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[profeyandere]

[profeyandere]

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐅. ─── ☾ 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐃

Masterlist || Joaquin Phoenix Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Fem!OC

Warning: Anxiety attacks, mentions of drug addiction, swearing, fluff

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The first and gloomy hours of the morning were always the hardest for everyone in the small city of Gotham, the city that never allows to rest, regardless of what day of the year it was or the situation that each of its inhabitants was suffering. A place known for its high crime rate and poverty was supposed to not promote human trafficking in it, no one in their right mind would want to live there unless they had enough money to squander it wherever they wanted in the most expensive and expensive places. Anyone could buy a nice apartment in the rich part of the city because that was where there was a lot more security, but there was always some crazy person who thought that settling there would be a good idea just to tell others about how he survived a city where crime reigned, even if it had never been the best option, it was not currently and would not be in posterity to settle there permanently; such a gloomy city, with so much tension and self-loathing, only needed a small trigger for everything it was known for negatively to increase to stratospheric and unsuspected levels or to fade as it had arrived. Its citizens suffered from hunger, sadness, and pain. Each and every one of them had a tragic and horrifying story behind them, whether at some point in their life, they had been insulted by their next-door neighbor for not having shared sugar or salt with him or her, or it was because of some traumatic event that had been considered horrifying enough for oneself that one's mind had completely erased it, even if in reality that person continued to remember it every night in their worst dreams or nightmares that prevented from resting for much more than two hours a day; Living in Gotham was a survival game in which only the strongest or the wealthiest won, and that was what caused the city to be immersed in its small, central chaos.

For Arthur Fleck that was life, a game of survival in which his smile and positivity could not fade no matter how hard the day was. For as long as he could remember, people had always seen him as the 'weirdo', as that classmate who it was better not to approach or talk to because of the strange stupidity that could come out of his mouth and that would cause a great stir in the classroom or as the adult who it is better not to talk to because of how bad he looked, mainly because his extreme thinness and the poor condition of his clothes made people assume that he was some kind of drug addict who could become violent at any moment if they approached him, even if in reality it was quite the opposite and they were only based on prejudices when it came to seeing the people around them. But that was Gotham, a place where it was better to watch your back before some lunatic got the brilliant idea of stabbing you in it. He just wanted to live quietly, with his mother in their small, run-down apartment, and fulfill his dream in that city where opportunities are scarce or non-existent, where everything could be served on a silver platter as soon as you were born, or where you had to work hard to get everything you wanted. Becoming a comedian was complicated, the mere idea of making people laugh was something that truly made him happy because, from a very young age, he had been told that his mission in this world was to make people happy. But making people truly happy was complicated; Gotham was not at its best for its citizens to forget their daily problems because of a joke from a complete stranger, even if the intention was the best of all.

"Hey! You!"

The scream coming from a strange clown that was traveling at high speed through the central streets of Gotham City caused many passers-by to look around with curiosity, seeing the aforementioned running through the crowd of people who were walking in the opposite direction to be able to recover the clown enormous yellowish plank that had been stolen by a group of teenagers who were barely around fifteen years old; people with some education who preferred to make others suffer rather than fix their own problems and face them properly. They all laughed and made fun of the poor adult who wanted to stand up to them, being shouted and called by the one who followed them. It was an embarrassing scene for Arthur. These types of injustices were very typical to see in the city, and no one was capable of taking the step to stop criminals who only wanted to annoy a worker who needed to get his money honestly, even if he was a clown who earned very little at throughout the month; Belonging to one of the lowest social scales in Gotham, no one would stop for a poor person, but if it was someone who worked for one of the most important companies in the city, then there would be someone who would stop those young people. Evidently, no one would do anything, no one would notice the poor clown who was running as if his life depended on that sign, except for an intense and curious look of amber tones that did do it, that did notice that underprivileged person and, very contrary to what many would think, he would help someone else under the false mask he always wore with the intention of scaring someone else.

Arthur Fleck, the clown who walked around Gotham with his fist over his heart and on the verge of an asthma attack if he suffered from that disease, shouted in an exasperated manner as he crossed the avenue without realizing that a huge shadow was looming over him with every step he took, without paying attention to the agile steps of that person who was chasing them over the buildings, ignoring any indication that someone else was trying to help him; No, at that moment it was only him against the group of criminals that seemed so slippery to him. The boys were so young, so agile, and he was already a man barely over thirty years old, with a deplorable physical condition and with the health of a small child; It was evident that he would not reach them unless someone gave him a hand.

"Stop them!" He exclaimed again, accidentally pushing a couple whom he simply looked over his shoulder at an apology before continuing his chase. At that moment he couldn't stop to apologize to the citizens he ran over. "Thieves!"

The clown finally thought he saw a small ray of hope when he made sure that the young people were finally turning into one of the alleys of the street and, praying that this one would not have an exit, and they would be forced to stop and return the sign with which he had been working all morning, slipped clumsily on the soggy pavement and continued his run to reach them, without realizing that one of them was patiently waiting for him hidden between some of the boxes to attack him with his own sign. To everyone's surprise, before the hidden young man could even move to hit Arthur with his own sign, a strange weapon that none of those present could identify managed to destroy the sign before it hit the clown's face, causing the grimaces of surprise and fear appeared on the faces of those present; None of the kids had seen the armed clown, and there were no other people in that narrow place but them, or at least that's what they thought.

"What the fuck, man?" Said one of the teenagers strangely, thinking that the clown who was now lying on his knees in front of them had had something to do with the destruction of the board. "How did you do that? Which has been...?"

The entire group, including the adult who was trying to put together the pieces of the plank wet from the puddles of water around them, were enveloped by the darkness of the enormous shadow of the person who had come to the narrow alley to join the party. His soft whistle and his slow steps, with which the heels of his boots resonated, made the young people feel their hair stand on end, and a great shiver ran through their bodies, even more so when they became sure of who they had in front of them; that criminal, that whistle, that mask with small side horns, that intense pulse that he had to destroy whatever she wanted. Evidently, the boys, making sure who was threatening them with that amber gaze, ran in the opposite direction when they saw who they had in front of them, confusing Arthur into thinking that it had been him who had scared them away in some way; He had been so immersed in his attempt to reconstruct his sign that he didn't make sure who was standing behind him. He clearly noticed the shadow that covered the entire alley, so he turned his head slowly to meet the person who had scared away the young people, gasping when he saw behind him one of the most dangerous thieves in Gotham: Eclipse.

Eclipse was one of the villains that had emerged in the city a couple of months ago, one of the most threatening to tell the truth. Without distinction of age, without distinction of class, she always went after those she considered potentially rewarding targets for her person and extorted them intending to obtain money through threats and slight intimidation; very few had seen her, and people hardly talked about her because of the fear that the simple fact of mentioning her name caused in the hearts of those who knew her, and the only thing they could distinguish about her were her penetrating amber eyes that, before the little light in which she was usually found in Gotham City, they seemed to shine more intensely than the eyes of a feline and that his calm and impassive voice seemed like sharp daggers that he spat from his mouth and that stabbed into the skin of those who met him. They were with her.

"Look at this…" Her slightly threatening voice murmured that Arthur was unable to place. He had never heard her, so she was not a known person to him. "For such a happy man, you don't smile as much now, do you? Come on, clown, show what you have for me."

Eclipse's strange and exaggerated smile was slightly obscured by the woman's dark fiber mask, with which he could barely distinguish a feature of her other than the shape of her face or her amber eyes almost lacking pupils, causing my heart to jump. Arthur's heart was beating hard, and that uncomfortable lump in his throat that he hated so much appeared again for the fifth time during the week, being the first sign that that laughter that he hated so much began to come out from between his lips in such an exaggerated way that it replaced crying in situations of fear, stress, or anxiety. Seeing the sharp fangs of his attacker, his belt full of weapons that could perfectly harm him, and those boots just inches from his face that could leave a big mark on his face if he wanted to kick him, left him breathless. She could be on the brink of death, and he was just going to laugh about it. Just as Eclipse's smile had appeared, he vanished, hiding any trace of happiness or amusement as he saw the situation unfolding before his eyes. Arthur's outrageous laughter began to appear in a soft tone, at least at first, which he slowly increased as he saw death so close to himself; He would have suffered from robberies, from threats of all kinds, among which his own death stood out, but he had never suffered anything more than beatings or insults. He didn't think she could put an end to his own story.

"What are you doing?" Eclipse asked with confusion as he saw how the clown began to laugh. "Stop laughing. It wasn't a joke. Stop it! It's not supposed to be funny to you, damn it!"

Arthur couldn't stop, his attack prevented him from doing so. Contrary to what the villain expected the clown to do, he offered her a laminated card that Eclipse quickly took, turning her back to him so she could read it better due to the lack of light in the alley, while she listened to his scandalous laughter in the background and read what the card had written. It was there that the thief's pupils became more noticeable as she realized the anxious situation in which the clown found herself, which managed to confuse her at times because of how she was reacting contrary to how the rest of the population used to do, because which slowly turned to look at him to confront him, this time squatting in front of him while looking into his eyes, watching how the clown tried to cover his mouth and silence his laughter. It was a sad scene; A scared man laughed in the face of death.

"A disorder?" Eclipse questioned as she gently returned the card to its owner, being careful not to upset him further. "I don't know those things, does that mean you're crazy or something? Not in the sense that you have to be in Arkham, but you do need a person and all that stuff. Aren't there dogs that took care of that shit? You know, the ones that give you hugs and everything."

Arthur's rather hesitant nod made the villainess understand him better, at least in part, but her words failed to calm him down. She had never encountered a similar scene, and it was beginning to terrify her because she didn't know what to do or say.

"What am I supposed to do? There may be something..." Eclipse muttered, trying to get some answers to his questions so he could help the citizen dressed as a clown, watching as he hit his chest to calm down and grabbed his throat to avoid choking due to lack of breath.

The thief, seeing the way the clown looked at her with his enormous greenish eyes full of tears, felt something pushing her to place her small, thin hand on one of the trembling knees of the man who was still sitting on the ground while the other took one of his and placed it on her chest, allowing him to feel the soft beat of her heart through the black suit she was wearing at that moment. Her amber eyes collided again with his greenish ones, this time as if they were mutually in a trance that they hoped would not be broken in a short time, allowing him to guide himself with their breaths so that he could calm down, which he did as the minutes passed, listening to how the sound of his laughter diminished until it finally disappeared through coughs, causing the alley to once again be enveloped in a deep silence in which only the sound of the cars on the nearby avenue and the rapid footsteps of the inhabitants of the city could be heard.

"I have met people who have feared me, there are drunks who have pissed on themselves as soon as they see me, but no one has ever reacted like you," Eclipse murmured with some seriousness, remaining squatted in front of him, without making any gesture that denoted evil intentions towards him.

"And no one has ever calmed me down like you have," Arthur answered softly and shyly, feeling the thin material of the villain's fabric under his fingertips, receiving a frown as he believed he had acted badly. "Sorry."

"Don't say something like that again," the villain threatened, ignoring the gentle caress on his suit before removing the clown's hand from his person in the same way he did from him, standing up again to impose her haughty figure over his trembling one. "I'm one of the villains of this city, you have no right to say something like that. I am cruel, I must instill fear. You must fear me."

Eclipse's voice had tried to be threatening, scowling at him as he bared his teeth, in the same way an aggressive animal did.

"And you have calmed me down, that shouldn't be done by a villain," the clown said again, receiving a soft growl from the person in front of him. "You're not that bad."

At that moment, something seemed to change in Eclipse's eyes, and he saw in Arthur's eyes something more than fear towards her. Eclipse saw gratitude and happiness. Arthur saw surprise and remorse, she wasn't so bad after all.

[profeyandere]

DRAGON EMBRACE || PETER PEVENSIE FIC.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

The place I come from wasn't always like that.

In ancient days, Narnia was known for its magical charms and its palpable joy that floated in the air like stardust. The creatures met around the fire to dance, and the murmur of spells and laughter filled every corner. Everyone lived peacefully with each other, however, in this paradise, where magic and happiness intertwined, an unexpected darkness came just like a relentless storm.

Jadis, an evil and cruel witch transformed this place and extinguished its splendour. The fire lost its brillance, and the spells that previously danced elegantly were extinguished in muffled whispers. The laughter and music vanished and were replaced by a heavy silence that hung in the air.

Today, the beautiful landscapes that our home offered us, are hidden among all the snow that covers them and carry the scars of a broken magic, the shadows that extend through the ancient valleys seem to tell stories of a past that lies buried in oblivion. Narnia, the magical town that once shone with the light of wonder, is now wrapped in deep sadness and an endless winter.

In the golden age of Narnia, there was a kingdom called Drakarionth, the land where dragons danced in the heavens and the blood of the rulers flowed with the nobility of the Targentia. The majestic winged beasts sailed the heavens, their scales reflected the colours of the twilight, and their roars resounded like echoes of ancestral power.

The rulers of Drakarionth were distinguished by their snow-white hair and deep eyes of an intense purple. His lineage was intertwined with the ancient magic of dragons, and his reign was marked by grace and authority that only the connection with these mythical creatures could grant.

In the halls of the palace, the symbols of the dragons were intertwined with the architecture, and the perpetual flames danced on the torches as a bow to the strength and majesty of the dragons. Every corner of the earth breathed the essence of a kingdom governed by the indissoluble bond between men and winged creatures.

However, the dark evil that hovered over Narnia brought with it shadows that eclipsed even the greatness of Drakarionth. The flame of the dragons burned fiercely, hundreds of Narnians went out to fight against the usurper, the knights of Drakarionth, with resplendent armour and banners waving with the dragon's emblem, bravely launched into battle, one of them was my father. However, the darkness that enveloped the malevolent force was deeper than anyone would have imagined.

Despite the fierce resistance of all those warriors, the evil of that witch proved to be implacable. The lands that were previously prosperous were consumed by the shadow, and the echos of the battle resounded like a lament throughout Narnia. The brave knights fell one after the other, and the hope of the kingdom slowly faded.

Finally, in the decisive battle, the king of Drakarionth, Valeryon Targentia, was defeated in front of his brother's eyes, the king had died and the whole town fell into despair. The kingdom, which once shone with splendour, was plunged into deep sadness while the ice took over everything, leaving behind a melancholy echo of what was once a prosperous kingdom.

The Drakarians fled to the Skoveragon valley guided by the only member of the royal family who was still alive, the prince named Aldric Targentia, he guided them to a place where they could live without fear of the witch discovering them, the remaining Narnians took refuge in the forest, away from the witch's castle.

The sound of war left an indelible mark on the collective memory of the people. The echos of weapons and screams still resonate, leaving the community with emotional scars that are difficult to heal. The normality they knew had vanished and had been replaced by a reality transformed by the cruelty of war.

"Rheira!" my father yelled at me, taking me out of the dream in which I had immersed myself, I sell through the window of our home. "Stop looking at nothing and hurry up or we will be late for the meeting with the Blackthorns.

I let out a sigh full of discomfort and rolled my eyes when I heard the tone my father used, I put on my thick cape to protect myself from the cold and walked towards the door.

My father left a beautiful red envelope on the table where he was sitting that he didn't care about and went to my mother to arrange her cape.

"Are you ready?" my mom asked me and I just nodded and settled my hair a little.

We left the house and started walking towards the beautiful cabin of the family that had invited us to dinner.

"Today, Rheira, is a crucial day for your future. It is imperative that you behave at the height of our responsibilities—I clenched my jaw when listening as once again, I was about to receive a sermon about my behaviour.

My face furrowed in a grimace, without fully understanding my father's insistence, I looked at him with confusion because this attitude had been present for a few days—Father, I have always treated Eamon and his family with respect. Why is this insistence on my behaviour?

My father sighed and rubbed his forehead, my mother squeezed his hand as a sign of support and my confusion grew to one more.

"It's not just respect, Rheira. What your father wants to tell you is that you must be kind and show a conciliatory attitude. Every gesture of yours counts—my mother's voice interrupted my father and tried to explain his way of acting to me.

I frowned until we reached the house, as soon as Mrs. Blackthorn opened the door for us, I smiled as sincerely as possible and tried to forget the growing discomfort that was forming in my stomach.

Upon entering the beautiful home of the Blackthorn family, the torches illuminated a huge table richly decorated with a velvet tablecloth and silver plates. The dinner smelled delicious and the fire was crisp in the fireplace making the interior of the house very warm.

The adults gathered in the kitchen and I stood in front of the fire warming my hands, Eamon sat next to me and didn't say a single word, I didn't know what to say so I just turned a little and watched him amicably.

We heard some steps coming hurriedly towards us and when we saw you want them, we saw the other 4 brothers of Eamon who played with wooden swords.

We heard a scream announcing that we were going to the dining room and I quickly went to the table where the places had already been assigned and again I sat next to Eamon which managed to increase my discomfort.

It's not that I dislike him, he's just too shy, his jet black hair and his red cheeks make him look pretty cute, he's tall and very good with the sword, but the poor man can't formulate a sentence when I'm present, in addition to being quite clumsy to ride on horseback.

I sat next to him and at the other end of the table, I saw my father send me a look that seemed to shout "be kind", I smiled at him and turned to the boy who was sitting next to me and with a friendly smile I looked for his gaze.

"Do you want some bread?" I offered him a slice.

He accepted and that made the conversation between the two a little easier.

Finally, when the empty plates were removed and the glasses were filled with wine, my father and Mr. Blackthorn stood up, attracting everyone's attention.

"Today we meet to celebrate more than just a hearty meal. We are here to witness the union of two houses, two lineages that are intertwined in an alliance that will strengthen our people. - My mother took my hand when Mr. Blackthorn began to speak and I felt as if the blood was freezing.

My eyes and Eamon's met in a moment of mutual understanding.

"It is an honour to announce that in three days, Rheira, my beloved daughter, and Eamon, the brave heir of the Blackthorns, will unite their destinies in marriage," my father announced and collided his cup with my mother's and everyone present while applauding and celebrating.

When my father finished speaking everything seemed to become silent and a modest beep appeared in my ears. I felt that my hands began to tremble and I dropped the cup by mistake. The noise made everyone remain silent and look at me.

"I..." I tried to talk but I felt that my dress was crushing me because of how tight it was, the dark colour of the wine had stained it, I tried to clean it with my hands but I couldn't, I placed my right hand on my stomach, I was dizzy and I wanted to vomit - I need to get some air.

I walked away from the table leaving everyone stunned, Eamon tried to hold my hands but I got out and went to the door.

"Rheira!" My mother yelled at me but I just ignored her and ran home.

I ran as fast as I could on the snow until I reached my home, I opened the door and I felt that everything was spinning around, I leaned on the table where we ate and noticed the envelope my father was reading before leaving home.

Tears had begun to run through my cheeks, but my curiosity was greater and I opened the strange envelope, it was a letter, addressed to my father:

“Honourable Aldric Targentia,

I trust that this letter will reach you in good condition and health. We face again the dark threat that requires the dexterity and courage that only Drakarian warriors possess. The end of Jadis is near. At this critical moment, I implore you to gather the most skilful warriors and blacksmiths, those whose swords have resonated with victory and whose anvils have forged the weapons that have defended our lands in the past. The time to raise the swords and hammers again in Defence of our kingdom has come. I trust in his wisdom and the iron determination that has always guided his people. May the banner of justice and the flame of hope burn strong in their hearts as they march towards battle. We are waiting for you at the stone table, to plan our strategies and light the fire of the resistance. That his spirit does not know fear and that his swords are as sharp as the will of his ancestors.

With respect and gratitude, Oreius.

Commander-in-Chief of the Narnian troops"

Anger invaded me and I felt that my teeth would break because of how hard I was squeezing them. The door of my home opened violently and my mother and father appeared, the latter took me by the arm aggressively and made me face it.

"The only thing I asked you was to behave!" his voice resounded throughout our home, my father's purple eyes reflected pure anger.

I let go of his grip and yelled at him with all my strength—I won't get married out of duty, father! I can't accept this—my voice was full of frustration while my hands trembled with rage.

"It's your duty, Rheira. This alliance is vital for the survival of the people. You can't ignore your responsibility—my father's screams would usually have made me tremble, but I was too angry to remain silent.

The room vibrated with the echo of our fight, the words resonating like swords colliding in the heat of the battle.

"And what about my happiness, father?" And what about my choice in this life? I protested, with my eyes calling for determination and with hundreds of tears sliding down my face.

My father, angry, answered with a harsher tone—You will learn to be happy, you will learn to love Eamond.

The tension reached its peak, and I was unable to contain my anger, I shouted with everything I had—I will not allow you to decide my destiny in this way! I won't marry someone I don't love.

My father's face hardened, and his voice resounded with severity—It's your duty, Rheira! You can't disobey!

"My duty," I spit with sarcasm. "My duty is to get married and yours is to die in a war. Is that your duty, father?

My mother, who had stayed away from our hair, approached my father with a face of fear. What is the Aldric girl talking about?

It seemed that from one moment to the next the words had vanished.

"So you not only hide things from me, but also from my mother, very well," I said giving the letter to my mother to read it.

My father tried to explain the situation to my mother before everything got out of control, but she finished reading it and threw the paper on her face.

"You won't leave," she said resolutely.

"It's my duty," my father's eyes avoided my mother's furious gaze.

"I'm not interested in what your duty is," he said, holding his tears. "Your brother died in front of you at the hands of that witch, I won't give him the opportunity to kill you too.

The three of us were silent for a few seconds.

"I'll go," my parents' eyes landed on me.

"You're crazy if you think I'll let you do it," the tone my mother used made me angry again.

"You prefer that I live unhappy in a marriage with someone I don't love, instead of letting me do what I want," I approached and faced her. "You're really hypocritical.

My cheek burned and the dry blow of my mother's hand against my face resounded throughout the home.

"It's very different," he tried to justify himself.

"You will do what we tell you you will do and in 3 days you will be in Dragonlithos marrying Eamond, whether you like it or not," my father spoke again.

The despair I felt inside me I had never experienced, my heart hurt and my head was spinning.

"Why should I get married?" My tears filled my eyes again. "Do I have to be unhappy for the people to stay together?"

But at that precise moment something clicked inside my head.

"You want to marry Eamond so that he is the future leader of the village," I whispered when everything made sense. "When you die, the one who will govern the town will be him and not me who am your daughter, that's why it must be before you go to war!"

In a chilling moment of despair, my father released the most hurtful words of the whole discussion—If you had only been born a man, you wouldn't have to do this. If you had only been a man I would have named you as my successor from the day you were born, but it was not like that and now I cannot make a woman the guide of our people. That's why you will marry Eamond whether you like it or not and you will lead as your mother does, from your home without getting involved in things that do not correspond to you!

My mother covered her mouth and let out a scream that reflected her surprise.

Completely wounded by the cruelty of words, I responded with bitterness and hatred—I'm very sorry not to be what you expected, father. Maybe if you had died in that skin none of this would have happened and you would not be ruining the lives of everyone you know. But I'm never going to be the heir you wanted and I won't side just because I'm a woman!

My father took me by the arm and dragged me to my room. He threw me against my bed and closed the door without saying a single word.

I don't know how many hours passed, the anger I felt in me didn't diminish, I knew what I had to do and it didn't matter what my father or mother thought.

I took a small bag that I used when I went on expeditions with my father and filled it with some dresses, I put on my armour and the sword I had received at 5 as a birthday gift. Once ready, I opened the door with the help of a small knife and went to the front door, Aslan's letter was still on the ground, I picked it up and kept it to get out of there and go for a horse.

I rode my mare and started riding leaving my home and my family behind. I didn't know if I would come back and that caused my already broken heart to break a little more. I would ride north in search of Aslan's camp. I don't know how many days it would take, but if I kept the pace I was carrying maybe I would be there in 3 days.

With the wind caressing my hair and the sun as a witness to my rebellion, advance into the unknown. Leaving behind my father's impositions and the weight of expectations.

The darkness was not terrifying, but it was a mantle that enveloped me in freedom. I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring the sweet feeling of emancipation.

I felt alive, as if every step marked the release of a past version of myself. The first rays of the sun illuminated my path and guided me to a future that would be sculpted by my own decisions.

The snow I stepped on became a map of possibilities, and each breath was a reminder that I was now the owner of my own destiny.

COMMENT, LIKE AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE. LET ME READ YOUR OPINIONS.

[profeyandere]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓. ─── ☾ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋

Masterlist || Joaquin Phoenix Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Theodore Twombly x Fem!Reader

Warning: Spoilers from Her (2013), fluff

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The life that Theodore had had could only be described through emotions that, having experienced all of them at their highest point after the best situations or the worst moments, could only be less intense or important than those he had already felt previously and that they had made him feel like one of the most important people on the entire Earth, regardless of the negativity or positivity that besieged his body in the moments he chose; It was difficult to explain, at least that was always the excuse he offered himself or what came out of his lips every time someone asked him the reason why his smile and his lively and talkative manner had suddenly disappeared the passing of the years. But the truth was that no one could blame him, not after everything he had suffered to get to the point in his life where he was now. Living with Catherine was one of his greatest love adventures in life because, after all, they had been close and personal from childhood to adulthood and had even said yes in front of the altar, they ended their extensive and intense chapter after various discussions that arose from the most mundane thing, such as the placement of the spoons where the forks were, to more serious matters in which the bright-eyed man was criticized for not talking about his feelings, something that so much it could bother him on a day at work or how happy he was to see his beloved wife in their matrimonial bed sleeping because of the tiredness he had felt from a whole day full of things to do. Clearly, he couldn't miss mentioning Samantha, his old operating system incorporated into various everyday objects of his daily life and who became his second love affair, thus becoming the friend he had needed so much during his years of separation from Catherine. She was the one who filled that empty hole that he had had in his heart and that had made him see life from another point of view, a little more positive and romantic.

They had been two completely different love experiences, he could point that out without a shadow of a doubt. Catherine made him see that not everything was always going to be as beautiful as a romantic movie on television or a wonderful honeymoon in which everything would be fine as many people assumed when starting a relationship, but that discussions could be in order of the day when it was a love affair like the one they had and that could happen even in the most absurd situation possible as previously mentioned, while Samantha showed him that life could be full of emotions that could be as positive and intense as those that he had previously had with his ex-wife, to the point of making him lose his mind and making him feel again like a little child who only wanted to have fun in that cruel world, even the most negative ones, such as the feeling of sudden abandonment at some specific aspects of a relationship when the other was needed most. The two were so different that he could never say that they were the same person, which led him perfectly to compare them for that reason, since neither of them behaved in a similar way to him, no matter how hateful it sounded to compare two such different people; They were almost like night and day, and maybe that's why their relationships weren't right for Theodore because, after all, he now had you, his lovely, sweet girlfriend who he found through a stranger and fortuitous mistake.

"I know you're awake. Don't pretend to be asleep anymore," said your sweet and soft voice, the same one that he loved so much, one that he would recognize from miles away in a sea full of people disturbing any street in the city where he lived. Feeling your small hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently only made a small smile appear on his lips. "I'm looking at you, I see your smile, and your mustache moves every time you do it. This isn't fair what you're doing to me, Theo, at this rate I'm going to stop making you breakfast."

Your threat did nothing but amuse him. You and your tender threats, how he adored them.

"I'm not asking you to get up at dawn to make breakfast. It's not my fault that you look like a zombie because of that," he murmured with a slightly hoarse voice, clearing his throat softly so that his next words wouldn't sound like those of a truck driver who had been smoking all his life, or something like that you used to say when he said his first words of the day. "I mean, I appreciate your attempt to get me out of bed every day, but I'm not going to get up that early, not today. It's Saturday, we can rest a little more, hug each other, and go back to sleep."

Theodore couldn't see it yet because his eyes were closed, but your smile made the room light up a little more; It was either that or the fact that the sun was beginning to appear between the tall buildings of the city and was finally beginning to provide light to the small room where both of you used to be almost daily after an intense day of work.

"Sometimes I wonder what led me to be with a man as lazy as you. You are infuriating," you commented with a certain mocking tone, being able to observe how he gently frowned at your words. His bright blue eyes opened slowly to be able to see your figure in front of him, standing next to the bed and blocking the sun that was beginning to rise so that it wouldn't hurt his eyesight as soon as he had the good fortune to open his eyes for the first time in the day. "What has made you smile so much? I don't think I've seen that smile in a long time."

"Yesterday, I smiled at you. I don't know what difference there is between my smile yesterday and today's."

His words made you roll your eyes. Slowly, you got on your knees in front of him, next to the bed, resting your arms on the edge of the mattress and placing your head on them so you could have your face closer to his. As a reflex action that you hadn't even thought about, you assumed it was because of the habit you had developed with him, your left hand strayed and ended up on his head, in his soft, crazy curls that you loved so much, caressing them tenderly so that he would relax under your touch, which you seemed to achieve when you heard him sigh. As you had imagined, there was his smile again.

"Actually, it is not the same. No smile of yours is the same as another you have shown before," you mentioned, bringing your face a little closer to his, so that the tip of your noses gently touched each other, making you feel a sea of butterflies in your stomach at the tranquility that he also gave you. "One can smile for fun or love. As far as I know, there are even people who smile when they want to cry because they don't know how to express it. But you, this little smile of yours that you're trying to hide from me right now. I've seen it before, even if it was just a couple of times. What were you thinking about?"

Theodore kept his eyes open as he looked at your sweet and delicate face, observing your features and every little wrinkle that you always managed to exaggerate by making strange faces that made him laugh. The mere fact of remembering the way you looked at him that night, with your frown and your eyes slightly slanted due to the lack of light on the roof, made him feel another sea of butterflies in his belly, wanting to lean over your face from filling it with kisses until making you faint with love in his arms. Just remembering that first meeting, that strange misunderstanding, caused his heart to skip a beat again.

"The day we met," he finally murmured in response with a certain longing in his voice, closing his eyes as he relaxed under your sweet caresses, enjoying the affection you gave off with every movement of your fingers. The mere fact that you always tried to show your love physically was something I greatly appreciated. "You were so beautiful, so elegant."

"Beautiful and elegant?" You questioned in confusion, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn't see it. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his imagination or the way he was able to see you, you were always fascinated by how romantic he could be without trying. I were wearing my pajamas and I were disheveled, I think she even still had blemishes in my eyes after the nap I took. Does that seem like being a beautiful and elegant person to you?"

"The most beautiful and elegant woman in the entire block, the entire city, and the entire world," he answered in a smiling voice, opening his eyes again to bring his face a little closer to yours and gently kiss your lips, barely being a gentle touch, which caused your stomach to begin to tingle and your heart to beat hard against your chest. "I remember that you looked at me with fear. You almost panicked when you saw me."

"How could I not? I thought you were going to jump off the roof,” you mentioned, slowly moving your body to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to press your lips against his again, feeling his mustache gently rub your skin. "You were so… You were… You… Let me talk."

Your complaints came from the quick kisses he gave you, it was inevitable for him to kiss you every morning in every way possible, and he still had so much to give you that morning. He had barely started the day, and he already needed a little more and more from you.

"Stop having irresistible lips, and I'll stop," he said before surrounding your body with his arms so he could hug you tightly, causing you to fall onto the bed without any hesitation next to him before he began to shower your face with various kisses that drove you totally crazy.

He couldn't help it, he couldn't help but adore you. Was he actually spending time with you? What was it that made you so different from Catherine and Samantha? Well, you made it feel real.

[profeyandere]

𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Click if you want to go to the main Masterlist

ᴜɴɪᴛʏ │ •➤ ɴᴀᴘᴏʟᴇᴏ́ɴ ʙᴏɴᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴇ │ │ •➤ ᴀʀʀᴏᴡ sʜᴏᴛ [coming soon] ╰─────────────

[profeyandere]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑. ─── ☾ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐓𝐄𝐒

Masterlist || Chris Evans Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: PreSerum!Steve Rogersx Fem!Reader

Warning: Blood, agresion

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Walking through the bustling streets of Brooklyn was one of the activities that you most liked to do during your lonely, free afternoons after your long working day in the military suit factory in which you had forced yourself to work to maintain your small apartment and yourself during the war that the United States waged against the German empire that little more expanded. You enjoyed these wondrous walks like a little girl on her favorite candy, even if, in the process, you managed to get into the odd little dispute over passers-by who strolled by unaware that there were other city dwellers around them wanting to walk calmly along the sidewalk without having to go through the asphalt to overtake the long walls that formed the large groups of people, usually finding themselves completely absorbed in their respective conversations with their companions to make sure that there was someone else at their side or in front of them to them and that they had accidentally hit or stepped on because of that stupid oversight, causing everyone to push each other and get irritated until someone, usually you when you left your house in order to calm your nerves when you finally felt that you had had enough stress for the day; you looked like you were the only person to raise your voice for them to be more careful. You loved the American city, you really did, but sometimes people could get to exasperate you because of the rush you had to get to their respective jobs or meet that important dates that they had remembered at the last minute and to which they did not could be missing, for which you thanked God more than five times a week for having that faithful group of friends by your side that made the walks you used to take through the crowded and lively city more enjoyable, forgetting about the general hustle and bustle stress it caused you.

You were all known in some of the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, even in the wealthier ones, for being one of the most diverse and tolerant groups in the area, as well as being quite close by ties that surrounded you due to the time you had spent together to the others belonging to your side and being the people with whom you had spent the most time after accepting others in your group, regardless of what strange things one had, of course, this first caused many people who saw you and did not know you well enough to wonder if a romantic couple had arisen between you or if you were merely single looking for love with the help of others. This first option was the most common thought that was around at the time, so almost the entire population of the neighborhood that you attended the most imagined that one of you was about to announce his commitment to another or would start courting one of you.

The suppositions were quite normal, in addition to all the strange gossip and rumors that the oldest women in the city started, since seeing three women and three men together was not very usual to see if among them there was no already established couple or a couple about to unite, so the people who knew you couldn't help but laugh every time they heard that nonsense; you were like brothers, but you had even taken advantage of those ideas to get something free at some fair that they did during the hot summers when one of you used your "girly charm" with several of the carnies and some of the boys distracted some girl to be able to get a discount on what she sold.

The truth was that there was only one couple in the group and it was not expected by almost anyone. Who knew that two of the boys would end up in love with each other?

Unfortunately for both of them, because of the time you were in and the unintelligent thought that the rest of the world had regarding people who loved people of the same gender, almost no one saw that type of relationship as "good sickly". It was a thought that was too retarded, behind the times, but one that had to be endured so as not to be stoned through the streets of the city by those who had such little tolerant ideas; nobody absorbed the masculinity or femininity of others when meeting a homosexual couple, but the fear and little understanding of people caused those uncomfortable situations to occur often so the only ones who knew that little and adorable secret were the ones belonging to the group. Not even the relatives of the respective boys were privy to that little secret, mainly because the matter was far more serious than anyone could have expected, and the matter required special discretion. What did it matter who you found yourself in a relationship with as long as they were a good human being? Yes, advanced thinking for this very backward society, but people were too nosy, and they preferred to know who was sleeping with whom before learning about the events that were surrounding the country with the whole war thing, which was the topic of the moment.

You couldn't help but wince at remembering that over and over again.

Clearly, the war had affected all of you in one way or another, even those of you who had not gone directly to it to protect your country or your neighbors in Europe. The men who passed a medical test, and who were brave enough to sacrifice themselves for the nation, wanted to go into the military, and a few others stayed behind to help out however they could in America or goof off like a certain duo you'd known since their teens; remembering how people were dying, even if you weren't able to see it, made you sick, but having others make fun of or use their "privileged" position to belittle the work that the country's troops were doing to protect civilians it pissed you off even more.

And that was the case of the neighborhood fool duo.

Luke and Luis, the quintessential Brooklyn twins, had been worse than the toothache you'd had growing up having to put up with their constant pranks, either on you or your group, which eventually ended in strong arguments as soon as they messed directly with one of your friends, whether or not he belonged to that select group to which you belonged; fights never ended well for either twin if your entire group was complete and present and could lash out at them, often causing them to run from the place where they were and not appear again until for a whole week to pass.

Stupid, that was the adjective you would always use to describe them.

"Do you really think it will be okay?" You heard a man ask the woman he was accompanying, who was pulling his arm strongly, so they would walk faster to get away from whatever it was they were trying to avoid as if they were somehow in a hurry to get somewhere or they were trying to run away from something that was terrifying.

"It's not our problem. Who knows who that idiot they're hitting is?" The lady responded hastily, while she frowned slightly and kept her head down as if she felt ashamed for avoiding that situation the couple was talking about.

You tried not to give much importance to the matter, after all, you never wanted to interfere in other people's issues, although the expression on the lady's face surprised you a bit, but you continued on your way to the park without paying too much attention to what later they commented among themselves.

"Come on, little guy, it's nothing, it's nothing," you heard a familiar voice speak, which came from a small alley that was between the bookstore and the local cinema that was just a couple of meters from you.

The next thing you heard was something similar to a fall, or how something seemed to hit hard against the garbage cans that were between the two public places, causing you a feeling of anguish due to the loud noise you had heard; You assumed then that something must have collided with the cubes, not fallen clumsily as you had imagined at first.

"If he can't take even one round, how do you plan to join the army, little man?" Another person said with a sarcastic voice, very similar to the previous one you had heard. You stopped your steps suddenly, making you feel a push from the person who was walking behind you, quickly apologizing to whoever it was that had collided with you and approaching the place from which the voices came without looking at the girls who almost knocked you to the ground for your sudden stop, listening to some whispers that came from one of them because of what you had done, making sure that their words were very similar to insults that you simply ignored.

"This girl will be stupid. Let's look where she's going next time," one of the girls murmured, making the other give her a gentle nudge so she wouldn't say another word at your sudden gaze on them; Let's just say that you were never too subtle when it came to turning to observe or face someone because of her disrespect.

You started to move quickly, trying not to make any noise as you approached the alleyway where those two idiot rednecks must have been, arriving after only a few seconds at the corner of one of the stores so you could lean out and try see something of what was happening at the bottom of the clear passage that was full of garbage cans and emergency stairs, preventing you from seeing anything more than those two items mentioned in addition to several wooden and cardboard boxes, but there was something that called you attention and it was those two orange heads.

They were the twins.

"Give up once and for all. They're not going to come to save you, pipsqueak," Luis said, letting out a small laugh between his teeth that you managed to hear. A feeling of disgust hit you hard just imagining his sly smile. You frowned slightly and slowly approached them through the different containers that were along the alley to be able to reach the height of those two gorillas without being seen, squatting down to be able to see a thin man between the brothers' legs, face down on the pavement, whose clothes were a mess from the blows he had received from those two attempts at manhood.

It was seeing how one of them raised his leg to give it a strong kick, which finally made you act, without thinking twice about the consequences that facing them could bring you.

"But look who we have here, Luis and Luke Smith," you spoke, coming out of your hiding place and putting your hands in the pockets of your pants in an attempt to show a confident air while your accented voice resounded on the walls of the alley, causing the look of men fell on you, and the kick would never come to pass. "Luis, Luke, don't tell me you've already replaced us."

"Nothing like that, sweetheart," commented the one with the freckle on his right cheek, Luke.

Oh, sure. So similar were those two that a simple freckle was what differentiated them.

"And, as always, one of the six clowns comes to ruin our party," his twin muttered under his breath, while your gaze went to the man who got up from the ground with slight tremors.

"And it seems that you still have that bad sense of humor. Leave before the rest come," you warned, forming a slight smile, causing the cheeks of your lips to rise a bit confidently.

The boy, who was slowly getting up with slight hesitation and difficulty, turned his anguished gaze towards you, allowing you to make out his slightly ash blonde hair, disheveled and dirty from the fight, and his blue eyes, as bright as two stars that seemed to brighten more to distinguish that you had gone to his rescue. Unfortunately, these two troglodytes from the Mesozoic Era had caused him several bruises that would spread to his left eye, in addition to his lip and nose bleeding slightly due to a wound caused in the first and a slight twist in the second.

"Try it, little man," both twins incited, making it impossible to distinguish the voice due to the great rapport they shared.

That nickname made your blood boil. You had never looked like one of those little ladies that society defined, nor did you try to appear so. You did not have a light-colored dress that made you look like a doll, nor heels that would kill your feet and make you look taller, much less did you have your hair arranged and styled in a certain way like the other women in the city and, not at all, you were made up. You were simple. You only wore pants that were a bit too big for you, as it was rare to find a clothing store that carried women's pants; your shoes weren't even heels, they were just very similar to those of men since they were hardly any women's; You cut your hair normally so as not to have it long like the others and you hated make-up for being a nuisance and a waste of time because then it easily ran off due to the heat that you used to experience in the factory where you worked.

"Is that the best you can think of, dear?" you asked raising one of your eyebrows.

Both twins laughed, which was short-lived.

Your left hand was slowly taken out of the pocket, holding a small bottle of pepper tightly, the contents of which were thrown in small droplets towards Luis when you pressed the small button that it had at the top, quickly starting to yell non-stop insults towards him while rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands forcefully as if that would help him. Actually, that only made his situation worse.

"Take your brother, or you're next, Smith," you warned, looking seriously at his twin, who doubted for a moment that you were going to do what your words dictated. "Don't tempt me, you know me."

They both did as you ordered without question, leaving the blond man alone. Your gaze went to the aforementioned, who was already standing leaning against one of the walls.

"Y- You're not going to use tha- that against me, right?" He questioned, letting himself slide gently down the wall until he sat on the floor, completely exhausted and feeling too weak to stand on his feet.

You shook your head slightly and, while you kept that pepper spray in its proper place, you approached the little man you had just helped; When you said small, you meant it literally, he was even a couple of centimeters shorter than you.

"I only use it in emergencies, don't be alarmed" you answered, trying to calm him down, because his breathing was faster than normal. It was too shallow.

You sat next to him, crossing your legs, making you maintain an Indian position, placing your palms on your knees and leaning slightly forward to see his face as you saw how his gaze was down and his hair prevented you from seeing anything of him.

"You should have fled or at least asked for help."

You placed one of your hands on his back, noticing that extreme thinness that was almost worrying when you felt the vertebrae of his back through the coat he had, gently caressing him to try to calm those inhalations and exhalations, which you achieved after a few minutes.

"Come on, here," you murmured, looking in the opposite pocket to the one that had the spray and pulling out a completely clean handkerchief. "Clean yourself up a bit, and I'll take you home."

His head began to turn slowly until your eyes connected, causing you to smile openly at him, while he barely lifted his cheeks from his lips, taking the handkerchief and slowly and carefully wiping the blood, which was coming out less and less, from his face lower lip and nose, while you continued caressing the dorsal area of his body.

"I- I'm sorry you ha- had to intervene," he apologized, holding the handkerchief to his nose, causing a funny voice to come out of his lips, causing a short laugh to come out of you. "W- What's up? W- What's so funny?"

"Honey, you have a magnificent voice but, having the handkerchief pressed against your nose, it sounds very funny, as if you were a clown," you commented with a somewhat high-pitched voice due to the laughter that was coming out of you and which seemed to have no end.

"Y- You a- also have a nice voice," he whispered softly as he diverted his blue eyes to his legs because of the nerves that were beginning to run through him. "I- I mean, despite looking like a man in those clothes, you h-has a nice voice," as soon as he considered his words for a second, he seemed to panic, causing several babbles to come out of him. "I- I'm not saying that you look like a man, w- which is absurd since you are a beautiful woman, ma'am, miss…"

You withdrew your hand from him as you tried to calm down your laughter, which was becoming increasingly difficult for you.

"Calm down boy, it's okay, I know what you mean," you interrupted, getting up quickly with just a couple of agile movements, causing him to look at you a little surprised. "Many confuse me for a man because of the looks I wear, but it's not something that bothers me at all, except when it comes to the Smiths."

Those words seemed to relieve him, as all signs of anxiety disappeared in an instant.

"My name is (Y/N)," you said, extending your hand towards him with the intention that he would take it.

"Steve Rogers," he answered, accepting the grip, without expecting you to pull him to stand up and causing your bodies to collide slightly, remaining a few centimeters from each other.

Who would have thought that one summer day, thanks to those two troglodytes, you would be able to find the love of your life?

[profeyandere]

𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Click if you want to go to the main Masterlist

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴡᴏᴍʙʟʏ │ •➤ ʀᴇᴀʟ ╰─────────────

ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ғʟᴇᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴊᴏᴋᴇʀ │ •➤ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴀᴅ ╰─────────────

ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴜs │ •➤ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss [coming soon] ╰─────────────

[profeyandere]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ─── ☾ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘

Masterlist || Good Omens Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Archangel Gabriel / Jim x Demon!Reader

Warning: Spoilers from season 2

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

"You can't put the supreme archangel on me because you're going for a walk around Edinburgh!"

Your strong and powerful voice echoed between the enormous and high walls of Aziraphale's bookstore, feeling how a wave of heat ran through your body from the tips of your fingers to the highest hair that decorated your head and settled intermittently on it, causing your face to turn a heavy reddish tone as if that were a sign that you were literally about to explode. It was a strange sensation. You weren't even able to describe it in words, but you knew for sure that it couldn't be good, much less because your face had turned that powerful redness that caught the attention of the angel and the demon who had given you convened at the well-known bookstore in the Soho neighborhood. The idea that you were a 'known' demon to both entities did not make you friends, nor did it make you have a close relationship, much less because of what you really were, and that made you an enemy for at least one of them; With the demon, you had forged nothing more than a relationship of respect, but the angels had always been faithful enemies of your kind and you had to avoid as much as possible showing any type of affection or respect for those of their kind. Perhaps you had known Crowley and Aziraphale for longer than you would care to admit, if you also wanted to count the few years you had been working in Heaven with them before the revolution against the Creator occurred, but while you had been in Hell acting like the demon you were, you had lost any kind of contact with the angel and restricted that belonging to the demon because you considered it quite inappropriate to have a close relationship with anyone of your own species, even if they were nice enough to know even your deepest secrets.

"Please, my dear, this is truly important," Aziraphale said, being the brave one who had dared to take the floor after making sure how your aura, completely distorted by the anger you felt, became clearer to him again. Maybe you wouldn't be full of love, demons couldn't feel that in themselves according to earthly gossip, but at least it wasn't something so bad that you were going to explode. "Take care of Gabriel, of Jim, for a couple of days. It won't be long, and before you know it, we'll be here, and you can go back to your routine demonic tasks."

Your flashing yellowish, golden eyes stopped on the chubby figure of the angel, slowly raising your lower lip while a growl emerged from the back of your throat and came out as a soft sigh that was lost in the air. It was obvious how irritable and sensitive you were at that moment as if at any second you could attack them or yell at them in such a way that you would attract the attention of any living being that was inhabiting the face of the Earth.

"Will I also have to babysit the Inspector Constable who has been looking out the window since I entered the bookstore and has followed me here like an abandoned puppy, or will I only have to cover the basic needs of the big guy who is upstairs?" You asked, uncrossing your arms as a heavy sigh escaped between your lips, trying to calm the nerves that both beings had made you. "Furthermore, I cannot perceive him correctly. How am I supposed to take care of him when I can't see him well or my memories are blurred when there's something about him? I didn't even know he was in front of me when I came to tell you about Lord Beelzebub's order."

"Don't worry, my adorable demon, because we have changed a couple of things about the little miracle to make it easier for you to recognize him," Crowley intervened, placing his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing them playfully before gently patting your back to encourage you. "Remember that this is because the little angel has heard some nonsense coming from Gabriel's mouth and has assumed that it has to do with his memory fading."

"It's a clue," the white-haired man stressed as he raised his voice a little more to point out with more force the reason for his early departure from London. "It may seem stupid, but he's been singing that little song all morning, and thanks to my landlord I've discovered that there's a place in Edinburgh that has problems with their jukebox. It seems that, regardless of the song chosen, it always changes to the same one that Gabriel was singing."

You couldn't help but raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"It's not the best clue, but it's something," the redhead murmured, sighing and removing his hands from you, returning to stand next to his friend. "So, we leave you in charge of Gabriel and the bookstore."

"Indeed, prevent people from buying my books, and I will compensate you in some way in the future," the one with blue eyes agreed, making you frown slightly at his words. "Please be very patient with him. He doesn't remember anything."

"I already had patience once in Heaven, I don't promise to be so stupid as to continue being so while I'm on the side of Hell," you murmured, ignoring Aziraphale's look of fear and Crowley's small, amused smile. "Have your adopted child come down, and I'll see what I can do with him."

And what a surprise you were when you finally met up with the missing man shortly after the dynamic duo left the store, who was now Jim, which was short for James, which in turn was short for Gabriel, according to what he said. His appearance was so similar to the one you remembered and, at the same time, so different from the one you had seen him in as if you somehow knew that in front of you was the egocentric and cold supreme archangel who had so often teased you while you were working in Heaven and scolded you as he found you at some point during your stay on Earth, but at the same time you felt like you were inhabiting the library with a completely different person than the one you knew; It was all too strange, you simply didn't have words to explain that. A small beginning of beard had begun to appear on his profiled face, now slightly wider due to the slight weight he had gained in recent days thanks to the large amount of hot chocolate he had been drinking thanks to his repeated requests to Aziraphale since he had tasted that sweet drink, while his clothing was completely opposite to what he had once worn. Now, he seemed homely, a man full of peace and a good angel.

When you saw him, you almost hit him. This happened because you thought he was an evil double twin or something similar, mainly because he was completely identical to his angelic version except for the violet glow in his eyes, which he had not shown even though Aziraphale and Crowley had mentioned that in very moments punctually he seemed to come to his senses when he remembered events in biblical history in which he had been forced to intervene in one way or another; It was as if God communicated with both the angel and the demon through him. Going back to the same point you had mentioned before: Gabriel and Jim seemed to be the same person, only he had no memories of what he once was, and that meant that you now had to take care of a grown man who simply didn't understand how the world, gravity or electricity worked. You didn't understand much about both things either, you had not been in charge of the creation of the planets, and neither had it been in your mind to create the power plants and the distribution of it throughout the houses.

Although your first interactions were quite awkward, Jim made sure of something that he wasn't too happy about, even if it took him a whole day to realize it.

"Why do she keeps avoiding me? If we already know each other."

His voice, low and soft, echoed between the walls of his small room and, although Jim knew that he was with you in that huge store and that it was very unlikely that you would not hear him, he did not understand the reason why you had avoided him so much. It was as if you were afraid of someone or you were seeing a ghost. For him there was no other alternative. Although Aziraphale and Crowley reacted in a similar way upon meeting him, with surprise and slight fear, your gaze on him was different. He could tell by the dull glow in your eyes and your restless fingers that drummed on any nearby surface, as if you had the intention of saying something to him every time you were in the same room. He had seen you before, and not only did he sense it because he had literally done it before, the same day Mr. Fell's friends arrived at the store, but he recognized you from something before. He had seen you before, he had recognized you from somewhere else, and he had had a warm feeling that spread through his chest every time his blue eyes turned towards you as if a wave of sweetness and warmth settled inside him in a very different way than the way hot chocolate did and subsequently exploded in his belly; It was too strange to explain, but he really liked being around you because of the way you made him feel, even if you didn't do anything in particular to make him feel like his body was about to explode into fifty different pieces.

It was such a warm feeling, so nice, that he wanted to have it all day.

Determined to find you and face his thoughts and feelings once and for all, he stood up from the bed with a slight start, twisting his entire body and moving to sit up and finally stand up, ignoring the fact that the sheets that had been around him as he was lying down and fell to the floor with a thud muffled by the carpet. He walked around the upper floor as if the bookstore had been his since he bought it, as if he somehow knew it like the back of his hand and recognized every corner and every step he had to take to avoid knocking over any of the stacks of books that had been piling up as the days went by while Aziraphale and Crowley had been away from London. To his gratifying surprise, a soft, barely perceptible melody seemed to bathe the tent. A male voice overshadowed by a more angelic, sweeter, and more wonderful one caused his heart to jump inside his chest, so he did not take long to walk with impetus and speed towards the place from which said sound came. He knew it was you, deep in his heart he knew it was you. And sure enough, there you were, he hadn't made a mistake. You were sitting in Aziraphale's old chair while one of the books he had been organizing in the morning rested softly in your hands while the time melody coming from the record player made him smile softly knowing that this was the song he had been singing that same day unconsciously.

"Is that the disk that Mr. Fell took this morning?"

The sudden sound of Gabriel's voice made you come to your senses, causing the music on the record to quickly stop and you to close the book in your hands tightly, slowly diverting your golden gaze towards his barely perceptible bluish one. The darkness enveloped him. You could barely make out his masculine features, but you knew that he was there, in that dark corner, watching you. You swallowed hard for an answer, but simply grunted and then gently placed the book on the desk in Aziraphale's office, glancing sideways at the man who had taken a couple of steps for you to see, being as stealthy as the angel had mentioned. He had started thinking about putting a rattle on Jim or something similar so he wouldn't be scared, but you just needed that heavenly and playful sound to be able to disappear from Gabriel's sight as soon as possible; you had no need to see him because of the various feelings he evoked in you and the memories that resurfaced after so many years.

"Mr. Fell took one of the many records that Maggie has," you commented, seeing how his expression changed to one of confusion that deep down caused a feeling of tenderness to appear in you, mainly because she had tilted her head as if a confused puppy would be treated. "Maggie is a woman who has a record store next door. I asked her for a copy so I could listen to it."

"Great, I like it," he murmured before approaching the gramophone to try to find out why nothing was heard if the device was still working. "Why doesn't it sound? Is it broken?"

Your sparkling gaze lingered on his tall, broad Gabriel's body, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders and the scoop of his back, without specifically answering his question. Those had been some of the few words that you had exchanged with him and, although you had noticed his constant need to be close to you to be able to talk or simply be in the same space as you, you were always looking for a way to get out of it, whether it was leaving the bookstore for coffee or hiding in the record store, even transforming into the little bat that your demonic form allowed you and keeping yourself out of his sight by hiding in the darkest and most remote places of the bookstore; It wasn't the best way to act, especially having an amnesiac in your care, but you didn't want to suffer more pain from being around him. Jim, or Gabriel, turned to look at you, and, again, that warm and pleasant feeling settled in his chest. He didn't know what you were doing to him with that look, but he liked it.

"It's not broken. I've just removed the sound," you said before snapping your fingers, and the soft bells that were heard from the song began to flood the room again, causing a smile full of fascination to appear on the man's lips again. "You should be sleeping, Jim."

"I couldn't sleep," he indicated, walking slowly towards the sofa that was in front of the chair you were sitting on, letting himself fall heavily on the furniture before leaning forward slightly and staring at you as if trying to figure out what you were thinking. Thanks to the light of the moon, the stars, and the street lamps, he could see your expression full of confusion and slight irritation. "Why do you avoid me so much? Mr. Fell looks after me, Mr. Anthony looks after me, but you avoid me. Why?" “

I think Crowley does anything but worry about you,” you murmured in slight confusion at his statement. You really didn't expect him to confuse something as different as care and protection from hatred and irritation.

"Why do you avoid me so much? I just want you to answer that question for me."

His tone of voice seemed to be louder and more desperate than before, surprising you for it. For a second, you almost thought that Jim was truly Gabriel, as if from one moment to the next he had completely recovered his memory, but seeing his blue eyes only made you see that he was not there; Whatever Jim was, he wasn't Gabriel.

"Because you're just like someone I knew," you began, swallowing without really believing that you were willing to confess everything to him. "He was the dumbest, most self-centered, and ruthless being he could have ever met, but deep down, he was loving, tender, and caring."

Jim stared at you while you talked about that person he reminded you so much of. The soft smile that rested on your face while you talked about that man, whom you insulted every few seconds but then flattered as if he were the most beautiful creature in the entire galaxy, caused a smile to also settle on his face. He noticed how your shoulders loosened and relaxed as you talked about him, about Gabriel, about how you had met in a place very far from London, where for minutes it seemed only you existed in the immensity of the universe, observing with fascination the stars while others around you saw your close relationship as something disastrous that no creature beyond humans could feel; You described him with so much zeal, with so much affection, that he felt jealous deep down in his heart. "And does this song remind you of him?" Jim asked as he gently tilted his head, watching as you nodded gently and stretched your long legs towards him.

"I like it a lot. I think it is ideal for you."

“Yes,” you stated softly. "Every day, it's a gettin' closer."

"Going faster than a roller coaster," he continued, following the rhythm of the song as it resonated, gently extending his legs on the carpet to touch your completely black shoe with his slipper.

« And a love like yours would surely come their way, » thought an adorable fly fluttering gently above your heads.

[profeyandere]

My interpretation of @highspeeddemon 's Aziraphale from Contrition 🤍

And what an amazing work, I highly recommend reading it. Mind the tags dears <3

Find me on Instagram for more art and wips

[profeyandere]

𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐘 ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

Masterlist || Good Omens Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Aziraphale x Human!Reader, Crowley x Human!Reader, Crowley x Aziraphale

Warning: Angst, insecurities and spoilers from season 2

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your mind was a complete basilisk, not as much as Maggie and Nina's, but enough to make you feel powerless after having witnessed before your eyes a battle between angels and demons in which you participated with the other two humans who, like you, they had decided to stay by Aziraphale's side to face the enemies who, unintentionally, had entered the bookstore in order to take with them the archangel missing from Heaven that you, the angel and the demon had kept hidden between the varied walls of the large bookstore belonging to the man with greenish eyes; It was an enriching experience because you played babysitter for a supernatural entity from Heaven who had the appearance of an adult man over fifty years old and with the mental age of a child of seven or eight. They were very approximate ages, and perhaps the example, or assumption, that you had made about Gabriel was exaggerated, but at least that's how you felt during the last days that he remained in your care. You ended up exhausted, and that was evident by the way your body moved stumbling around the bookstore after putting Jim to bed each day, who was the same person as Gabriel but without memories. The image of your delicate body against the sofa was something that Aziraphale and Crowley would never be able to forget and that they would cherish with all their hearts because, even though they were both supernatural entities and did not have the same needs as an ordinary human, many sometimes they forgot about your mortal condition and went so far as to ignore that you needed to sleep just like the rest of the living beings on Earth did; That did not mean that they did not care about you resting properly, they simply sometimes overlooked what your body and you needed to keep you completely alive and full of energy.

Spending so much time with the two men brought with it many things, both good and bad. You didn't know them in the same way that they already did, no, but your first meeting had happened a couple of years before Armageddon, where you met that duo that hit you hard in the face with the door of the Ritz, the restaurant that Aziraphale liked so much and that you had been so fascinated by since you heard about it. You were leaving the premises when, while both men were arguing about God knew what, the demon pushed the door with such force without paying attention to whether anyone was willing to leave the establishment that the huge glass of the door hit your face and caused you to small rows of blood came out of your nose caused by the blow your nose had received; There was no need to add how much the angel cared about the state you were in and how ashamed the demon was for having hurt you.

It was from then on that the three of you began to see each other at the same time at the Ritz, every Wednesday, and, eventually, it only took a couple of 'miracles' for you to become an inseparable trio, despite the differences that were supposed to prevent that a friendly relationship would take place between you. It seemed very strange to you then that you always agreed with them, but you didn't take it much importance either because of how good and accompanied they made you feel; you were home with both of them, no matter where you were physically.

It was Aziraphale, Crowley, and you against the world. So it was perfect and wonderful.

"Miss, Miss!" Exclaimed a voice close to you, Maggie's.

A small smile couldn't help but settle on your face. That sweet woman with golden hair had brought a lot of happiness and encouragement to your life after being Aziraphale's tenant; She was one of the women who had understood you best from the moment she saw you enter her store holding the arm of the angel, always looking with curiosity at her merchandise and being one of the few trustworthy clients who still bought records for her collection. She wondered then, the first time she saw you if you and the white-haired man were a couple in love who only took care of their adorable bookstore that was located in the middle of the long avenue. But she quickly discovered that you were just two friends completely fond of each other who shared an exquisite taste for old and classical music and vinyl records.

"Maggie, I have told you on countless occasions to call me by my name," you said before turning around and being able to face the blonde who had left the bookstore in the company of Nina, the woman who owned the cafeteria that was in front of the establishment of one of your best friends, making your surprise even greater at having to talk about something in front of her too. "Wow. You've cornered me. Something happens?"

Both women looked at each other for a moment and, although talking to Crowley had been easy for them due to their little knowledge of him and the little relationship they had with him, talking to you about the same topic was going to be a little more complicated. They didn't know you well, they knew that you were the woman who accompanied the short, pleasant man from the bookstore and the taller, grumpier man who drove a Bentley, and you had frequently passed by the coffee shop of one and the record store of the other, so you were more than just a regular customer because of the conversations you occasionally had with them, and that was why bringing up the topic of conversation was going to be so complex for both of them. The two looked at each other for a moment as they tried to find the right words and, although Maggie wanted to approach the subject as carefully as possible because she didn't know how you would react to bringing something so delicate to light, she was aware that it would be very difficult to make you understand what they wanted to tell you if they thought about the matter a lot; Everything was so simple and, at the same time, too complicated.

"We know," Nina said quickly when she saw how your face contorted into a look full of confusion and concern as you saw how the blonde opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Her intervention saved Maggie, but it only made your eyes drift towards her in curiosity and surprise at the sudden raising of her voice that caused the attention of other passersby to focus on her. "I mean, we know what's happening. We have gotten the idea after everything we have been through these last few days, and I think you are as aware as we are."

"What?"

Maggie ducked her head to try to control the laugh that was about to escape her lips. You didn't understand the reason for her action. You simply found her way of acting strange and the signs so non-obvious that they sounded almost Chinese to you; You didn't understand what they wanted to tell you, and unless they were willing to explain better what they had supposedly noticed in you, you were going to continue to have a question mark on the top of your head.

"What Nina means is that we know what happens between you, Mr. Fell, and Mr. Crowley," the blonde indicated once she had calmed down, making you frown suddenly. Deep down, you hoped it wouldn't be so noticeable, but it seemed like it was as obvious as the sun appearing every day in the east and falling in the west. "The problem, as we have commented to Mr. Crowley, is that none of you three speak specifically about that topic."

"Are we really going to discuss this here, in the middle of the street, without me being too drunk to talk freely about it?" you asked, interrupting Maggie in a slightly rude way. "If it's that obvious, then neither of them is aware of my feelings or, if that happens, it's a clear rejection that they're putting forward. No one has mentioned anything about a love that has settled in their hearts, nor the fact that they feel unconditional affection for me."

"It is precisely the lack of communication that is the central problem of your relationship," the brunette intervened, making your sharp gaze now directed at her person, being able to notice in her eyes how she wanted to demonstrate to you that point that they were trying to point out to you with so much impetus. "You are the inseparable trio. You need each other. You are a team of three, and I think the love you feel for others is more than evident. You can't deny me that. It's obvious."

"And what do you want me to do?" You questioned, shrugging your shoulders. "Do you want me to go into the bookstore and tell them how much I love them, that I have wanted to be in their arms all these years, and that the only thing I long for is their happiness? Do you think that this is a fairy tale and that with a kiss I will convince them that I am enough for both of them and that it is worth it for them to be here, with me, instead of choosing their respective sides?"

Nina and Maggie looked at each other for a second before nodding in slight confusion. They knew that Aziraphale was an angel, the halo trick made that pretty clear, and the appearance of the demons and their slight resemblance to Crowley made them assume that he was a demon, and they quickly assumed that you were like them seeing that none of them both sides mentioned or needed you in some way; at least you were completely normal in that world full of madness.

"Yes," they stated in unison.

"And Mr. Crowley is waiting for you," Nina continued, gently turning her head towards the bookshop window where the tall, slender body of the demon could be seen facing the shorter, stockier angel, seeing how the former seemed to move doubtfully the time his mouth opened and closed. It was as if Crowley was talking to Aziraphale about something, something really important. Your eyes, completely focused on the different bodies of those who were and were your best friends, began to shine with intensity thanks to the small rays of sun that began to affect them, finally discovered behind the soft movement of the clouds to allow a small path of light will make its way through the passers-by to guide you towards the bookshop; that scene almost seemed to have been made on purpose for you, to take you to what would be your last destination to achieve the purest happiness. You almost felt like you were in a romantic or comedy movie. You could even laugh at the absurd situation you were imagining. With agile and quick steps, taking care that no car was in the way to hit you, you crossed the street to approach the door of the bookshop, inadvertently colliding in the process with a man of your height who simply looked at you askance almost in a defiant and disgusted way; You swore you had seen him before, but you were unable to pinpoint where specifically, but his sharp gaze gave you a strange chill that made your hair stand on end. You didn't give it any more importance either. Finally, reaching the steps that would lead you into the bookstore, you looked one last time at Nina and Maggie, who were smiling at you encouragingly from across the street, giving you the push you needed to get inside the store.

That bookshop, so wide and calm, so full of light and love, evoked a big smile in you as if a ray of hope had bathed your person and had caused a comforting feeling to settle in you. You were at peace, calm, and all thanks to the encouragement you had received from one moment to the next from the woman who owned the cafeteria and the woman in charge of the record store. Your footsteps were deaf, you weren't even able to hear them thanks to the carpet that decorated the main entrance, but you could feel the slight tension in the environment because of what both the angel and the devil were discussing before your arrival. Seeing Aziraphale's broad back and Crowley's soft locks of reddish hair gave you that boost you knew you needed, you were finally ready to talk to them; You were finally going to declare your feelings to the two men in your life, your little angel and your demon.

Crowley's sigh stopped your steps when you were about to step on the creaking wood of the establishment, making you stay in the shadows that the high shelves of the library provided you to remain hidden.

"Oh, God, right," the demon muttered between his teeth while he turned around on himself and tried to compose himself from what the angel said. The way he acted surprised you slightly. "I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say. I think I'd better say now." He began, stopping again while he tried to embolden himself and pick up the last hope he had after what Aziraphale had told him, trying to find an opportunity for him to stay there. "We've known each other for a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you, and you could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't."

Crowley's words caused your heart to stop beating. You didn't want to fully believe his words because, after all, you were important to them, right? You were a group of three, right?

"I mean, the last few years not really" the redhead continued, stopping again as he took a deep breath and tried to hold back the tears that had begun to well up. "I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can ledo it, go off together, then we can. Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic. We need to get away from them, just be an us,” he declared. "You and me, what do you say?"

"Come with me, to Heaven," the white-haired man intervened, quickly approaching his demonic counterpart, leaving just a small space for both of them. "I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference."

"We can't leave her," Crowley whispered with grief and pain, looking intensely into the green eyes of the angel who only smiled softly at him.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale murmured, smiling sadly and shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing lasts forever."

With those words, you felt a weight settle in your heart, and a wave of nausea suddenly came over you. You refused to think that those words had come from the mouth of your little angel, your Aziraphale.

"No, I don't suppose it does," the demon denied, causing the last hope you had to collapse.

You were a mere mortal, Gabriel had already warned you two years ago when he found you on the side of Aziraphale and Crowley when you tried to help them stop Armageddon at the last minute, but you preferred to ignore all the negative aspects of what could have been your relationship only for them. For what they had always made you feel, for those wonderful memories that you treasured with affection, and the feelings that you had gradually developed towards them. You had taken into account that great difference in years between you and them, including how their relationship was much closer to what you could ever develop with them, but you worked hard to earn a place in their enormous hearts, and you believed you had achieved. You had many doubts, and insecurities, that approached you at the moment they declared that they were an angel and a demon because of the fear you felt that they would see another human in you when there were others more beautiful or intelligent who could understand them better, you even had fear when thinking about your mortality and how at any moment you could disappear from their lives by suffering a sudden death or the pain they would feel with your loss, but it was those affectionate hugs from Aziraphale and Crowley's soft smiles that made everyone doubt vanished when you were with them.

But you had to be realistic. It was never you three, but the two of them.

When Armageddon happened, they both walked away and you were so afraid that you spent several nights crying for the sudden abandonment of both beings. Although you hadn't seen it, they had both been terrified of losing you at the End of the World and while Aziraphale was involved in tirelessly searching for the Antichrist, Crowley just wanted to find a perfect planet for you to inhabit with them in case that everything went wrong; They did not want to lose their human, the perfect creature of God who had stolen their hearts. Of course, once the angel possessed your body and you were able to face the possible end with them, they confessed their angelic and demonic nature to you, and that was when you finally felt the weight of your heart fade away.

But now there was no longer a 'you'. Now, there was only 'them'.

Aziraphale and Crowley heard the loud slam of the bookshop door, making them both approach the door to see who the person had entered, but seeing your sweet and gentle face completely covered in tears broke their hearts and souls in pieces.

You had not been able to face reality, and you had lost your angel and your demon forever. They would never choose you over Heaven, their true home.

[profeyandere]

a comic about brothers

[profeyandere]

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐋. ─── ☾ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅

Masterlist || Daniel Brühl Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning: Mentions of anxiety attacks, taunts, nervousness, mentions of an accident, mentions of burns, mentions of operations.

Pairing: Niki Lauda x Reader

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Niki was aware that he had been the most recognized driver of the season, something that he did not doubt at the beginning of the season due to his victory the previous year and his championship title. Many were going to praise him for his superb racing performance, but by 1976, he had been recognized for something other than his superb and slightly careful driving, having stood out among the other competitors for always being mindful of the risks involved each race would carry with it a certain amount of danger, or they could have even named him in various magazines over the months to talk about his rivalry with James, being a topic that was talked about a lot during conferences, or even his way of being so surly with the rest of the participants in the race, being nicknamed in different ways for this. But this time, it was for various reasons that publicists and distinct media tried to get an interview with the well-known Formula 1 driver, and it's not like you'd have to be smart enough to know why. You only had to see Niki, his physique, and the reasons why the man was now being so valued after the competition had ended was summed up by seeing his face. The Austrian knew that he had never been considered the most graceful man on the entire planet, not even in Europe or Austria, but he had enough confidence in himself not to give importance to the comments of his fans, and those who were not so much, and it did not depend in any sense on public opinion; if that had been the case, it is most likely that he would have already gone into depression due to the number of fans of the sport who insulted him for being the rival of another runner or for his very different personality compared to other pilots. The bad thing happened with that happy accident that changed his life so radically, with which he almost lost it due to the great pride that prevented him from withdrawing from the race before the catastrophe happened, merely guided by the desire to shut up James Hunt, and to those who had suggested that he was a coward for simply wanting to cancel the race due to the dire conditions in which the German track was found after the heavy rain that was suffering that first day of August. That same thing caused not only his life to have been hanging by a thread, even the fact that he could have left the good woman who had become his friend and who had accompanied him that day to encourage him in his career helpless, but also all confidence and self-esteem that he had vanished in the same way that the rain did when his car had gone up in flames. The Austrian not only had to deal with an intense recovery for five weeks while hoping to get back on the racetrack, but the shame that he would have to spend the rest of his life while people looked not at him, but at the grafts placed in some areas of his hands that were not so visible but were on his head and a large part of his face; somehow, many likened that transplanted skin to a strange meat mask, as if he were a human raccoon. It was a cruel joke, and Lauda knew that he had to get used to it as soon as possible, even if he wanted the majority of the world's population to focus more on his professional achievements or the masterful way in which he had managed to survive before on something so superficial as his new skin was or his appearance very similar to that of a bald rat; this last similarity, although it relieved the tension of many, further irritated the man in question who had suffered the accident.

He had only longed to silence the mouths of those who had always seen him as a coward, even more so after what happened, but he only received the occasional mockery, the incessant glances of the fans to see what was under his cap, the softer comments from his racing team, and the pity of those closest to him. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and in the great photo session to which he had been invited to be able to cover the latest Formula 1 book where everything that happened during the season would be mentioned, with several unpublished interviews from all the runners of the year with images of their respective cars and analysis of these and various graphics where a view of all the tracks in which they had participated would be offered with the position of each one of the participants, and various extra and curious data that could call the attention of the fans, is where the ineptitude of some of the high positions of the media was most appreciated. "Scheisse," the pilot muttered to himself as he tried to calm down, noticing how his right leg was trembling violently as a result of the nerves he was having at that precise moment, clenching his teeth to the point of thinking that if he exerted a little more pressure between them, it would end up breaking them.

If Niki's mind could already reach unimaginable speeds when he was on the race track while fighting for glory, in moments of nervousness and anxiety that very rarely reached him, it caused his mind to distort any element of reality and begin to imagine the worst possible scenarios. Niki hated with all his soul the anxiety that the accident had caused him. Many advised him to go to a mental health specialist, even if by then psychology was not classified as an exact science even though a part of it was medically and clinically oriented, but he supposed that it was unnecessary because he survived, he didn't understand what trauma the accident that hadn't already affected him could cause him, but when he began to feel his first wave of anxiety hit him after his first post-recovery race, he knew it wasn't going to be a one-shot thing time. The symptoms of the anxiety attacks returned to him suddenly with the discussion between him and the director of the magazine, the latter being the one who constantly insisted that Niki take off the red cap that always accompanied him, whether it was within the circuit of races or during interviews and even in his day to day if he was going to be seen in public. The fact that Lauda revealed his scars, his grafts, was something that everyone longed to see and, if the magazine had those very special images that everyone wanted to see, they were sure that finally someone else would want to buy it just to see because of the morbidity they caused injuries from your accident. That damned cap —Niki thought constantly— that damned accident had been what had destroyed his life, and people only wanted to have something from him because of the disgust or ridicule he could cause in others. In a moment of anger, completely irrational and driven by the stress that the situation had caused him, Niki forcefully grabbed his mythical red cap with small patches from his different sponsors and held it in his hands, being able to see in these the small scars of his operation and light skin graft due to how extreme his injuries had been in some other areas of his body. There were many emotions that he felt at once that finally caused an explosion inside him when, without even letting him think for a second about his actions, he angrily threw his cap towards the door of the small trailer that they had used to want to do some of his makeup. The already discovered areas of the grafts would impact the spectators even more, and they would be noticed as reddish or more reddish than they already were, being the place where he could also dress in what they had chosen for him, among which a suit stood out careers similar to his but not completely identical, while the other garments were rather mundane and unremarkable, darker and less conspicuous.

He saw in himself nothing more than a simple wrinkled raisin with huge teeth. If in itself he had caused laughter among the crowd due to his large incisors that made him look like a rat, being nicknamed "The Rat King" for this very reason, the fact that half of his face was covered by skin from other parts of his body and his head were still slightly wrapped on a few occasions by bandages to keep the area not so irritated by the friction of the cloth against the grafts had caused the laughter to multiply and now it was louder than ever.

"Mr. Lauda," a sweet and calm voice called him, your voice, one of the photographers who had witnessed the entire discussion with remarkable surprise while ignoring her boss's instructions to take pictures of him unsuspectingly while trying to remove his cap. Niki did not want to see anyone, much less someone belonging to the team of that moron who was in charge of that important magazine, even if you had refused to ridicule him like some of those present, "They are waiting for you on the photography set. Well, more like me, who pays me for this, in addition to the lighting equipment, costumes, and makeup." Your shaky voice caught his attention, and when he finally turned his icy blue gaze on you, he could make out how you had an awkward half-smile that might once have amused him, but now it only made him feel strange as he I could make out how you nervously drummed your fingers on the camera that you held in your little hands. He had been received in the same way by other people, making sure that the eyes of his interlocutors always moved away from his irises and focused on other areas of his face; he was embarrassing and intimidating. "Tell your boss to put the photographs where they fit. I'm going to get out of here," he indicated sternly, seeing how your body seemed to stop its involuntary movement once your eyes seemed to rest on it intensely as if you were observing something fascinating or completely out of the ordinary. "What?" Niki didn't know why you didn't answer him, and it wasn't until he noticed that his cap was a few centimeters from your shoe that he was finally able to answer that question he had asked himself a few seconds ago. You were seeing him without a cap, you were witnessing something that he too much prevented the rest of the world from seeing, and that caused a feeling of weakness to run through his body whenever it happened.

Now, the roles had been reversed: You could judge him, and he had to shut up and endure your judgment of him. You witnessed the cold, distant look of the pilot turn to a fearful one, the same one you might see in a small child who has just witnessed the worst thing he could have imagined, or perhaps as a young boy who has just been discovered by his parents having found out that he had done something terrible; in either case, the feeling that Lauda was then transmitting was one of fear.

Your heart could not help but skip a beat because not only had the previous discussion brought the underlying feelings of everyone present to the surface, but you seemed to be one of the first people to have seen the physical state in which he was the driver after the big crash that shocked all fans of the sport; Just by remembering the images that your television had broadcast, you could notice how the hairs on your arm stood on end. There were mixed feelings, and in that caravan, Niki felt cornered and ashamed of having to deal with someone else's opinion, a smirk from another fan, or a derogatory comment from someone who thought he was a class jerk.

You acted in silence. You believed that the words were not necessary because perhaps he would end up misinterpreting them due to his state of nervousness and defense. You carefully bent down to pick up his cap, still holding your big professional camera in your other hand even though it was hanging from your neck by a strap, gently shaking the garment a little to remove any traces of dirt it had caught. As it fell to the ground, you approached the pilot to return it to him, placing it gently on the table in front of him next to your work object, smiling softly and kindly before taking a seat across from him in the old chair that he loved so much you had reused it during the last season; you had already made a mental note of changing it, you even swore you had mentioned it to one of the people in charge of the photo shoots, mainly because your butt was starting to hurt, and you had just sat down, so you did not want to imagine how the Austrian must feel in front of you or any of the other guests who had accepted this little job. By this point, while you were pondering the possibility that you might lose the shape of your ass, Niki had already put her cap back on, keeping her gaze on a different point in the room other than you. "I hope you don't consider leaving us here. He's an idiot, he's like that with everyone," you mentioned, being the first of the two to speak, showing your willingness to have a quiet conversation with him to address the issue that had led him to sit there, trying to run away from the gaze of other people. "If he thinks you have a flaw or something that he might get more people to buy the magazine, he'll do whatever it takes to show it, even if it's personal or makes the celebrity he's dealing with uncomfortable. I think he even once almost hid in the closet of this trailer just to get a picture of a Motocross rider so he could show the tattoo he had of his ex-girlfriend or something similar; when the guy in question found out, he almost sued us, and it didn't surprise me at all when we found out about it." Niki remained silent, watching you now as he tried to figure out the reason why you were still with him there. At that moment you wanted to be a fortune teller to find out what he was thinking or to have the power to disappear because you didn't think you could bear the Austrian's intense gaze for much longer. "I think he also made a pass like that to a woman he modeled for us, but I don't remember exactly what sport she was in," you muttered, trying to find a suitable topic of conversation, even if your mind wasn't quite sharp enough then to choose something in particular to make the tension between them vanish. But honestly, what conversation could arise between a racing driver and a photographer? Unless each other's respective fields were discussed, it was unlikely that anything genuine would come of that encounter. "I'd even swear something similar happened with Hunt, but it was with his shirt, and he didn't have much qualms about taking it off either, honestly," you continued, turning your gaze back to him when you realized how you seemed to have gotten so involved in your world that you hadn't even noticed how you had started to ramble, finally realizing that his intense gaze was for you to shut up and leave him alone. "Sorry."

A sigh escaped from Niki's lips. You felt bad. Why would you say otherwise? You heard your boss ask him on several occasions in an amusing way to remove his cap, in a way that was too nice for what that stubborn man you worked for really was, always getting a slightly uncomfortable but negative response from the pilot as he tried to keep a bit of composure in each of the photographs for which he was modeling until finally, you could distinguish during your short break a loud voice coming from the Austrian that surprised the entire production team. His thick Austrian accent stood out among the quieter English voices engaged in various conversations across the length and breadth of the set, and soon, the two men had found themselves surrounded by all the makeup, lighting, and set equipment as they tried to understand what was happening, barely being able to make out the words of the men who were shouting at the top of their lungs. Everything happened while Niki was talking calmly with your boss, the latter being the one who begged him more and more insistently to take off his cap so he could see his bandages and burns next to his grafts while a couple of your photography colleagues were they approached on the orders of the man who paid you intending to obtain something more than the rigid body of the Austrian as a cover photo; no, your boss wanted more and was eager to get it. In short, the rest did not need to be explained. Niki got pissed off, your boss started yelling at him, and the pilot couldn't find a safer place to be than in the trailer looking for a place to calm down before he got back in his car and got the hell out of there. In an act of empathy? You didn't even know if you could call it that, you placed your hand on the fabric of the shirt that covered your shoulder, gently caressing it while you felt the soft brush of the fabric against your soft skin and lacking the orange hue of your light natural tan. You frowned gently as you tried to stop your hand, it didn't seem to respond to your commands by itself, but you gently held the collar of your shirt so you could show him the graft that you also had, the product of a freak accident that in your time you tormented for having provoked, in some way trying to show him that he was not completely alone in that fight against what others might think or simply to make him see that that situation of anxiety and nervousness, lack of self-esteem and self-confidence, had no to suffer all alone. The look full of surprise from him captivated you.

His opaque blue eyes, barely visible thanks to the bill of his cap, seemed to shine with intensity when they found that part of your shoulder that was paler than the rest, distinguishing the places where the suture had joined a certain part of your healthy skin with the transplanted from another area of his body; That image reminded him of the same marks that he had suffered from seeing every time he looked in the mirror or when he saw his own hands. "It was a few years ago, quite a few to tell the truth," you indicated, smiling softly at him while you made sure of how your image seemed to have blocked him. "I was young and crazy, and I said to myself, why not play kitchen while the beans are cooking? I put my feet up on the little low bars that surrounded the kitchen and tipped over the entire pot of burning beans. They not only affected my shoulder but also my neck and head area a bit." Niki couldn't help but gently tilt her head to the left side, watching you part your hair from the side of your head a little to show him the small skin grafts in those already healed and lightly covered areas. He didn't understand how he hadn't noticed before. "Young?" He asked, being the only word you could hear coming from between his parted lips separated by his largest incisors, watching how he licked his slightly drier upper lip.

"At eighteen years old," you answered, suddenly hearing a strange snort escape from Niki that caused your mouth to open in surprise and indignation as if you were somehow annoyed by the sound she had just emitted. "Don't laugh. I told you she was young!" You heard the snort again, causing you to cross your arms in indignation while one of your eyebrows rose slightly, waiting for him to stop. He would simply settle into his chair and gently adjust the cap on his head, leaning forward as he reached for your camera and began fiddling with it in your hands. "Yes, but I didn't expect an adult to really be as 'crazy' as you mentioned. What went through your head to do something so dangerous and stupid?" Questioned Niki while a smile, finally sincere, appeared on her face, insulting you along the way for free. But, after all, that was Niki. Sincere. "If I told you. I am a very crazy woman, Mr. Lauda. Don't push your luck with me." Soon Niki's caravan was involved in a large number of funny anecdotes and strange laughter that caught the attention of many magazine workers who were waiting impatiently for the pilot to come out.

Marlene, the Austrian pilot's best friend, had gone to the photo session to bring him the yogurts that he had asked for before leaving his house, appearing confused as she did not know where her dear friend was, encountering a strange scene that caused her heart to leap with joy because Niki was smiling and laughing in the same way he had done before the accident, and recognizing your person as the cause of those natural expressions caused a feeling of happiness. They will settle on her chest. She was happy because finally, Niki seemed to have started to love himself as he listened to all your stories about your burn and just had to see through that little round glass how his cap was now resting on the table that separated you while He was chatting animatedly with you. Marlene only hoped that the same person who was now next to the Austrian would understand that his bluish gaze full of curiosity was not just due to a few silly jokes or absurd situations, but because of a much deeper feeling that had to wait to emerge with overtime.

[profeyandere]

How do racers deal with feather damage?

ft. Niki Lauda

Niki Lauda famously returned after his accident in 1976 with red synthetic feathers replacing the majority of his flight feathers, as well as some of his median and lesser coverts. His refusal to hide the extent of the feather damage he sustained did a lot to champion openness around feather issues in F1 and to bring imping to the FIA's attention as an area of racer's lives that needed to be regulated.

Similar in medical magnitude to an orthodontic aid, imping is a relatively painless practice that allows for a comparatively quick solution to feather breakage. Affixing the replacement feather to the existing feather shaft allows for the replacement to be lost in the next molt, identical to a natural feather. There are three primary options for replacement feathers used in imping:

Mass-produced synthetic: These synthetic feathers are produces based on age and wing type specifications, working well enough for the vast majority of people. However, they are often rather obvious, even when painted to resemble natural plumage.

Donor: Often more expensive, especially for those with rare wings, donor feather implantation relies on finding a perfect match wing-type, feather number, and development-stage wise. These feathers perform much like the original(barring the added weight of the joining agent) and blend seamlessly into the recipient's plumage.

Custom-made synthetic: These are often used by racers, in concert with donor feathers. These feathers are created based off a highly detailed model of the recipients undamaged feathers, serving as either a perfect copy of the lost feather, or an idealized version. They can be customized to minimize weight and improve aerodynamics, even when compared to natural plumage. In an attempt to avoid abuse, the FIA has decided that synthetic replacement feathers used by racers may not weigh more than 5 grams less than the natural feather they are replacing. Starting in the 80s racers often used feathers in unnatural colors. Some prefer to have them hand painted in attempt to conceal their injury, but this practice is becoming more noticeable for its rarity.

A necessary addition to the discussion of imping are so called long term prosthetic feathers. These are used in the case of extensive damage to the quill and attachment site of the feather. Unlike replacements used in imping, these are only ever synthetic, and are not meant to be lost in the molt. Prosthetics are attached through a two step process. First, a quill-shaped anchor point is surgically implanted into the cleared attachment site of the lost feather. Second, when the implant has healed, a synthetic feather is attached where the anchor point protrudes from the skin. This two-part construction allows the feather to be changed out when it becomes worn. These prosthetic feathers are common among burn survivors and those whose feathers didn't develop fully.

[profeyandere]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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[profeyandere]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

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Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Archangel Gabriel x Demon!Reader

Warning: None :)

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your heart was beating softly for the first time in the last eleven years after the little offspring of your Lord, the much desired and acclaimed Antichrist that you had waited for so long, had finally appeared in the lives of the rest of humanity as the reminder of evil on the planet and the imminent threat of the End of the World, with which it would take with it any sign of life on Earth and bring with it a hope that an eternal war would begin between the great celestial group, which the human being had adored so much during all its centuries of existence thanks to the biblical writings and the various witnesses of God's miracles, and the opposing side made up of sinners and followers of Satan who had fallen from Heaven with him or joined his ranks shortly after, among which you, the adored angel creator of a few planets in the solar system, found yourself having been, like most souls in Hell, one of the many fallen angels who had acted against the God's plans, either through nefarious acts or absurds questions that had provoked the wrath of your Creator. You were not able to remember exactly how everything happened, but what you could point out without any problem and exactly was your curiosity and the great temptation that was to get a higher position on the social ladder of angels. To get a little more respect and recognition, you had caused yourself to become one of the nocturnal beasts that acted evilly to get humans, the perfect creations of the Lord of Heaven, to fall into the clutches of Satan and suffer the same eternal punishment that you and the rest of your fellow demons had been forced to have. Even though your job wasn't as long-suffering as the one you did in Heaven, mainly because you could do things whenever you wanted and you didn't have anyone demanding when to turn in your advances, and it was definitely no worse than lower-ranked devils than you, the vast majority of whom were in charge of suffering constant punishments or doing too boring forced labor that internally killed every demon that got in their way, but in either case, it was much worse than you supposed it could have been ever been. Temptations had become your order of the day, one every morning that you would have to perfect as time went by, or by telling some fib in between to mention that a certain historical event had happened because of you so that your terrifying new boss hadn't destroyed you or thought you as worthless as those who arrived daily below, but you'd been surprised that one of your own, Crowley, had been consorting for several centuries with one of the angels you'd once known while you were one of them, but with whom you hadn't exchanged as many words with him as the serpent in Eden seemed to have.

You discovered his secret during World War II, at the very moment you made sure that the plane that was carrying a large load of explosives was ready to blow up one of the English cities that you had chosen to continue your duties as a demon on Earth and that this one, by the grace of… Well… You know what I mean, would have been diverted to a Church much further away from what was your meeting point. That sudden change of plans surprised you, mainly because no one had orders to divert its trajectory to a different place, but it seemed that by some demonic miracle, one of the many cities on the British island that suffered constant attacks from the Germans had not blown up. You tracked down the miracle, the place from which it had come, and soon found yourself on the rubble of a ruined church where the bomb must have fallen, leaving everything in its path covered in a fine layer of dust and a mist caused by the explosion that quickly dissipated as soon as a bit of fresh air enveloped what had been a place of dreams. Your position on the rubble allowed you to visualize the demon of sunglasses that was then slowly cleaning them while a series of lamentations from a white-haired man that you couldn't recognize at first was heard in the background; they were Crowley and Aziraphale, the two enemies acting as a team. That sight left you speechless, mainly because you knew what a betrayal of this caliber entailed, and, although you were a few seconds away from disappearing to notify your headquarters of the nefarious actions that the demon was carrying out, you were surprised that both supernatural beings seemed to have helped each other as if they were friends and had obtained quite favorable results from their encounter on Earth.

The conception of a demon being friends with an angel was not in your mind, mainly because you were aware of the great punishment that such disobedience could entail, but, shortly after confronting Crowley during one of the trips he made in his Bentley in insults from various drivers were heard due to the sudden zigzagging of the car, it made you understand that this agreement could even be beneficial for both parts, both for a demon and for an angel, even more so with Armageddon on the way and about to happen, but you did not know what that could cause in your broken and afflicted badly wounded heart. You didn't want to stop Armageddon, at least not completely, but it was almost unavoidable not to intercede so as not to lose everything. Where would you live if the world plunged into a world of lava, explosions, starvation, and desert? What would you do on Saturday afternoons if the cafeteria that you occasionally visited with Crowley disappeared from the universe? How would that Jane Austen story to which you had become so hooked because of Aziraphale's temptations and offer to make his bookstore a place where you felt at home end? How would you feel if in the Great Final Battle, you lost that archangel for whom you had yearned so much from the moment of your mere existence in that wide and cold universe? Why did everything have to be so difficult? Those were questions that would never be answered.

A strong gust of wind caught your attention and, although you wanted to pretend that the presence of the newcomer had not affected you, you saw yourself in the obligation to snort to prevent your smile from becoming so wide that it could cause your mouth to hurt. You weren't in the habit of smiling, rather no demon did except Crowley when he was amused by something or in the company of the sweet white-haired angel, and you didn't want to show any sign of disturbance in your person in front of him; maybe later you would cry, maybe you could burn an entire field in a radius of three kilometers, but you would never allow yourself to show weakness in front of that purple-eyed archangel with whom you had met a few hours ago in what could have been The End of World. "It seems that you had been waiting for me," Gabriel said with an air of grandeur and superiority upon noticing the slight tremor, almost imperceptible, in your shoulders, barely being able to distinguish the features of your face because of your soft hair that waved gently and hid you.. He had to make a mental note that he had to stop appearing like that, or maybe he would never be able to fully see the expressions of the people, demons, or angels he visited. "You will be happy, you have stopped Armageddon. The reason why we have waited so many centuries to find out which side is the best is not going to happen, and all thanks to... What did you call it? 'The power of love'?" Deep down you were unable to tell if he was saying it sarcastically, with anger, or with joy. You never knew how to read the intentions of the Supreme Archangel well during your stay in Heaven, much less now after spending millennia so far from him. It had always been a mystery, both to you and to the rest of the universe. "You've become very funny, haven't you? And here I thought that you would still be the sanctimonious one who walked through the enormous corridors of Heaven with a white robe and a silk sheet around his neck while listening to the praise of others for his person as an egocentric who is not capable of appreciating the unaffiliated work," you murmured with some resentment, placing your hands behind your back while you felt how the tight black suit that held tightly to your shoulders and fell gracefully to the height of your waist. Maybe it was a short garment, but it suited you fabulously.

"It's still happening, not as much as before, but there are still some who are devoted to me, not like others," the archangel commented as he took a couple of steps towards you, keeping a small distance between the two who, according to you, almost seemed kilometers. You were like two people unknown to each other, even if at the beginning of time you had been almost thick and thin. "And it wasn't that white, it was a darker shade. It was silky white, it's like lime color, but a little duller." It didn't take long for your brow to frown upon hearing that, confusing you. "But they are the same thing," you pointed out, turning your gaze towards him, meeting the profile of the archangel who seemed to have a small smile appearing between his lips, even if it was hardly noticeable due to how tense his body was and his attempt to remain serene. That image took away your ability to speak and breathe as if it had somehow even stopped all your thoughts, and hit you so hard it restarted your Windows. You didn't know what the latter meant, but you found it quite amusing, and you had finally been able to make use of that strange phrase used by young people. It was true that Gabriel, when you met him, and had the opportunity to work with him on one of the first projects that involved the creation of the universe, that was its design and the shape of the 'stars' and some of the 'planets' that would envelop the Earth and be part of the Milky Way, had presented himself as someone good, attentive, just as an angel should be and even more so one of a position like his, although quite strict and slightly distant with those inferiors to his title. In short, there was nothing to him but low-ranking angels who were best ignored. Perhaps you were not by the side of the gray-haired man as long as other colleagues who had the same mission as you, but you felt recognized with each look and smile from him, which quickly became your main reason to work with more impetus and you win at his side in the great project that God had entrusted to you. Making Gabriel proud was something that you felt you needed because of the way he would reward you, and turn his violet eyes towards you to congratulate you on your great effort. Many would criticize you, in fact, some angels assumed that something strange must happen to you for the simple fact that your adorable smile became more prominent when you saw the archangel near you or when you simply saw him. You adored Gabriel in so many ways that it could have scared anyone but, being an angel, that wasn't so strange either. You were made to love, so what did it matter if you wanted a little more from one of them? Everyone has a favorite, and yours was the supreme archangel. You loved him, and you wanted to do everything possible to have his approval.

"I would like to agree with you and, although at first glance one color and the other seem the same, it is their shades that distinguish them from each other. They are variants," Gabriel commented, interlacing the fingers of his hands to try to have a more authoritative position under your intense gaze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye before returning to observe the dark sky that had settled over you with the passing of the minutes, being able to distinguish the great endless number of lights that were some of the small stars in the firmament that perhaps Crowley should have created so many millennia ago.

"It's still white, no matter where you look at it," you claimed, shrugging your shoulders, adjusting the jacket that surrounded your torso a little, fixing yourself on it for a moment before recriminating his point. "My jacket is black, but it can be completely black, an obsidian or ebony tone, but it's still black no matter how much you try to distinguish the exact tone," you commented, adjusting the garment to your body to prevent the coolness of the night from sneaking in between the flaps of the same. "Are we really arguing about the perception we have of colors? Maybe I'm color blind, and I'm not as perfect as God planned." You could make out the small frown that appeared on the archangel's face. You had inadvertently used a higher tone of voice than usual, making you feel like a stupid devil who was unable to control your emotions, but honestly, who did? Even Crowley, who had spent the longest time on Earth with his dear angel, had been unable to show him his true feelings. Why couldn't you hide them too, or accept them if he hadn't already?

"We may be discussing a trivial matter, but just as I cannot allow you to say that the shades of white are the same, you cannot say that what shines so bright in the sky, that orange sphere, is a star," indicated the archangel as he raised his arm a little to point to the ball of orange tones that he had mentioned, making you frown for making such a comparison that almost seemed sacrilege towards you.

"You can't say that Saturn is a star. Who in their right mind would?"

Your tone full of indignation amused Gabriel, causing a snort to come out of his lips, lightening the atmosphere around you a bit. It had been the first time in centuries that someone had made him laugh in that genuine, reserved way, and it was precisely because of that that he realized how much he had missed you, even a demon. He always admired the way you had worked so hard to please God, even if, deep down, you had never done it for your Creator, and he found your devotion to each of your creations that still roam the universe to this day enchanting. Therefore, contrary to what he might have thought to do to continue with the creation of the cosmos, he took the trouble to show you one of the most recent planets to which you had shown such devotion from the moment of its mere creation. He could still remember the way you complained about the cold of the expansive and dark universe, how warm your body felt against his when he cradled you between his three great wings, and the way your eyes sparkled with wonder at the various rings of Saturn revolving around the planet along with the many moons that accompanied it. That last one wasn't a design error, you yourself thought that the planet's design was slightly simple and that perhaps the big planet must have had more than just rings to decorate its slightly lonely background surrounded by space rocks. Gabriel missed those times a lot, and, seeing you next to him, only caused the memories so hidden in his mind to resurface quickly. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the loud guffaws of joy coming from your lips, which even reached Pluto and got stuck there waiting for your return, and on the huge Moon, you could still hear your cries asking for forgiveness for what happened.

[profeyandere]

Daniel Brühl in Rush (2013)

[profeyandere]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐂. ─── ☾ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄

Masterlist || Pride and Prejudice Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: William Collins x Reader

Warning: None uwu

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

A small and lopsided smile delicately and angelically decorated your jovial face, showing something more in you than your usual seriousness or disgust for the company of others at social gatherings or parties of the people closest to you. Your heart, finally feeling happy and euphoric about the scene that was presented before you, did not stop beating against your fragile and warm chest, making you think at times that it was very likely that in a matter of minutes, you could faint due to lack of air or a heart attack. That last assumption was too extreme and exaggerated, and it almost made you laugh because of how imaginative you were and how melodramatic you could be, but it was inevitable to show that side of you that you had so hidden when you saw your dear brother wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved, finally enjoying the first dance they shared as husband and wife. The couple looked at each other with affection, which was obvious from the moment Fitzwilliam asked to woo Elizabeth, but now it was different. You could see with perfect clarity the love that one transmitted to the other with the elegant movements of their joined bodies, whether it was through their joined hands or the clash of their bodies when Darcy wanted to spin his current wife, and you could not stop to see those smiles. Your brother's pale, glued lips showed the happiness that was palpable in his person, perfectly completing his being with a touch that made him look more attractive and special than he already was, while your sister-in-law's bright and teasing smile shamelessly showed how happy and lucky she felt to finally be with the man she had worked so hard not to fall in love with. Watching them both, you knew that it was impossible to control the feelings that developed in those around you because the two of them were a clear sign that no one was capable of fighting what was in their hearts.

You weren't aware of it, and very few would be sure of it, but your eyes sparkled with emotion when you saw the small bubble that had engulfed the newlyweds, even if that detail seemed to be something quite minuscule compared to the perfect scene taking place in the center of the large ballroom, there was a person, a little man in a simple suit who kept his gaze fixed on your person. Before his eyes there was only something more beautiful than the union of the people who were enjoying the dance piece that formally made them a perfect couple, and that 'something' was you. Your face, your brilliant eyes that seemed clearer in the light of the candles and the lamps that decorated the room, and the beautiful light-colored dress that you were wearing at that moment made you look like a queen, a goddess, or an angel fallen from heaven to bless the whole world with your radiant beauty, as natural and graceful as that of a swan finally showing its wings as it takes off for its first flight. Mr. Collins had the happiness of being able to get to know you correctly, going to the house where you lived with your brothers to be able to share several afternoons with you, whether it was playing countless games of chess or the happy checkers with which he always beat you and giving long and leisurely walks in the great gardens of Pemberley, Derbyshire, as you searched for a way to establish a moment of peace and quiet to talk to each other without your younger sister's cheeky smile or your older brother's sharp, cold stare at Mr. Collins.

Those two relatives of yours were looking for a way to torment you once they found you alone in some room of the house. Ever since that conversation so far back in time that you had with Mr. Collins about his possible marriage, or future proposal for a hand, towards one of his cousins, he had given in to your wishes and had taken your advice as if they were orders that he really should follow as if he was a faithful servant of yours; Georgiana often teased you about it because, in her view, no man would have agreed to a woman talking to him that way and most likely would not have paid any attention to you, he was too likely to ignore your advice, but he took it and promptly denied his wish to marry one of his cousins because of the disgust you seemed to have shown at such an idea. You never mentioned or questioned him about why he had listened to you, what it was that had pushed him to ignore society's expectations and listen to you, specifically you of all the people in this world. On the one hand, he had had Lady Catherine, your aunt, behind his back, scandalously encouraging him to marry as soon as possible, and, on the other hand, he had found Mrs. Bennet, his cousin's wife and mother of the newlywed, who was constantly after him insisting that he marry one of her younger daughters, but it wasn't until he found you that he realized that his life did not have to be as two women wanted, no matter how much one wanted. One of them would have offered him so much help and was someone he truly appreciated and admired.

Your sincerity was what he needed to get out of that little hell, and it was what saved his cousin Elizabeth and the other girls from marrying him.

A wave of applause brought the clergyman out of his thoughts, who promptly joined the ovation as he joyfully congratulated the newly married couple who shared a little kiss as a sign of his deepest love and affection. Collins couldn't help but feel a slight pressure on his chest as he watched his cousin enjoy her husband's company, hoping deep inside that he might be as lucky as Elizabeth to woo Darcy and thus, try to show his affection towards you and charm you with his attentions.

"I thought that at some point you would be the one to take the step, Mr. Collins, but I see that you are still proud enough not to go over to talk to the person you are burning with your eyes."

Your voice, remarkably serious that contrasted perfectly with your mocking tone and the mischievous smile that you shamelessly showed, caused his body to begin to tense and become more and more rigid until he was completely stretched out in his position, almost becoming a little taller than you by a couple of centimeters. The cleric's mind began to race a mile a minute, trying to find an ingenious response to your simple words that, being as true as his affection for you, could show you how aware he was of your presence with him and that there was no been surprised.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His tone of voice, slightly muffled, caused a soft laugh to escape from you, which quickly dissipated into the air and was barely heard thanks to the festive atmosphere around you, which was made even happier when some relatives and friends from both sides of the couple gathered on the large dance floor to enjoy the music.

"I accept your apology," you murmured, nodding gently in his direction. That statement made the man understand that his assumptions about your discomfort were correct. His face quickly showed a sad face at the thought that he had made you feel bad by looking at you, but you made sure of it in a few seconds and continued speaking to try to calm his afflicted heart. "If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was come over. I thought we were close enough that formalities were out of the question."

"Although that's true, I'm afraid to remember that we were in the company of your family and mine," he indicated, briefly lowering his gaze to his hands before placing them behind his back without realizing that your gaze full of surprise was fixed on him. "Furthermore, as a higher-ranking member of society, you should be the one to make me feel blissful in your presence."

You couldn't help it, your eyes moved by themselves, and you rolled them for a moment when you heard him.

"I hope you'll forgive my expression. What nonsense," you said while you shook your head softly, turning your gaze to him quickly with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Since when do you care so much about decency and society when we have shared afternoons in solitude, with no one else us? You have come to my house, as I have to yours, and we have enjoyed the solitude and the company of the other. Why is now different for you, if I may ask?"

Mr. Collins remained silent for several seconds, not knowing exactly what to answer because you were right. Ever since that surprise meeting at the party where he finally met you, he couldn't help but feel attracted to your ingenuity in knowing how to escape from situations in which you didn't feel comfortable, your rebellious attitude towards what society dictated, and the maturity that society had given him allowed him to see the fact that marrying just any woman would not bring him the happiness that every human being deserved. When he saw you, he could only think how lucky he was to be able to enjoy your company in the large garden of your brother's house while you talked about his progress with Lady Catherine and what he was getting with his work within the church, while that you only listened attentively. If you were similar to your brother in anything, apart from the serious face you used to show everyone around you, it was in your ability to listen attentively and carefully to others, soaking up their achievements and feeling proud of them, even advising them if possible.

When the man was ready to answer you, having finally managed to compose himself from your sudden question, he felt a strong pull on his wrist that led him to move towards the small dance floor where a large part of the bride's family was enjoying a party calm music, as well as lively, with the other wedding companions. Your little sister, your adored Georgiana, had arranged for your courageous and agreeable conversation partner to share a little piece with each of his cousins, dancing among them like a dizzy duck that doesn't quite know where to move; You couldn't help but feel bad for William, but the little laugh that escaped your lips wasn't something that went unnoticed by him. Just hearing from you more than your small voice in a clipped, authoritative tone was music to his ears.

"Dear sister, you are too mean," you spoke mockingly, losing sight of your partner.

"What's wrong with wanting your loving and shy boyfriend to share a room with his cousins?" She questioned in the same sarcastic tone, making you roll your eyes when you heard the title that Collins had acquired in your relative's mind. True, you two were pretty close, it was almost scary how well you knew each other, but he never seemed to take that kind of interest in you because if he did, why hadn't he already asked your permission to woo you?

"Georgina, it would be better for everyone if you stopped making such absurd ideas about my relationship with Mr. Collins."

The young little woman Darcy glanced at your perfect profile and how your eyes almost seemed to sparkle. Georgina was not a silly girl with the idea of getting married as soon as she got the chance, being the complete opposite of her sister-in-law's young sisters, but she was observant and quite like you in the more serious aspects of her current life and want to wait long enough to find, in his brother's case, his Elizabeth or, in your case, your Mr. Collins, but her assumptions couldn't be wrong, she refused. For her, in addition to Lizzie and her brother, the unique couple that you and the cleric made was quite pleasant since the male's submission together with your dominance caused the relationship to be quite balanced, in addition to your respective knowledge on various topics that interested the other made your conversations enjoyable and quite fluid, but what most managed to distinguish that possible affection that you had towards the man was in the brightness that your eyes had. Fitzwilliam and you had always been more serious than her because you were older since he had to be the perfect man and you the most educated damsel in the entire region, so you had learned to show only one side of yourselves, a little shell that seemed to crack little by little when Elizabeth and William respectively arrived, and the crack caused your eyes to shine like the brightest stars in the firmament and your hearts to open wide to the new experiences that the sun could bring you. love.

"Like I'm lying," she murmured gracefully, being subtly scolded by you with a little touch of your shoe against hers. "You can't say I'm lying, everyone knows it."

“It's not that simple, Georgina, and I don't think it's very appropriate for you to press the issue any further."

That blunt statement of yours went unnoticed by the young woman, who simply shook her head when she saw how stubborn you were. Many times she did not know who was worse, your brother or you.

Spotting Collins again among the great mess of people on the dance floor, you quickly made your way through several of the guests to reach him and move him away from the crowd, seeing his face completely flushed and slightly sweaty from his obligation not to decline any dance offer that he found with each step he took. You could almost laugh again when you saw how he was breathing but, as you had seen in him, it was not easy for him to have to have several conversations at the same time while having to try not to step on women's feet.

"Let's go outside, you need to give yourself some air," you murmured once you had managed to reach him, gesturing with your hand towards the nearest exit that would take you to the small garden outside the building where the party was taking place, allowing him to then to be able to breathe some fresh air and be able to calm their nerves while it was just the two of you.

Seeing Collins nod in agreement gave you the break you needed because you, like him, needed to get rid of the accumulation of emotions that you had felt throughout the day, even if you had not been the protagonist of that evening; Nor would it surprise you to see your brother looking for an outlet to relax before returning to attend to all the guests who demanded his attention. Your heart began to beat more strongly as the minutes passed, while you were alone again in a comfortable silence, going out to the aforementioned garden, allowing you to observe with intensity some of the small flowers that had been taken care of for the very special occasion that was happening that day and enjoy the warm and soft breeze that enveloped you that summer night. Your breathing was not agitated, but you felt on the verge of a mental collapse as you stopped by Mr. Collins's side when he felt far enough from the building and comfortable enough that he could breathe easy and regain his relaxed, placid countenance.

Somehow you couldn't help but think about your sister's words and, therefore, your relationship with the cleric to your right. As one of the women belonging to the Darcy family, London, and the whole world hoped that tomorrow you would be engaged to a man of equal or greater social status to your own, not to a mere clergyman who depended on your aunt to take whatever decision regarding his life; Of course, he was faithful to it, you just had to remember how he used to talk about you the first times you shared a snack at her house, but you made him understand that only he could and should decide who he should marry or when to do it. The only thing you were trying to show him was that he shouldn't be after a woman who told him how to make his life, which you achieved after much persistence and after showing him other pleasures that were deprived of him because of your aunt. You could not aspire to marry Collins, but rather a friend of your brother's or some other bourgeois or marquis your aunt approved of, but your heart seemed complete only when your eyes turned to that man who had seemed so strange to you when you met him. You met your mind only thought of a man when the subject of marriage was mentioned by your aunt and only a name escaped from your lips while you dreamed of the day you would get married. There was only one man in your life who could make you happy, and he was in front of you, as clear as it had been to your sister from the beginning.

"Looks like you needed a moment too," Collins mentioned, drawing your attention. "Don't get me wrong, I just want to point out that you seemed a little out of sorts."

"There's something that bothers me, but it's not important," you commented without giving too much information, seeing the question look that Collins had, making you sigh and knowing that at some point you would have to mention it. "Would you risk everything you have if you believe you truly love a person? Just like my brother did for your cousin."

Mr. Collins seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds, at least that's what you supposed when you saw his frown.

"Well, I suppose so," the cleric replied, making you nod gently at his words. "It's complicated, I guess. Is it good to take a risk? It's possible. Up to what point? Don't know."

"I could lose everything for him," you said quickly, surprising him with that sincere statement. "He is not what my aunt would want for me. He is very different from what she would expect, and all she would do is give him a heart attack as she knew, and that fact came true."

Mr. Collins couldn't help but look at you curiously, wanting to know more about that stranger who was your lover, but also afraid of what he had wanted so much to never come true.

"Your brother did it, you can always lean on him."

Your gaze strayed back to him before turning your gaze forward, being able to make out on the horizon the large whitish ball that had appeared a few minutes ago. Everything seemed to be going in your favor, even if your respective doubts and fear were afloat and in some way had shown themselves over the months when you met, but one of the two had to take the step and, as happened before and in several times, it had to be you.

Your delicate hand, which was then intertwined with the other, slowly slid and touched one of his fingers, surprising him with the sudden touch, but which he did not reject. Your hand managed to wrap around his with an elegant movement and, as soon as you knew it, he had wrapped yours with his; With a simple handshake, you both felt how your hearts became one that full moon night, and it was when all your fears seemed to vanish with the breeze of that summer night.