how your paper was coming along and then waited for him to answer your question

he sat for a good minute not saying anything

“Mingi?”

he looked at you

“you okay hun?” you asked, placing your hand on his cheek

and then he kissed you

it was so quick, you had no time to register that it was happening at all

and he left just as quickly

slamming the door to his bedroom and leaving you flustered and panicked

-So....Lovers?-

the morning after the kiss was the most awkward moment that you and Mingi had ever had

luckily it didn't last long at all

you two were silent, awkwardly making breakfast

then Mingi busted out with “Man, I’m so hungover! I barely remember anything from last night!”

“Do...do you remember anything from when you came home?”

“No, to be honest, I don't even remember coming home...”

-cue forced laughter-

-cue Mingi not trying to be disappointed when you looked relieved-

 he asked you if anything happened and tried not to feel sad about the fact you were going on about how nothing happened and he just came home and went to bed

why wouldn't you mention the kiss? maybe everyone had it wrong, you didn't feel the same. why else would you avoid it?

but everything went back to...normal

you two would cuddle every night on the couch

you showed up to every guys night like usual

(there may or may not have been more knowing smirks thrown Mingis way)

he showed up to the rare girls nights you'd have with your (like 2) girlfriends

(they literally just consisted of everyone chilling in some secluded spot and sparking up a blunt or two and bull-shittng)

but everything wasn't normal

because even though it lasted 0.0002 seconds long

Mingi cannot stop thinking about that kiss

neither can you for that matter

that's when you confided in your bestie Yeonjun

who knew all about your love for your other bestie

you went to Yeonjuns one Saturday afternoon without mingi

its been a month since the kiss and Yeonjun is only disappointed in the fact that you didn't tell him sooner

his solution was simple, just tell him how you feel

its so god damn obvious he feels the same

but who are you to do the simple thing right?

so what do you do?

you go with Soobins idea

and :) you:) go:) on:) a:) blind:) date:) with one of soobin and yeonjuns friends:)))))))

well

at least you were supposed to..

the night comes when you were supposed to meet at a nice cafe with their friend Beomgyu

you. were. lookin. FIRE BABY

slaayyyyy

you were in the kitchen grabbing your keys

and maybe prolonging the fact that your going out with someone who isn't MIngi

when Mingi walked out to heat himself up a noodle cup

and maybe one for you too because he didn't think you were going anywhere and was going to ask if you wanted to chill in his room and play mario kart

his jaw DROPPED when he saw you

he felt like he was just kicked in the gut, all breath left his lungs

and he may or may not have gotten an instant boner but-

he cleared his throat to get your attention

“You look...nice.” wow, Mingi, smooth

“O-oh, thanks, um... ill be back later okay?”

when Mingi asked where you'll be going and you said you had a blind date, he swears to this day he blacked out for a moment

next thing he knew he had you pushed against the counter

“Mingi-”

“No.”

“w-what..”

“You don't have a date.”

“But I do-”

then his lips were pressed against yours

and unlike the first, this one lasted a hell of a lot longer than 0.0002 seconds

it wasn't fireworks or butterflies or a sudden realization of unconditional love

it was rough and messy and filled with so many emotions including relief that your love for each other can finally blossom

you didn't say a word to each other when you parted

you stared at each other for a while, panting with big smiles on your faces

once your breathing returned to normal you gently pushed him back so you weren't pressed against the counter anymore

“I’m going to change in PJ's.”

Mingis smile lit up his whole face. “But I thought you had a date..”

“No, I don't.” you kissed his cheek and left to change.

-YES LOVERS FINALLY-

so you guys never really sat down and were like ‘hey so are we...?’

because you both knew you just....were

after that night you guys started acting like you had been dating for months

it was just like before

because of course, like always, Yunho was right

you guys already acted like you were dating

now kisses and a lot more were added to the mix

which just made everything 1000x better

everyone knew it was just a matter of time

you loved waking up to his arms wrapped around your waist and him softly snoring in your ear

he loved waking up to you peppering kisses all over his collar bones and neck

your loved bloomed♡

A/N pt2: Im sorry if the end seems so rushed as well, I started running out of steam and my mind blanked but I didn't want to prolong this and never post it...like i do with everything...

Thank you for reading!

#song mingi #ateez #ateez scenarios #mingi fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop fluff #ateez fluff #8s place #ateez fanfiction #mingi friends to lovers #mingi f2l #ateez f2l #mingi fanfic #kpop fanfic #ateez au #mingi oneshot #song mingi oneshot #ateez oneshot

[my-arlington-academia]

Hello! Could I get headcanons for the main 10 with a Scholar who likes to leave love letters around for them to find?

Yes! 💗 and thank you for the request ✊ I'm not sure if they're already dating or not? I'm gonna assume they are. (This turned out to be so long! I'm gonna flood the tags again...)

Alistair

- first time you gave him one, it was on his desk

- he tried to read as swiftly as he could, but as he was reading through it, he started getting weird looks from the other students

- not surprising, he was grinning the whole time

- Raquel tried to look over his shoulder

- "Oooohhh~ what's that? A love letter? You're so popular with the ladies haha."

- he immediately hides it and stuffs it in his bag

- "Psh. N-no? It was just uhhh... homework!"

- poor boy sucks at lying

- "Of course, I'm sure everyone smiles like that at homework."

- Alistair keeps on giving you glances during class

- he didn't have the time to read all of it but he did see that you signed it and your handwriting is really recognizable

- afterwards, he quietly reads it in his room

- his heart races at each word

- comes to your room as soon as he finishes reading it

- "Y/N I came here to th- than- uhhh? Yeah! To thank you! Haha..."

- for a hot second he forgot how words work

- is laughing out of nervousness

- after that, you keep giving him more and more letters

- he starts consciously expecting to find one on his desk when he walks in

- is really sad when there's nothing on the desk...

Axel

- he already receives a lot of love letters ("fanmail") so how can you give it to him while making sure that he knows it's yours right away?

- you thought of a silly trick to throw him off guard

- When he's walking through the hallways you call out his name and give him the letter, you tell him that "he dropped this"

- he's surprised so he automatically grabs the letter

- "Oh! Thank you for picking it up for- Wait. I don't think this is mine. Uh...?"

- too late! You ran away immediately

- it takes him a few seconds to understand what you just did

- he's excited! But of course he's not going to read it in the middle of the hallway

- skips the beginning of next class to read it carefully in the cafeteria

- he blushes furiously at how passionate the letter is

- he's persuaded that you could write a beautiful love song

- comes in class 20 minutes late and gets detention from Tadashi but to be honest, he doesn't even care anymore

- When he walks in, he gives you a subtle look but you know what that look means

- you're so embarrassed that you try to ignore him the whole period... until he stealthly throws a paperball on your desk

- you open it, it says "look my way"

- even though you're mortified, you do so anyway

- he waves at you and smirks all knowingly

- ohhhh boy, you look away again

- you hear a stifled laugh, he probably thinks your reaction was really cute

Claire

- she often lends you pretty little boxes with cookies in them

- but when you have to give the box back to her, you get an idea

- you put a love letter in the empty box and give it back to Claire

- she discovers it in the evening when she opens the box, expecting to only find crumbs you left behind

- blinks a few times and closes the box

- opens it again and the letter is still inside

- she thinks "it wasn't a hallucination!"

- reads it really slowly because she has to stop at each sentence to calm herself down

- the next day she gives you the box again with the new cookies she baked yesterday

- runs away as soon as you take the box

- you open it and there's a letter on top of the cookies, it's a response to your letter!

- seems like she was too shy to tell you in person

- to fit the theme of the letter: the cookies are heart-shaped

- you guys keep on exchanging letters through the box and it becomes a habit between the two of you

Ellie

- since she doesn't have a roommate, you slide the letter through the small space under her door

- finds it on the floor when she gets back to her room

- OwO whats dis?

- opens it and reads it super quickly

- she's so giddy that she reads over it multiple times

- sends you text messages with lots of emojis in them

- "Thank youuu 💖💕💗 you sweetheart!!! 💘💝😍😊😘"

- builds a robot to deliver letters between the two of you

- it knocks on the door and if you don't open it to take the letter, it goes back to Ellie

- she teaches you how to use the robot!

- "Don't worry! If someone else snatches the letter away from the robot it'll activate an alarm on my phone! And it's not like we need to sign the letters, we can use codenames!"

- You remind her that she's the only one in the pure and applied sciences department to create cute robots like those

- "Ah whoops... well uh, to be fair everyone already knows that we're dating so... no need to hide it!"

Karolina

- she probably doesn't care much about love letters

- she always thought that it's childish and extremely ridiculous

- that is until you gave her one

- the really first time you gave the letter to her directly or else she wouldn't read it, not knowing that it was from you

- she's all proud of herself while reading it

- she agrees with each statement but still blushes

- "Of course I'm gorgeous! You didn't have to write that part..."

- she's actually a sucker for books, especially from the romance genre

- you make her feel like a heroine from one of those books and she's secretly really happy about it

- but she'll never admit that of course

- after a while she gets inspired and tries to write one herself

- she thinks "I'll show you how it's done!"

- ends up getting really embarrassed at the thought of you reading the letter and doesn't give it to you until the end of the year

Neha

- after multiple attempts you somehow managed to sneak the letter in one of her sketchbooks

- too bad you couldn't see the surprise on her face when she found your letter

- she wanted to work for a few hours and brainstorm ideas for some new outfits

- but her plans went out of the window

- she read it. Put it on the side and started thinking about you during a solid 20 minutes

- wants to thank you but doesn't know how to do it without sounding like a little kid

- decides to send you a text for now, but she'll also write you a letter later

- "Thank you a lot for the letter. I really appreciate it."

- thinks that maybe it's a little bit too cold so she adds a heart emoji at the end

- cringes to herself while sending it

- gets back to work but sometimes she draws your face on the side

- scribbles all over it when she realizes what she's doing

- "This is not professional! If I have to show my sketchbook to someone and they see this, they won't take me seriously..."

- decides to write you a letter first or else she won't be able to focus

Raquel

- This is a hard one

- Raquel always moves from place to place without stop so it's hard to be sneaky with her

- eventually you slip the letter in her bag but you don't know how much time it'll take for her to find it

- like you thought it took her a few days

- when she did, she was very vocal about it

- she ran to you and almost jumped on you

- hugs you and thanks you hundreds of times

- "I love you too!!! You're so sweet Y/N..."

- becomes much more flirty, she was already confident but now it's even worse (or better? 😌)

- puts the letter on the wall of her room and shows it off to Claire

- "Look at that Claire! It seems like my godly charm cannot be stopped."

- Raquel starts carefully checking her bag everyday in hopes of finding another letter from you

- and even when she doesn't find anything, it gets her into a working mood

- "Might as well do my homework I guess..."

- becomes much more responsible with homework now that she checks her bag everyday

- your love literally helped her to get better grades

Tadashi

- This was a risky mission

- you had to sneak into the student council room and leave it on his desk

- they had a meeting this afternoon and Tadashi has been in a bad mood lately

- Well, to be fair he's always done with everybody's BS but this time it was worse than usual

- he finds the letter and gets confused right away

- wants to read it but he's having a meeting

- he's really fidgety the whole time, for some reason he has a feeling that it's from you though he can't explain why

- once everyone leaves the room he opens the letter

- all of his stress dies down, he falls back on his chair and sighs

- goes to find you and brings you to the council room, he makes you sit on his chair

- you tell him that you can't be here but he smiles and answers "Oh? You say that now even though you snuck in earlier to give me a secret love letter of all things?"

- he teases you with endearment and massages your back to thank you

- asks you if you'll write more (because he loved it) and you promise to do so if he promises to take more breaks

Tegan

- Tegan often invites you to play videos games with him (or to marathon some shows/anime/movies/whatever)

- you left the letter behind for him but he didn't catch the drift

- goes to your room to give it back

- "Um... you forgot this, I think..."

- you tell him that it's for him

- "Wait, really? You can just text me, you know? It's quicker and way easier than writing letters."

- oooohhhh boy. He really doesn't get it, you have to spell it out

- "A l-love letter? For me!?"

- "Tegan. We're dating."

- "Oh right! Sorry... I always forget that, it seems like I'm in a dream..."

- reads it in front of you while you're paying close attention to his reactions

- and to no surprise: he's a blushing mess

- you're fully satisfied, all that time was worth it

- he says that he'll repay you with a "love text message" which sounds like he's being lazy, but really knowing how... "unique" his handwriting is, you're glad...

- but it was not just a text message.

- "Sorry, I went a bit overboard 🙏🙏"

- his text has a 23 pages long file attached to it

- he wrote a really really long essay explaining in details why you're "so awesome" and "the best person in the world"

Tyler

- after classes are over, when he's working on a new painting he spends almost all of his time in the art room

- that's when you strike!

- you know he has a habit of sitting in the corner of the room so that's where you leave the letter

- honestly, he was in a slump lately because he felt like he was doing a really half-assed job with his new art piece

- but your letter gave him so much motivation that he finished the painting in a day

- "This is crazy Y/N! Reading your letter gave me the same rush as drinking 5 monster drinks in the span of 2 hours!"

- "Uhhh... Please don't do that?"

- laughs at how worried you look and asks you to write more to give him strength

- you say no at first but he pulls out your letter out of his pocket and starts reading it out loud in the middle of the hallway

- "Ssshhh! People might hear!"

- "Yeah, so? That's kinda the point but if you promise to write me more I'll stop~"

- you know he's just teasing you but it's still so embarrassing...

- in the end you give in out of shame however you have no idea just how much this letter helped him

- whenever he feels down or like he's not good enough he pulls out one of your letters and reads it

- he keeps all of them safe in a box, they're his treasures

#sweet elite #se #main 10 #headcanons #requests #asks #hope you guys like it!

[whumpitup]

You Can Never Really Forget - a 9-1-1: Lonestar Fanfic

Summary:

TK couldn’t remember the night he was shot.

One night, everything comes back to him in his sleep, and Carlos is there to rescue him.

(AKA – you ever have a fanfic idea that actually physically hurts your heart to write? Lol)

Some Tags: #whump #shot #ptsd #panic attack #hurt/comfort

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

It had been a few weeks since TK was shot responding to a call with the 126. While it had all seemed so big and heavy at the beginning, over time, TK found himself forgetting.

Once and a while TK would be too ambitious, making too fast a movement, or shifting positions and making his chest scream in protest. He would freeze, grimace, and take a deep breath, allowing the pain to subside. He would be reminded once again that he wasn’t there yet - he still had healing to do, as much as the waiting frustrated him.

He was spending a lot of time with Carlos, now. TK could tell something had shifted between the two of them recently. After they had teamed up to handle the solar flare incident, it was like something had just solidified. The shift was automatic, and maybe permanent. He was happy that was the case.

As much as TK pushed away at the beginning of their relationship, TK always hoped he and Carlos’ relationship would turn into something more. TK initially wanted to run away from the idea of a real relationship with Carlos, scared that he may get hurt like he did with his last boyfriend. But something about Carlos made him feel safe - like it was worth the risk.

Once TK finally opened up about his feelings, Carlos started to put a lot of effort into their time together. He was constantly taking TK to new places in the city, planning elaborate dates, and inviting him over as much as possible. TK originally thought this was due to TK finally giving him the “OK” to move forward, but after a week or so, he pondered if there was another motive behind his heightened effort of intiation.

Was Carlos trying to distract him?

TK noticed Carlos would get this look in his eyes every time TK forgot about the gunshot wound again and ended up hurting himself inadvertently. It was subtle. Carlos probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but his eyebrows would furrow slightly, his eyes would widen. He looked at TK like he was fragile and was immediately prepared to do whatever it took to protect him from breaking.

TK knew Carlos didn’t intend to show his worry on his face, but he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. TK didn’t like seeming weak in front of Carlos (or anyone) but he knew deep-down that Carlos’ concern didn’t come from a place of judgment. So, TK tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

TK wondered if the sudden busy approach to their time together was Carlos’ way to help TK get his mind off of things. The dates, the detailed plans… it was like Carlos was giving TK as many opportunities as possible to forget what happened. They were always doing something. Never sitting still long enough for memories to resurface. How would TK tell Carlos he didn’t need to forget something he never remembered in the first place?

Yes, the weight of what happened was intense. He knew he almost died. He knew he had been in a coma. But the rest of it? It was like there was a blank space in his mind that TK just couldn’t get past. That whole experience - the answered call, the kid with the gun, the aftermath - was wiped from his memory. His father had insisted this was a good thing, but TK couldn’t shake feeling like something had been taken from him. It was a bizarre feeling, knowing that everyone else remembered the night he was shot except for him.

One night, when Carlos had invited TK over for a movie date, he thought about talking to Carlos about everything. He wasn’t mad about the way Carlos was acting around him, but he wanted to address it. To explain that he didn’t need Carlos to be so worried about him.

More than anything, TK wanted to express to someone how off he felt.

TK wasn’t good at being vulnerable with his feelings, but it was something his therapist had tried to get him to be better at. Carlos probably wouldn’t be able to offer much advice, considering how weird and personal the situation was to TK, but getting the thoughts out in the open might be helpful. Maybe it would help him process through the uncomfortable feeling of being unable to retrieve the memory of one of the most life-altering events he’d ever experienced.

The lights were low, however, and TK was lying comfortably next to Carlos, under his arm. TK’s head was resting on Carlos’ shoulder, and he felt his eyelids growing heavy with each passing minute. He wanted to talk, but his body resisted. Maybe the conversation could wait until morning. He was exhausted. With a final deep breath, he let sleep overtake him.

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

“One, two, three,”

TK slammed the battering ram into the door.

Crack!

The shot rang out.

TK stumbled back in surprise, gripping the doorframe.

“Was that a gunshot?”

TK looked at his father, wanting to say something, anything. But he couldn’t connect his thoughts to his mouth. He couldn’t even pull air into his lungs.

“TK?”

He started to fall.

“TK!” His father shouted.

He was on the ground. His father’s panicked face appeared over him.

“Dad—" TK started, being interrupted by a painful fit of coughs.

“Michelle!” Owen shouted, looking over his shoulder.

TK saw the blur of a few teammates rushing into the room in front of him to dissipate the situation they had arrived for.

He felt a warmth spreading across his chest and pooling underneath him. His back arched as pain ripped through his torso. Holy shit, he was shot.

TK heard himself crying out in pain, though he sounded far away from his own body.

“Hey, TK, stay with us! Please, son, look at me,” Owen pleaded, his hands grasping the sides of TK’s face. Michelle was putting pressure on his chest, saying things to him he couldn’t focus on enough to understand. There was commotion everywhere.

“... hear me?”

“... too much blood...”

“Get him .... now!”

TK gasped, desperate for air. He forced out a wet cough, choking on something in his throat. Was that blood?

“He can’t breathe!” Owen shouted, still holding TK’s head in his hands. There were tears falling rapidly down his face. “TK, please stay with us.”

Michelle was frantically rummaging through the equipment next to her to find something.

TK used every ounce of remaining effort to grab hold of his dad’s wrist. A pang of guilt gripped him. His dad was watching him die. Again.

I’m sorry, Dad, he thought to himself. I’m so sorry.

He tried to hold on to the faces in front of him - to the voices, the pain, anything - but blackness crept at the corners of his vision and pulled him under.

 TK woke again in the ambulance. There were paramedics around him, prodding him, moving him, strapping things to him. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, but it didn’t seem to do much. TK felt like he was drowning.

There was too much pressure building in his head. His lungs screamed for oxygen, but he couldn’t get them to cooperate. The heart monitor beeped erratically. TK was panicking. He caught sight of Owen to the left of him. The older man looked pale and terrified, his right hand combing nervously through his hair.

The ambulance hit a bump and TK took in a shuddering gasp, which caught his father’s  attention. Owen sat upright. TK’s head lolled to the side to face him. He no longer had the energy to keep it up.

TK reached his hand out weakly. Owen jumped up to take it in his.

“Are you with me, son?” He asked shakily.

The pain was all-consuming. TK wanted to assure his dad somehow that he would be okay, but apart from his inability to speak, he also felt an overwhelming fear that any assurance would be a lie. He was certainly dying.

“Captain Strand, I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up so we can work,” one paramedic urged his father.

TK pressed his eyes shut, wanting to stay awake for his dad’s sake, but wanting the pain and struggle to be over. He could no longer tell if Owen had let go of his hand, or if he could just no longer feel it.

The heart rate monitor grew increasingly loud and fast in his ears.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

“TK!”

Was that Carlos?

“TK you’re okay! You’re safe!”

That was definitely Carlos. What the hell was he doing there?

TK kept his eyes pressed shut. He felt strong arms grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

The pain was gone somehow, but TK still couldn’t breathe.

“TK! Look at me! Wake up, please!” Carlos pleaded.

TK obeyed, shooting his eyes open to see Carlos’ worry-stricken face in front of him. TK was hyperventilating. His clothes were drenched in sweat.

“Where am I?” He choked out.

“My house, TK, my house,” Carlos insisted. TK shook his head vigorously, unable to grab a hold of reality. If he was safe, why did it still feel like he was drowning?

“Look at me, Tyler,” Carlos implored in a stern, but consoling voice. TK listened.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, I promise. You need to breathe, alright?” Carlos’ voice broke on his last word. TK noticed he was shaking slightly.

“O-okay,” TK stammered between his short breaths. His head pounded painfully.

“Follow my breathing, okay?” Carlos said. He took in an exaggerated deep breath. TK did his best to replicate it. Carlos exhaled, not releasing eye contact. TK exhaled with him. They repeated this action a few times. TK reached a hand up to his chest, feeling a jolt of unease when his shirt felt damp. He looked down, expecting blood, but seeing sweat. He sighed in relief.

“I thought—” he said softly, unable to finish his sentence. He was starting to relax, but his breathing wasn’t back to normal yet.

“You went back there, didn’t you?” Carlos asked somberly. TK looked up, his eyes threatening to fill with tears.

“I haven’t... been able to remember anything... about that night,” TK said between breaths. “It was like it all flooded back to me, somehow. Like... I lived through it again.”

Carlos frowned, sympathy in his eyes.

“I am so, so sorry, TK. That must have been so terrifying.”

TK couldn’t help his chin from quivering. He looked down, embarrassed that he couldn’t keep it together. He let out a sob and dropped his head into his hands.

Carlos pulled him into a tight embrace and TK buried his face into his neck.

They sat like this for a few minutes. Carlos held TK in silence as he released all the feelings he had been holding on to for the past few weeks. Carlos gently stroked the back of TK’s head as his shoulders shook with his sobs.

After a few long minutes had passed, TK pulled away, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face. His eyes were red and puffy. Carlos grabbed one of TK’s hand. TK noticed Carlos had been crying, too. He hated that he caused the people around him so much pain sometimes.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t even know what happened.”

“Don’t apologize for anything, TK. Seriously,” Carlos said with such sincerity TK didn’t feel the need to argue. “Trauma is a bitch, whether or not it’s immediate.”

“I thought I would just always have this blankness in my mind surrounding that day. It was so frustrating to not be able to remember it. I didn’t think it would ever come back to me,” TK said. “Now I wish it hadn’t.”

“I totally get it. I wasn’t right there when it happened, but hearing that gunshot, knowing you guys were in there and then seeing them bring you out on a stretcher...” Carlos trailed off. “If it was that horrifying for me, I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”

“It was so clear just now. I legitimately thought I was there. The pain, the blood, my Dad’s face when he realized what happened, it was so real.” There was a beat of silence. “But then you pulled me out of it,” TK continued. “Thank you.”

Carlos gave a small smile and squeezed TK’s hand.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” he asked. TK nodded.

“Yeah. I feel like I’m back in reality again,” he answered.

Carlos stood up and walked around to sit back down on the couch next to TK. Carlos pulled him close.

“I am so sorry that happened. I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Carlos whispered. He gave TK a kiss on his forehead. “If you ever are alone and that happens again, you call me, okay? I don’t care where you are. I’ll be there.”

TK hoped it would never happen again, but he knew it didn’t always work that way. TK let himself relax into Carlos’ hold. He would deal with it when the time came.

In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The conversation TK had wanted to have before he fell asleep seemed incredibly inconsequential now. He was grateful for Carlos - every aspect of him. Maybe Carlos was being a little protective and insistent, but TK had a feeling a little extra distraction would be good for him, anyway. Maybe Carlos’ concern for him felt a little uncomfortable, but it was TK’s own insecurity that made him feel weak; Carlos only helped him feel strong again.

As Carlos lightly traced circles on TK’s arm, he began to drift again. This time, however, TK didn’t dream at all.

(Thanks for reading :) I don’t write very much, but I’ve read some great TK fanfics here recently and I’m so attached to the characters I got inspired)

ALSO I tried to edit this post and it dELETED the whole thing which was mega frustrating, but now it’s back. I had made some edits on the original post that are gone now, so that’s annoying, but hopefully it’s mostly the same. Ugh.

#whump #911 lone star #tk strand #tarlos #carlos reyes #shot #ptsd #panic attack #whump fanfiction #hurt/comfort #whump fanfic

[ambidextrousarcher]

Sarcastic StarBharat Reviews-Episode 13: Even more Dhritrashtra drama

The episode begins with Bhishm standing at the bank of Ganga. He joins his hands and Ganga makes a prakat. “Pranaam, mata,” “You’ve come back to your mother today, son,” Ah, Ganga, in scenes like these, you almost make me forget it is canonical that you drowned 7 of your sons. Anyway, Bhishm is Mr. Paragon of Perfection, remember? So he says, “No, mata. I am here to bathe in your sacred waters and cleanse myself of my sins.” “You are my son, Bhishm, you cannot sin.” Excuse me? What was that kidnapping thing then? The Niyog idea? Ah, well, paragon of perfection, indeed. “But I have sinned. For the future of Hastina, I have sacrificed a girl’s happiness. I did not even ask Gandhari if she was alright with a blind husband or not.” “Did she fight it?” “Not with words, but…” he brings up her oath. “Did you take your own oath out of rebellion?” “Such a question after so many years, mata?” “Search your heart, son. Sometimes we have to re-evaluate our previous actions.” “No, mother, I can say with utter honesty that I had thought only of my father’s happiness and Hastina’s future.” “If Gandhari had refused, would you attacked Gandhar?” “No, mata, how can your son ever disrespect a woman’s wishes like that?” Really, Bhishm? Then why the hell did you go with a bloody army to Gandhar? Ganga pronounces her son innocent. He asks God to keep Dhritrashtra and Gandhari happy. Scene changes. Camera focuses on Ambalika. “Such a sacrifice on Gandhari’s part definitely elevates patnidharm to a new level.” Okay, new pet hate, freaking patnidharm. “Kripacharya was absolutely right.” Ambika points out that they too had sacrificed a lot for their patnidharm. “The question is whether Gandhari is doing sacrifice or rebellion.” “No, as I see it…” “It doesn’t matter how you or I see it. What Dhritrashtra sees it as, that’s important.” Camera focuses on angry young man striding into his nuptial chambers. “Gandhari?” “I am here.” “I know you are here. I can find out by the sound of breaths how many people are here. Come near me, Gandhari.” Uh-oh. Why do I have the uncomfortable feeling that he is being sadistic and/or sarcastic? “Okay…” Every single one of Gandhari sentences here is accompanied by the salutation ‘arya’ for husband, but I am already irritated enough, so I am omitting further irritation. She stumbles on her way to him., knocks something over. Dhritrashtra closes his eyes. “If you walk that way, you won’t be able to come to me. You’ll collide into the arch.” “But, where are you?” “Look at your foolishness. You don’t know where I am, but you closed your eyes.” Sadistic as he is, jerkass still does have a point. Wow, that’s quoted almost directly out of TV Tropes! Go, Nila! “What were you trying to do? Insult me, or your own self?” Then comes that old argument of disrespecting disability. I am not repeating that hoary old chestnut here. He commands her to remove the cloth from her eyes, saying that he will not accept her, continuing that it is the duty of every citizen to listen to their King, He asks her if he commands her to remove the cloth from her eyes after he is King, would she not oblige? She says that she would, if she has such an order, but she would do it just before agnipariksha. What is the deal between this lady and agnipariksha? Dhritrashtra looks even more pissed. “You mean, you will not obey me under any circumstances,” he hisses, shaking her. His hands feel the flowers that adorn her. “What is all this? Where are your earrings? Your bangles? Why are you wearing a garland of flowers?” “I have adorned myself with flowers. I thought you…” “Enough! You have insulted me enough. Just to remind me of my blindness, you reach this limit? Do you think others won’t be able to see you? Do you want to remind everyone what happened to you?” “It’s not like that!” “It is like that! You are here to disrespect me! I came with a choodamani according to tradition for you, Gandhari, but you don’t deserve it! You are merely my bad luck! I, Dhritrashtra, son of Vichitraveerya, hereby foreswear you. Even if Hastinapur considers you its Queen, I will never consider you my wife! Never!” He pushes her to the floor. Ugh. I hate you, Dhritrashtra. Also, skip skip skip. This is Krishna Gyaan. This is about the pursuit of  happiness. (Isn’t that a movie?) “Samraat Dhritrashtra…even he is eager to hear these words.” “I am afraid of that eagerness. I fear he is too eager to cloak his disability with status.” You’re right, Bhishm. “Why wouldn’t anyone, Bhishm?” This is Satyavati. “I feel for Dhritrashtra. But a man overwhelmed by his own sadness cannot do anything for the people.” “We do not have a choice. Dhritrashtra is eldest of the Kuru Princes. If he doesn’t become King, what else can he do? He can’t be a Senapati or a Mahamantri. He will lose meaning in his life. Pandu will protect the country and his King as Senapati. Vidur knows Dharma. He’ll help the King.” I agree. In this whole sorry story, Vidur is the one person who has any idea of dharma. “Will Dhritrashtra let Vidur be Mahamantri? After becoming King, if he doesn’t name anyone to the post, neither I nor you can disobey him in that matter.” “Then, before the Rajabhishek, we will name Pandu the senapati and Vidur the Mahamantri. Even if you don’t agree with my decision of making Dhritrashtra the King, understand that it is the correct decision. Listen to me, Bhishm.” Satyavati leaves. Scene changes to Bhishm doing Surya Namaskar. As he finishes it, Vidur enters and does a pranipaat. “Come, Vidur. Here to ask for blessings before taking the post of Mahamantri?” “I am here to ask for permission.” “Permission? What for?” “Freedom. I ask for freedom from the duty of taking that oath. Hastina’s royal family has given a lot to me.” “Vidur, you are the son of the King, too.” “They are the sons of the Queens. If something dishonorable happens, I will be blamed for it.” “You are my student. Why would you do anything dishonorable?” “When I have to choose between Dharma and love after becoming the Mahamantri, what do I choose?” “Dharma is the Sun, and love the Moon. If you choose love, you will be at peace, but in darkness. If you choose Dharma, you will get light. You, the family, the people of this nation.” Vidur nods. “Go, Vidur. Take the oath and discharge your duties with Dharma.” “As you command.” “Live long.” The title track BGM plays a little. The scene changes to Pandu taking his mother’s blessings. “Son, may Hastina always be victorious by the strength of your sword. May your enemies tremble at the mere sound of your name. May you be immortal in history. May the throne of the senapati be as glorious as the King’s in Hastina.” Not much of the above actually occur in truth, but this guy is actually immortal in history, if only as the father of his sons, expressly the younger four, in my eyes. “No other throne has the right to be as glorious as the Kings.” “I know, and yet I pray for it, because for a mother, only the success of her children is happiness.” Scene changes again to Dhritrashtra. He starts intoning a very pompous oath. He is imagining the jayjaykars yet again. Also preening. He is disturbed by the sound of payals. He does his weird eye twitch (god, one thing this actor has is extreme control of his ocular muscles, apparently.) “Who dares?” It’s Gandhari, accompanied by Shakuni. Episode ends. Precap: Bhishm hands the sword to Dhritrashtra. “Stop, elder brother,” this is Vidur. “A man blind from birth is not eligible to become the King.” The camera pans on everyone’s faces.    

At this point, it’s rather obvious that Dhritrashtra ain’t gonna become King.

And...we’ve officially crossed 15k words! Man, if only writing Antraatman were this easy...

Also: Official count of canon fails: 22 (1 for each canon fail episode also) plus 5 completely canon fail episodes.

Tagging @butchcaroldanvers @medhasree @mayavanavihariniharini @hermioneaubreymiachase @avani008 @chaanv @ratnas-musings @ruminationsofaraven @bleedinknight.

#sarcastic starbharat reviews #scribbler gets salty #nila rants #episode 13 #truly unlucky 13 this one #dhritrashtra #aka permanently angry drama queen #gandhari #aka always patnidharma #bhishm #mr paragon of perfection #pandu #honey boy #ambika and ambalika #satyavati

[winchester-fantasies]

Lean On

Summary: Sam finds you years later after leaving you for Ruby. Set early in season 5. Inspired by the song “Lean On” by Major Lazer & DJ Snake.

Word Count: 2405

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     You sat on the side of your bed. Your shoulders slumped as you held the picture frame in your hands. A tear slipped down your cheek onto the glass. You wiped it away with your finger, a smear appearing across it, warping your face...and Sam’s. It was a picture from a long time ago. Before Dean came looking for his brother, before Jess died, before Sam’s powers, before Azazel, before the Devil’s Gate, before Dean’s deal.

     You had known Sam since Stanford. In fact, Jess had been your best friend when she had first met him. You and Sam got along famously, and you three soon became inseparable. Some people would say you had been the third wheel. But you didn’t mind. You loved them both.

     When Dean had shown up at Stanford, you had begged to tag along to help them find their dad. Sam had refused, saying you should stay with Jess, but you had been hardheaded and stupid. You had snuck into the Impala when they weren’t looking and only made your presence known when you were well away from Stanford. Sam had been livid for you directly going against his wishes.

     It wasn’t until after Jess died that you understood why Sam had asked you to stay behind. Maybe if you had listened to him, you could have saved her. If you had stayed, maybe Jess wouldn’t have died. You had blamed yourself for years after that. You still did sometimes.

     Although Sam was angry and distant for a long time after Jess’ death, you started to see him soften towards you. Especially after he heard you begging God for forgiveness and saw your continual nightmares. It hadn’t just been Sam who had seen Jess go up in flames that night. You had been right there when Dean had pulled Sam out, kicking and screaming as your best friend and his lover slowly perished. It wasn’t something that you had gotten over easily, and Sam had begun to realize that.

     Instead of continuing to hold you at arm’s length, he finally started opening up to you. Your mutual grief and heartache drew you even closer. Things began to change. Feelings you hadn’t realized either of you had began to blossom. And everything simply evolved from there.

     You realized just how hard the hunter life could be, and it caused you to have even more respect for the man you now called your own. But you were happy. Despite everything the Winchesters went through and the constant fear and stress of hunting, you and Sam were content. Living in your own little blissful bubble, just you two against the world. Nothing seemed impossible.

     But that was before Dean had been dragged to Hell. That was before Ruby. You gritted your teeth as you thought of the demon. The bitch who took Sam away from you and left you with nothing but distant memories.

     At first it was Sam coming home late at night. You figured it was his grief, driving him to drink and waste himself away. He never really let you help him. God knows you’d tried. But every time you’d attempt to get him to talk, his temper would flare, and he’d tell you to just shut up. You’d finally stopped trying.

     Then it was Sam not coming home until the next morning. Your heart had seized up when you smelled another woman on his flannel. But you had ignored it, trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase. He was hurting, uncertain of what to do or how to process his brother’s death. He’d come back around, you’d told yourself.

     One day Sam just didn’t come home. You had called his phone, frantically trying to get ahold of him, worried that something horrific had happened to him. On your sixth try, he finally answered. He’d told you to stop trying to reach him. He didn’t need you anymore. He was better and stronger with her. You were just holding him back. Your heart had ripped in two.

     It’d been years since you’d spoken to him. You had packed up and left, never once looking back. You told yourself Sam was a dick. He hadn’t really loved Jess, and he sure as hell hadn’t loved you. You never wanted to see him again. Deep down you knew that was a lie. Every time your phone rang, your heart would skip a beat, hoping against hope it would be him. It never was. You’d see a tall man in the crowd, shaggy hair falling below his ears, and your breath would catch in your throat. But it wasn’t Sam.

     You had finally given up ever seeing him again. You found yourself a job at the local grocery store. You had tried to stop hunting. But hunting was addictive, like a scratch you couldn’t quite reach. You began to understand why they had said hunting wasn’t something you retire from. In a weird and messed up way, it was your release. You could forget about Sam and your broken heart for a few days, even if it was while killing.

     At last you could breathe again. You were finally starting to feel your heart heal. You were finally able to look at pictures of Sam without crying. “At least most of the time,” you thought, as you swiped at another tear. You had come to the conclusion that maybe it had been for the best anyway. Love and relationships didn’t mix well with hunting. It never lasted.

     But fuck. Sometimes you just needed someone. Someone to come home to after a rough hunt. Someone to tell you you’d done good. Someone to promise it’d be all right. Someone besides the bar flies and one-night stands that always seemed to go hand in hand with hunting.

     You were brought out of your reverie by a knock at your door. You wiped the rest of your tears away and grabbed your pistol from the bedside table. You weren’t working a case, and you didn’t have very many friends. There was no reason for someone to be there. You made your way quietly to the door and moved the curtains before you looked out the sidelite. You silently swore when you couldn’t make out the figure well enough. You huffed in irritation as you realized you’d have to swing the door open and hope to god it wasn’t someone or something out to get you.

     Another knock sounded at the door, heavier this time. You gingerly unlocked the door and stared at it for a moment, willing your heartbeat to slow. You swung the door wide, your pistol at the ready.

     There was shuffling feet and everything was happening so fast. Before you could register what was going on, you felt strong arms around you, your face plastered to a firm chest. You stiffened as you breathed in his scent. The scent you had so desperately tried to rid yourself of but one you still dreamed about at night.

     “(Y/N),” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath ruffling the hair at your temple.

     You finally felt your shock fade away, and you pulled away from him, your hands pushing against his chest so hard he was forced to take a few steps back.

     “Get away from me,” you growled.

     He looked the same, but in some ways he was different. Maybe it was because his hair was slightly longer or maybe because his eyes were tired, and his face was worn like he had been through hell. You hadn’t seen him in so long, and you questioned if it was even him.

     “(Y/N),” he said again, taking a small step towards you. You backed away this time, your pistol once more raised.

     “I said, get away from me!” you shouted.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you heard a familiar voice say. You faltered as Dean walked through your door. You hadn’t seen him in almost two years, and your knees buckled. Sam caught you right before you hit the floor, but you didn’t have enough strength to fight him off.

     “I’ve been known to make girls weak in the knees, but I have to say, this is a first,” Dean said with a playful smirk.

     “H...how?” you whispered as Sam helped you to your kitchen table.

     “Long story, sweetheart,” Dean said, sitting across from you while Sam took the seat next to yours. “Short version is Sammy’s no longer Ruby’s little bitch, and Lucifer’s out of his cage.”

     You gaped, your shock only intensified. Sam glared at Dean. “You thought now would be the perfect time to tell her? She didn’t even know you got out of Hell, Dean! And she and I didn’t exactly part ways on the best of terms.”

     It was your turn to scowl, your gaze spitting fire at Sam. “That’s all you have to say about how you treated me?” you spat.

     Dean’s eyes widened at your venom-laced words. Sam paled, and he looked to the ground, words escaping him.

     Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I, uh, I think I’ll just go check on....” He left the sentence unfinished as he hurried out your door, slamming it behind him.

     You sat staring at Sam, your ears ringing from the anger raging in your chest. He finally looked up at you, and you were surprised to see remorse and even a few tears threatening to spill over. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry.”

     “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what you did and how you made me feel, Sam,” you said, you voice icy, words more vehement than you had intended. He flinched at your words but didn’t break his eye contact.

     “I know it doesn’t. God, if I could take it all back...” he said quietly, running his fingers through his hair roughly. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. And I’m not using this as an excuse to justify how I treated you. You sure as hell didn’t deserve that. But...it wasn’t just Ruby using me and getting inside my head. I.... Fuck, why is this so hard to get out? I...I was drinking demon blood.”

     He looked at you, his eyes filled with trepidation. Your eyes widened at his confession, and you sat in silence for a moment, trying to process what he’d just told you. “You...you what?” you finally snapped incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

     Sam’s eyes fell in shame. “Ruby said it was making me stronger. So I could go up against Lilith - the first demon Lucifer ever created,” he explained when you frowned in confusion at the name you’d never heard before. “But Ruby was only using me to help Lilith free Lucifer.”

     “So basically...you started the apocalypse,” you stated.

     “Yeah, basically,” Sam said sheepishly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

     You were both startled when a laugh resonated from your throat. Sam stared at you, flabbergasted at your reaction. You couldn’t stop, though. Even with you being a hunter, his story sounded absolutely batshit crazy.

     Your laughter abruptly turned to sobs. Sobs that wracked your body as tears streaked down your face and drenched the top of your t-shirt. Sam looked even more shocked, but he suddenly pulled you into his arms. You curled into his body, feeling for all the world like a child again who wanted to feel safe. He held you tightly, his chin resting on your head, his large hands rubbing circles on your back.

     Your tears finally stopped, but Sam didn’t let go. You didn’t want him to either.

     “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. I know I’ve already said it, and I’ll continue to say it for the rest of my life,” he said, his voice sounding as if he was now the one on the verge of tears.

     “I know,” you whispered back, you voice raspy.

     “Ruby had my mind so twisted. She told me you were holding me back. That you would only distract me. Stifle my potential.... I stupidly believed it.”

     You were silent. You weren’t sure what to say. You knew Sam was trying to be sincere. You could tell he was just as fucked up from all this as you were. But your heart was still smarting. And you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to forgive him.

     “You don’t have to answer me now,” he whispered. “But I’d like to be yours again.... If you’ll have me.”

     You felt butterflies in your stomach despite the bitterness in your heart. You smiled slightly, but you didn’t want Sam to see. Not yet.

     “How do I know you won’t run off and do something like this again?”

     “I’ll have you to keep me in line,” he said matter-of-factly.

     You sighed heavily. “Sam, I tried that when you were with Ruby. You didn’t listen,” you said. You paused for a moment, contemplating your next words carefully. “I need someone I can count on, Sam. I need someone that even when they’re gone on hunts, I know they’re going to come home. I need to know they’re not going to abandon me again.”

     Sam’s hold on you tightened, and he sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I can’t promise that I’ll never cause you to worry again. But I can promise that I’ll never let go. I’ll never leave you again. And I’ll always, always love you.”

     You were silent as you weighed his words. “(Y/N),” he said. “You’ve never deserted me. You’ve always been there. Through everything with Jess, up until now. You’ve been my sanity, my rock, my everything.” He paused for a moment, and you thought he was done, but then he spoke again. “Please don’t leave me now,” he plead, a kind of desperation you’d never heard come from him before.

     You leaned back and looked up into his hazel eyes. They were misty, and a single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek before you caught it with your finger. You smiled gently before you leaned forward and placed your lips softly against his. It was a cautious kiss, but you knew Sam understood as his arms held you impossibly tighter. You were still hurt. You both knew that wouldn’t be easily fixed, but this was a start. And right now you were in his arms. And this had always been your favorite place to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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