#the older of the two is going to be 45 this year for fucks sake
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so i was wondering if you can do a carmy berzatto x male reader. Smth maybe s bit of enemies to lovers (maybe even smut with bottom!carmy)
BEING ENEMIES TO LOVERS WITH CARMY BERZATTO
WARNINGS: Swearing, suicide, age gap, fighting?
A/N: Carmy is 29 in this and Y/n is 45.
You were Mikey's best friend and Richie's twin brother.
The three of you were 3 peas in a pod. You guys would drink together, cook together, and laugh together. You knew each other better than anyone else. So when Mikey killed himself, it came as a shock.
Then soon after his death Carmy came back into the picture. He came in with his stupid culinary degree and that stupid fucking award he got for being the best up-and-coming cheif.
And god did you fucking hate him most of the time. Not because Mikey left him the restuarnt. You weren't mad that he was left it at all, It was something Mikey mentioned in the past.
The thing that made you hate him most of the time was that chip he had on his shoulder. He acted like he knew everything and it pissed you off to the fucking core.
But you stayed on, you wanted to mke this work for Mikey. You needed this to work for Mikey. So despite everything, you tried to make things work. The thing was the two of you oftened bickered back and forth which was a problem at times
But things finally came to a head. It was a late night/early morning when you couldn't sleep so you got up and got dressed and headed over to The Beef. To your suprise the back door was unlocked and the lights were still on.
You sighed to yourself why did he have to be here right now? You just wanted to cook in peace and remember the good ole times. As you walked further into the kitchen, you saw Carmy with his back to you as he cooked something.
Leaning against the wall, you watched as he gracefully moved backed and forth. Whatever he was cooking smelt great.
You hated to admit that he was a wonderful cheif, and hated even more that knew that he was a wonderful cheif. But what you hated the absolute most was that chip he had on his shoulder.
You stood there leaning against the wall thinking of your hatred for him but also admiring him. He looked so graceful almost like an angel. An angel that made you feel so conflicted. You were his brother best friend and you were 16 years older than him for christ sakes. You shouldnt feel anything for him but here you were.
"Jesus fucking christ, Goddamn you scared the shit out of me. What the fuck are you doing here? How long have you been here?" Carmy's voice ringing out, pulling you from thought.
"Been here a minute or two." You respond, you've been here for more like 10 but youweren'tt gonna tell him that.
"Why are you even here, it's 3 am?"
"I couldn't sleep figured I'd come down here cook something and remember the good ole days. Why are you here?"
"Working on the new menu."
"A new menu?"
"Yeah figured throw out the old one. Get a new better one. Bring in more and new customers."
"Great just wonderful. How about we throw out the whole dinning area to while your at it."
"What's your deal?
"You. You and your stupid fucking handsome and that chip on your shoulder. You don’t need to change everything all at once. You'll just run off all our customers and then we'll be in deep shit."
"You think I'm handsome."
"Is that all you heard from that. God what am I going to do with you."
And with that this late night/early morning was the start of a wonderful realtionship.
#the bear#carmen carmy berzatto#carmen carmy berzatto x male reader#carmen carmy berzatto x reader#mikey berzatto#richie jerimovich#the bear x male reader#the bear x reader
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“Who’s the New kid?” (The 1st chapter to my Jack x reader Series) The reader will be using She/Her pronouns for the sake of this story’s concept. Ty!-
summary: When your parents decided to enroll you into Graysmark school, you never expected to be the only fucking female there.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Holy shit..”
you muttered under your breath when you stepped out of your dorm, when you toured Graysmark, it didn’t seem as big as it does now that you have to stay there for a whole fucking term.
Your uniform was simple. It was a white button up shirt, a black skirt, white tights, black dress shoes, and a black blazer with tiny a gray “G” sewed elegantly onto the left side of your chest. As you stepped out of the doorway of your dorm, you suddenly felt extremely confused.
“Where the hell am I supposed to go..?”
You began to wonder down the hallway glancing at your surroundings. The walls were a dull, no, VERY dull gray. The flooring was an elegant, dark wood pattern that made this school look straight up fucking EMO.
After probably 30 minutes of wandering down this disgustingly dark hallway, you stumbled upon, what you assumed, to be the library.
You pushed the dark, wooden doors open and was met with the fucking Narnia of books. Walls aligned with Sage green bookshelves, in which had black and gold engravings in them. You gasped softly and smiled. This was nice.
“OH! Hello! You must be the new student, right?”
You turned around to face the unknown source who somehow knew who you were.
It was an older man, probably around 40-45. He had sandy blonde hair with a sliver streak in the middle. His hair was slicked back and he looked very neat, with a gray suite and a maroon tie.
“Oh, yeah, that’s me. I’m Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.” You said softly.
“Oh, Good, Good! I’ve been awaiting the day i’d meet you, sweetie! My name is Mr. Lauder, and I’m the librarian. I’m so glad you took the opportunity to enroll at this school, this school is, well..Boy-heavy, is a good way to put it.” He said awkwardly.
“Oh..Okay..?”
you didn’t know what to say to that. You just remained quiet until the man stuck up more conversation.
“Oh, you have class soon, Miss L/N. You’re joining us as a Third year, right?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Perfect! You’ll be in class 71, Biology for your age.”
“My age?”
“Yes, Yes! We have different wings and classrooms for different years.”
“Oh. Makes sense.”
“Alright, Graysmark is a difficult school to navigate, so just walk down the hallway to your left, take the stairs up two floors, and 71 should be the second classroom on the right. Good luck!”
You repeated all that in your head one to many times in your head, desperately trying to not get lost in this damned school.
“Okay, thank you for your help, Mr. Lauder. I’ll see you around, I guess?”
“Of course, sweetheart!”
you smiled and walked out of the library, repeating the directions in your head as you walked down the hallway. You found the sleek, black stairs that seemed endless. You walked up the stairs, mesmerized by the elegance and cleanness of these stairs. You stopped at a window and looked out, the forest outside was…breathtaking, at best. You could stare forever. You glanced at the clock above the window and you nearly screamed, you were THIRTY MINUTES LATE TO FUCKING CLASS. ON YOUR FIRST FUCKING DAY.
“SHIT!”
You ran up the next flight of stairs and took the hallway leading to your first class. You stopped at 71 and knocked on the door loudly.
A Young woman with long, curly red hair opened the door and smiled warmly.
“Hello, Sweetheart! You must be our new student. Come in, Come in!”
You fixed your hair, straightened your posture, and glided into the room.
Your jaw nearly. fucking. dropped.
You were standing in front of a crowd of males, all staring at you with wide eyes.
“Class, this is Y/N, our new student. I know, I know, she may be a girl, but give me a moment to explain. As you know, we were accepting new students that would join us in Third year, but, what we didn’t tell you we were accepting female students. Just to change up the way we were doing things around here. And, since some people aren’t very fond of this school, only one female has been able to join us. Due to the school year beginning, the opportunity to enroll has been stopped and will begin next term. Please welcome dear Miss Y/N with open arms.”
you mustered up the courage to softly smile. You were so dumbfounded, but questions could wait. It wouldn’t be THAT bad, right?
“Alright, sweetheart, you can take a seat next to Mr. Korrapati.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
How was the first chapter? I hope you guys enjoy! I’ll probably work on chapter 2 in a hour or so. Idk.
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1. What would you like to say to the FIRST person you kissed this year?
I say whatever I want to him every day lol, but for the sake of question, I love you!
2. What is the last reason you cried?
My mom is very mean!
3. Where is your cell phone?
To my immediate left.
Maybe not finishing college LOL, but if I did, I would not be here today.
5. Did you like NSYNC or Backstreet Boys?
Neither really. Now I like both!
6. Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?
Britney.
8. Where did you sleep last night?
In my bed.
9. What time did you go to sleep last night?
Pfft midnight?
10. What woke you up today?
Kyle snoring :P
11. What is one thing you wish people didn’t do?
Lie.
12. Are you excited for the future?
Sure.
13. Your ex shows up randomly at your house, you say?
I would not answer the door, for anyone really.
14. Your boyfriend/girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend, you say?
Although unlikely, I don’t think I would say anything. Maybe a good fuck you to both of them lol.
15. Do you have any weird inside jokes?
Heaps.
16. Liquor or Beer?
Liquor.
18. When was the last time someone yelled at you?
Good question. Thankfully its been a while.
19. I am _________ .
Hungry and ready to go home!
21. Have you ever tried to break someone up?
I don’t think so.
22. When is the last time you talked to your best friend?
Hm, kyle is my partner and my best friend, we talked this morning. My non-partner best friend, we texted yesterday I think.
23. Have you done anything you regret this year so far?
Nope.
24. Where is your best friend?
Kyle is probably on his way to pick me up from work now. 😊
27. Who was the last person to make you laugh?
Kyle.
28. Anything annoying you right now?
Being in the office is innately annoying.
29. Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?
Yes. Im trying really hard not to be sad and depressed about the state of the relationship with my mom.
30. Who has your heart?
Kyle.
32. Have you done anything embarrassing lately?
Of course lol, but I don’t get embarrassed by it. Anything that could be embarrassing makes me laugh.
33. Do people make fun of your nationality?
I mean, I used to get made fun of for being really pale, which is derivative of my nationality, right?
34. Do you eat more than you should?
Sure lol.
35. Do you smoke?
Cannabis, yes.
36. Who’s the last person of the opposite sex to hug you?
Kyle.
37. Last time you shoplifted?
Lmao man, on purpose, a long time ago. About two months ago, I accidentally did not pay for some paper towels or something and no one noticed lol.
38. What will you name your future son?
No future son, no future kids! Kyle already has a son lol.
39. What will you name your future daughter?
NONE.
41. What is your favorite number?
8.
42. What gets you happy?
Kyle, my dog, my cats, lofi, video games, painting my nails.
43. Where were you at 11:45 pm Last Night?
Yes or on my way.
44. Is the person you like older or younger than you?
Younger, by 4 months.
45. Ever talked to someone that was high?
Lmao yes.
46. How tall is the person you like? Shorter or taller?
Taller, by like 2-3 inches.
47. Did you have a dream last night?
Yes. I don’t remember details but I know it was a turbulent dream about my family, ugh the worst!
48. Last comment you left someone?
Idk lol.
49. Do you have a Facebook?
Yes.
50. What do you think about the last person that you stole this from?
I do not know them.
4. What was the worst mistake of your life?
Maybe not finishing college LOL, but if I did, I would not be here today.
5. Did you like NSYNC or Backstreet Boys?
Neither really. Now I like both!
6. Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?
Britney.
8. Where did you sleep last night?
In my bed.
9. What time did you go to sleep last night?
Pfft midnight?
10. What woke you up today?
Kyle snoring :P
11. What is one thing you wish people didn’t do?
Lie.
12. Are you excited for the future?
Sure.
13. Your ex shows up randomly at your house, you say?
I would not answer the door, for anyone really.
14. Your boyfriend/girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend, you say?
Although unlikely, I don’t think I would say anything. Maybe a good fuck you to both of them lol.
15. Do you have any weird inside jokes?
Heaps.
16. Liquor or Beer?
Liquor.
18. When was the last time someone yelled at you?
Good question. Thankfully its been a while.
19. I am _________ .
Hungry and ready to go home!
21. Have you ever tried to break someone up?
I don’t think so.
22. When is the last time you talked to your best friend?
Hm, kyle is my partner and my best friend, we talked this morning. My non-partner best friend, we texted yesterday I think.
23. Have you done anything you regret this year so far?
Nope.
24. Where is your best friend?
Kyle is probably on his way to pick me up from work now. 😊
27. Who was the last person to make you laugh?
Kyle.
28. Anything annoying you right now?
Being in the office is innately annoying.
29. Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?
Yes. Im trying really hard not to be sad and depressed about the state of the relationship with my mom.
30. Who has your heart?
Kyle.
32. Have you done anything embarrassing lately?
Of course lol, but I don’t get embarrassed by it. Anything that could be embarrassing makes me laugh.
33. Do people make fun of your nationality?
I mean, I used to get made fun of for being really pale, which is derivative of my nationality, right?
34. Do you eat more than you should?
Sure lol.
35. Do you smoke?
Cannabis, yes.
36. Who’s the last person of the opposite sex to hug you?
Kyle.
37. Last time you shoplifted?
Lmao man, on purpose, a long time ago. About two months ago, I accidentally did not pay for some paper towels or something and no one noticed lol.
38. What will you name your future son?
No future son, no future kids! Kyle already has a son lol.
39. What will you name your future daughter?
NONE.
41. What is your favorite number?
8.
42. What gets you happy?
Kyle, my dog, my cats, lofi, video games, painting my nails.
43. Where were you at 11:45 pm Last Night?
Yes or on my way.
44. Is the person you like older or younger than you?
Younger, by 4 months.
45. Ever talked to someone that was high?
Lmao yes.
46. How tall is the person you like? Shorter or taller?
Taller, by like 2-3 inches.
47. Did you have a dream last night?
Yes. I don’t remember details but I know it was a turbulent dream about my family, ugh the worst!
48. Last comment you left someone?
Idk lol.
49. Do you have a Facebook?
Yes.
50. What do you think about the last person that you stole this from?
I do not know them.
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I posted 1,192 times in 2022
That's 1,164 more posts than 2021!
161 posts created (14%)
1,031 posts reblogged (86%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@errorcritical
@bloodgulchblog
@zitasaurusrex
@gamelpar
@lucide-dreamer-dreams
I tagged 1,126 of my posts in 2022
Only 6% of my posts had no tags
#silliness - 458 posts
#ladyknightrambles - 161 posts
#halo - 119 posts
#suptober22 - 55 posts
#john 117 - 55 posts
#spn fanart - 53 posts
#castiel - 42 posts
#spn fanfic - 39 posts
#supernatural - 37 posts
#halo paramount spoilers - 37 posts
Longest Tag: 107 characters
#and then you remember that my dude wrote one of the most beautiful and widely recognized pieces of all time
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Had the realization today while writing a fic that of all the stuff in Halo, the most unrealistic part is that there aren’t any stories about all the gross stuff six year olds do to the adults around them. Poor Senior Chief Mendez absolutely had a Spartan-II trainee sneeze into his open mouth. Deja has witnessed one of her unbelievably smart charges pick their nose and eat the booger. Halsey made the mistake of allowing a kid to cuddle while they didn’t feel good and gotten a lap full of vomit.
53 notes - Posted May 10, 2022
#4
Hi, I have a rant.
So I’m a skincare nerd, and the idea that Master Chief has significant crows feet and wrinkles shows a complete lack of understanding at how wrinkles form. You know the biggest thing that gives you wrinkles besides age? The sun.
Canonically, all the Spartan-IIs are stupidly pale because they are never out of their suits! Their skin almost never sees the sun, so the only thing that should be leading to the break down of collagen is the aging process since as we age, collagen production begins to slow. (Collagen is the protein in your skin that makes it firm and bouncy) Also, crows feet are partially caused by squinting, and the man lives inside a helmet with a built in sun visor! What is he squinting at??? His HUD???? Cortana’s tiny holographic tits???? His sense of self preservation??????
Now, that’s not to say that a fifty year old man who’s never been in the sun wouldn’t have some wrinkles going on. Like I said, our skin slows collagen production as we age. Chief should have some crows feet, but he should not look like a scraggly raisin. On top of that, remember that Chief has been in and out of cryosleep for large swathes of his life. He went in for four years between Halo 3 and 4 for criminy’s sakes! When we see him unmasked, he’s also canonically 45-ish but because of his long sleep should only appear about 40-ish. HIS FACE SHOULD ONLY BE LIGHTLY LINED WITH AGE.
Ah, but you say, what about all the stress he has lived under? Yes, a great amount of physical stress can age a person, but Spartans are augmented and trained to take high stress situations in stride. I truly doubt that stress would age the man nearly twenty years. Hell, his skin should be breakout prone since he’s eternally in a helmet and stressed - stress makes your skin oily!
Chief should not look like he’s all that much older than Lasky, hell, he should look like he’s a little bit younger than Lasky because Lasky was born a whole ass year before John-117 and Lasky got to actually go out and touch grass as a teen!
Like I know that the reason they did this is because they wanted to be able to make him look more like a gritty tough as nails Clint Eastwood gunslinger than the fucking baby-faced, milk-white Mama’s boy he is, but THAT’S NOT HOW WRINKLES WORK.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
53 notes - Posted January 6, 2022
#3
About Chief’s nakey 🍑
Can I express how glad I am that the Spartans don’t look like they’re these hulking muscle bound dudes? Like, part of my issue with how they get described in books or some fan art is that they’re presented as looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger back in his bodybuilding days, but the muscles body builders put on are all for show.
I’ve seen informal competitions that pitted a bodybuilder, Cross fit dude, and two weightlifters against each other, and when it came to strength and stamina, body builder dude was usually around the bottom. He might be swole, but there ain’t much useful strength there.
Now, Spartans wouldn’t be built like powerlifters either, because they are hella strong, but lack endurance and speed. Powerlifters tend to have barrel-shaped bodies because you need fat to help support your abdominal muscles when lifting heavy things.
Oh, and those impressive six packs from the Marvel movies? Those actors are dehydrated and sucking in. That muscle definition is unnatural.
So the fact that Chief is presented as having some fat on his bones, and defined but not stupidly swole muscles, was nice. I loved it. Almost as much as I loved actually seeing his 🍑.
57 notes - Posted April 7, 2022
#2
@magellanicclouds Here is the first try at the Fred Hoodie!
I ended up mixing elements from your design with real world naval uniform design. My husband is a Navy vet, and he helped me through some of my design process. It's been a lot of fun!
This is also a trial one - Mark I of the Spartan Hoodie, if you will. For one thing I messed up the arms that the rate patch and unit patches are supposed to go on - rate is on the left, unit is on the right arm. More pictures and explanations under the cut!
See the full post
68 notes - Posted January 22, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Kai-125
- put fire engine red streaks in her hair as soon as she felt like rebelling against the world
- is absolutely a huge nerd that gets excited by stuff she finds interesting
- ready to share her knowledge with everyone
- shared stories about losing her pets in a horrifying context without getting emotional
- clings to new people who give her positive attention very quickly
- is very attached to John-117
Oh god she’s me.
107 notes - Posted April 14, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Oppenheimer (Part 13)
Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader
Warning: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Covid
Words: 2,208
Please interact and comment to keep it going. I always love to know what you think.
Your Father’s POV
“There is really no reason as to why Cillian was put into isolation” your mother overheard your father say to the owner of the studio, still arguing about the Covid Marshall’s decision.
He was annoyed and somewhat angry before, eventually, hanging up the phone, fuming about the fact that production was coming to a stand still.
“Fucking unbelievable” he went on to say just as your mother placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, isolating Cillian was the right decision?” your mother asked him quietly.
“What, because they work together? They may as well isolate everyone else too then. The whole fucking cast” your father spat, causing your mother to chuckle.
“I mean, could it be that they are actually much closer with other than you think?” your mother then asked carefully, knowing that this was a touchy subject. Your father had always been overprotective with you in particular as you struggled through school, having been bullied and always being the odd one out.
“What do you mean?” your father asked. He was rather oblivious.
“What I mean is that, what is if Y/N’s and Cillian’s relationship isn’t just platonic or purely work related?” your mother asked, but your father still didn’t catch on about what she was trying to say.
“I am not following you, sorry” he said with curious eyes.
“Jesus Chris!” your mother laughed. “What is if they actually had physical contact, in an intimate way. Cillian most certainly would have to isolate then” your mother pointed out.
“Don’t be ridiculous” your father laughed, not taking your mother seriously.
“Well, there is always a chance. I mean, we met on set thirty odd years ago and fell in love with each other pretty much instantly. It’s not an absurd idea. In fact, stuff like this happens all the time” your mother pointed out.
“But Cillian is twenty years older than Y/N. I doubt that he would be interested in her nor do I think that Y/N would be interested in him considering his age. He’s only a few years younger than me” your father said, brushing off what your mother had to say.
“Y/N isn’t an ordinary 25-year-old woman though. She is interested in intellect and experience and Cillian certainly has that, don’t you think? Despite, he looks much younger than 45. He is attractive and him and Y/N have spent a lot of time together lately. It’s not as absurd as you may think” your mother pointed out but your father still didn’t take her serious.
“There is no way. He wouldn’t. He is too professional to get involved with my daughter” your father said but your mother shook her head.
“Thirty years ago, Chris, that’s all I am saying. I suggest you pay some close attention to the two of them. You may be surprised” your mother responded just as John, the studio’s Covid Marshall, barged in.
“So, you’ve changed your mind and we can keep filming?” your father asserted but John most certainly didn’t change his mind at all.
“Unfortunately not, Mr Nolan. Your lead actor just tested positive this morning and so did his assistant Anna” John explained.
“Oh, for fuck sake. What about Florence?” your father asked concerned since Cillian had a close contact scene with her just yesterday.
“Still negative, Mr Nolan” John confirmed.
***
Later that day, you were growing rather bored and your relationship with Cillian had evolved to sexting.
Isolation bored you but you knew that you had to keep away from each other. Although, did it really matter now? Probably not.
“I am super bored and super horny” you eventually texted him. After all, you had no symptoms whatsoever and wanted to be entertained.
“I’ve got a remedy for that” was what you received back after about five minutes.
“And what is that?” you immediately responded, expecting some wild text messages to follow.
“Come down to my place and I will show you” Cillian responded and this was not what you had expected.
“We are meant to isolate! Separately!” you pointed out.
“We both tested positive so I doubt it matters. In fact, we should just isolate together, watch movies, order pizza, stay in bed all day and…” he then texted you.
“And have lots of sex?” you responded.
“Yes, and have lots of sex and lots of sex. Now come down” he ordered and all you could respond with was a short “Yes Sir!”…
***
Within a minute or so, you left your unit and raced down the fire-stairs.
You took off your mask and stepped into Cillian’s apartment just as he closed the door behind you.
“You look flushed” you told him and, the truth was, that he was running a temperature.
“I am hot” Cillian laughed and, before you had time to grow concerned about his health, he had grabbed hold of your arms and pushed you up against the wall, pinning you down.
“You are hot…very hot indeed” you teased while your heart was beating so hard that you were sure he could see your shirt moving.
“But, are you sure that you are okay?” you asked nonetheless, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow at you.
“I am fine and, like I said last night, I will fuck you through this god damn virus” Cillian chuckled before he leaned his body into you and stared at your lips.
“So, does that mean that you will fuck me for seven days straight now, until we get out of iso?” you asked as you felt your knees weaken.
"Maybe. But only if you are a good girl for me” Cillian said and you loved when he called you this, making you feel like he was in charge.
“I will be a good girl for you” you gasped as you felt Cillian’s growing erection pressing against your abdomen.
“Good” was all he said before crashing his lips onto yours.
Kissing you like it was the first time, he gently explored your mouth with his. His hands moved from your arms to the side of your face so he could hold you in place while he kissed you, assuming his authority over you. Cillian felt your small hands wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you.
He chewed on your bottom lip, drawing a deep moan from your throat. He slid his hands down your body and rested them on your thighs. You were both breathing harder now, and kissing more frantically. You gripped at the bottom of his sweatshirt pulling it and his shirt off in one motion. While Cillian tried to get your shirt over your head, you fumbled with his belt.
You undid Cillian's belt and unsnapped his pants and you hit the kitchen floor with a thud. Cillian lifted your shirt over your breasts and began to greedily suck on your exposed taut nipples. He grabbed your legs and lifted you from the floor and you wrapped your legs around him. You began to grind your moistening shorts into his erection as he continued to milk your breasts. With a moan you arched your back and offered yourself to him while running your fingers through his hair.
Neither of you could speak as you both were so consumed with being with each other. You couldn’t get enough of this man and your heart pounded as your bare back pressed against the cool kitchen wall and your front pressed against Cillian's hard body.
You continued to moan and writhe against him as he moved his wet kisses from your sensitive chest to your neck. He licked and bit and sucked on your neck, marking your as his for everyone to see, and by the noise you were making, you loved it.
"Is this what you want, baby?" he asked as he crudely ground his cock into the junction between your legs. "Tell me. Tell me this is what you want." Cillian continued to slide his cock up and down your slit and you moved in time with his hips.
"Oh god yes…I want you…I want your cock” you panted and Cillian didn't hesitate.
He slid your shorts to one side with his hand, and in one motion impaled you on his cock. Cillian groaned in pleasure as your hot wet tunnel enveloped him, and it took everything in him to try and not explode inside you. He felt right at home. You panted as your mind tried to comprehend the intense pleasure you were feeling from having the man of your dreams balls deep inside you once again. It was much quicker and frantic than usual but you did not mind.
You could feel every inch of him pulsing and moving inside you. You were dripping wet, and were sure you were leaving a mess on the floor beneath you.
"Oh god babe, you are so tight and so fucking wet” Cillian groaned before he felt his knees begin to weaken so he carried you to the kitchen table.
He clearly struggled with the fever he was experiencing but he wanted you so god damn much that he kept on going. He set you down on the table and told you to lie back. He grabbed each leg and raised them towards your head giving him unfettered access to your body. The change in angle caused him to rub against new spots in your pussy making you moan even louder.
He watched as tiny beads of perspiration on your body shook with each thrust and he could feel your body begin to clench around him. He licked his fingers and moved his hand to your clit. As he slowed down his thrusts, he sped up his fingers as they teased your swollen nub. He took you to the edge then stopped moving completely drawing frustrated moans from you. Cruelly he continued this manipulation of your body. He'd push himself into you as hard and fast as he could, only to slow down and play with your clit until you were begging for him to let your cum.
“Cillian, please…please let me cum” you moaned.
“Not yet babe! Not yet! Keep begging me!” he told you as he ground his hips into yours.
He continued the teasing for about ten minutes and you kept on begging until, finally, he relented.
“Alright babe, let go for me. I promise I won’t slow down” Cillian said as he grabbed your swollen pearl and rolled it between his fingers loving the way it made your body respond. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy and you were screaming his name.
Cillian slammed into you as hard and fast as he could removing his hand so his pelvic bone would mash your clit each time their hips met. He could feel his orgasm rising now and this time, he didn't want to wait.
“I am close babe” Cillian grunted and you met his thrusts with your hips and you fucked like you had not been doing it for years.
“So am I Cills…fuck” you moaned in turn.
Knowing how sensitive your nipples were, he rested your legs on his shoulders, and just before he was about to cum, he grabbed a nipple with each hand and twisted. He wanted to make sure you came at the same time he did. Cillian was handsomely rewarded as your pussy began squeeze, milking him for his own cum.
“Oh god yes, don’t stop” you finally moaned as you came hard and fast and, with several erratic thrusts, and a loud grunt, Cillian felt the cum begin to rise from his balls. He buried himself deep inside you as rope after rope of his hot sticky cum shot inside you. He leaned forward and rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around you. He couldn't help but think this was the only place he wanted to be.
“Fucking perfect” Cillian cooed as you both lay on the kitchen table basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.
As Cillian's softening cock slipped out of you, he scooped you up off the table and carried you to the bedroom. Gently, he lay you down and climbed into bed next to you.
“You are burning up Cills” you told him, only just noticing how high his temperature had been and, clearly, the fact that you just had sex didn’t help.
“I am fine. I will sleep it off” he told you as he rolled onto his side, and pulled your naked body against his.
“Should I get you some paracetamol?” you asked but he shook his head and told you that he had taken some earlier.
“Well, I promise I will let you rest tonight” you giggled just before he pulled you in for a kiss.
“Good, because I might need the rest babe, sorry” Cillian told you as you rested against his chest and, eventually, you both fell asleep in Cillian’s bed knowing that no one was going to interrupt you for the next seven days.
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#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you
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If you need help knowing why you should write for billy this is why (if you mean stranger things) Y/n and max can be besties (ofc💅) He is hot (sorry not sorry) IT WILL BE A GOOD RELATION SHIP The smut would be Chefs kiss if (you did smut) And yes that’s all bestie 👄
A/N: AH FUCK OKAY I screamed when I saw this
For the sake of the scenario, I’m gonna age up Max and the reader so that they’re near the same age group; Billy’s a high school graduate - 18 going on 19 - and the reader has already turned 18. It's also on the lengthy side. It's a bit fluffy. Billy and the reader have somewhat of a FWB relationship but it doesn't go into much depth. There's no smut, sorry to disappoint 😔 not BETA'd so all mistakes are mine!
"Max, Lucas has been going ballistic. I hang out with the guys every day and he doesn't shut up about you! Would you just date him already!?"
"No, it's unfair! Besides, Billy would kill me if he knew that I was dating Lucas."
"Damn right I would," Billy chimed in, popping a cigarette into his mouth. "Nice panties, Y/L/N."
Y/N shot him a sly wink, slumping both legs over the edge of Max's bed as she attempted to pull her restricting skirt further down her thighs. The deep rumble of a chuckle from Billy's chest filled her ears, creating that familiar stammer in her chest.
"Get out of my room, Billy," Max huffed, soon copying Y/N's actions before getting up to force her stepbrother out of the room.
"Actually, it's near curfew. I should take her home now."
It seemed as if he were challenging Maxine, hands tucked into his fitted jeans as he blew the smoke from his cigarette off to the side.
"It's 8-" Max looked over at the little clock on her nightstand, eyebrows furrowing as she whined aloud. "...45. Shit!"
Max looked over at Billy, a knowing smile on her face.
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"C'mon, I'll...do your chores for a week. Anything. Whatever you want."
"It's a school night, you know she can't stay over."
"Billy-"
"Max, I have to."
He'd finally removed his cigarette from in between his lips, his eyes leaving Max's momentarily as Y/N slung her bookbag over her shoulder. There was an undeniable spark between the pair the night Max had first introduced them to one another. They were still new to the town and Max was dying to introduce Billy to her newly found friend.
It was the summer of '84, teens flooded every crevice of Hawkins' community pool.
"Billy, I've been meaning to introduce y-"
"Max, I thought I told you that you can't be here."
"I'm here with my friend, relax," she sassed, stepping aside.
And that's when he saw her right behind Max. She was seventeen at the time and Billy was ready to pounce on her then.
"This is Y/N. Y/N, that's Billy."
Billy felt as if his eyes were bulging out of their sockets, however, only his eyebrow shot up, his whistle hardly tucked between his lips.
Holy shit. That's Y/N?
"Hi," she spoke up, eyes narrowing to block out the sunlight as she looked up at Billy.
He simply nodded his head, his infamous smirk tweaking at the corners of his mouth. Though she was able to mask the fact that she wasn't like every other girl in Hawkins that just fell at his feet, she could slowly feel herself melting inside.
Oh god...what the hell did I just get myself into?
And after that, it was a long, long period of torturing for the pair until they were caught alone at a New Year's party. Y/N didn't want to be that friend that ended up with her best friend's brother, but things were set up that way after they both gave in to their urges. He was just a year older than them but she fought every tempting urge to kiss the Apollo-like man in front of Maxine.
She had grown a particular hatred for spending summers with Max, though it had only been two summers so far. It wasn't that she disliked the company, she just hated the fact that she had to be around her best friend's shirtless stepbrother almost every day. She wanted to scream into a pillow especially when they went to the pool and he sat above everyone, sweat-slicked chest glowing, little red bottoms that seemed way too little to suppress his bulge.
His flirtatious persona died down a bit. The older girls grew jealous at how much attention Billy paid to Y/N at the pool when she came around. They'd tried their best to outdo one another, putting their hair up so it wouldn't get wet, legs gleaming under loads of sunblock, and a bathing suit too expensive to swim in, but none could beat Y/N.
She was surprised that no one caught onto the fact that they were sneaking around. She made up any excuse to leave Max for just fifteen, saying that she left something at the pool or she just remembered she had to pick up something from the store for her mom.
"Bye, Mrs. Hargrove," Y/N spoke quickly, hugging Max's mom.
"Oh, you're leaving so-"
"It's a school night, Susan. Max wanted her to stay the night but I didn't want to frighten her mother with how long she'd been gone for."
The sudden preppiness in his tone made Y/N looked back, eyebrows scrunched as she took in his posture - shoulders squared with a polite smile and his hands clasped behind his back.
"Wow, that's very sweet of you, Billy. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
Even Max's mother couldn't process the random posh outburst.
She followed Billy out to his Camaro, Susan watching from the doorway as they disappeared in the distance.
Wait, it's only 7:30...
She looked up from her watch, Billy gently bopping his head to the music on the radio.
"Billy, it's 7:30. I don't have to be home for another half an hour."
She could feel a sudden barrage of panic rising within her.
"Billy-"
"Heard you the first time, sweetheart."
There it was. That way he nonchalantly gave her a fucking nickname. He knew damn well what it did to her and he did it audaciously.
"Where are we going?" she asked, watching as his foot pressed down onto the gas pedal even more as they drove past her home street.
"I'm taking you on a date," he said casually, shrugging his shoulders.
She scoffed as if it were no big deal.
"You're fucking with me, right?"
"I've done that plenty of times, and I'd love to fuck you after, but I'm pretty sure you'll miss curfew so unfortunately, we'll have to save that for next time."
Next time!?
He chuckled at the way her eyes widened, her teeth nipping at her bottom lip.
"Yes, next time, Y/N."
She suddenly felt bold, invisible strings tugging at the corners of her lips.
"What makes you so sure that there'll be a second time?"
He chuckled again, sounding more like a groan. God that sound was music to her ears.
"I'm tired of playing this cat and mouse game. I know you want me as much as I want you so cut the crap and just confirm that you want to be my girlfriend."
She shook her head, not being able to resist the toothy smile that broke onto her face.
"But Max-"
"I don't care. I'm giving her a chance to call you her sister-in-law."
She was going crazy inside, her stomach doing summersaults as she looked at him.
"I thought you don't chase women, Hargrove."
"Doesn't count. The cat and the mouse are making an alliance right now."
She giggled, allowing her head to fall back onto the headrest.
"Fine."
"'Fine' what?"
"I'll be your girlfriend, Billy."
He'd been dying to hear those words fall from her lips and finally, finally, it was happening.
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#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove imagines#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things imagines
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19+45 & buddie, for the mashup meme?
19. Summer Camp AU + 45. Chocolate of Romance
Okay, for the sake of this AU they’re gonna be college-aged camp counselors.
During the weeks, they help all the kids with their summer camp activities. Buck does rock climbing instruction, and also swimming. Eddie does first aid -- both training for the older kids, get those thirteen-year-olds who are going to go home to be babysitters in their spare time their CPR certification and such, and also for various owies the kids get themselves stuck with (We don’t speak of the poison ivy outbreak of the second July session).
They aren’t assigned the same cabin -- because Buck officially chaperones the younger kids and Eddie has the older ones -- and they don’t guide the same activities, so they don’t really get to know each other early in the summer.
(Buck is a victim of the second July session’s poison ivy outbreak; Eddie doesn’t know how and doesn’t ask how Buck got a poison ivy rash on his ass, but what a first contact story. That Eddie is not thinking about. Because we don’t speak of the poison ivy outbreak of the second July session)
Anyway, in the downtime between sessions -- spent repairing the swim buoys in the lake, delousing cabin six, going on resupply trips into town to get more spaghetti in bulk quantities, more Calamine lotion (just in case; although they’ve found the poison ivy patch and put up flags to try and keep the kids away from it -- as well as the counselors who seem to find it -- and Eddie is not thinking about it), more lice shampoo so that hopefully Eddie will not have to shave another child’s head (it was at the kid’s insistence because it would make her look “Badass!!” “we don’t use that word when we’re twelve” “sorry” and the screeching phone call he’d gotten from the kid’s mother had been recorded and hung up in a place of pride for the Parents Suck shrine in the counselors’ common room).
ANYWAY in the downtime between sessions, Eddie realises he failed, on all of the resupply trips, to get any chocolate.
He doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but, like, doing first aid for a bunch of preteens and also occasionally having to spread Calamine lotion on his coworker’s just shockingly well-toned ass (we. don’t. talk. about. the poison ivy. outbreak.) is occasionally a little stressful and OCCASIONALLY he might just want some fucking chocolate, okay?
But he forgot.
And it’s gonna be another two weeks before the next resupply trip.
And before he can work up to a full pout about it, someone drops a whole stack of chocolate bars in front of him. And, like, good chocolate, not waxen Hershey crap, which Eddie only realises he’s said aloud when Buck laughs and says, “I’m actually from Hershey, PA, and I cannot stand that stuff.”
And maybe it’s not until the downtime between the next session, but Eddie definitely “repays” him for the chocolate.
Just...not in the woods, because Eddie’s not dumbass.
Fanfic Trope Mashups!
#Don't have sex in the woods#this has been a ghost ship psa#also feel free to keep sending these they are super fun#but I will be delayed from filling them for a few hours because capitalism#by which I mean I have to go to work#9-1-1#buddie#9-1-1 fic#buddie fic#the ghost ship scribbles
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An Artful Revenge Pt. 1
First part of The Archeron Damnation series.
~Rhysand~
Have you ever had everything you’ve ever wanted dropped in your lap like a present?
It makes it so easy you almost don’t even want it anymore.
Before today, this had never happened to me. For over thirty years, I’ve worked and fought and killed for everything I’ve wanted. Nothing about my life has been easy.
Until today.
Until a young, beautiful woman paused to look at a piece of art, oblivious to the monster who stood behind her.
As soon as I looked up and saw her, I felt like an anvil fell on my chest and robbed me of air. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
For the first time in my long, miserable life, I was utterly speechless as Feyre Archeron tilted her head contemplatively, as if the slab of paint was something that required great concentration.
Her focus was so singular it gave me more than enough time to figure out what I wanted to do.
But I couldn’t concentrate enough to even do that. Not yet. For now, I just took her in. Photos didn’t do her justice, honestly. Sandy blonde hair, a slight frame more than pleasing to look at from the back, defined cheekbones, full lips. Beautiful.
It was almost unfair for someone like her to be so beautiful.
She had a hand on her chest and was completely still as she looked at the work in front of her, like she almost couldn’t stand the rush of emotions it gave her.
I understood the feeling.
My friends often tell me I should go on the road as a mind reader or fortune teller or some other bullshit. The point is, I’m pretty decent at reading people.
And just from the way the woman in front of me is looking at an overpriced, ugly piece of art, I know she’s innocent.
She has no idea who she used to share a bed with, no idea what kind of evil she invited into her life with a smile.
I also know I can’t let it change things in the slightest. Innocent or not, beautiful or not, I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment to worm my way into her life and turn it fucking upside down.
And she’s just handed it to me on a silver platter.
I’ve been looking for her, and I’ve finally found her.
She’s mine.
~Feyre~
“You like it?”
Gasping and pressing my hand harder against my chest to calm my racing heart, I spin around to face whoever just asked such an obvious question.
And the first thing I can think is, He’s more beautiful than the painting.
The stranger’s casually leaning against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, confidence and wealth and class draped over him like a very impressive, very handsome mask.
He’s concealed in a jet black suit, but somehow I can tell he’s impressively built; it’s like strength and power are radiating off of him. His face probably took the gods years to craft, the sharp angles of his jaw and slash of his brows perfectly creating the most alluring thing I’ve ever seen.
Dark hair, piercing violet eyes that scan me head to toe, and smirking, sensual lips complete his features.
He’s the most attractive male I’ve ever seen. And I’m an art major who frequently finds herself painting models, so that’s saying something.
“You like it,” he states, whatever he finds on my face taking away the need for a question mark.
“I do,” I confirm, forcing myself to turn back to the painting and stop gawking like an idiot.
He surprises me by asking openly, “Why?”
The painting in question is one of the most revered paintings in the world: Dancers in Blue by Degas. But he’s asking in a way that makes it clear he genuinely doesn’t know why people pay to look at it.
Running my hand through my hair, I try and put it into words. “There’s just so much... energy in it. The background’s nothing but a bunch of paint splatters, and yet you can feel it almost. The dancer’s excitement, the energy of the crowd. It’s breathtaking.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I cringe inwardly, thinking of how weird that probably sounded.
Then, “Would you like it?”
Only four words and they almost knock me on my ass. I spin back around so fast he chuckles, eyes wide, and sputter, “Would I what?”
I mean, it’s clear he’s rich, but there’s rich, and then there’s buying a Degas rich.
“I was planning on buying it anyway. It should belong to someone who loves it as much as you obviously do.”
“What?” I repeat, still not understanding why he would offer something like that to a total stranger.
“I presumed you to be intelligent, but if you keep asking that question, I might have to amend that.”
I narrow my eyes, somehow intelligent enough to pick up on the insult. “I’m just confused. I mean, you look rich and all, but that painting’s worth $45 million dollars. And you just asked...”
“If you want it.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I regard him speculatively. “Which psych ward did you break out of, exactly?”
He smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can accept the painting and stare at it from home, or I can buy it and hang it with the other one and never give it a second thought.”
My mind can’t stop running, and I think if I wasn’t determined to not completely embarrass myself, I’d collapse to the ground and sob at the impobability of this situation. “What do you mean the other one? You already have a Degas?”
“The pink one,” he confirms casually, flicking a nonexistent fleck of dust off his jacket.
“You have Dancers in Pink?” He nods, lips twitching at the look on my face. “And why, exactly, are you buying priceless pieces of art if you don’t like them?”
“It’s not priceless. You just told me it’s worth $45 million.” I scowl at the non-answer, and he shrugs. “Someone I don’t care for likes them.”
I connect the dots slowly. “So you buy them so he can’t.”
He nods.
My mouth falls open, making him smile again. It’s dangerously attractive and distracting, but I still demand, “Who the fuck are you?”
The stranger laughs outright at that, strolling forward and offering me a tan, tattooed hand with practiced ease. I notice there’s a platinum, engraved ring on his pointer finger, and I stare at it for a moment because it looks strangely familiar.
He seems to pause as I look at it, holding his breath. I’m probably acting like a total weirdo, so I snap out of it and take his hand.
Because he’s rich and confident and beautiful, he feels entitled to drag his calloused thumb across the back of my hand.
And because I’m poor and stupid and at the end of the day, just a woman, I blush. Which only gets worse as he notices and smirks.
“My name is Rhysand.”
“Rhysand what, exactly? Rockefeller? Vanderbilt? Carnegie?” I run out of rich families and fall silent, and he gives me a look like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across.
“Rhysand Azara. When you google me, you won’t find anything of consequence, I’m afraid.”
The way he says when instead of if makes me blush again, because I’d been waiting for him to leave so I could pull out my cracked, struggling little phone and do exactly that.
He looks at me expectantly, and I realize I haven’t said a word, just held onto his hand like a toddler being led across the street. “Oh, I’m Feyre.”
Rhysand just raises an eyebrow.
“Feyre Archeron.”
“And what would I find if I were going to google your name?”
I notice his statement has an if, but I answer anyway, stating facts nervously like an army cadet reporting for duty. “I’m an art major at UChicago. From Missouri.”
“What else?”
“There’s really not much else.”
He tsks, telling me this answer is unacceptable, but doesn’t press it. Instead he shocks the hell out of me once again. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
It isn’t a question, but it isn’t quite a demand, either. It’s a statement, and it’s said like he already knows what my response is going to be.
But like I just told him, I’m a college student.
Which means for the past three years, I’ve been dealing with college boys.
I’ve been asked to “hang,” “smash,” and even to go to coffee on a few rare, wonderful instances. But never, in my entire life, have I been asked---or told--to go to dinner by someone like him.
I realize it’s because I’ve never met anyone like him.
Even my ex-boyfriend, who’d been well off and older, was nothing like him. Compared to the man in front of me, everyone else seemed... juvenile.
They were boys, toddlers even, compared to the man still gripping my hand.
It prompts me to ask, “How old are you?”
He smiles. “Too old for you, I’m sure. Have dinner with me anyway. For the sake of the painting.”
I’m halfway sure I’m in the middle of a fever dream, about to wake up covered in sweat and wondering what the hell just happened, because this cannot be real.
“You’re... are you actually... you’re offering to give me a $45 million painting if I have dinner with you?” I sound incredulous and wheezy to my own ears, but I don’t even care.
Who the hell is this guy?
“You’ll be my second most expensive date.”
“You’re insane.” I look down to where he still holds my hand, entire focus narrowing on the strength in his grip. How would it feel to have him grip me somewhere else? Rhysand gives me a look like he knows what I’m thinking, so I look at the ceiling. Then declare, “I can’t have dinner with you.”
It almost hurt to say it, honestly, because I really love that painting.
He waits until I look back down at his face before asking, “Why not?”
Blushing to high hell, I murmur, “It feels a little like... prostitution.”
Rhysand throws his head back and laughs, a full, wonderful sound I hadn’t been expecting. It’s easy and contagious, and I find myself grinning, even though what I said was true.
“Dinner, gorgeous, was the deal.” He leans in close and whispers, “You coming home with me won’t have anything to do with it.”
I push him away, mind set on giving myself a few feet away from him to compose myself, but I’m so dizzy and confused and strangely turned on I almost fall. His hands shoot out, landing on the bare skin of my shoulders, and I pause.
And really, really contemplate my life.
Yesterday I was sitting on the floor of my dusty apartment in my underwear, eating Ramen and struggling to figure out what the fuck to put in the background of my painting. Today I’m being asked to dinner by a probable-billionaire. On the condition I accept a very expensive form of bribery.
“I’m not going home with you, but I’ll have dinner with you.” He starts to smile, so I cut him off, “Only if you promise to not buy the painting.”
His brows narrow, a silent demand for information.
“I come here almost every day to see it anyway,” I explain. “Besides, there’s no way I can accept it. It’ll get stolen or damaged or... I just can’t accept it. And the thought of you putting it in some forgotten hallway depresses me.”
He sighs dramatically and re-puts his hand out. “No painting. Just dinner.”
“And no sex.”
A very male look crosses his features. “We’ll discuss that later, I think.”
I roll my eyes but shake hands with him, a strange sense of finality settling over me. I shake it off, telling myself the bare mention of having sex with him is why I’m so nervous.
~
Four hours later, I stand at the door, purse clutched in one hand, keys in the other. I’m staring at the door, practically foaming at the mouth, waiting for a knock on the other side to hopefully shock me out of my crazed state.
I’ve been like this for ten minutes already, for some reason not wanting him to wait for a second after he got here. Or maybe I just don’t think he’s actually coming.
Maybe I’ve been on some horrible practical jokes show, and Rhysand Azara isn’t even a real person. I’ll probably end up on television, blushing and beyond naïve, having been convinced a man who looked like a male model wanted to buy me a Degas.
I snort, shaking my head at myself. And then almost fall down when a soft yet somehow insistent knock sounds through my small apartment.
“Holy fuck, he’s here.”
I have no idea why I state it aloud, to myself no less, but I feel like it should be said. Hell, it should be written down in history books. If I kept a diary, I’d write in bold, underlined letters: I HAVE A DATE WITH A VERY STRANGE, VERY HANDSOME MAN.
After fluffing my hair and checking my makeup in a mirror, I stop stalling and open the door.
He, of course, looks like sex on a goddamn spoon. And for a split second--just a moment, I swear--I debate grabbing him by his expensive lapels, dragging him backward into my apartment, and finding out what his mouth feels like against mine.
“Feyre,” he greets, snapping me out of my perverted daydream. “You look beautiful.”
I know it’s dumb to be flattered, because it’s fairly standard to tell a girl she looks nice when you pick her up for a date, but it does my ego no harm because how I look right now took some fucking work.
I shaved from the eyebrows down, exfoliated, scrubbed, cleansed, plucked, and spent thirty minutes deciding what to wear.
I’d taken a gamble he’d wear a suit and dressed to match in a black dress, unremarkable save for the very low back, and simple heels.
I step outside with him, grateful for the warm weather, and turn to lock the door.
Rhysand makes a humming sound, and I freeze as I feel a finger drag down my spine, stopping right at the edge of the fabric. Which happens to be very, very close to something indecent.
“Beautiful,” he states again, and hell if I don’t feel like it.
I finally manage to get the lock closed, then spin around to face him. Up close, there’s silver flecks in his eyes, like starlight. Oh, and he smells amazing. Something manly and wintery and not sold in a bottle.
I. Am in. So much. Trouble.
I have no idea why this man has taken an interest in me, but I know it can only end in one way: me in love, him long gone.
But even though I know it, I’m ready. Five minutes with him makes me feel more alive than I ever have, and even though it’s a disaster in the making, I can’t bring myself to care.
He offers his hand and pulls me towards a--surprise--black car, one that looks expensive. After depositing me in the passenger seat, he goes around and climbs in beside me.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m making a guess about something.”
I glance over at him. “Have you ever realized you don’t give actual answers?”
"Yes,” he responds with a grin, turning the stereo on.
Twenty minutes later, I’m practically bursting at the seems to know where he’s taking me.
What kind of guess is he making? Also, what does that even mean?
He pulls up in front of a nice looking place I’ve never been to--again, surprise--and comes around to open my door. Despite the crowd, as soon as the hostess sees the man leading me through the restaurant, we’re ushered into the back.
Turns out the place has private rooms. It’s quiet and cozy, and I’m pretty sure only the president gets this kind of treatment.
Once I’m seated across from him, menu in hand, I have to ask, “Was your guess correct?”
“I don’t know, do you like French food?”
I smile because j’adore French food, and he grins back because he somehow knew that already.
The waiter comes to ask for our drink order, and I gesture at Rhysand for him to order mine. I know nothing about wine, and he obviously does, because he orders something fancy and expensive sounding.
There’s soft music playing in the background, candles in the corner, and a handsome man sitting across from me. It’s the most romantic situation I’ve ever been in, hands down.
He braces an arm on the table, watching as I take a small sip of the wine. Trying to maintain some sort of maturity, I say, “You have good taste.”
“I do,” he replies, but his eyes are on me, not the wine. “Are you almost done with school?”
“One more year,” I answer, trying not to cheer as I say it. Four years of education for an art major is kind of ridiculous to me, but it would’ve been stupid to turn down a full scholarship.
Rhysand hums, nodding. Even though he asked, I somehow feel like he already knew that. Weird.
“Did you go to college?”
He gives me a strange look. “My formal education stopped around seventh grade.”
It’s an effort to keep my jaw off the table, and I’m proud of myself when I say mildly, “Impressive.”
“Being uneducated impresses you?”
I scowl. “No, but having everything you do despite not being handed anything is.”
His face stays impassive, but there’s a twinkle of respect in his eyes. The waiter comes back and asks what we want to eat, and because the menu I’ve barely even looked at is in French, I get the same thing as Rhysand.
When we’re alone again, I ask, “Okay, spill. How’d you know I love French food?”
Rhysand shrugs. “I’m good at reading people.”
I wave a hand, because that wasn’t answer enough, and he continues on a sigh. “You’re kind of... easy to read. No offense.”
“Interesting you say ‘No offense’ after calling a woman easy,” I note.
He laughs, but points out, “You’re not easy. I offer to buy you a Degas and you won’t even come home with me.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Once again, you haven’t answered my question.”
There’s a long beat of silence. “You like French food because you like Impressionist art, and both Degas and Monet were French. Your dream vacation also happens to be Paris, and eating French food makes you feel closer to that goal.”
My mouth drops open, and he laughs soundly at the blatant display of shock, but before I can ask how the hell he knew that, the waiter comes with our food. Identical displays of delicious-smelling pasta are set in front of us.
I reach for my fork, but he grabs our plates and switches them.
When I raise a brow, he shrugs and says, “In case you were thinking about poisoning me.”
I snort in a very ladylike manner, tucking into my food. A soft moan escapes me, and he looks up at me, bite halfway between his plate and mouth.
“Uh, sorry,” I murmur, blushing down the neckline of my dress.
Rhysand just smiles, making me feel young once again. “Don’t be. I quite enjoy the sound of a pleasured woman.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another bite, managing to refrain from sounding too pleasured. “So, Paris. How’d you know?”
He doesn’t really give me an answer, just says, “I bet you have a little Eifel Tower trinket on your desk and everything.”
An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of me, because I do. I totally do. I’ve had it for three years and look at it every time I’m tempted to drop out.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to get us back on even ground. I feel like he somehow knows everything about me, and even though I’ll have to ask questions, I’m finding out at least one thing about him.
“I’m in real estate.”
I nod, ready to just accept that answer. Then I look around us, remembering how crowded the restaurant was, and start giggling. “You own this restaurant, don’t you?”
A sigh. Busted. “Yes, I do.”
I tsk and give him a judgmental look. “You can’t take me somewhere you own for a date. That’s cheating.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “How so?”
“It just is.” I sigh, just to tease him. “Shame. I was feeling so romanticized, maybe enough so to go home with you. Not anymore, though.”
He rolls his eyes, the gesture making him younger. “Eat your food.”
I do, and by the end, I’m so full I probably look pregnant. “Holy fuck, that was good.”
Rhysand smiles, like it’s adorable that I cursed, and pushes back his empty plate. “Dessert?” I shake my head. “Coffee?”
“I’m so full I might die.”
Rising with fluid grace, he extends a hand. “Then come with me.”
Not bothering to ask questions at this point, I just take his hand and follow him out, noticing the city has a slight chill now that the sun’s gone down.
“Why is it women can never plan for the sun going down?” he ponders, wrapping me in his suit jacket.
“It’s a test to see if you’ll let us freeze to death.”
Rhysand chuckles and slides his hand into mine, so casually and simply it seems like a mundane thing we do every day.
I know I’ve known him for a total of five hours, but everything about today has been... easy. Natural. It’s like we just click, and I’m not stupid enough to question it right now.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” I remark, bringing up our intertwined fingers to look at the tattoos on his skin. He’s silent for a minute, and when I glance over, he’s looking at the ground as we walk, a strange look on his face. “What?”
“You’re probably the only person in this entire world who believes that.”
I scoff, because the idea that the man next to me, holding my hand and running his thumb across my fingers, is anything but a gentleman is absurd.
“What other paintings do you have?”
It’s a question I’ve been dying to ask since he mention his other Degas.
“It’s a shame you’re determined to not go home with me. You could see them yourself.”
I drop his hand and shove his shoulder, my lips twitching as he laughs. “You asshole. You’re leveraging access to a private collection for sex? Men are horrible.”
Rhysand chuckles, throwing an arm around me and pulling me close. “I have a Monet,” he whispers in my ear, placing a featherlight kiss to my temple. “And a Rembrandt.”
“I hate you.”
He releases me and grabs my hand again, then pulls me toward a dark alley I hadn’t noticed he’d been guiding me toward. “Um... where are you taking me?”
He, of course, doesn’t tell me. No, he shushes me.
“I will not be quiet while you drag me down some seedy alley!” I’m beginning to panic a bit, because besides spending way too much time alone, I like to watch Law and Order, and this is turning into the beginning of a familiar episode.
“Is this because I said I won’t have sex with you tonight?” Before he can respond, I blurt, “Because I probably will at some point, I’m just kind of nervous-”
“I’m not going to murder you, Feyre darling.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Now shut up.”
Pouting like a sullen child, I shut my mouth and accept my fate. He tugs me further down the black alley, and eventually I can’t even see. Can he? Is he some sort of vampire? Am I really asking myself that?
The glow of his phone illuminates the dark for a second, and I catch the time 11:59. “One more minute.”
“Until...?”
He’s silent for thirty-eight seconds, then he says, “Until this.”
Suddenly, the space above us lights up, colors shooting all around us in a kaleidoscope of reds and blues and greens.
Gasping, I look up to see the air above us full of glass lanterns, the surfaces painted with swirling black paint. The alley is covered wall to wall, and the end result gives the walls around us beautiful designs and dimension.
I laugh in surprise, twirling around to take in the entire place. “What is this?”
“We’re in the artist’s quadrant of the city. I don’t know why, but they do this every night, exactly at midnight.”
I spin around in a circle, arms out, smiling from ear to ear. He watches with a grin, leaning against one of the walls casually. I walk down the alley, eyes up, taking in everything.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
The lanterns are each unique, like they were done by different people. Some are solid colors, others are mixtures.
I look back over at Rhysand, beams of red and blue and pink bouncing off his face, a smile playing at his full lips. It’s obvious he took me here because he knew I’d love it, and it makes me feel insanely special.
Still giddy with happiness, I bound over to him, put my hands on either side of his face, and press my lips to his.
For a second, we probably look like idiots, just standing there pressing our smiles together.
Then, like we’re in synch, the smiles fall away and we start to actually kiss.
His hands slip inside the jacket, linking at the small of my back and pulling me closer to him. He’s still leaning against the wall, back against the brick, and I put my hands on his chest, fingers digging into the corded muscle I find there.
Rhysand pulls back for a minute, traces his fingers over my face lightly. He looks so surprised and confused, I’m tempted to ask what’s wrong. But then his mouth is back on mine, moving more fervently, and I forget all about it.
His hands cup my jaw, tilting my face to where he wants it, then slide in my hair.
He tastes like honey and citrus, and I slide my tongue in his mouth, desperate for more. I moan at the taste of him, and he suddenly moves, like the sound unleashed something in him.
One hand grabs the back of my thigh, the other wrapping around my waist, and then I’m the one against the wall. The brick digs into my shoulder blades, but I hardly even notice, because he wraps my leg around his hips and presses us together.
His mouth is sliding down my jaw, sucking on the spot between my neck and shoulder softly. I make a low sound, slip my hands in his hair, and prepare to eat him alive.
And then the world goes dark.
The lanterns above us turn off, casting us in darkness, but we don’t stop for a few minutes. When we’re both breathless, he pulls away with a low chuckle and releases my leg.
I slide down him slowly, leaning against the wall for support.
What the hell was that?
Did I really just make out with a complete stranger in an alley?
The answer to that question--and the one of if I’d do it again--is hell yes.
He runs a hand over his lips, almost in disbelief, then takes a healthy step back and holds out a hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
I take another look at the disheveled hair, swollen lips, rumpled shirt. And I know without a doubt that if he were on my doorstep, looking at me with those bedroom eyes, I’d pull him inside without a thought.
“I think I should take a cab.”
Rhysand smiles, knowing exactly why. “I’m flattered.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, pushing him away and starting back toward the busier street.
Even though the street’s deserted, he manages to hail a cab easily, the bright yellow car slowing to a stop next to us. I open the back door, kiss his cheek, and slip inside. “Thank you for dinner. Even though you cheated.”
He rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind me. “I’ll call you.”
I nod, feeling a little ridiculous for how happy that statement makes me. Tonight was... like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was just dinner, I remind myself, but it doesn’t do any good.
It feels like the beginning of something.
The cab driver glances at me in the rearview mirror and laughs. “That good, huh?”
I don’t even respond because yeah. That good.
I’m halfway home before I realize I never even gave him my number. And I honestly wonder if I’ll ever see Rhysand Azara again.
_________________________________________________
Part 2
@elorcan-trash @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @bamchickawowow @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#feysand#acotar#acomaf#acowar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight#acotar fanfiction#feysand fanfiction#rhysand
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Tire Tracks
pairing: street racer! bakugou x mechanic! y/n
words: 2.8k
warnings: language
Cars were your whole life. You grew up in your father’s mechanic shop and learned everything you knew from him. Customers came and went, some more frequently than others, but cars were the one constant thing in your life. You were able to lose yourself in the process of finding and fixing problems, speaking better with parts than with people.
You barely even registered the smell of oil and gasoline anymore. The thin layer of grime that coated your arms was like a second skin, and you were at home here. The cars all around you purred and multiple gaudy sound systems pounded in the crisp night air. The roar of engines was music to your ears, and you had spent the first 45 minutes of the meet up going around looking at the different setups people had.
Now, though, you were doing final checks on the one car that brought you here: Bakugou’s suped up racer. You rebuilt most of the engine yourself, put countless hours into making it faster and stronger. This car was your baby just as much as it was his, and you felt a twinge of nerves knowing what was to come.
“Everything ready down there?” barked the man in question. You finished double checking the last bolt before pushing yourself out from under the vehicle, only to find the blonde staring down at you impatiently.
“Yeah, it looks fine, no thanks to you,” you huffed, sitting up and wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “Listen, I get that you’re gonna go hard tonight, but if you fuck this car up again, I swear I’m done with you.” You put as much threat into your voice as possible as you stood, putting a hand to your hip and glaring at him.
A sly grin split his sharp features. “Aww come on, Y/N, we both know you wouldn’t give up that easy on her,” he taunted, placing an elbow on top of the car and rapping it with his knuckles. “You love her too much.”
He wasn’t wrong, this car was your pride and joy. “You’re right. It’s the person inside I’m worried about,” you rolled your eyes and turned away to open the hood. You had already triple checked everything underneath, but you needed something to occupy yourself with, so you didn’t have to be around Bakugou.
You had known the fired-up blonde ever since middle school, when his dad started coming to yours for maintenance. See, his dad was a local racer, and heard that your dad had the best service around. Well, he would often bring Bakugou in order to teach him about the inner workings of a car. Because of this, the two of you had practically grown up together, spending weekends at the racetrack and weekdays learning what your fathers had to teach you.
But that didn’t mean you liked one another.
Katsuki had always been full of himself. It could have been because of his looks or his dad’s success, or any other factor, you didn’t really care. All you knew was you hadn’t had a normal conversation in longer than you could remember. They always ended in one of you riling the other up, sometimes becoming yelling matches if things got really serious.
You sometimes questioned why you still worked with him, the little asshole. When you both turned 16, your parents decided to buy a junk car, and have you fix it together to test how much you had learned over the years. It took almost 6 months to get it into good shape, but you did it, the only setback being that you were constantly bickering. It was nearly impossible to make decisions about what to do because neither of you wanted to give in to the other.
After that, you continued to work on cars and decided to go to mechanic school after high school. Katsuki went to a traditional 4-year college, and you thought that would be the end of your tormented relationship with him, but no. He contacted you after two years and asked if you would help him with a project, which you agreed to. Ever since then, you’ve become somewhat of a team, travelling around the country to compete in race after race. Some were sanctioned and official, while others tore through backroads and had come to an end when the cops arrived.
Bakugou was one of the best street racers in the country, pushing himself and his vehicle harder than most were willing to do. His lack of inhibition and self-confidence were the keys to his success. Well, those and the fact that you were always there to fix up the damage he caused. You had been doing this together for four years, now each 24 years old, and you couldn’t help but admit that these races made you feel… alive. The whine of an engine as it shoots past you at near top speed, the screeching of tires as they skidded around tight turns, it was all like a fever dream.
The only issue with Bakugou’s racing was he tended to be reckless. Scuffed paint jobs, cracked tire plates, he always pushed his cars to their very limit and made you deal with fixing his mess afterword. Yes, sometimes he would help you, but seeing as you were the actual mechanic on the team you were stuck with the majority, if not all of the work.
“This race’ll be easy, Y/N. Don’t even worry. I mean, we’re gonna be on a dirt road in the middle of a field for god’s sakes, at least there are no buildings or streetlights to worry about,” he called from his place beside the car.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you groaned. “You’ll look at that open road and think it’s okay to push as hard as you can!”
“Babe, that’s what makes me so good,” he chuckled, stepping up beside you at the hood.
He always did that, calling you pet names just to piss you off. It always did, making your insides squirm with distaste. At least, you told yourself it was distaste.
“You’ve already checked this thing like four times, just settle down it’s fine.” His voice, normally course like metal grating together, had a softer edge to it. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his crimson ones, and nodded. Pulling the hood shut, you turned around and leaned against it, crossing your arms. You looked over Bakugou as he pulled out his phone to send a text.
He’d recently gotten a haircut, shaving the sides of his head short and leaving the top to its normal spikes, and you had to admit, you thought it suited him better. It showed off his sharp jawline, which had only grown sharper as you got older. His bare arms were cut, unsurprising as he spent a great deal of time in the gym. He wore his signature high-necked black cutoff with a bold red X on the front, with army green cargo pants that cinched at the ankles. As per usual when he raced, he did his dramatic eye black to intimidate his opponents. It usually worked.
“Listen, I just don’t want you messing her up again, okay? I put so much into this car and the past three races I’ve had to set aside hours to fix her. I can’t keep doing that when I have paying customers that need my help too,” you tried to explain calmly. His head snapped up.
“I’m a paying customer too, don’t I get the same attention that your others get?”
“You’re more of a…side hustle.” The words came out with a bit of a grin.
One of his arched eyebrows raised dangerously. “A side hustle? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Working with you is like a second job. I spend so much time on this damn car, and looking at your ugly mug, that it’s like working another part-time job on top of the shop.”
His lips turned down in a scowl and he took a menacing step forward. “First off, you get half the earnings every time I win. I don’t have to do that. Second, I’m hot as fuck, thank you very much.”
You scoffed. “You’re average at best,” you lied. You agreed with him of course, but you’d never tell him that even if you were on your deathbed. “Also, the earnings are the way you pay me for all the shit I do for you, remember? That’s the agreement. Plus, most of that money goes right back into her,” you smacked the hood. “So, in reality you pay way less than any of my other costumers.”
He paused at this, taking in your words. “Guess you like me that much, huh,�� he chuckled after a moment. The words brought a flush to your face, and you silently thanked the fact that it was nighttime, and the only illumination came from the cars around you.
“No, it’s just because I’ve known you for years. Sometimes I consider upping your rates though, just to piss you off.”
That got him scowling again, an expression that made you much more comfortable than that devious smirk. “I hope you know your sense of humor really sucks.”
“Bakugou!” A rough voice called from behind the blonde, making him roll his eyes and turn around.
“What do you want, shark week?” He growled, facing Kirishima who was making his way over with a smile.
“Just came to make sure you were still up for this race,” the red head grinned, displaying his sharp teeth.
“You really think I’d back down against someone like you?” Bakugou crossed his arms and relaxed onto one leg. “This is gonna be easy as shit.”
Kirishima chuckled, “Don’t count me out so quick man, might not be as easy as you think.” He glanced over Bakugou’s shoulder and spotted you behind him. “Hey Y/N, you here to patch his ass up after the race?”
“You know me so well, Kiri,” you smirked. Bakugou let out a grunt, punching Kirishima’s shoulder playfully, the other man simply laughing at the disgruntled racer. “Best of luck out there,” you smiled genuinely. You had known Kirishima since high school, where he and Bakugou were best friends. They frequently raced these days, constantly trying to one up each other and keeping a running tally of who won. Currently Bakugou was up by two, if you remembered correctly.
“Thanks Y/N, your faith means the world,” he replied with another toothy smile.
“Hey, quit trying to poach my mechanic,” Bakugou yelled spiritedly.
At this, Kirishima simply laughed, turning to leave. “Just came to say good luck man, I would never try to steal her away from ya. You’re like a match made in heaven. I don’t know anyone else who could put up with your bullshit.”
“I don’t know of anyone else either, I’m really doing the world a favor, huh,” you called, loving the way your blonde partner whirled around and glared at you.
“See you guys after the race!” And with that, Kiri was walking back to his own car.
Bakugou stood there for a moment before turning around to return to the car. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep working with me if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you don’t…” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear.
You looked over at him in surprise, “What do you mean, I never said I don’t want to work with you.” It was so unlike him to say things like this that you were completely taken aback.
“It didn’t sound like that just now,” he grumbled, not looking at you. “I know I can be a lot to handle, so I guess I wouldn’t blame you.”
You chuckled, making him look up curiously. “Bakugou, I’m a lot to put up with too. I’ve known you for long enough that it doesn’t even phase me anymore,” you said honestly.
He stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, making you flush slightly. “Yeah, whatever,” he growled in classic Bakugou fashion.
“Racers!” came a shout from nearby. The official of the race stood between the two cars, looking to the two men. “Are you both ready to go?” Both gave a thumbs up, and the man nodded. “Come line up at the start then!”
Bakugou took a deep breath before putting on his jet-black helmet and getting into his car with a sharp slam of his door. You moved away from the vehicle to let him go line up before returning to the side to say your final words to him. “Remember what I said,” you warned, leaning against the rolled down window. “Don’t fuck her up this time, got it?”
He smirked at you and narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about Y/N, this is an easy course.”
“It better be, for your sake,” you rolled your eyes with a grin. You loved how amped up he got at the starting line.
“See you on the other side, kid,” he nodded. You gave him a thumbs up and stepped away from the car. The official made his way into the center of the two cars, and you made yours over to your pickup truck to watch the race. You climbed up into the bed and leaned against the cabin to look over the field. From up there you could see almost the entire track, and since the cars’ lights would be on you wouldn’t have any problem keeping track of them.
You watched as the official signaled to prepare to start, the engines of both cars revving loudly. A crowd had gathered to watch, and you smirked, knowing that only got Bakugou more amped. Loudly counting down from three, the official dropped the flag and the two vehicles were off, tearing into the darkness as fast as possible.
Bakugou accelerated just a bit faster, edging in front of Kirishima, who swerved slightly to avoid him. They made their way around the course, Bakugou maintaining the lead for most of the time, but losing it several times. Nearing one of the final bends, you saw the headlights on Bakugou’s car dip dramatically and fall a bit behind Kirishima’s for a moment before pulling back ahead. You got a bad feeling in your stomach at that. However, it was over in an instant, the blonde coming in first by a decent margin.
As he got out of the car, Bakugou was swarmed by the crowd. It took you a moment to make it out in the semidarkness and jumble of bodies, but as you hopped out of the bed of your truck and made your way over to Bakugou, you spotted it. The left half of his front bumper was crumpled and scraped. Anger swelled in your stomach, and you pushed forward with renewed vigor, shoving people aside and coming to a halt in front of the man in question.
“What the fuck Bakugou?! What did I tell you literally RIGHT before you left?” You got in his face as he took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Look at your fucking bumper! How the hell do you explain that, huh?!” Your anger at his carelessness blinded you to the way he was looking at you, the hunger in his eyes.
Just as you were about to go off again, you felt his hand grasping your chin roughly. This was such an unexpected move that your mind blanked in the seconds to come. “God you’re fuckin sexy when you’re mad,” Bakugou growled, pausing a moment before hungrily pressing his lips to yours. The first thing you registered was the heat. They were burning against yours, and they were soft, much softer than you would have guessed.
Snapping back to yourself, you put a hand on his chest – his muscular chest – and pushed away. You looked away, trying to clear your head. “Woah, you can’t just… kiss me…” you gasped.
“Why not?” He murmured in your ear, absolutely glowing with his victory. He was always an impulsive guy, but that doubled when he won. He was known to break things when he beat someone, so part of you wasn’t surprised that he did that, but it was so unexpected that you never would have thought it would happen.
You looked up at him and found a grin resting on his lips. You felt something in you snap, something that had been holding you back from what you’d wanted to do so many times before but never had the courage to do. Giving a minute shrug, you said fuck it and went in again. It wasn’t a sweet kiss though. He threaded his fingers through your hair, and the hand holding his helmet released it, coming to dig into your waist. It was hot and heavy, filled with anger and pent up emotion and victory. It was a kiss years in the making, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted it to happen. This man was leaving tire tracks on your heart, driving right through the barriers you tried to put up to block him out.
And you were okay with that.
#bakugou#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fanfiction#street racer au#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha#bnha fanfic#mine#my post
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101 Greek Mythology head-canons that have little to nothing to do with the “canon”
(These headcanons merely involve my own interpretation of G.M. and the way it’s depicted in my story. It’s okay, if you don’t like them, but please do refrain from nagging into my ears about it, because these are headcanons!)
1. Ares is both Zeus’ oldest and his only legitimate son (Hephaistos is Hera’s son alone, so he doesn’t count). Sometimes he rubs it into his half-siblings’ faces out of spite. The only ones excluded are the Horai (Eunomia, Dike and Eirene) and Athena, because they're (kind of) older and have been born (or conceived) in wedlock.
2. Ares and Zeus have kind of a parental love-hate relationship. Because ... well, it’s Zeus.
3. Athena has a bitter rivalry with both Ares and Poseidon going on. But they do get along sometimes.
4. The Kronides (Hestia, Hades, Demeter, Poseidon, Hera and Zeus) have a feeling of reverence towards Athena’s mother Metis. It’s one of the reasons why she’s Zeus’ favourite child.
5. I went with Hesiod’s Theogony on their family tree, so Aphrodite is the sole daughter of the sky Ouranos (or more specifically of his privy parts). That makes her the half-sister of the Titanes and aunt to the 1st-generation-Olympians. Thus she’s the oldest member of the Olympian Twelve (the Dodekatheoi).
6. Aphrodite dresses in pink or red most of the time, but her favourite colour is actually blue. Only Ares, Hephaistos and Athena know this.
7. Every time a god/dess is born, the Moirai (the Fates) and the Protogenoi (primordial gods) come to attend the birth, determine their later life and tasks and grant them the powers required. Most of the Protogenoi typically attend births invisibly, so that only Zeus, Hades and Hekatê can see them.
8. Hera and Zeus have a cold love for each other. They’re still married, because he needs a queen and no one else wants to be. And Hera can watch over the family better this way.
9. Hera is in retirement from being a jealous psycho wife. Now she just gives hell to Zeus, as annoying him is fun, if you can get away with it. Nowadays she’s a bitch for other reasons.
10. Poseidon isn’t the wisest of the three brothers, but he often mediates between Hades and Zeus, when things get bad between them. Over time he has gotten really good at it.
11. The Olympians have three collective no-goes: violation of the laws of hospitality, family murder and cannibalism. For obvious reasons.
12. Hephaistos, Ares and Aphrodite have long moved on from the golden net incident. Hephaistos has divorced Aphrodite and remarried. The three have a platonic affection for each other and joke about the shipwreck that’s Hephaistos’ and Aphrodite’s failed marriage.
13. Aphrodite is secretly a badass. She also has a more of her father in her than anyone could imagine. She keeps it from everyone, because she’s too afraid of what Zeus might do, if he finds out. The only ones who have a hunch are Hephaistos, Ares and Athena.
14. Ares was actually supposed to become a god of vegetation and fertility, when he was born. But no thanks to a curse from Gaia, he got bound to become a god of war instead. He does have green fingers though and secretly likes gardening.
15. Aphrodite had no serious relationship with any other than Ares, but Adonis came pretty close. Ares killed the poor guy out of jealousy, which obviously made Aphrodite upset.
16. Metis still exists. She lives on inside Zeus’ subconsciousness and has born the prophesied son that is destined to surpass Zeus. But they can’t get out, because Zeus placed a seal on his mind, after Athena broke out of his head.
17. Demeter wasn’t actually upset about Persephone marrying Hades. She was angry that it happened without her consent; she’s Persephone’s mother after all. But since things have been cleared up, she gets along with Hades comparatively well.
18. If you make Hestia, Hebe or Harmonia upset, the Olympians will collectively hunt you down and fuck you up.
19. The Greek pantheon is in contact with other panthea. Zeus does most of the international politics.
20. Dionysos once wanted to make it rain wine during Athena’s birthday party. But he messed up the spell and it rained pineapples instead.
21. Ares is possessed by a demon. To be specific by Polemos, the personification and spirit of war itself. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so crazy, but he has learned to deal with it. To him, Polemos is mostly that annoying voice in his head. He can allow the Daimon to take over, but rarely does, because he doesn’t want anyone to know about him and because he fears, that Polemos might harm his loved ones.
22. Hephaistos likes to set people’s hair on fire, if they piss him off.
23. Hermes is a kleptomaniac. Nobody likes this.
24. Ares and Demeter had a one-night-stand once. Their offspring was two serpentine dragons and a warrior, because that’s how hardcore they are. Ares loved his monster babies and was very upset, when they got killed.
25. Hades and Persephone have one of the most functional marriages in the pantheon. Persephone is the boss.
26. Ares’ daughter Harmonia is the only goddess, who has given up her immortality for a mortal husband. She was cursed by Hephaistos, who wanted to get back at Aphrodite, and lived a miserable life, before she and her husband were turned into snakes (in my version it was Ares, who transformed them both). They were sent to the Elysion after finally passing on. Hades allows Ares and Aphrodite to visit their daughter from time to time.
27. Despite being brash and loud, Ares is one of the few gods, who actually get along with Hades. He earned a few points with the King of the Underworld by getting along famously with Kerberos and by increasing his number of subjects more quickly.
28. Artemis is asexual, but in a romantic relationship with Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth and oldest daughter of Hera. Hera only tolerates it for Elileithyia’s sake, as she and Artemis really dislike each other.
29. Apollon used to have a one-sided crush on his twin. It was nothing sexual (he takes her virginity very seriously), but more than brotherly. Artemis knows and was really freaked out at first, but forgave him after learning, that he didn’t want to get creepy. When Zeus found out, he helped him to get rid of that love, and his affection for Artemis returned to being healthy brotherly love.
30. Hermes and Dionysos once tried to prank Hephaistos. His wife Aglaia caught them. They never tried again afterwards.
31. Zeus' mental state alone can affect the atmosphere and weather. If he’s calm or composed, so is the weather. If he’s furious, it’s like a hurricane, even if he tries to keep his temper - the weather just gives away, what he’s feeling. Zeus finds this really damn annoying.
32. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades didn’t draw lots to get their domains. They didn’t even choose them. Their domains chose them.
33. The Protogenoi, aka the Primordials, are to the gods, what the gods are to the humans, although the gods don’t worship the Protogenoi. However, the gods respect some more than others. Like the gods, each Protogenos has epithets given to them by the gods.
34. Each race of deities (Protogenoi, Titanes, gods, Daimones, Nymphai, etc.), has their own language. Only a few of the gods are fluent in all of them. Especially the language of the Protogenoi is often hard to decipher.
35. Aphrodite really hates her father Ouranos. Then again, everyone does.
36. Each one of the Olympians has their own mental issues.
37. Hephaistos was born with one deformed leg, but otherwise would have been able to walk. But after falling off Olympos, his left leg was hopelessly damaged and he needed a crutch. Then Zeus threw him off the mountain in a fit and he’s needed a wheelchair ever since, as crashing into an island has left him paraplegic.
38. Dionysos often gets called “baby of the family”, as he’s the youngest Olympian by far. It irritates him a lot.
39. Persephone wasn’t kidnapped. She went into the underworld by herself, because she was sick of everything and wanted to be alone. And as the underworld is really huge, Hades only found her months later by accident. She stayed with him for a while, they fell for each other and got impulse-married. But when Hermes showed up and explained what was going on in the upperworld, Hades decided, that she had to go back at least for a while. They had a dispute with Demeter and Zeus, arrangements were made, they got officially married and ever since then Persephone spent half the year up and half the year down-under.
40. As the goddess of spring, Persephone brings it wherever she goes. So when she leaves the upperworld, she brings spring to the underworld. However, as the queen of the dead, she also has the tendency of taking the influence of the underworld to wherever she goes in the upperworld. Persephone tans easily and is therefore very dark, when she goes down to the underworld. But the lack of sunlight in the underworld makes her grow pale quickly. Then she goes back up and the cycle starts again.
41. Persephone wears her hair short, because she liked it on Ares, when they first met. When she found out, that mortal women had the custom of shearing their hair as a sign of mourning, she was like: Huh ... what a coincidence. Demeter needed a while to get used to her new hair style.
42. Ares remembers the birthdays of all of his (half-)siblings, even those he hates. It’s one of the few nice things he does for them.
43. Aphrodite usually appears to someone as the type of person they find most desirable (x1000). That applies to mortals and used to apply to the Olympians too, until Athena asked her to choose a fixed shape for the gods, because she and the other virgin goddesses couldn’t see her. Aphrodite found this hilarious, but complied.
44. Hephaistos once grew a beard, hoping he’d would look less boyish and less like his mother Hera, but shaved it off again, because he was sick of it catching fire and sparks.
45. Out of all marriages in the Greek pantheon, Zeus’ and Hera’s marriage is only the third most dysfunctional; it’s surpassed by that of Kronos and Rheia and that of Ouranos and Gaia. Most other divine couples have more or less functional relationships.
46. At some point Aphrodite asked Ares to marry her, but he only knew the disaster that is his parents’ marriage and refused.
47. Poseidon has a tendency to make sexist jokes. Athena finds it really unfunny (so do the other goddesses, but they’re not subject of his bad jokes often, so they grin and bear it). Ares also takes offense at sexist jokes, which pleasantly surprised Athena and Artemis, when they found out.
48. Literally every member of the Olympians is LGBTQ+ in some way (even Ares; he’s heterosexual, but demiromantic).
49. Aphrodite loves pinching Hephaistos’ cheeks. He finds this really annoying, but tolerates it, because resistance is futile.
50. Hekatê is powerful and knowledgeable even for a Titan. The Protogenoi blessed her even before she was born. The premature blessing, plus her father being the Titan of destruction caused a mutation. Her eyes are not on her face, but she has several dozens of them magically floating around her head, like an ever-shifting halo. She also ages throughout the night (she’s a child in the evening and an old woman in the morning) and regresses during the day.
61. It doesn’t matter how much at odds the Olympians are, they will stand up for each other and stick together, when push comes to shove.
62. Apart from the 3 top tier taboos (violation of hospitality, cannibalism & family murder), each Olympian has at least one thing they would never do. Be it because they have suffered it first hand or just because they think it’s wrong and it’s below their standards.
63. Zeus is an early bird. The only others on Olympos are Apollon, Ares and Hermes. The others are either night owls or just constantly sleep-deprived/hungover.
64. Ares has a twin sister named Enyo. She’s been banished from Olympos after the Gigantomakhia for remaining neutral instead of supporting her kin. She’s crashing at his home in Thrace and mostly accompanies him into battle, together with Eris.
65. If Hephaistos was able to stand up, he’d be as tall as Artemis (she’s the third tallest goddess).
66. Hera couldn’t handle Ares, when he was a baby and asked Eris to be his nurse. Eris agreed and became his nurse under the fake identity of Thero. A few years later , he was kidnapped by Titanes at the age of seven. Hera gave him back to Eris to protect him, appointing the goddess of strife to be Ares’ guardian. When he was ten, he heard, that he had now a little sister (Eileithyia) and wanted to go back to Olympos. By that time the war was over, so Eris allowed it.
67. Eris sees the bonds between people as golden strings. She carries a sickle on herself. To damage a bond, she grazes it with the sickle, to destroy it completely, she cuts it. The stronger the string, the harder it is to cut.
68. The duty of Harmonia (Eris’ opposite) is to repair the bonds Eris has cut or damaged. She performs that duty even in Elysion.
69. Hera and Aphrodite have one thing in common: They both look like Japanese horror movie ghosts, before their morning coffee. Zeus and Ares both make sure that it’s ready, when they get up. Zeus because his wife creeps him out like that, Ares because he loves his girlfriend.
70. The Moirai, or the Fates, are daughters of Nyx. Klotho (Spinner) has a childlike appearance, Lakhesis (Alotter) is a matron and Atropos (Inevitable) is an old hag. Atropos is mute and speaks sign language, while her sisters translate what she says. Klotho is paraplegic and wheelchair-bound. Lakhesis is the caretaker of both. They’re usually incorruptible and pitiless in doing their duty, but sometimes a god manages to elicit a favour from them (for a price, of course). The thread of life of each living being is a glowing string coming from Klotho’s white hair. A mortal’s life thread is white, a semi-divine thread is silvery, a divine thread is golden.
71. Zeus never really cheated fate, when he absorbed Metis. He’s fully aware, that one day his reign will end and has everything planned out. He simply doesn’t want to step down just yet. Not even he can go against the Moirai and they never spared him his fate - they only accommodated him by giving him more time.
72. Only the Protogenoi have the power to really alter someone else’s fate, but it comes at a hefty price. For example, Gaia changed the fate of Ares, when she sealed Polemos inside of him and cursed him to become the destructive god of terrible war. This led to the child being captured and tortured by Kronos, who hoped to make the personification of war bend to his will (because he’s evil!). The irate Moirai retaliated by granting the original Olympians and their allies a devastating victory over Kronos and sentenced him and his allies to everlasting torment in Tartaros.
73. The Titanomakhia lasted for ten Olympian years, which by mortal standards is a century. By the time it began, Zeus was already married to Metis, so his siblings got to meet both of their saviors. But when he found out that she was pregnant, he panicked and absorbed her. Shortly after the war began, he married Thémis, the Titanis of divine justice and heavenly order, who had joined his side immediately. Together they had the Horai, but broke up, when she learned of Metis’ fate (i.e. Thémis got outta there, while she still could). Afterwards Zeus married Hera, so their first child Ares was born a few mortal decades before the end of the war.
74. Zeus and Hera are a complicated set of parents: one day they don’t give a crap about their children and the next day they would tear the universe apart to keep them save. The feeling is mutual.
75. Apollon isn’t actually that unlucky in love. His failed attempts at romance are just more well-known.
76. Ares is actually quite intelligent. The problem is, that he’s extremely emotional and volatile, has no impulse control and is really hostile as a result of his unpopularity and the things he has gone through.
77. The four virgin goddesses (Athena, Artemis, Hestia and Hekatê) are all asexual, but Athena and Artemis are demiromantic, while Hestia and Hekatê are aromantic.
78. Although Athena is demiromantic, she has never been in love as in she has never formed an emotional attachment other than Storge (familiar love) or Philia (deep friendship). She would, however be capable of Agape (unconditional, selfless love) or Pragma (enduring, grounded love). What she isn’t capable of is Eros (passionate, physical love), Ludus (playful love) and Mania (obsessive love).
88. The incident with Medusa getting raped by Poseidon inside Athena’s temple never happened. I went with the version in Hesiod’s Theogony: Medusa was a Gorgon from birth and together with her sisters a daughter of Phorkys and Keto, two ancient marine deities. She was the only mortal Gorgon, probably because of a mutation. Her affair with Poseidon was consensual. The rape account is a late one and comes from Ovid, a Roman writer, who wrote his Metamorphoses as a jab against the authorities (the Metamorphoses portrait all mortals as hapless victims and the gods as bigger dicks than the Greeks themselves saw their gods).
89. Most of the gods have lived for ten thousands of years. So even though to us it looks like they have one tryst after another, for them there can be centuries between each affair and the next. Of course, a century is almost nothing to them, but you get the idea.
90. The Olympians are very hypocritical. Nothing new here.
91. Hermes is closer to humans than all of the other Olympians. He is also the fondest of them.
92. Ares on the other hand is extremely misanthropic. Which is unsurprising, because he presides over the darker aspects of war and gets to see the worst side of humanity all the time. He considers it a kindness to make them kill each other.
93. Since Ares is Zeus’ only legitimate son and therefore his heir, he has to perform a lot of duties outside of his function as god of terrible war. The duty he hates most is going through his father’s mail, because nobody likes paper stuff. The upside is the confidential information he gets out of it. The other gods are unaware, how much he knows about his father or how much Zeus actually trusts his son with.
94. Zeus threatens his family to send them to Tartaros every time they piss him off too much. But he would never actually do it, because that would mean locking them up together with the defeated Titanes. And despite everything, he loves his family too much to do this and he hasn’t forgot, what they did to his son.
95. Though he has no qualms doing this with his demigod children, if they murder their sons and serve them to the gods for dinner (you know who I mean), or with trouble-makers, who kill their guests and capture Death itself, or people who harass his wife and children.
96. Aphrodite is fiercely protective of her boyfriend and children.
97. Once Aphrodite and Athena had a yelling contest. It was so terrifying, that the others (except for Zeus, who does this with Hera all the time) hid under the table and huddled together in fear. The two women only stopped screaming at each other, when Zeus told them to calm down.
98. Persephone and Hades have no children, mostly because she only likes children, if they’re dead (because they’re quiet). The only reason she agreed to raise Adonis together with Hades was that she doesn’t trust Aphrodite as far as she can throw her.
99. The scythe Demeter uses to reap her corn is the very same one Kronos used to castrate Ouranos. But the only thing that would prompt Demeter to use it as a weapon is, if her family was threatened (like in the Gigantomakhia).
100. Hera and Herakles buried their strife years before Herakles’ deification; when he helped the gods against the Gigantes and saved her from being assaulted by one of them. This is why she agreed to let him marry her daughter Hebe, after he became a god himself.
101. There is one deity the gods hold more sacred than all the others: Kháos, the Primordial Mist. Ze is the most hallowed of the Protogenoi, the Void that predates creation itself. Zir presence is felt in the invisible air we breathe and seen in the gloom of fog and mist. Ze is the atmosphere encircling the earth.
#Greek Mythology#zeus#hera#ares#athena#aphrodite#hephaistos#apollon#artemis#dionysos#hermes#poseidon#demeter#hades#persephone#eris#harmonia#the moirai#herakles#hebe#hestia#eileithyia#hekate#enyo#the titanes#the protogenoi#metis#themis
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𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐄 ;; 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 . . .
the little things . . .
× what does your muse smell like? what perfume/cologne are they using?
more often than not , sunscreen & vanilla . . . clara’s not really one to spend much time in the mornings to put extra effort in on a day to day basis , and what with being down south and all , and being such a fan of being outdoors , sunscreen’s kind of a daily thing . hints of vanilla come from shampoo & conditioner . but if she is wearing a perfume , you bet it’s daisy love by marc jacobs .
⌘ do they rather shower or take a bath? || ♀ how long does your muse usually need for a shower/bath?
r.i.p. anyone who ever lives with clara ( cough , devon ) because this bitch takes forever in the shower . baths aren’t really her thing , unless she’s had a couple really , really bad days in a row and she needs to chill . but otherwise a bitch just takes . . . incredibly long showers . first of all , her hair is–– a lot to maintain in and of itself , so there’s that , but also ! clara’s always moving a million miles a minute , and sometimes she forgets to slow down and breathe . so she kinda just . . . completely spaces out in the shower , yikes . better leave her be for , at the very least , 45 minutes , and hope there’s not a drought .
♂ does your muse put on make-up? how long do they need for it every day? || ⚢ what kind of make-up does your muse use? favourite colours? how much do they use?
daily ? nope . she’s lucky in the clear skin department , and more often than not goes barefaced . maybe a little bit of mascara , because the girl does have hella lashes , but for the most part she’s a clean slate . . . and that has a lot to do with the fact that she never really learned how to do her makeup . what ? y’all think jack sloane knew a damn thing about that stuff ? i mean we’re all for dismantling traditional & toxic masculinity , but come on . coach is coach . everything she knows , she’s learned from georgia and olivia , and even now , the art of getting the perfect wing is witchcraft to her . that said , warm tones . light shimmers . long lashes . golds & coppers & bronzes . that’s what you’ll find on her color palette .
♤ does your muse have any scars? where? what do they look like? how did they get them?
you bet she does . there’s just one to note on her left knee , and it’s not too hard to miss , despite fading over the last few years . clara started gymnastics when she was small , mostly because she had too much energy , and every sloane kid ever starts a sport at a young age . as she got older , she began competing , because that’s what sloanes do , and she was damn good , boys . was she into the competition part of it all ? not particularly , but she loved how powerful the sport made her feel . unfortunately , the week before she was meant to compete at the national level , when she was fifteen , she landed short during a practice and ripped ~~ the fuck ~~ out of her acl . the scar on her knee is from surgery to repair that incident , and afterwords , you bet clara sat her dad –– and her grandpa –– down at the dinner table and said no sir , i am done with that . . . she can still tumble , she’s still pretty flexible , she likes to exercise those skills every now and again at a very mild level just for the sake of keeping that powerful feeling , but competing is a no - go . she’s happily on the sidelines .
♧ any freckles/moles/birth marks? where? || ♠ any ‘weird’ characteristics on their body
she gets a little freckle-y in the summer . her cheeks and her shoulders . she does have a small birthmark on her right hip , just low enough to hide under most bottoms . as for weird characteristics ? you should know clara wears her emotions on her face . she’s got a bad habit of blushing , as it just comes easily . also she can wiggle her ears :-) her dad used to tell her that meant she’d be the tooth fairy someday .
♥ do they have more muscles or more fat on their body? || ♦ any tattoos? where? what’s the story behind them?
clara is . . . almost all muscle . . . like the girl is very toned . after her knee injury , she slowly got back into working out , which is her way of kind of chasing that same feeling of power she used to get with gymnastics . as for tattoos ? she does , indeed , have one . it’s on her left side rib cage , in very small black font , and it’s just the numeric time stamp of her brother’s birthday . does her dad know ? absolutely . he’s got something similar etched into the workings of a colorless quarter sleeve . it’s the only ink he’s gotten since his twenties .
⦂ what clothes do they sleep in?
queen of drowning in 2xl t - shirts and hoodies . 9/10 times , that’s it , that’s all there is . a big tee over shorts . but occasionally the pendulum over swings back in the opposite direction , and she’s got a couple of silk sets she wears most often in the summer . and sometimes , you’ll find a cotton set of calvin kleins is . . . all sis can handle .
♚ do they have a favourite piece of clothing?
you BET she does ! two actually . she’s got a ‘vintage’ louisiana state football crew neck that she’s lived in for years . it’s . . . her dad’s from the early 90s , but she’ll always refer to it as vintage just to piss him off . she’s also got an old , distressed denim jacket that she wears everywhere .
❅ what do they usually wear when they’re NOT working? || ☏ what do they wear when they’re at work?
oh , man . clara is queen of faded denim and primary colors . she’s almost always in a big , thrifted t shirt with some busted vans and the aforementioned denim jacket . her hair ? almost always pulled back in a ponytail because there’s just a lot of it . if it’s not a big tee , it’s a cropped something or other . she’s got an array of athletic clothes , but only wears those to work out because clara sports cannot be your only personality trait ma’am !! at work , though ? when she’s on the field for her athletic trainer gig , best believe there’s a lil clara flare on the requirements . a dillon quarter zip or windbreaker , if it’s too hot , a. logo polo that she’d wear reluctantly . her hair is always pulled back into two very long braids , and often you’ll find a distressed dillon baseball cap on her head . . . backwards by the end of the game .
#i've had this in my drafts forever#and it's sUCH POINTLESS INFO#so i started a word association one for headcanons and wanted to save the header layla made me for that one#but then she mADE THIS ONE#AND I LOVE IT JUST AS MUCH#picked the word n everything :(#soft#* . . . 𝐜.𝐬. –– 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 ! *
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I can’t live with you (but I can’t live without you) - JohnicaWeek 2020
Author’s note: This idea born in my mind since Rachel announced this special week. My real life inspo were my own parents, married since 1991 (I born in 1992). Here I portray this couple as I imagine, based in real life experience having a 67 yrs old dad and in things that I read about this couple. This will be the most realistic posible representation of them that I could write. Don’t hate me if isn’t all cuteness here, life it’s good but also bad things :/ Also sorry if it’s too cheesy! I don’t like make suffer to my characters a lot lol.
Art by @imflashqueen (instagram). She drew the second piece inspired in my story! She was my beta indeed :3 Thank you for give me some feedback! Ah, and the first one was an old collab that we did in last November!
Plus, i’m doing this just for mere entertainment ;) I just love participate in this kind of events to meet new people, practicing my skills and have fun!
Summary: The anniversary date it’s here! How will they react about this?
Pairing: Current John and Ronnie :)
Warnings: Angst, some humor, some swearing, some fluff too. Mention of death.
Word count: 2139 words, perhaps my longest fic. If not, the second one.
Prompt used: Anniversary Day
First part
January 11th. Just like another weekend, another morning. He left very early his bed, trying to not wake up her. He wants some quientness to drink his tea. He wants to forget for a moment everything. Ever that next Saturday will be 18th. Just like in 1975. A cold Saturday in that catholic church, where Freddie made a particular entrance. Remembering that made him smile, but then was so upset, because Fred were ruining the strict ceremony.
“I’ll always love you bud. Cheers for you” he said rising his almost empty cup of tea watching the sky through the windom and finishing his tea.
His eyes were shining. His smile, wide. Until…
“Morning, no?” she said near to him.
He jumpscared a bit.
“God Ron! You know that I have heart problems…” he exaggerated putting his left hand in his chest.
She laughed.
“Exaggerated as always…” she added.
“Morning, yeah!?” he said finally, letting the empty cup of tea in the nearest table.
She started to prepare her breakfast.
“Who you were talking?”
Lighting a cigarette, he said “I… just remembered something Ron.” He aspired the smoke deeply. Now the cigarette are between his index and his middle finger of his right hand.
“Something happy”. Let go to the smoke through his nose.
Her eyes focused in him and smiling widely.
“I just remembered when Freddie entered to the church with that two girls in our wedding.” He aspired the smoke again. “Hahahaha… he couldn’t did it in another way!”
Her face turned so quickly in an deceptioned expression.
“oh… that, haha.” she said meanwhile she was preparing her tea.
Letting go the smoke but now from his mouth, he smiled mischievously. He did it again.
---------------------------------------------------
In the afternoon of that Saturday, the couple received a video call of their youngest offspring.
“Hiiiiii dad!! Hiiii mom!!!” he said with his habitual happiness, smiling widely.
Both parents greeted to their son.
The young continued talking.
“How you feel knowing that next Sat will be your anniversary?”
Ronnie smiled widely. “FINE!!”
But he stared at the camera and rolled his eyes, sighing. “Another year” he said kinda melancholic.
His son and his wife watched at him.
“Huh? I was honest.” But really he wasn’t real honest…
Trying to change the mood, Cameron added with a smile “Well, the fans are more excited for that than you, and you’re the one that’s married with that lady” winking an eye to his mom.
Being visible upset, the old man said: “That fans, ha! Try to be married at least 5 years and have 3 children in the meantime and after they can say if they’re happy with that life! I have enough of that fans speaking about me like the cute one, the good dad! I wasn’t one all the time for fucking god's sake!”. He raised of his chair and slammed the door of the room.
“Another time with that rant about the fans…” she said sighing and watching at her child.
“Well, let’s speak about you then mom. You have plans to the anniversary?” he said trying to make smile to the 69 years old woman.
She said “yeah. I reserved a table in Nobu for that day” and smiled shyly.
“MOOOOOOM, that restaurant it’s so famous. Every famous people will can see you with Dad there” almost shout the young man.
“It’s my intention, son.” and she smiled kinda mischievously.
-------------------------------
Second part
Another 18th came finally. Another year. Another cold winter day. Another time where he remembered why he did that.
He opened his eyes that morning earlier than usual. He watched at his side. She was snoring softly.
Finally he decided take his morning tea. Putting his robe and his winter flip-flops, go to the kitchen. He’s trying to not make any noise. More than ever, this morning needs that Ronnie don’t wake up at the same time than him. More than ever wants some silence and time with himself.
In the kitchen, he puts to boil some water to his tea. Meanwhile, he smokes a cigarette watching at outside through the window, still dark.
“45 damn years today. For good or bad... “ he sigh deeply meanwhile he was thinking. “Sometimes I ask myself why I did that. Sometimes I wanted to get away from this life, but for some reason i’m still here. Perhaps i’m tired of trying? I don’t know.” He aspired the smoke and let it go in a deep exhalation. “The only certainty it’s that I decided 45 years ago that beautiful slim prego lady, now an old woman, be my wife. Her…” and his thoughts were interrupted for the sound of the boiling water. “For fucking god’s sake…” he mumbled, while he turned off the fire. He prepared the tea and go to his “office” to check the internet. “Let’s see what the people say about me today… Wait. It’s early… Don’t care. I’ll be with this all day long if it’s necessary. This will be more fun than always.”
He sat at his desk with his computer, with his tea in one side. Meanwhile the PC was initializing, he was with a lot of expectative.
He sips his tea and opened the navigator. Typed the right search in the search bar. “Gosh, a lot of thing already. That people really loves me being with her”, he whispered. Clicks in the first result. And he started to laugh. “Happy 45th anniversary blahblahblah, his marriage its the proof that the love always wins” he said reading the text on that post in a social network. “Little person, it’s just the proof that I prefer be with her for a reason. Well... Six reasons. Hahahaha” he “responded”.
Another post. That one, a drawing. “Oh okay, I look cute with her, goooootcha” he said with a pinch of sarcasm.
A fic. In this he stopped to read it entirely. He almost ended his tea meanwhile. And his laugh was harder. “These little girls haves a lot of imagination. Gosh, why I’m almost always the good boy in this things? Hahahahaha”
And another, and another, and another… He passed a lot of his morning there, having fun or merely entertain himself with the posts of the fandom. More than always.
Ronnie wake up. And her husband isn’t there with her. “John… at least today…” she though resigned meanwhile she puts her robe and his flip-flops.
When she was about to down the stairs, she listened a loud laugh. “He’s in the studio”.
She knocked the door.
And he sighed. “why Ronnie?” he though. But he said “come in!”, still laughing.
“Morning Ronnie!” he said as any morning. But that one wasn't like any morning. Was the morning.
She stared at him, after close the door behind her.
“Just that?”
He rolled his eyes, sighing.
“Happy anniversary Ronnie!” and he smiled quite exaggerated. “Come here”.
She was with mixed thoughts and kinda hysterical, but she approached him. She after a few steps was at his side. He hugged her, still in that comfy chair, with funny face. She couldn’t resist to hug him too, caressing his almost bald head. “Sometimes I hate your behavior John” though Ronnie. “But anyways i think that I still like to be with you, haha”, continued in her mind, quite smiling.
He, moving his face to leave that embrace, said “Well honey, I told it. I was cute no? hahaha. Stay with me and have fun with me reading that things that under 30-years-old girls write and draw about us”.
She stepped away from him.
“John, that people are just being kind with you. A lot of people recognize you now. A whole new generation. And they’re educated greeting us for the anniversary”, she said watching at him.
He laughed. Turning his chair in her direction, he continued talking.
“Ron, that people thinks that marriage its easy, plus having 6 SIX kids to raise! Isn’t nice, it’s hard! And super stressful!”
Her face showed her nuisance.
“Ha, really you say that? You always recording or touring or in an endless holidays. I raised OUR kids ALONE a lot of time!”
He sighed so deeply. He started to need another cigarette. Now his arms are crossed.
“Really this again? Honey, stop. We fixed that already. Now i’m more at home with you and I helped a lot raising to our youngest kids”
Without thinking in the repercussion of her words, she said “Yeah, just because Freddie died before the birth of our youngest ones” and she half turned to her left, arms crossed.
He was without words. Was like a dagger in his heart. He didn’t knew how to react. A lot of mixed feelings. His hands in his face, he reclined his head.
“Veronica, get out.”
She, watching the results of her impulse, tried to fix that situation… in vain.
“But John, it wasn’t m-”
“GET. OUT.” His words were like a sharp.
She left the room, almost crying. “Well I’ll change my clothes meanwhile… and ill make my breakfast” she though in the meanwhile.
--------------------
That old wound was opened. he remembered that words about getting older together writing songs. he remembered how Freddie cheered him up to write songs, how he said once “shhhh John it’s creating”. He remembered noticed that scars. And knowing that his friend would die sooner than everyone expected. “He had a lot to give… We lost a lot of moments together for that damn disease. He was my real fuel to composing, and when he gone, my interest faded away. I just wanted to survive…” he started to think. He raise of his chair and took an old whiskey that he had over there, serve a glass of it and drank it of one sip. He lighted that necessary cigarette, now watching at the window, immersed in memories, in things that happened… He cried.
In audible voice, he said
“Fuck you Ronnie. Why you said that? Why you opened that wound again?” He sighed deeply, putting the cigarette in his mouth and aspiring the smoke. “I can’t live with you, but I can’t live without you, sadly.” Exhaled the smoke for his mouth. “Why I couldn’t leave you? I’m a masochistic? I love a lot to my offspring? In the very deep inside, I still love you? I don’t know really…” Aspired the smoke of the cigarette again, the last one. The cigarette its too short now. Throwing the cigarette to the floor, he stepped on it, turning it off. Exhaling the smoke, he continued. “You are my life, despite all the events. I give you my life. My love. My “freedom”. I married with you just having 23 years old. I REALLY loved you. Now?” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know. I just know that I don’t hate you”.
He didn’t knew that those words were listened for her, she opened silently the door minutes ago to apologize her for her words and she stared there, listening.
“John…” she said with tears in her eyes.
He turned his face enough to show her that he noticed her presence, smiling. She entered to the room running. She hugged him. “Sorry John. I- I was impulsive”.
Now watching at the window again, he said “nothing to sorry. It’s okay” and he placed his left hand over her hand that was hugging him from the back. He take that hand and kissed it. He turned to her and hugged her tightly.
“You should knocked that door first, he said, leaving the embrace.
“well, I-” started to say Ronnie, kinda scared.
“hahahaha! Relax! Now come with me and read that things that the people say about us” he said going to sit to his chair again.
“No John.” she said, shaking his head.
“Uh Ron, you’re booooooring! hahahah”
“That aren’t plans for an anniversary” she said, getting closer to him.
Watching at her eyes, he said “and go for a dinner today? We don’t usually go to dinner and you want TODAY? Oh, and I just hope that you didn’t asked to the Father of the parish to office a Mass for our anniversary! I’ll not go to the church today, and nevermore!”
She stared in silence, incapable to react. Her plans are discovered.
He watched at her, smiling mischievously. “Ha, Mrs you’re so predictable…” he thought.
She, trying to cover her real intentions, responded “Eeeeeh, no. I didn’t do that! You know me John, hehe… I’ll just cook a special meal.”
“No Ron. I’ll do that, and I promise, will not be cheese on toast” he replied smiling lightning another cigarette.
He had a surprise. But one that just he knew… And eventually Ronnie. Because something like that deserves an adequate celebration. And will be at Deacon style.
---------------------------------------------------
If you liked this fic, please reblog and leave a comment! (or if you’re shy, a reply, some emojis as response or an ask (could be in anon!)).
-Lily.
#painandpleasure86 fics#painandpleasure86 posts#johnica#johnicaweek2020#john deacon#veronica tetzlaff#queen fic#queen fanfiction#deaky#deacy#wedding anniversary#queen fanart#queen fandom
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Could you go into more detail re: your last post? I've been seeing so many reactions to what Steve did at the end of the movie and would love to hear your take on it because I'm desperate to hear from someone more level headed (and it seems like you definitely are). I've just seen a lot of people upset with/at Steve/Chris and need some reassurance lol. You can keep this private if you want or just make a separate post. Also hi, nice to meet you :)
I have been thinking about this all day, so I would be more than happy to elaborate for you! It’ll be under the cut.
It appears that the general arguments regarding Steve being out of character and not liking his ending is that he struggled for so long to put his past behind him, to find a place in the future with the family and friends he made, and by sending him back it compromised their future as well as Peggy’s and reduced her to simply a woman who stole Cap’s heart as opposed to this formidable force to be reckoned with and one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D.
I don’t see it that way though. If anything, this is a Steve who failed and saw half of the universe snapped due to circumstances beyond his control and more importantly this is the first time we truly see Steve for the human he is, and not just the soldier out of time.
Two constant threads in Steve’s individual arc has been dealing with one never-ending battle after another and his struggle to acclimate to the times he’s in. I don’t mean in an ‘old man deals with newfangled technology’ sense, but Steve’s few years out of the ice pales in comparison to the seventy plus years it’s been for everyone else. Also keep in mind the era in which Steve comes from, because he deals with things internally or not at all (mostly not at all) and a therapy goer the man is not.
In TFA, pre-serum Steve has a myriad of health problems and is known to get into fights frequently. He’s tried several times to get enlisted; longing for that one chance to do something right, to do something good because he doesn’t like bullies and he doesn’t care where they come from. He meets Peggy and she sees the man he is way before he became Captain America. Keep in mind though that between post Project Rebirth and the crash, more time has passed than people tend to think about. Their feelings for one another have deepened, even if they’re not acted upon, which is why their final conversation over the comms is even more heartbreaking. They had something, they knew they had something, and now it was lost seemingly forever. Who could come back from that? Who honestly would want to?
The Avengers finds him a mere two weeks after the man was defrosted, in which he was learning that almost everyone he knew and loved was dead and that the Tesseract he crashed a plane to try and destroy was found and used by SHIELD to create weapons and had to push that into the back of his mind so he could fight aliens in the Battle of New York.
In TWS, he’s still struggling to find his footing between his past and and present. He visits Peggy and is happy that at least she was able to move on and have a life for herself, but every visit is melancholy and ends the same way - she slips out because of her dementia and he has to relive her finding out that he’s real and in front of her every time. I wouldn’t want to wish that experience on anyone, but do you know what that’s like to deal with a person who has that? To think you’re finally getting somewhere with someone for a moment and then the lucidness wears off and suddenly your heart is ripped out of your chest because you’re back at square one? To do that every single time you see them? Sam asking him what makes him happy breaks my heart every single time because he’s never been given the opportunity to figure that out, and once he learns that Hydra, again going with the whole “I crashed my fucking plane into the ocean and this shit is STILL happening” arc, has been entangled with SHIELD from its infancy, he knows the mission to take it down takes precedence over trying to take the time and figure that out for himself. Now, this movie is the Winter Soldier, and there’s Bucky to cover. At this point, Steve knows he doesn’t have much time with Peggy left when he uncovers the identity of The Winter Soldier. These two pillars are the last remaining ties to his past, which is why he tries so hard to try to joggle Bucky’s programming with not fighting back and the “I’m with you til the end of the line”. Steve knows he’s in there, he just had to get him out. He’s successful, and then that jump-starts the search post TWS leading into Age of Ultron and ending in Civil War.
Age of Ultron..is…well, okay it has more problems than anything else however, at this point it’s been three years since he’s been living in the future, and it would make sense that Peggy is still on his mind in Wanda’s dream sequence for him. He confirms it in Endgame for the first time by saying it aloud, but Peggy was the love of his life. It’s normal to dream about lost loves. He’s a man from that older era though, which is why we only have a stolen moment of him trying to remain stoic because he has to be a leader and appear unaffected for the sake of his team and the mission. I really wish the deleted scene where he comes out of the quintet with his coal to see the image of Captain America with the words “Fascist” above spray-painted on a building wall before he throws the helmet back inside was kept in because it shows SO MUCH without saying anything at all. This is where we see that break between who is he and what his superhero persona is supposed to represent. It’s not Captain America who makes Steve Rogers Steve Rogers, it is Steve Rogers who makes Captain America Captain America. And once again, we find him trying to make the sacrifice play if they aren’t successful and can’t get all Sokovian citizens as well as themselves out in time. Now all while this is happening, Sam is still trying to look for Bucky for Steve.
Which brings us to Civil War. Never has that line between his past and present been more apparent because it’s literally the plot to this movie. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. Bucky is deprogrammed but broken and more importantly to Steve - alive- and he knows that Bucky has that blood on his hands that Hydra used and abused him into spilling and that’s why if he could just get Tony to see that with these accords the powers at be, along with every country who signs, can dangle their help for political gain like they’re puppets on strings just like he was. Do they need to be put in check? Perhaps, but not by people with an agenda. It’s a dangerous game they’d be playing with no winners which is why Steve doesn’t sign them. And during that meeting with all of them discussing this, Steve learns that Peggy dies so his stake in this fight to preserve the last tether to his past increases tenfold. He’s not just fighting for Bucky, Steve is fighting for himself. By the time he’s dropped that shield, we’re shown that Steve has lost faith in his government, he’s lost faith in his friends, and he’s lost faith in himself.
He’s in Infinity War for six minutes and forty five seconds is screen time so there’s not much content wise to go on, but when we see Steve he is clearly not the man he was and you can tell something is broken inside him, but it’s not explored until Endgame.
I’m just going to focus on Steve’s arc in Endgame because while I really liked most of it, Thor and Natasha deserved better than that so here we go. If you have not watched Endgame, don’t go any further.
Between waking up and immediately having to fight post defrosting and uncovering the truth about SHIELD using the Tesseract to make weapons, Hydra being an entangled part of shield, the events of Civil War, and by the time we see him in Infinity War he’s a shell of whatever former self he was trying to grasp at straws with, and it wasn’t until we had this film that we actually see to what extent that was.
Endgame opens three weeks after the snap, in a time where they’re still desperately clinging to hope with trying to find a way to reverse things. Carol saves Tony and Nebula while he’s on the very brink of death in the Benatar, and tensions between the Steve and Tony are at an all time high. They lost. Everyone. They’re the Avengers, how could they lose?
Time jumps five years. Tony is living on a lake and has a young daughter with Pepper, and Steve has now taken over for Sam in leading group therapy meetings. Joe Russo’s character says he went on a date the night before and that his date cried before the salad and he cried after the dessert and there was nothing they could truly talk about because what could you talk about if half of the universe, including people you knew and loved, vanished in an instant and where you’re borderline living in some version of Lord of the Flies? He offers words of comfort, but he and half the people in that session don’t fully believe them. He lost the love of his life in ‘45 and woke up seventy years later and he hasn’t had a single moment of rest to do so. It weighs on him, on all of them. Natasha is at Avengers HQ still trying to find ways to help, and because of the nature of their work and who they are as individuals they can’t truly move on, him especially. But seeing Tony with his daughter I think was a catalyst of sorts for Steve, even if it didn’t fully register for him at first. One of the themes through Age of Ultron was this notion of “home”, and being an Avenger was something they all pretty much had to put first. Tony got his family, he got his home, and for someone who thought that the man who went into the ice seventy years couldn’t have that himself, there came a small burst of a what if. What if he could have that as well? If it happened for Tony…
Seeing Peggy in 1970, seeing his photo on her desk…that did something to him as well. After all those years, he’s still on her mind just seemingly as much as she’s on his. He gets that moment of seeing her again, and that longing was heartbreaking. Just one more look before he had to go back - something just for him because the mission came first, it always comes first, and he didn’t want to screw anything up so he buries it like he does everything else. Steve’s an intelligent little shit though and we’ll come back to that later.
Now here’s where I also need for you to keep in mind the conversation Banner had with the Ancient One in 2012. The Ancient One is hesitant on giving him the Infinity Stone because it will disrupt the pre-determined timeline, but Banner explains that the past is cemented in time and forever exists to allow for a subject to jump through time. Reality is experiential for individuals, meaning a person’s perception of time is linear, regardless of how they jump around the timeline. In layman’s terms, you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes the past which then cant be changed by the new future.
We’ve always known Steve is worthy of wielding Mjolnir so let’s just skip to the ending now shall we?
At the end, Steve goes alone to return the stones to their proper place in time, but also has become well versed in time travel for someone who’s not Banner or Tony. He sees this as a chance to have something that’s been unattainable to him for so long - to live the life Tony wanted for him. To be happy. To not have to fight for once in his life. So he goes to the right place in while in the quantum realm as to not disrupt the main timeline, and that’s when he doesn’t return we see that he’s become an old man finally at peace, handing Captain America’s shield over to Sam, who more than deserves the mantle, not exactly telling him that he got his happy ending with Peggy, choosing to keep it to himself and yet smiling wistfully all the same.
He never changed anything about Peggy’s future either. SHIELD clearly still exists, and do some people honestly think he wouldn’t give her the choice? If he didn’t think there was a strong enough of a chance or had she turned him down someway he would have respected her and returned to the main present timeline. Nothing changed about that, it was just an alternative path. By going back, Peggy’s life without Steve still exists and that Peggy who gets her reunion with Steve now represents a branch timeline.
I get not everyone liked the ending, I do, but to be fair, just because they didn’t like Steve’s ending because it doesn’t fit what they wanted doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fitting end for Steve. He can rest now. Finally.
#i have a lot of feelings about steve rogers okay#jensenwuvzhugz#becka answers things#a4 spoilers#long post for ts
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Truth (Part 2 of 2)
Summary:
Anxiety causes Crowley to change into his demonic form. But when he can't remember how to change back, Aziraphale helps, fighting truth with truth.
(AO3)
“What time is our reservation again, my dear?” Aziraphale asks from outside Crowley’s locked office door. Aziraphale knows what time their reservation is. It’s 8:30. Crowley has reminded him numerous times, going so far as to leave a plethora of messages around his shop written in midnight black ink on red Post-It paper that not a single soul with working eyes could ignore. They’re stuck to his teapot, his chair, his curio cabinet; they’ve even made their way inside his books so that the few customers he’s had this past week have actually taken it upon themselves to remind him, too, as they paid for their purchases.
All very unnecessary seeing as demon and angel have started living together now.
One would be hard pressed to tell that seeing as Aziraphale’s presence in Crowley’s flat has been limited so far in its representation. But it’s there in subtle ways – a rare book here, a miniature oil painting there, a few tartan items on Crowley’s dresser in the bedroom, a bottle of his favorite spirits in the fridge, a box of biscuits in the cupboard, those sorts of things. The time they don’t spend in Crowley’s flat they spend together in Aziraphale’s bookshop, absolutely surrounded by those crimson Post-Its. So there’s no way Aziraphale could have forgotten.
But it seems Crowley has, making a beeline for his office the second they’d gotten in and locking the door. Aziraphale assumed he wanted to give his plants a decent misting before they went out, though that doesn’t explain his locking the door. But he’s been inside for hours, and Aziraphale can’t seem to get him out.
“Uh … 8:30,” Crowley replies, his voice muffled by the thick door between them. “Why?”
“Well, it’s 7:45 now, so I figure we should get a wiggle on? You know, to wherever it is you’re taking us? Though considering the way you drive, it will likely take us only three-and-a-half seconds to get there. But I would like to, just this once, go to dinner without putting the fear of God into anyone.”
That last comment is bait. Any other time it would succeed in luring his demon out of hiding so Crowley can inform him that he doesn’t put the fear of God into anyone, and that that saying is a side-effect of societal conditioning. Besides, if a life-or-death situation puts the fear of God into someone over the fear of Satan, then that should say a thing or two about God, shouldn’t it?
But Crowley doesn’t rise to the challenge, not even with so much as a huff.
“I’ll just be another moment,” Crowley says. “I’m wrapping up a few things.”
“Okay.” Aziraphale sighs and backs away from the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen having a brandy when you’re ready. Please, don’t take too long.”
Too long? It’s only been 6000 years! That’s not too long, is it? “I won’t, angel.”
Crowley stands by the door, listening to Aziraphale’s footsteps pad off down the hallway. He waits till he can no longer hear them, then sneaks out of his office and heads to the bedroom. He’s not dressed for dinner. Not an inch, but that’s not a concern. He doesn’t own a single outfit he can’t toss on in less than a second.
He’d gone to his office to prepare for tonight, to grab something important – no, something essential. But when he found it, it triggered a minor anxiety attack, which steadily became a major anxiety attack the longer he looked at it.
Now he’s trapped in the midst of a full blown existential crisis on what should be one of the most important nights of their lives.
He hurries through the bedroom and into the bathroom where his ensemble for the evening hangs on the back of the door, waiting for him to put it on. It took him over a week to pick it out - ludicrous since he doesn’t have much in the way of variety in his wardrobe. Black on black with a few articles of dark grey, some trimmed in red - that’s all he owns.
Shocking.
And for a demon about to propose to an angel, a creature of love and kindness and light, that’s pretty pathetic.
Aziraphale deserves beauty, Crowley thinks as he puts on his somber clothes. He deserves rainbows and sunshine and starlight.
Starlight.
Crowley could give him starlight at least … couldn’t he? He gave starlight to the world. He should be able to give it to Aziraphale.
He looks down at his hands, but he can’t bring himself to snap his fingers.
He can’t bring himself to try and fail.
No. He can’t give Aziraphale starlight. Not now. Not as a demon.
As an angel, he could, but as a demon, what can he do?
He can show him affection in the shallow way humans do, by showering him with lavish gifts. That would be easy for him, take no effort whatsoever. But Aziraphale isn’t impressed by those things. $18,000 watches, expensive cars and clothes don’t impress him. Everything Crowley owns has a designer label attached and Aziraphale has never once batted an eye.
He’s been wearing the exact same coat for over a hundred-and-eighty years, for Satan’s sake! His glasses might actually be older!
Even the restaurant Crowley is taking them to tonight – the finest new French restaurant he could find in London, with an exclusive guest list and lines around the corner – won’t likely impress him.
And if the crepes are crap, he’ll write it off completely, even if the flatware is gold-plated.
Aziraphale relishes the things that show Crowley cares, that he listens when he talks, that he pays attention to his tastes: old books, classical music, trips to the museum, food. He’s filled his bookshop with quaint personal touches – cherubs and teacups and snuff boxes collected throughout the centuries. He didn’t hunt them down and buy them in the present, shelling out hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for them. He bought them from the original artists and kept them safe. Some of the keepsakes in his shop are worth thousands; some are worth nothing. But they’re there because he loves them, and that makes them priceless.
Crowley’s flat is cold and impersonal in comparison, the few things he owns priceless in dollar value, but honestly, most of it means nothing to him.
It’s there for show.
He flips the collar of his shirt, changing it from red to tartan in Aziraphale’s own personal pattern. It’s a little thing, but Aziraphale would appreciate that … wouldn’t he?
Is it enough?
Crowley looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces. Yup. There he is, looking exactly the way he always fucking does - like a Goddamned serial killer, except now he has a plucky tartan collar.
“What the bloody fuck am I doing?” he growls at his reflection. “Aziraphale’s an angel! He’s handsome and smart and witty and fun! He inspires humanity to be better! Who am I compared to that? I’ll tell you who I am - I’m a bitter old snake who drives too fast and yells at plants! He deserves better than me!” Crowley shakes his head, sinking further and further with every turn of his cheek into the mire of his own self-hatred. “He doesn’t know what I am. Not really.”
But if Aziraphale did, he wouldn’t turn away. He wouldn’t leave. Crowley knows this. That’s not who Aziraphale is. He would stand beside Crowley to his own destruction. Marriage to Crowley could most definitely destroy him, if for no other reason that it would put a big, red bullseye on his back for every supernatural entity to see, good or evil.
They’ve managed to keep Heaven and Hell off their backs, but how long can that last?
Aziraphale would say forever, but Crowley doesn’t have much in the way of faith.
Crowley has been lying to everyone. He’s been lying to Hell about what he’s been doing, lying to himself that he’s worthy of his angel.
Lying to Aziraphale, which is the biggest sin of them all.
It’s not so much a lie, he assures himself, but an omission. It never came up, so he never told. Is that really the same thing?
He snarls at his face in the mirror.
Fuck! Is he really trying to loophole his way out of this one? To himself?
He chuckles humorlessly. Of course I am. I’m a demon. That’s what I do.
And because he’s so good at it, Aziraphale is lying, too.
Corruption. It’s contagious.
And regardless of the money he’s accumulated, the status he holds, the power he has, that’s all he can give his angel.
Corruption.
“He thinksss that, deep down, I’m a good perssson,” he hisses. “Becaussse he’sss never ssseen true Evil!” A flashback of Satan rising through the asphalt pops into his head as if in response to that remark. He shakes his head. “Not wearing the face of sssomeone he lovesss! He trusssts me too much! He’sss making a missstake! He doesssn’t believe I can be all that bad!” Crowley swallows hard, swallows down the power swelling within him, that’s called to the surface whenever he gets angry. “Well, if he refussses to believe, I’ll ssshow him! He’ll sssee!”
With a snap of his fingers, he transforms. Wings tear his shirt, ripping through it like paper. His skin goes grey, falls from his frame in chunks revealing maggots underneath. His fingernails grow and curve unto themselves, tips piercing his flesh. Muscles bulge unsightly, joints crack. Feathers fall from his wings till they’re skeletal, the graceful arches bending like wire. His face elongates, hollows at the cheeks, his eyes going black and sinking into their sockets.
The next time he dares look at his face, he’s unrecognizable.
He doesn’t change into this form often. He’s too fond of the human façade he’s created for himself. Every time he changes, he fears he won’t be able to go back. But this is him. And if Aziraphale is dead set and determined to convince himself that he’s in love with a demon, then he needs to see Crowley for who he is.
Crowley stares at himself in the mirror, takes a good long look so that he’ll stop forgetting, stop convincing himself he’s something he’s not.
He can only stand it for a second, then he turns away.
Yes, this demon is him, but it’s also not him. Not entirely. Not anymore. And not for a long time. He might hate that this is the real form of the demon Crowley, but he has to give himself credit for the good that he’s done, intentionally or otherwise. The good that he is.
The parts of him that Aziraphale loves, which seems to be all of him, good or bad.
He sighs, ragged breaths issuing from holes in his lungs and filling up his entire chest cavity, ringing through it like the wind howling through a dead wood log. He knows he has to tell Aziraphale, but not now. He can’t do it now. He doesn’t have the strength. He’s already tapping every inch of his energy to get through this proposal.
He doesn’t know how he could land two weights of equal mass on Aziraphale’s shoulders in one night and expect him to stick around.
Of course, he should probably drop this one on him first, but the demon in him consistently convinces him that’s a bad idea.
And the cowardice in his subconscious tends to agree.
“All right,” he says, his voice an octave lower, grinding in his throat as if drug over nails and rocks. “We’re done pitying ourselves for now. Let’s be done with this, and propose to our angel.”
He snaps his fingers again, picturing, as best he can, his human face in his head.
But nothing happens.
That’s not entirely true. He swears he sees a bright white light. It actually stops his heart for a second since he assumes Aziraphale has miracled his way in, but it’s not his angel. A glance around the room proves that he’s still alone.
And he’s still a mess.
He tries again. He snaps his fingers. No white light this time, so that must have been an illusion, but nothing else changes. Only now, the image of his face in his head has begun to fade.
He snaps and snaps until the skin on his fingers starts to peel away, but not a bit of him goes back to normal.
But what is normal? He’s having a difficult time remembering.
“Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!” he mumbles, going about this a different way and attacking himself instead. He tugs at his wings, digs his nails into his arms, his face, trying to tear through the rotting flesh to the human skin he prays lies underneath.
But it doesn’t.
There’s not an inch of good or healthy or wholesome within him. It’s an illusion. All an illusion. An armor he uses to blend in, deceive. An armor he’s grown to rely on as much as he relies on Aziraphale.
And he doesn’t know how to get it back.
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White Tiled Sorrows
the us from this moment –
1676 words
SouHaru
SFW
Prologue:
"If there ever was anything that could throw him off, that was probably fate — he vaguely recalls Rin to have argued about that — or maybe, just his luck."
< | [X] | >
[Part A]
… Faded-white, cement bricks on the pavement covering each plane of the road side. Trees, willowy and tall, unlike the ones on his region. A playground a few meters ahead…
"Shit—" he cursed lowly. He's gotten lost— again.
Trying to understand when exactly he had messed up his route, he mindlessly made a beeline towards the small recreational area. The place was nice. If he had to get lost in the city this was a nice area to do so; the sun was stealing in on his face through the trees, a sweet warmth hitting his cheek, down where he sat on one open swing.
It was still a bit chilly outside, considering that it was just a couple days into March. Graduation day was merely a month away, and he had to consider a gift for Gou and go wish to Ai.
'Ai…' thinking back to it, his final year as a high school student was one very fond memory for him. He had simply hoped to see Rin again, but ended up finding a family. Ai, Momo, Uozumi, all of them— they had all accepted him as one of their own. They respected him. Not because of his status as elder, but because they considered him valuable. Him — Sousuke. They didn't try to dissuade him or look down on him when they had him found out. Quite the contrary, they took him in, they enveloped him with gentleness and comfort and made him their unrivaled, unyielding hero. They gave him their strength. And filled him with new hope.
He owed them so much. So— so much.
A brazen cheering pierced through in the background, effectively bursting his bubbling thoughts.
He turned to the side to eye a cluster of children, flowing out from a place somewhere behind him.
His mind was clear. Lucid as for the very first time after eons. No troubles. No pretense. He suddenly felt a tug at his lips. He was smiling, wasn't he?
If Sousuke could see himself at that moment, he would swore he didn't know this person.
Soft eyes— shining, tender expression, an almost smile. Something familiar and fond and very nostalgic pulling at his heart. It felt horribly out of character for something this sappy to bloom out of him. Made him feel so out of place. So empty…
<<Growl>>
'hungry?'
Without much thought to it, Sousuke got up from his swing that clang noisily from the quick flurry of his movements, and headed in the opposite direction from where the echoes of cheering still reached him. He didn't ventured too far from where he had been, and he found himself standing in front of a communal pool.
There were some kids that had yet to leave the premises, blabbing energized about this and that.
He didn't plan to, in fact he had wanted to turn around and leave once his curiosity was sated, but his feet carried him all the way to the entrance.
He found himself taking a quick glance of the time table attached to one of the door leaves, as he pushed behind the other.
[ Friday: 13:00 - 14:30 elementary students practice
14:30 - 20:00 public hour ]
He didn't even checked his watch as he noted that -something- had held those kids back for at least half an hour after their class. It was, currently, 15:15. He knows this much because he saw the time when he exited the station at 14:30 sharp and then again at 14:45 when he sighed for the umpteenth time that evening as he had lost his way.
He trod in along the entrance hall, taking in the poster-covered walls; practice notices, open invitations to past events, warnings and rules for the public and swimmers, a plaque of the buildings’ name, the founding day and the donor that had obviously put his money in the project. It was a small golden plate with neat kanji, that Sousuke couldn't find it in him to actually bother to look at. He just moved ahead.
Pushing open the double steel doors, each with a stained glass the shape of a hemisphere and a long cylindrical handle attached from top to bottom, he had felt at ease. Now, driving through another pair of doors; wooden this time and much lighter, rectangular semi-transparent panes on each panel giving little to none of what was going on behind them, he found himself buzzing with excitement. He couldn't remember when was the last time he'd felt this way. It seemed so bizarre to have all this energy all of a sudden, 'cause — wasn't he hungry?!
Upon entering he was greeted with all too many people, ranking on all ages. Young men and women enjoying the water or moving around in a relaxed manner, the elderly sitting along the benches that lined the walls, 3-year-olds that were taking their first swimming lessons from their proud parents in the kiddy pool and some slightly older ones too. And on the far end towards — what Sousuke assumed — the locker rooms, were a deep pool not quite the size of an Olympic one but big all the same, that bustled busily with chattering and splashing. A ring of spectators was circling the pool, children cheering excitedly and younger people staring amazed from the sidelines.
Sousuke stood. In the middle of the slippery tiled floor, that looked like an artificial divide between the two clashing energies in this confined space, he stood. He examined the cheering bunch, detecting the fine sound of rhythmical sloshing through water.
Someone was swimming there — a kid maybe?
(But not quite.)
He doesn't really have the time to act of his own as a kid sprints past him — and he follows it with his eyes to where it meets with a middle-aged woman, his mother, he notes — and now is quickly running in his direction again, only, the kid is loosing his footing for a moment and Sousuke reaches out one big hand and grabs him. He looks surprised — if not stunned — as if he hadn't noticed the bulk that Sousuke's sheer size was forming in the space between.
Sousuke looks genuinely surprised himself. He actually managed to catch the kid in time. He didn't think he would…
"Kid…" he started and he felt the boy flinch in his grip. Ah— he's probably intimidating, isn't he; standing almost 10 heads above, he ought to be. So he swallows and drops his tone a notch. He tries again: "kid, it's dangerous to run in the pool—"
As he releases his hold on the boy's arm he notices the distinct forming of fingerprints around the soft flesh. He bites his lip. 'Damn—'
He's got no time to apologize properly before the kid beams up a smile at him and grab a hold of his wrist.
"It's ok! It doesn't hurt. At least I didn't fell, so thank you! Also, I'm sorry for running in the pool…” He says as he drags Sousuke along, to the big pool.
"Both my old coach and my new coach tell me not to run on the wet floor—", he makes a face —indignant?— "… mom, too." He finishes as he steals a glance back to where the woman was moments earlier…
'So that's how it is.' Sousuke notes with a nod of his head. And maybe he's smiling, because the kid is training a curious eye on him now.
This boy reminds him of himself when he was little. Black, short, spiky hair and piercing gaze. But the way he's easy with a guy like Sousuke, brings forth memories of his best friend as well.
"Say, oni-chan, do you swim?"
"Ah, yeah…?" 'How— no shit, idiot! Of course the kid would ask you that. You're in a pool for fucks sake… DUH!'
And the kid appears perplexed for a brief second before he says: "No, I mean— like professionally! You know…"
And Sousuke's brain barely registers the following words as he comes into view of what the formless barrier of moving bodies reveal before his disbelieving eyes…
"… like Haru is!"
And there is positively one Haruka Nanase, gleefully drifting over and under the water with lazy movements, much like a dolphin playing freely — not in a closed off tank, but rather — out in the vastness of the ocean. Happy. Content.
And he hears, as if from somewhere far away on his right…
"Haru swims professionally, but he swims only free!"
And there is a tear at his arm — one that hopefully didn't rip open his stitches (and, could the stitches get ripped when they are already removed by his doctor? Or what?) — and he's inches away from the edge of the pool and the kid next to him is frantically waving a hand at Haru; like a cat trying to catch its masters’ attention and show him the mouse it managed to caught. Like a gift in a show of affection or something.
The kid calls at Haru.
"Haru, this oni-chan over here is swimming too! He's really nice and I think you can become good friends!"
And Nana— Haru, is stilling in his spot, shaking the excess water from his face. His eyes drift to the kid where they trace his hand back over to Sousuke's blank face.
Sousuke can tell he's surprised as well from the imperceptible rounding of his rims in awe, sharp gaze growing lightly wondering.
"Am sure you'll like him!" The kid says as he finally releases Sousuke to dive into the pool, moving close to Haru.
The man is still looking at the stone effigy that is Sousuke. Sousuke finds his lingering gaze growing even more unbearable as he lowers himself in the water, the majority of his features hidden in the shimmering liquid, his eyes alone striking with a strange glow.
And surely enough, Sousuke can hear a familiar voice from half across the earth, laughing in mirth at him and his misery… ‘just shut up, Rin!’
Because…
'Shit—' (now he wants to swim?)
…
[End of Part A]
••••••••••••••••
A.N.: please do take the world and background/buildings descriptions with a grain of salt, as I've taken some liberties in this story.
< | [X] | >
#souharu#sousuke yamazaki#haruka nanase#free! series#Free!#free! dive to the future#time set#Fic#1676 words#sfw#My writing
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Season 3, Episode 1 - The Surge
Ah, good old S3. The one that I continually bring up as the first season Zane dies in, because a) the writers seem to love killing him, b) can the writers not do that that is incredibly rude
Well, that happens in the finale. I’ll let my dread build up for the occasion, then. Until then, we’ve got a good season to get through.
[22:10] oh what the hell!!! new intro!!!
[21:49] that fucking slaps
[21:39] The ultimate battle… where Lloyd got eaten by a dragon and then had the magical energy dragon he was riding explode the dragon he was eaten by.
[21:19] Huh. Looks like the “wait this is lego who gave them the right to be this dramatic” part of me finally kicked in. But man, that’s gotta suck for them to rebuild.
[21:09] Oh hi, dude in a wheelchair. That looks a bit… precarious.
[20:59] Wait, why New Ninjago City? That New ____ bit applies generally when it’s a seperate city or location, but named after an older city or location, like New York, New Mexico, New Zealand (Zeeland), etc. If you’re just rebuilding, it doesn’t make sense to add that, as it’s still the same city. Ninjago City was badly damaged by the earthquakes, but it wasn’t to the point of having to start completely over, right?
[20:57] Hovercar! --- wait. What’s the timespan for this?
[20:57] Huh. The ninja can move on with their lives for now, at least.
[20:42] Okay, we’re now watching Jay sneak up on somebody singing in the shower.
[20:39] Hi, Kai!
[20:35] Huh? What’s going on?
[20:33] Kai’s a teacher! Neat. And you can have hovercars, but god forbid we use a whiteboard.
[20:26] Zane and Cole are also teachers! And… and what do you mean on the friiiiiehwHY IS HE GLITCHING OUT
[20:18] Jeez! Not cool, kids!
...god i want to see a tacky poster explaining to the kids not to remote control the teachers please and thank you
[20:13] Ah. The wonders of education.
[20:03] I am going to fight a kid again.
[19:55] Oh! Sensei Wu took over Darkly’s!
[19:51] Jay’s a teacher too! I guess that just leaves Lloyd, Nya and Garmadon as characters who’d be majorly impacted by the end of the Age Of Ninja unaccounted for. I’m assuming Misako’s off doing research or something.
[19:57] your fave is problematic: cole steals his co-workers’ food from the fridge
[19:41] Oi. Where can I get that giant tea making machine?
But like… yeah. The ninja excl. Lloyd are like… adults. Maybe acting a bit like teens from time to time because kids show but… they’re adults with jobs and crap. That’s a very weird thought.
[19:33] Man, I love me them group dynamics
[19:22] Well, Lloyd’s doing a bit of award receiving, it seems.
[19:15] Nya’s a teacher too! So I guess that leaves Garmadon unaccounted for.
[19:06] Huh. That’s… not a good sign for Jaya this season. I’m a fan of Jaya so that’s, I dunno. Disappointing.
[19:00] Man, they’re either still in the Constant Threat mindset or are just really desperate to let loose on SOMETHING. Considering the kids they have to teach… it could be either.
[18:48] Aaaw! Jay’s geeking out about Borg Industries.
[18:45] Also the camera’s… really spinning. Really wants me to get that vertigo experience.
[18:42] Zane just snapped and kicked Jay in the leg. DJdfngjd
[18:34] Oh, look at you, Kai. Being all… cynical. I mean, you don’t really have a lot of past to go off of, y’know? The world was only made like… three generations ago. And also somehow a few thousand years ago…. What even is this timeline?
[18:30] Welp.
[18:24] Also, if you took the field trip on a dragon you do run into a lot of safety risks.
[18:20] god he’s desperately trying to be One Of The Kids… Cole this is the one time you’re not an eternal mood but I forgive you
[18:16] Also, Nya in the bg smiling at first but then just… dying inside
[18:15] oof
[18:07] But like… huh. I’m guessing it’s been a while since the events of S2. Logically in real life it’d be up to maybe a decade between seasons, but more likely it’d be a year or two at most, which is still a while.
[17:49] Man. NNC looks pretty cool.
[17:31] Well, I’m sorry sir, we can’t all have hovercars!
[17:29] Wait! It’s the postie. Man, that guy’s seen some crap.
[17:20] Cole remains just… frighteningly buff. I’m scared that if I shook his hand it’d break mine.
[17:09] (Wu) “Besides, it’s not like we can’t find where we’re going.” YOU SURE? Because I’ve gotten lost sometimes trying to find certain entertainment slash casino slash hotel complexes that will remain unnamed and it takes up like half of the Yarra in the city
[17:07] Okay, nevermind. That’s definitely like a beacon among the hills.
[17:04] Like… it’s very tall.
[16:59] ouch
[16:54] PIXAL???? I’VE HEARD OF YOU AND I LOVE YOU ALREADY
[16:42] Oh my god her voice is so relaxing though??? Like robotic, certainly, but not at all like jarring? Is that a weird thing to say?
[16:36] (Pixal) “What does ‘Zane’ stand for?” That’s just his name, m’am
[16:33] I mean, I hear Pixane is a thing that happens here? And I can understand the relationship part being rushed (god that is gonna be painful huh) but if I see Zane having a crush on Pixal I don’t really care. I don’t like how crushes usually somehow mean We’re Gonna Hook Up Soon but to be honest I don’t even have any form of romantic attraction, am human, and am having a bit of a crush on Pixal right now. He can do whatever, man.
[16:25] Welp! But goddammit, if it sets off my romantic repulsion I’m going to fight my brain, it’s! in! his! rights! to! crush! on! Pixal! Goddammit brain let me have fun here
[16:20] wait wait wait I just… man only in Lego can Pixal get away with having half her chest exposed.
[16:12] Okay I realise what I just said about Zane having a crush on Pixal but c’mon this is getting creepy what she’s on about now. NNC is reading more and more like a dystopia by the second when you think about it. Everything is connected. It’s being fed to Borg Industries. If BI isn’t doing good then what the hell would this mean?
[16:05] I- I. I mean, what DOES power him?
[15:36] WaaaAIIIIT. THIS ISN’T GOOD.
[15:16] Wait. Is this licensed? Also fucking… video games…
[15:05] “They have a Perfect Match console!” nsddhgiufsjd like that one Choices game? Also I heard we’re having a love triangle somewhere but this soon? What the hell, writers?
[15:00] UHHHH WHAT THE HELL. GODDAMMIT WE ARE NOT DOING SOME SORT OF AUTOMATED SOULMATE CRAP GET THAT SHIT OUT OF HERE.
[14:54] THIS IS CREEPY AS HELL… IS THIS SUPPOSED TO ALL BE *GOOD?*
[14:53] No. No, we are NOT doing this.
[14:50] I am going… to go commit... murder. None of you can stop me.
I am going to die before I get through this episode, jesus christ, let’s continue,
[14:49] PLEASE. MAKE IT STOP.
[14:47] WHHHHHY!!!!!
Usually I avoid anything with any romance in it like the plague (which is 99% of YA fiction aka stuff in my demographic) let alone LOVE TRIANGLES and now I’m seeing why Terrible Writing Advice has it as a running gag! If you’re not familiar with the channel, it’s exactly as labelled. It’s an author giving you advice on what NOT TO DO as stuff to do (but blatantly the first category). A running gag is that The Love Triangle Is Awful Author JP Fixall, which indicates how much the real JP hates them.
[14:44] (everyone gasps almost horrified at the results) THAT’S HOW I’VE BEEN FEELING FOR THE PAST HALF AN HOUR YOU GOOF! THIS IS A TEN SECOND SEQUENCE.
[14:42] WeLPPP WE HAVE TO DO THIS SHIT THEN
[14:34] Hey, Mr. Borg! So about that matchmaking machine you have in the video game floor downstairs… can we talk about that?
[14:32] Oh my god, I can’t even enjoy the episode because of the stupid love triangle I’m dreading.
[14:22] djdjdjd he really had to call out his parents for naming him that
[14:20] Why are you all acting so shocked? That looks cool as shit.
[14:07] UMMMMMM????? I’M SORRY WHAT
[14:01] Holy shit, um… they just killed him. They killed Zane’s dad between seasons, jesus christ.
[13:38] Man, but like. Huh.
[13:27] (Cyrus) “I’m glad it’s just you four.” UHHH
[13:15] It’s… a statue?
[13:11] (Kai) “Oh wow. It’s a statue. Of yourself.” I’m telling you that!
[13:04] UHHHH CYRUS? CYRUS YOU’RE JUST GONNA WHISPER IN KAI’S EAR ABOUT HOW HE NEEDS TO PROTECT THE OTHER NINJA FOR NINJAGO’S SAKE AND JUST… LEAVE IT THERE
[13:01] Oh, well, “them”, but I assumed it was the ninja based on context. Whatever it is.
[12:53] What the fuck is going on?
[12:22] Wait, since when did Kai hate technology? Was that something else from the pilot episodes? And… whelp, it’s broken.
[12:15] Ooooh. This isn’t good.
[11:53] Whelp! Time to protect them blades!
[11:49] OUCH
[11:19] And this is why you don’t build over where the Overlord was defeated, presumably. It curses the damn place.
[11:01] Man… those are some angry machinery.
[10:57] JESUS CHRIST THEM TOO??? PIXAL??? GUYS YOU’VE GOT KIDS WITH YOU
[10:23] Christ, why were they even allowed in there? This is a massive WorkSafe violation.
[10:13] God, I love the new technology based aesthetics we’re getting here though. I will confess, I love me them tech. I don’t really have the brains for it, but I wouldn’t deny it being cool as shit.
[10:10] Well! Let’s do this!
[10:06] Also, as always, the soundtrack slaps.
[9:51] And the music’s been updated to fit the technology theme of the season! In the previous two seasons, we got a lot of the classic Cinematic Orchestra (probably not the name but still). Now we’re doing a more techno beat… kind of thing
[9:48] (Zane) “It’s not sharp! Why even call it a blAde?”
[9:37] And thus continues the long tradition of the ninja almost falling to their deaths.
[9:29] Ow.
[9:27] Man, you really should find a stop to your fall soon.
[9:23] Conveniently placed … what do you call em
[9:16] Well!!!
[9:05] The Overlord’s back.
[8:52] Oh. Oh no.
[8:43] (laughs nervously) what the fuck?
[8:31] Man, this is really just going downhill. I knew there was something severely off with NNC!
[8:26] thROw mE!
[8:17] HELL YEAH!!!
[8:10] Oh! Hell yeah! Vehicles!
[7:47] Welp!
[7:28] Pixal what the hell
[6:47] Hell yeah!!!! Also, goddammit I CALLED IT NNC WAS REALLY OFF
[6:26] Man! You’re really ready to go kick some ass, huh? I literally cannot blame you.
[5:25] Wow! This is actually really wild and I’m really into it.
[4:47] So! New vehicles! Mainly to sell merch but man is this a fun way of doing it!
[4:10] god i love this show!
[3:30] uhhh what just happened
[3:26] Lloyd! thank you!
[3:20] And now they’re group hugging him!
[3:16] Shiiit. That goddamn Overlord.
[2:42] Alright! Let’s see what happens now!
[1:43] Oh!!! I guess the technoblades are with the ninja! This was just a false flag.
[1:30] OOOOH. IT WASN’T.
[0:52] god like… to Lloyd, all of the other ninja are the Dad Friend like… stop collecting dads Lloyd. you’ve got too many. put a few back.
[0:49] Oh god. Cyrus.
[0:38] OH NO
[0:26] Kids show! Now with 80% more body horror and 70% more useless romantic subplots!
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