#I would confide my deepest fears and wants and secrets to you and you find that same confidante in me

[rotisseries]

everyone debates about elmike like oh they're the best of friends no they would never hang out on their own they don't even know each other, when the true answer, much like everything else about them, is that there is so so much and also nothing at all

[miami-lolz]

Rick and Morty Finale Theory’s/Predictions

inspired by posts by @fear-no-mort please check them out!!

The Freaky Morty Theory

The Freaky Morty Theory is that at some point either during or after episode 5, Evil Morty switched places with Morty Prime. There are some actual bases for this, and users have been collecting a decent amount of possible evidence for this reveal!

- Morty acting almost pre-season 4, like a Morty that hasn’t properly interacted with a Rick in a while

-Flinching significantly more then usual. In a flashback it implies Evil Mortys Rick was abusive which checks out

-the smug look. Don’t get me wrong Morty also has a chronic resting bitch face and smug I told you so look, but it has been a lot more prominent in the last couple of episodes

There’s a lot more to this but the basis is somehow they switched, and the season finale would be the time for the reveal.

If you are interested, @sadiecoocoo and @glitteringcrab have much more in-depth stuff about it!

personally, I want this theory to be true. It opens a lot of doors and would be a fantastic cliffhanger and segway to a more Morty-oriented episode or season.

Ricks Deepest Fears

His Fear Of Morty

Ok, so there are a lot of ways this can go. But here's in my opinion the most likely avenue;

Rick would absolutely never admit it, but part of Morty scares him. We see it on his face during the Purge episode, and more frequently during the last few seasons. But I think the reason he dogs on Morty and tries to keep his confidence low is because Rick knows how dangerous he can be when motivated enough. Morty is more aware than most and Rick picks up on that. He is scared one day Morty will grow up to be like him, bitter and angry. He sees it in him now and can't blame anyone else. Now with everything with Prime, I think Rick fears Morty will grow up not just like him, but like Rick Prime specifically. He'll get angry and lash out, do something drastic in revenge for all the ways Rick has wronged Morty throughout the years. Morty will realize what he's capable of and leave, and Rick couldn't really blame him.

His fear of Rick Prime

This one is probably what's gonna happen. Since Rick definitely didnt get closure from killing Prime, this could be his chance. To get over his fear of Rick Prime, of what he represents and what he is capable of. This episode might be his chance to a means to an end.

His fear of losing everyone else

Another huge one would be his fear of the Smith family dying the same way his family did. Rick has kind of detached himself but it’s no secret that he cares. He’s especially fond of the version of the Smiths he lives with now. Even admitting Summer reminds him of Diane. To lose them would absolutely devastate him. Maybe this episode will be him trying to finally heal from his fear of losing everything all over again and being alone.

Mortys Deepest Fears

His fear that Rick will kill him too.

Now I know how this sounds, but I thought, that would be interesting to see if one of Morty's fears is that Rick C-137 tries to kill him. Now I know that sounds out of character since WE know Rick would never but think about it, it’s not said but almost implied he probably could have fixed the prime universe from being Cronenberg but chose not to because it wasn’t his family, it was Primes. And I think Morty is smart enough to figure that out once he found out Prime was really his Rick.

He also compared Morty to his biological Rick multiple times, then basically beat his biological Rick to death with Morty to practically witness it. Now obviously Morty doesn’t blame Rick for hating Rick Prime and frankly Morty doesn’t seem to like Rick Prime either. But subconsciously I wonder if he thinks he’s the last strand, that Rick will one day finish what he started. it’s pretty clear C-137 would absolutely never actually kill him, but could you imagine him finding out Morty fears him

His fear of being alone

Morty has become detached in the past few seasons, and you can’t really blame him. His own Jerry seemed to get frustrated when he offered to get him a “new” Beth and Summer. Like they were toys he could just swap out. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He does. He defends Summer and his parents. His love is like a dog, it’s unconditional so no matter what he still loves Rick even after everything he put him through. So he was angry and upset when he left. Even afterwards, when Summer brought up”The Crow Thing” Morty got visibly upset. He even tried to manipulate Rick to come back. If a representation of that comes up, this could be a chance for him to give faith to Rick and his family that he won’t be left behind.

[teecupangel]

As ‘Desmond can steal/touch his ancestor when he’s Bleeding’ idea more or less can be seen as gen, I figured this absolutely AltDes version (as I sorta hinted on in the alternate POV) should have its own post instead.

The AltDes version has definitely been started by the wonderful @thedragonqueen1998

Oh, i just imagine Altair waiting for the spirit to return to him after the whole thing with the apple went down, only to never feel him again. Maybe he'd use the apple to get answers? Could defo lead to altdes if you want comfort. ^^

My reply:

Yeessssss. Let's end this with Altaïr finding a way to keep Desmond in his timeline and maybe a big scene of Desmond holding onto Altaïr's red sash for one last time before he dies and Altaïr just grabbing his hand while the Apple glows and dragging him to his timeline

===========================

From @thedragonqueen1998

oh, im just imagining Desmond going up to the Eye and he sees Altaïr standing there, with his back turned and he holds onto the sash before he puts his hand on the device. He doesnt know if hes screaming as theres only the burning pain, the intense heat, the pure whiteness, the.. feel of fine silk in his left hand.

Altaïr has made sure to keep the Apple on him, so that if the spirit returns he could hopefully anchor it. Maybe he could finally ask some questions without it dissapearing? But its been months. Where as the spirit visited every few days, theres been nothing now. Maybe he should finally put it to rest? Hide away the Apple from anyone seeking to use i-

The spirit, its back. He makes sure to make very slow moves to pull out the Apple while the spirit holds his sash.

He cant mess this up, it might be months if not years until he can get another chance to anchor Desmond to him. With the Apple in his hands he tries to link the spirit to him. To communicate with it. Thats when the screaming starts. Altaïr freezes, these arent just screams of pain, its a death call. Is this how it died? He desperatly wants to turn, to comfort the dying creature, but he cant risk it. The Apple says its 47% done with "uploading memory".

What that means, Altaïr does not know, but the Apple has never failed in granting him his wishes, though understanding the information is another matter. He doesnt know if its been seconds, minutes or hours listening to the horrid screams, to smelling burnt flesh, before they stop and the Apple says "Memory Transfer Complete. Starting Body Transfer. Body Damaged By 20%, Repairs Can Be Done. Proceed?" Repairs? Does it mean saving the spirit? If so, "Proceed".

===========================

Addition from me

Malik did not understand this entire ‘spirit’ business that Altaïr has built in his mind. He had never felt anything strange whenever he was with Altaïr. If anything, the bureau in Jerusalem felt more haunted than Altaïr himself but, even if Malik has no real concrete explanation to the disappearing cups and small items in Jerusalem’s bureau, he also wouldn’t be able to stop it from being concluded as being ‘I forgot where I put it’.

Nonetheless, Altaïr stresses that the spirit is real and his obsession with this spirit of his that is named Desmond was simply another facet of Altaïr’s personality at this point. It was his deepest secret, only told in confidence to Malik because he needed a ‘sounding board’ to talk over his theories and plans.

Malik would have suggested he get a cat but he feared that making Altaïr a cat owner would either make a very spoiled and fat cat or a neglected wild cat that would get its treats elsewhere while its owner forget its existence.

So he tried to be this quiet sounding board, even ready to simply look over the reports given to him as part of his duties as Altaïr’s Keeper when he starts to hear all these… tales of a time far beyond them, machineries that Altaïr explains but left Malik reeling and feeling quite foolish for not understanding, of this… Animus.

Malik had thought Altaïr had gone mad. That whatever power had driven Al Mualim mad when he held the Apple had taken hold of Altaïr by tempting him with what he desired more than power itself.

Knowledge…

And a connection beyond what mortals usually have.

Malik had never thought of Altaïr as being a romantic but he was a man who liked to make dramatic entrances and exits. Cyprus would be a testament to that and, really, it was just as well that Altaïr did not do anything too stupid when he went to Cyprus. (Although a temporary alliance with a Templar woman had been risky and Malik was just glad said woman had told Altaïr that she was leaving Levant to travel elsewhere.)

Malik didn’t want to deal with that kind of headache. Malik had been ready to tell Altaïr that perhaps the Apple had been faking it but then Altaïr showed him these… ‘post its’ that Desmond supposedly left and…

The materials themselves were nothing Malik had seen before. The words he used in English were strange but his Arabic was fluent.

And looks eerily like Altaïr’s, both in the way it was written and the words used.

Perhaps that was what made Altaïr snap.

The insinuation that this Desmond didn’t exist. That Altaïr had made up this person, a person who, from Altaïr’s own description and the little papers Malik had seen, looked and sounded like the kind of person that Altaïr would fall in love with.

Kind but as lonely as him, understanding of Altaïr’s own faults and still believing in him…

Malik had feared that Altaïr would do something drastic.

He had plans already written up and was about to start preparations in secret to keep Masyaf and the Brotherhood running while he tries to get into the bottom of this entire Desmond thing.

Altaïr was slowly unraveling because Desmond hadn’t been contacting him. Just quietly visiting, Altaïr had called them.

It felt like this was the prelude to something big in Malik’s eyes.

Make Altaïr desperate for any communication, make him desire to ‘hear’ from Desmond once more… Altaïr was primed to do something stupid and Malik believed that the perpetrator had to be that damn Apple.

So Malik went to Altaïr’s private studies to finally confront him and, if need be, knock him out so he could drag him away from the Apple.

But, when he got there, he found Altaïr holding an unconscious man in his arms.

A man wearing clothes that Malik had never seen before… And a right arm charred and black with golden lines lightly glowing underneath the cracks…

“Malik…”

Malik realized…

“I did it. I anchored Desmond to me.”

… that perhaps that spirit that has been tempting Altaïr this entire time had been one of the olden ones that had created the Apple itself.

===========================

And more ideas from @zero-saito and @thedragonqueen1998

From @thedragonqueen1998

@teecupangel oooh, thats so hood! Malik would be so suspicious of Desmond, thinking hes tricking or manipulating Altaïr, but also cant help but like him. How he makes Maliks tea exactly how he likes it, how he pushes Altaïr into taking breaks and how he treats the novices. How could a being that made the accursed Apple be so pure and good? Did it take the darkness within it and store it into the artifact? Or something else? The being, Desmond, talks very little of it. For what reason does he share such wonderous "future" ideas, but will not tell of where to find more artifacts, of their uses and purpose? Malik can only hope it is for a good reason.

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 @teecupangel I love all of this ‘spam’ 😍 this is great!! Yes to suspicious Malik but also Desmond is so sweet he can’t be mad for long. Also altair finally calming down and stop simping over a ghost! Wait! Malik finding out that desmond was haunting the bureau and either asking for the stuff back or an explanation. Desmond having puppy eyes that break Malik like Kadar used to

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito god yes, Desmonds puppy eyes are lethal! And he feels so guilty cause his hoard didnt travel with him. And he cant help stealing more to build another. He's like a dragon, gotta hoard everything!

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 he has to steal things from altair and Malik the old fashioned way but he might still be able to steal from ezio and Connor the usual way. He will miss his family mementos after all

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito oh, didnt think about him keeping his Bleeds. :O i cant really think of anything else to add though XD im out of ideas here.

===========================

I got you, guys XD

Desmond wasn’t sure how Altaïr had done it and Altaïr himself was still studying it but his reasoning for studying it was more on the side of making sure Desmond stayed anchored to him. Desmond was sure that there was no way for him to return to his time, not when Altaïr had taken him just as he was about to die, his last memory the sound of his own voice telling him in a robotic sounding tone that the Solar Flare has passed and that it was dispersing the remaining 10% of the shield.

Desmond didn’t know if dispersing the shield was even a good thing but he had fate in the Assassins (his friends) that they would figure something out if it didn’t.

Oh, and about Juno too.

But Desmond was going to ask Altaïr’s help on that front too once he was satisfied that Desmond wouldn’t be thrown out of his time at all.

Honestly…

Desmond was sure that only Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton would be able to do that anyway since it was highly possible the ones he could connect with were the only ones who could use the Apple that way.

Between the two, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t even know it was an option because he would throw the Apple into the sea as soon as he received it, knowing the danger that it possessed.

Ezio wouldn’t even think about asking the Apple such things. He had always been wary of the Apple’s power and it took Machiavelli pushing him for weeks for him to even ask the Apple where Cesare was. So… yeah, Ezio was highly unlikely.

And…

Even if they do…

Desmond was sure he and Altaïr would end up trying to contact one another to find a way to bring Desmond back.

It would be nice to see Ezio or Ratonhnhaké:ton. To be able to talk to them and to tell them everything but…

Desmond wanted to stay in this time.

He wanted to stay with Altaïr.

So the moment he saw their backs as another Bleeding Episode hit him, he gave them a letter that explained his situation.

Desmond couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it before.

Not like there were any papers lying around that Desmond could use in any of the hideouts he’d been. They mostly kept everything in their laptops, computers and other gadgets. Any paper lying around would be important that Desmond couldn’t take or part of Shaun’s corkboard which he also couldn’t take unless he wanted Shaun to start slapping his hand like a mother batting her child’s hand before the child could take a cookie.

Here in Masyaf though…

Malik was okay giving him as many pieces of paper as he wished.

He knew Malik was still wary of him and Desmond wasn’t surprised.

Hell.

He’d be more surprised if Malik wasn’t wary of him at all.

Still, Desmond was pretty sure that he was slowly whittling Malik’s suspicion of him since he had been more than forthcoming about everything.

Also…

Malik did see the small treasure hoard that Altaïr’s (and Desmond’s) room had in the corner, filled with a lot of strange items that Desmond was more than happy to explain to Malik.

He would forever miss his hoard back in the 21st century but it was fine. He knew the others wouldn’t mind helping Desmond have a new one.

He… was still not sure if he should laugh or be offended that Malik had thought he was an Isu.

But that was fine.

Masyaf…

This place…

This time…

It was peaceful.

And he knew the pitfalls that would come.

Desmond was confident that Altaïr and Malik would listen to him once he explained it all.

But for now…

He just wants to relax for a bit.

And let himself be consumed by the peace and happiness he felt.

[idyllic-affections]

The platonic kaeya hcs were amazing !! If you’re still taking requests, how abt expanding on kaeya and his sibling and maybe the ragnvindr family drama :oo

how does the presence of kaeya's sibling change the fallout?

summary. how, if at all, does the presence of kaeya's sibling change his falling out with diluc?

trigger & content warnings. blood, depictions of a broken nose, canon-typical ragnvindr family drama, crying, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/comfort. kaeya & younger sibling!reader, diluc & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of these headcanons, but it can be read as a standalone.

author's thoughts. hello lovely!! thank you hehe... my kaeya content always seems to get less traction than my other genshin content so im very glad you like those hcs!! my requests are always open unless i explicitly state otherwise, so feel free to send anything in whenever. i dont work on requests in the order which they come in; i work on them based on what i find inspiring, so i dont feel the same pressure other writers might to fulfill their requests, you know? im not as worried about being overwhelmed or burnt out bc of that, so requests are always open <3

how does the presence of kaeya's younger sibling change his fallout with diluc? that is indeed a complex question.

the short answer is that it doesn't.

the long answer is a bit more complicated than that.

kaeya is very protective of his baby sibling. he does all that he can to ensure that they're safe and smart and capable, because if he happens to not be around and trouble comes their way...

well, he wants to be absolutely confident that they can handle it, whether that be by smooth-talking their way out of it (kaeya has admitted to certain people that he is very amused by the way they seem to have inherited his so-called "linguistic powers") or by fighting their way out of it.

moreover, he loves them so, so much. they most definitely have a target on their back because of that. kaeya knows he has a tendency to sometimes associate with people that... aren't exactly righteous when he needs information. he also knows that his sheer adoration for the sweetheart he somehow gets to call his sibling isn't a secret to anyone who's been in mondstadt for more than a day. he can't restrict their freedom (especially not in mondstadt of all nations), so to combat his fear, he teaches them how to handle themselves in all kinds of situations.

he always knew better than to lie to them about their heritage, for a lie that severe would only cause harm. kaeya treasured their trust far too dearly to so much as even scratch it slightly.

...

perhaps it would have been best to be honest and transparent with diluc, too?

diluc discriminates not between the alberich siblings, but he doesn't go out of his way to harm the youngest, either. they're only a child. surely they didn't know? though, by the end of everything...

diluc has landed a deep scratch on their cheek and possibly broken their nose, all because they did know the truth.

kaeya does not take that well.

if anything, the presence of kaeya's sibling worsens the fallout, for if kaeya were to ever blame himself for what happened, all of those thoughts disappear the moment diluc lays hands on what is most dear to him.

and as for kaeya's sibling?

"fuck you, ragnvindr. i hate you more than you'll ever know. have fun being alone. it's what you deserve."

they feel a rage that they've never felt before despite the blood dripping from their broken nose and split lip, despite the overall numbness of their face from their wounds.

protectiveness does go both ways with the alberichs, it seems.

even long after the fallout, when the raging fires are reduced to spiteful words and brief exchanges full of bitterness, kaeya's sibling still holds the deepest resentment towards diluc.

(diluc doesn't need to know that there are nights where all kaeya can do is helplessly hold them as they cry about wanting their other brother back.

all diluc knows is that they hate him.

knowing that, he can't bring himself to approach them.)

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Irumi's anthem

Every akudol has that one song they are remembered by. It is there go to performance song. Even though Irumi was technically a part of Kuromu's akudol group, she could not keep using her song. 'Little devil'

She needed her own song if her akudol career was to continue. Of course, Kerori was very insistent when explaining this to Iruma. And it wasn't as though he minded much. He liked having fun with his friends and enjoyed participating in their interests.

Even if it was a little awkward when he had to dress up as Irumi. Seeing Kerori open up and smile as she talked about her passion was heartwarming. So there wasn't any harm in being Irumi for her.

Iruma stared up at the ceiling of his room. No, the real issue was making a song. What should it be about? Would it be any good?

So many questions filled his mind. Maybe... it couldn't hurt to try. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he turned and studied Irumi's reflection staring back at him. He let his feelings wash over him.

♧Sinking~ Falling into despair. A hand reached out and broke through my fears. When I was lost, you found me, showed me kindness, set me free~ and still~♧

How many times had he been let down? How many times had he been abandoned? Left behind? He had lost count. Then, one day, he's found. Cradled tenderly in a warm embrace.

Everything that had weighted him down was removed. All his past fears slowly crumbling away. One by one. Making his heart soar.

♧I remember! I can hear you! When I close my eyes, I can feel your hand in mine. Now I can hear you... I can find you! Finally, I realize~♧

He had a family now. Friends, those he can rely on. He was no longer reaching for empty air. There was always a hand reaching back for him.

♧For you I promise, I promise, I'll never forget~ Every moment that we spend together! I promise, I promise, I'll hold my head high! Here together~ standing under the bright sky♧

Every day was amazing. Every day, confidence grew. Every precious moment held and cherished in his mind.

♧When the end feels so far out of reach, and the path is long, and you want to retreat. Just know that I'm there with you, together we will make it through. The dark~ and we will rise up!♧

Helping his friends reach their goals. Finding their ambitions. Working hard together as a team. Being there when they needed it the most. That's what was important to Iruma.

♧Now I can hear you, when I close my eyes, I can feel your hand in mind. Now I can hear you! I can find you! Finally, I realize~♧

Gone were the days of hiding. No more starvation. He no longer needed to worry about his voice falling on deaf ears.

The days were now only filled with laughter. Never go hungry again. The endless room of self-improvement. His voice was heard. His opinion mattered.

♧For you I promise, I promise, I'll never forget! Every moment that we'll spend together! I promise, I promise, I'll hold my head high! Here together, standing under the bright sky♧

It's a hope. To never be separated from those he now cares for. It's his deepest wish. One he holds onto tightly.

Although he still keeps his secret from so many of them. Who knows, maybe one day he will be able to tell them. Maybe he can proudly say it, and they will happily accept him still.

Truthfully, deep down, it's like wishing for his own set of wings to fly with. Wishful and idealistic on his part. Yet, he holds onto it anyway.

♧When we're sent back to the start, and fear is rising in my heart. I feel the strength you give me, and I begin to shine.♧

Grandpa, Opera, Balam-sensei, Master... they all believed in him. They all knew the truth, and still, they believed. Even Ameri knew, and she helped push him forward.

♧Even in the dead of night, just look towards the warm blue light. Follow your heart, and I'll be waiting there. Take my hand, let's start again!♧

Clara and Alice. His friends, his soulmates. How did he ever live without them? It didn't matter. He was with them now, and if he had to start all over, he wouldn't change a thing.

The warm protection of Alice's flames. Clara's loud laughter and bright smiles. The never-ending feeling of love and understanding.

♧For you, I promise, I promise, I'll never forget! Every moment that we spend together!♧

The sleepovers, the games. The help with homework. Each moment is a treasure in his heart. Soft pink and green pastel, like a whirlwind came into his life.

♧Promise, I promise, I'll hold my head high! I'll be there! I swear~♧

A never-ending climb to the top. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to be strong and help his friends. Yes, keep going!

♧Promise, I promise. Promise, i promise!♧

He wanted to continue growing with everyone. He needed to keep up. He didn't want to leave them waiting.

♧That we'll spend together~♧

Playing music with Soi, or video games with Lied. To learn more about the world he now lived in. To spend more time with grandpa and Opera.

♧Promise, I promise, I'll hold my head high!♧

He wanted to stay here. He never wanted to go back. Never to that lonely existence again. He just needed to be greedy like a demon. This was his life now, and he was keeping it.

♧Here together~ standing under~ the bright sky♧

[michiganmerchant]

YOU LOOKED AT ME AND THEN I KNEW! (deeply insane jacktrevor thoughts below)

having THOUGHTS about them right now and i need to vent it or else i will Explode like the Sub okay. i was not a jacktrevor girlie until i saw trevor in the stands with jim hughes + that candid photo of the two of them laughing ntdp-era on the streets of NY and there’s been some seriously insane scholarship on jacktrevor here like hello it is making me so insane i wish i had the words for it. its like. ok what if we met when we were 15 and we knew that we were going to be each other’s person for the longest time and we loved each other so much that we’re mirror reflections of each other and i can’t tell where you end and i begin. what if we were 15 and we promised ourselves to each other. what if. nothing ever happened because we were 15 and we knew it wasn’t going to end well and we wanted to be 15 so we carried on as friends, watched each other hook up across the room at house parties, crawled into each other’s beds at the end of the night without ever touching each other, went through the draft and the growing up and the living without each other and finding out that we’re still each other’s persons. what if i make it to the playoffs before you did. so you went to watch the game with my dad. and then i realized we were no longer 15. GODDDDDDDD. the specific vibe that has been crawling into my chest is being stunned by the enormity of your feelings like one day you wake up normal and the next day you realize you’re in love. where’s that tumblr post about the not romance not platonic but a secret third thing where the lines are so blurred the thought of romance hangs over your head like a guillotine. YEAHHHH. that’s such a guillotine to hang over someone’s head like! what if you already did all the hard parts of baring your worst self to each other, getting into a relationship but doing the steps in all the wrong order that the thought of defining your relationship gives you a headache because how do you even begin to define whatever soulmate fuckery these two have been on since they were 15! where do i even begin with girl jack. still a fuckboy. still flirting. still got incomprehensible confidence. looks up to see trevor chatting animatedly with her dad in the stands and panicking on ice when she realizes she has extremely specific feelings about this, about trevor’s who’s always matched her step for step.  i think there is also something sooooo insane about trevor and his very public relationships and how he is Failing at romance in general. girl jack having to live through that and going “i could never imagine being one of trevor’s flings.” and then she does self reflection and realizes she doesn’t want to be one of trevor’s flings because she wants something More Than That. girl trevor would also make me insane. still fucking around and fumbling her way through relationships. jack ribs her all the time about that except he’s also a little on edge watching it happen in real time hoping it never happens to him which is haha SO funny jack you absolute silly little goose. why would you think trevor would want to date you? you’ve been friends forever, if something was going to happen it would’ve already happened. cmon man it’s a little misogynistic to think that every girl who’s your friend wants to date you. ellen raised you better than that cmon jack. besides. why are you thinking about trevor dating you. why are you scared of something that you say could never happen. why do you live in fear of the idea that she could break your heart. how could she break something she doesn’t have. right? hmm.  anyways i think there is no easy for them to be in a relationship. years of seeing each other hook up with other people and also knowing the deepest, ugliest parts of each other and also just. having deeply intertwined lives and shared social circles and history and friendship. i think it would deeply terrify them to see each other in a romantic light after all these years. they grew up together! they know each other best! how could they put themselves in such a vulnerable position of losing each other, of losing what they have? it would be the hardest relationship of their lives. so like, why do it?  thinking deeply about the insane media and personal speculation also because i LOVE acknowledging the very real effect of other people’s opinions. people  going “of course you were going to end up together!” and other people placing bets on whether or not they were going to end up together like. of course people have opinions. part of it is Media, Baby, that’s what you get for being the franchise center but part of it is also. who they are as people. and their personas just inviting public speculation. they preform the role of a celebrity extremely well! like maybe they should get together because that’s what people expected? maybe they shouldn’t get together because that’s not what people expected? how do you manage a deeply personal relationship that survived childhood but is now subject to the media. and then the actual logistics of being together like in what world does it make sense to do long distance for a decade. like. hello they are both respective franchise centers. no one is moving anywhere. except maybe trevor to the rangers but ANYWAYSSSSSS. i just think they should crawl into bed together, coming home from a bar after watching each other hook up the whole entire night and not say anything as they fall into a deeply unrestful sleep, shoulders pressed against each other. 

[manilovetumblerusernames]

WASSUP ITS 3 AM N INSOMNIAS A BITCHHH. So in an effort to cure it ive written a fic. If u can call it that. Its more like a character study? Idk i jus wanted to write abt sad boi mic :( . Apologies if this is terrible, im super out of practise with writing and this is my first ever fic also im not doing any proofreading on this i wrote this all in one shot so i hope this isnt incoherent garbage. good luck!

The life of Yamada Hizashi was full of misfortune. In fact, the first tragedy of his life occured right as he entered the world. His cries as he exited his mother’s womb were so loud he had deafened everyone in the room and injured several other innocent bystanders in the area.

Objectively, Yamada knew he couldn’t control it. He was literally a newborn who didn’t even know what a quirk was. Yet that doesn’t stop him from asking himself “why didn’t you just stay quiet?” whenever he looked at himself in the mirror. If he had stayed quiet that day, he probably wouldn’t have been sent to an orphanage. Maybe his parents would have loved him, destructive, hazardous quirk and all.

The second misfortune was his inability to connect with his peers. He was popular, but popularity wasn’t the same as having actual, genuine friends who he could connect with, who he could talk to about anything and everything, who could sit with him in comfortable silence as they simply soaked in each others company, who he could share his deepest darkest secrets and confide his fears and insecurities to. Alas, he would only be known as the class clown. The one people could laugh at. The sunshine to brighten people’s day. It was lonely, being the sun.

Things seemed to change, however, when he entered UA. A tall, larger than life, cloud came by to greet the sun hello and they got on like a house on fire. The rest was history. The two were inseparable. Oboro and Yamada simply getting along like they had known each other since childhood. Yamada wished that was true.

After the sports festival, the sun and cloud duo would meet a shadow. The shadow refused to talk with them, telling them to leave him alone. But they persisted. Eventually Aizawa relented, slowly but surely letting the two drag him into their shenanigans. Finally, the trio was complete.

If people thought Aizawa’s calm, rational, slightly apathetic demeanour would balance out the chaos that was Oboro and Yamada, they were sorely mistaken. The three of them would somehow find themselves in all sorts of ridiculousness that they themselves conjured up. Whether it was getting caught up in a cloudy whirlwind (made by a Yamada-Oboro quirk tag team gone wrong) , a classic food fight (Aizawa started it) or even adopting a stray cat caught in the rain, the three of them went through it all together.

It all came crashing down when The Accident happened. Yamada could still hear his own voice shouting back at him. His own, destructive, hazardous voice. The very same voice that helped bring a building down on his best friend. It rang in the back of his head, like a horrible tinnitus that wouldn’t go away. As he made his way back to his room, his voice morphed, words slowly taking shape, telling him it was his fault that his best friend was sent home in a body bag instead of cheerily running down the pedestrian path. His voice once again ruined his life, making his world crumble around him just like the building had crumbled and fell onto his friend. He couldn’t sleep that night, not daring to close his eyes after he saw the devastated look on Aizawa’s face when he realised his friend was gone. When he realised his cloudy friend’s voice he heard wasn’t real. Yamada wondered what expression Aizawa would make when he inevitably concluded that Yamada was Oboros murderer.

When they returned to school, Yamada clung to Aizawa, refusing to leave his side. He said it was to make sure his friend was alright, but it was more selfish than that. Yamada was afraid. He was afraid that Aizawa would leave, turn his back on him and shut him out, like a blackout curtain. So, Yamada did everything he could to make Aizawa see that he was still okay, that he wasn’t broken, that he was still every bit of the friend he used to be and that he wasn’t plagued by ghostly voices and haunting images whenever the silence grew. Yamada pulled out all the stops, he cracked jokes, fooled around more than usual, tried to include Aizawa in every conversation, watched over him as Aizawa ran himself ragged training after hours.

But it was too much. He’d overcompensated. He was once again too much for people to handle. Yamada could only stand and watch, graduation hat heavy on his head like a crown of sorrow, as he watched his only friend disappear into a sea of people. Now that the cloud was gone, the sun, no longer covered, shone too brightly, and the shadow was chased away, melting into the darkness, never quite touching the light.

[hellougly22]

I don't want to be the kind of person who just lets everyone walk all over them. Who gives chance after chance after chance, constantly convincing themselves that maybe this time it'll turn out well. But I find myself changing into the exact kind of person I fear becoming. A person who believes that if one person can't accept you for what you are, then no one else is ever going to be allowed close enough to try. A person who gives everything again and again to people who have proven themselves unworthy of it. I want to be somebody who can forgive even if I know I will never be able to forget. Yet it's so difficult to find a balance between being forgiving and being a pushover. I also know that I have problems with being too suspicious. Seeing issues where there isn't any. Pushing people away for reasons I made up in my head. Constantly trying to figure out whether a person is being sincere or not. Never letting myself relax in anyone's company. Always searching for the reason why they might not like me as much as they seem to. And then there's him. Always there to make sure I'm okay. To listen to me rant about something trivial when I need someone to tell me things aren't always so bad. Listening to me, trusting me, validating my concerns whilst making sure I'm aware that I could be wrong. And maybe that's why I find it so hard to be comfortable with anybody else. Because they could never be like him. Even though he isn't perfect, he's exactly what I need. And even though he isn't real, it still feels like a weight off my back whenever I can transport my load to him. I don't want people to be worried about me. Because even though my head might be a little messed up, I'm happy like that. I'm not lonely, I rarely feel like there isn't anybody I can confide in. That is until I start realising that he doesn't exist and that there isn't actually anybody I can confide in. Maybe I don't like to tell people things because not many people tell me things. My trust issues perk up and say: "they know more about your problems then you know about theirs, they have leverage against you if they ever need it." Though I usually keep that voice quiet there is another part of me that says: "they must feel exhausted because of having to listen you, they don't have anybody to tell their troubles to and you telling them yours would only make them feel more burdened because now they have to carry the weight of your problems without being able to relieve any of theirs." This voice is a lot more dominant and actually makes sense to me. Except that I'm the kind of person who would willingly listen to someone's deepest secrets and not feel upset that the discussion is all about them. I know that a lot of people don't feel like that and so I'm always worried that I could make them feel worse when they are trying to make me feel better. Maybe its because I'm more of a listener and talking makes me uncomfortable. The voices inside my head may both be right. They're right in that I should be listening to others. I can't help but worry that the only way I'll really be able to talk is if other people do it first. But then maybe other people don't even have these kind of problems. I always believe they do but just because I've lived my life like that doesn't mean other people have. So how do I change? How do I become less insecure around those I consider friends instead of enemies? I wish I knew the answer because I think I'm beginning to realise that this is going to be a lot harder than I thought. If I had a reason to open up, maybe I would. But I don't really think I do. I mean I haven't gone crazy yet. I'm doing fine, I'm not stressed out or depressed. But maybe there is something wrong that I don't see but others do. Maybe that's why people keep telling me they're worried about me. It's so weird; thinking about it like that.

[oraclekleo]

OnlyOneOf Nine Couple Tarot Readings Extravaganza (with Kleo)

Disclaimer:

All readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

Before requesting, read the pinned post and appropriate linked post

Tarot readings are my hobby - I’m not obligated to accept any of the requests nor to complete them, it’s my choice, not duty

Waiting time is long, even several months

If you can’t wait, please, seek other tarot reader

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Requester: /

Deck: E. A. Poe, Vlad Dracula

Spread: /

Spreads:

Libido

Shadow of the Moon

The Path of the Dragon - Relationship Progress ver.

The Power of the Dragon (Dragon = Nine)

Writer’s Wisdom

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Jung Wookjin

Stage Name: Nine

Group: OnlyOneOf

DOB: 13.12.1999

Sun Sign: Sagittarius

Chinese Sign: Earth Rabbit

Life Path Number: 8

Masterpost: OnlyOneOf

Ko-fi - Voluntary Tip for Readings

Reading done: 13/03/2022

Kleo + Nine

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Libido

K's position

XXI The World - I have triumphed in the face of obstacles and reached my goal. The relationship is fulfilling and means a completely new era of my life as it brings a lot of changes and adventure. It's a harmonic and successful period of time.

Nine's position

Three of Cups – Nine is enjoying the happiness and joy and celebrating in the relationship. It gives him a completely new feeling of confidence, he's on top of his game and might be even planning engagement. He's not the dom, the three of cups suggest a collaboration and the partners to be not only in love but also good friends.

K's libido

Two of Swords – This suggests I might be reluctant to get physical with Nine. There's an important decision to be made and I need to have a frank and sincere talk with him to overcome my fear of the immorality of the relationship.

Nine's libido

III The Empress – Nine is full of grace, love and energy and he's romantic. His passion and desire are making everything beautiful for him. He is ready to swoon his partner using all five senses and indulge in the pleasures.

Chemistry

King of Cups – This relationship is warm and generous with the both of us being in balance and having a good tolerance for each other's drawbacks. We are compassionate with each other's needs and take turns in the control in order to get the best out of this relationship.

Kleo + Nine

Deck: Vlad Dracula

Spread: Shadow of the Moon

Darkness - What’s his worst quality?

VI The Lovers - Nine is likely obsessed with honesty. He despises disguise and lies, even the white ones which are meant for his own good. He's likely to lose trust in a person easily if the person is not completely honest with him. Damage like that can't be repaired for Nine.

Shadow - What does he hide from me / his secret?

5 of Coins - Nine might secretly suffer from abandonment issues. He's internally terrified that people he loves might find him unworthy and leave him. He tries to play cool and cheerful but deep inside he truly craves for people he holds dear to love him and stay by his side.

Reflection - Where does his loyalty lie?

IX The Hermit - Nine is loyal to himself in the first place. His loyalty is something people have to earn. He's only loyal and faithful to those who he trusts completely. He's nobody's fool.

Smoke - What’s his deepest desire?

X The Wheel of Fortune - Nine desires for the control over his own destiny. He wants to use his skills for the best, he wants to achieve great things and gain respect and glory. He's counting on the fickle favour of good fortune and he knows he has to earn his success.

Mirror - How does it affect me?

VIII Strength & XIX The Sun - Nine’s internal insecurities would likely motivate me to help him, to use my own skills and abilities to encourage and support him just to see him happy and joyful. His childlike charm and sort of naive nature driving me into mothering mode. I'm likely firmly stand by his side no matter the circumstances and show my loyalty to him. I'm likely to be one of those completely, sometimes brutally, honest people in his life.

Kleo + Nine

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: The Path of the Dragon - Relationship Progress ver.

The Offering (First Meeting)

4 of Wands

We are likely to meet through a common interest or through mutual friends or a community we both belong to. It’s likely for us to click for the first sight due to common topics to talk about. Our first meeting is likely to leave a feeling of joy and harmony, like if we met a soulmate.

The Sacrifice (Dating)

10 of Pentacles

Dating is likely to be rich in events, experience and activities. We truly like to make the best out of the time spent together and we regret no expense. It’s likely for us to try new hobbies together, going to courses, lectures, workshops and evening classes in order to have fun together as much as improving our skills or discovering completely new ones.

The Fox (Kissing)

4 of Pentacles

We might become rather greedy kissers. It’s likely for us to attend this activity with overwhelming enthusiasm and thirst. It’s like there’s never enough, both of us wanting more. We both indulge in the physical sensations coming with the kissing.

The Punishment (Making Out)

King of Pentacles

Greedy kissing is likely to escalate into a make out session which is likely to involve a lot of physical contact - stroking, caressing, touching, pushing, pulling, pressing, pinching, squeezing, groping, tickling, biting, sucking and licking. It’s very likely for both of us to enjoy it so much that we intentionally drag it to last longer, building the lust and desire up steadily until it feels like we’re trapped in a furnace and ready to burn.

The Purifying Fire (First Night)

XIX The Sun

After the description of the make out session, it’s probably no surprise that the first night is going to burn like the sun. It’s likely for us to slip into it accidentally as the make out simply leads to it. Nine is a joyful and sensual lover without a doubt and the first night is likely to feel like an achievement and success. It’s likely to be a fun and cheerful experience with a lot of giggling on both sides. It’s a blissful moment and leads to an even stronger bond between us.

The Death (Sexual Chemistry)

Ace of Cups

The chemistry between us is abundantly flowing and overwhelming. We are nearly drowning in bliss and happiness when together. Through the course of the relationship we built an invisible but steel strong bond, nothing can come between us. It’s like we are constantly thirsty for each other. Only we can put each other's fire down and give each other a remedy for the perishing thirst.

The Dragon (Wedding)

Ace of Swords

If we decide to get married, there’s no force in this world to change our minds on it. It’s likely for us to discuss the matter in detail and be very sensible and realistic about it. It’s more likely to be a very private wedding with only the dearest people witnessing.

Kleo + Nine

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: The Power of the Dragon (Dragon = Nine)

First Bite of the Dragon (How would he seduce you)

Page of Pentacles

Nine’s best chances to seduce me are through common activities and his genuine interest in them and me. I fall for no gifts nor fake sweet words. If he’s supporting me and motivating me to become a better person, that’s what makes me fall for him.

Hunger of the Dragon (His desire you would feed)

2 of Swords

I could become the brutally honest person to give him genuine and wise advice when he needs it, when he’s in doubt. I could become the lighthouse on his way to show him the true colours of things and help him to make important decisions.

Order of the Dragon (How would he wrap you around his finger)

V The Hierophant

He could easily wrap me around his finger by how many contradictions he impersonates. I’m usually no push over but whenever Nine would start to boss me around in his cute way, I would surrender completely to him. His ability to lead me and at the same time encourage me to seek my own freedom and become more daring would get me on my knees.

Shadow of the Dragon (In what way this relationship weakens him)

8 of Pentacles

Playing around with me might actually distract him from his professional endeavours. His work might start to suffer and he might make mistakes or lose focus.

Fire of the Dragon (In what way this relationship empowers him)

Ace of Cups

This relationship would give him the feeling of being truthfully and unconditionally loved and cherished. He would feel emotionally fulfilled and secure, all his fears dissolving in the sea of love and affection. He would become inspired by bliss and might actually take on more forms of art. Apart from writing lyrics and making music, he might actually start writing poems or draw or get interested in any other artistic way.

Whispering of the Dragon (Dragon's Relationship Advice)

VI The Lovers

The advice for this relationship is pretty clear - we should always be honest with each other and never try to hide anything. Only if there’s a complete trust in between us, we will feel as if we found our destined soulmate, the companion for life given to us by a sweet faith.

Kleo + Nine

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Writer’s Wisdom

Pride & Prejudice (The way you empower each other)

9 of Wands

Nine and I encourage and support each other through life struggles. Whenever one of us feels like there is an opposition or that we are manipulated, the other will come and stand firmly by our side like a trusty rock. We make a very good team to handle everyday difficulties and to overcome hardships with determination and good spirit.

Sense & Sensibility (The way you balance each other)

Knight of Cups

We are perfectly balancing each other's needs for romance and joy in life. We instinctively know when the other needs to be swoon by romance or when they need to laugh freely. We make each other feel easy and relaxed, we know we can share any thoughts no matter how silly or dumb they might seem to others.

Persuasion (The way you fight with each other)

9 of Swords

As much as we get along well most of the time, there are moments when we fight, too. Our arguments are more likely to be based on assumptions and internal fabricated fears we have made up. All our quarrels are based on over-thinking and blowing tiny matters out of scale. We should learn to first ask and talk honestly before jumping to conclusions and creating non-existing problems.

Mansfield Park (The way you cherish each other)

4 of Wands

We truly cherish the quality time spent together, the relaxing and joyful moments when we can just stop rushing through the days and take a break to enjoy each other in the comfort of our home. It’s likely for us to actually give a lot of care and attention to our home, decorating, renovating, attending house plants and cooking together. Those would be our favourite activities.

Emma (The way you communicate)

5 of Swords

The way we talk with each other might seem rather violent and brutal for an outsider. It can even resemble an argument or fight. However, it’s only because we are so completely honest with each other that we never try to hide or sugar coat things. Others might find it intimidating but for us it’s only strengthening the trust we have.

Northanger Abbey (The way you fall in love with each other)

5 of Cups

We are likely to fall in love as it gives us peace and optimism. Sharing love helps us to overcome our internal fears and insecurities.

Thank you for reading!

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[occupyswift]

Rocket It Off by occupyswift

Rating: Mature

Chapter: 33/???

Summary:

Taylor Swift and Elon Musk appeared on a livestream for charity. But instead of presenting a united front, they began insulting each other. As the insults got more cringe-worthy, a shipping war broke out in the comments. To distract from the arguing, they decided to play Minecraft, but a random player came and tried to destroy their creations. Despite this setback, Taylor and Elon persevered, proving that even a billionaire and a popstar can put their differences aside and work together for a good cause.

Chapter 33

Taylor felt a chill creep up her spine as she stared at the cold and calculated warning on her phone. The fear of her past cancellation in 2016 flooded back, reminding her of the torment she had endured at the hands of the public.

She knew she couldn't simply ignore the message, as much as she wanted to brush it off as a cruel prank. But revealing it to her management would risk exposing her secret relationship with Elon, something she cherished with all her heart.

Taylor mustered up her courage and decided to confide in Elon. She knew she could trust him with her deepest fears. She wanted to be honest, to let him into her world fully, even if it might put them both at risk.

With trembling hands, she typed out a message to Elon, pouring her heart out about the threats she received. She confessed her genuine fear, the haunting memories of her past, and expressed her concern about their relationship being targeted.

"Hey, Elon. I need to talk to you about something serious. I've received some threatening messages, and it's really scaring me. It feels like a warning of an impending storm. I know we've both faced our fair share of public scrutiny, but this feels different. I don't want to involve my management because it might make things worse. I trust you, and I need your support now more than ever."

Taylor took a deep breath, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she hit the send button. She felt vulnerable, opening herself up to someone in this way, but she knew she couldn't face this alone. She hoped Elon would understand the gravity of the situation and offer the comfort and reassurance she desperately needed.

As Elon got Taylor's message, a wave of concern and protective fury washed over him. He couldn't bear the thought of someone causing distress to the woman he deeply cared about. Igniting a burning resolve within him, he swiftly typed out a reply, assuring her that he would take care of the situation.

"Taylor, don't worry. I won't let anyone intimidate or harm you," Elon responded firmly, his fingers tapping on the screen with urgency. "I'll find out who's behind this and put an end to it. Just focus on staying safe and know that I'm here for you."

With each word he typed, Elon's determination grew stronger. His mind raced with strategies and plans, ready to go to any length necessary to protect Taylor. No obstacle would stand in his way when it came to the safety of the woman who had captured his heart.

Just as he was about to send the message, a warmth, and a tenderness washed over him, reminding him of their upcoming secret date on Friday night. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he remembered the excitement and anticipation he felt whenever he was around Taylor. It was these moments of intimacy that kept their connection alive and fueled their passion.

Elon added one final sentence to his response, ensuring that Taylor knew their date remained a steadfast priority amidst the chaos. "Remember, we still have our secret date this Friday night. Nothing will hinder that, nothing can steal our time together."

With a sense of relief and renewed determination, Elon hit send before tucking his phone away. He needed to focus now on uncovering the source of Taylor's fear, sparing no resource or effort in the process. The thought of seeing Taylor smile again, her eyes gleaming with happiness, fueled his relentless pursuit for justice.

While a part of him yearned to wrap Taylor in his arms immediately, he knew that patience and resolve were vital. Friday night would be their sanctuary, a sacred escape from the turmoil that currently surrounded them. It would be a chance for them to be fully present with each other, offering comfort, solace, and a reminder of their shared love.

When Friday night came, Elon eagerly picked up his phone and typed out a message to Taylor, filled with excitement and anticipation. "Taylor, my driver will be arriving at your place shortly. He'll take you to another secret location where I'll be waiting eagerly to see you. Get ready for a night filled with surprises and unforgettable moments. Can't wait to be with you."

With a brief moment of hesitation, he hesitated before pressing send. The remnants of worry from the recent events still lingered in his mind, but his determination to provide Taylor with a sense of security and joy outweighed any reservations. He knew that he would go to any lengths to ensure her happiness and let her know that she was his top priority.

As Taylor read Elon's text, a mix of curiosity and excitement coursed through her veins. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the idea of another secret location, wondering where their night would take them. Trusting in Elon's intentions, she quickly got ready, slipping into an elegant yet charming attire that reflected her inner radiance.

Moments later, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her house, the driver discreetly opening the door for her. Taylor stepped inside, greeted by a warm smile and a sense of security. The car smoothly glided through the city streets, the ambient music filling the air with a soothing melody.

While they made their way through the labyrinthine streets, Taylor allowed herself to be enveloped in a shroud of anticipation, her mind giving way to the possibilities. She trusted that Elon's surprise would be nothing short of enchanting, adding an air of magic to their already extraordinary connection.

Finally, the car stopped, and the driver courteously opened the door. Taylor stepped out, her eyes widening in awe at the sight before her.

As the car pulled up to a discreet entrance at the back of a luxurious hotel, Taylor's heart fluttered with anticipation. She glanced at her surroundings, awestruck by the elegance that exuded from every corner of the building. The driver opened the door for her, revealing a discreet door adorned with a subtle emblem.

Guiding her with a reassuring presence, the driver led Taylor through the door, stepping into a lavishly decorated hallway. Soft, warm lighting washed over the plush carpeting, creating an intimate ambiance. The walls were adorned with exquisite artwork, showcasing a fusion of classic and contemporary styles.

While they walked down the hallway, the driver pointed towards a lavish elevator, its doors gleaming with polished metal accents. Taylor stepped inside, her excitement growing with each floor the elevator ascended. Her mind raced with curiosity, wondering what awaited her at the very top.

The doors glided open, revealing a private corridor leading to a set of intricate double doors. Gently nudging them open, Taylor was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The room before her was a harmonious blend of opulence and comfort, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline.

As Taylor stepped through the doors, her eyes widened with wonder at the sight before her. The room was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an elegantly set table adorned with her favorite flowers. The air was infused with the aromatic notes of a mouthwatering meal, enticing her senses.

Unable to contain her excitement, Taylor couldn't help but exclaim, "Elon, this is incredible!" With a burst of joy, she ran towards him, leaping into his arms. He caught her effortlessly, their laughter mingling with the pure elation of being in each other's presence.

Elon held her tight, his embrace conveying all the love and affection he felt for her. "I wanted this night to be perfect for you," he murmured against her ear, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "Every detail, every moment is a celebration of our connection."

Taylor's heart swelled with happiness, feeling immensely cherished in his arms. As they spun around the room, their laughter and joy echoed, filling the space with an atmosphere of pure bliss. For a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and in that embrace, they found solace, security, and an unbreakable bond.

While they sat down at the beautifully set table, the air was filled with an enchanting blend of music, candlelight, and the aroma of their delicious meal. Elon poured a fine red wine into their glasses, the dark liquid swirling gracefully as it filled the delicate crystal.

As Taylor took a sip of the rich wine, her gaze met Elon's, filled with a mix of excitement and a hint of concern. "Elon, this is beyond incredible," she began, her voice soft yet tinged with worry. "But are you sure no one will leak our secret date to the media?"

Elon reached across the table, taking Taylor's hand in his own. His eyes sparkled with reassurance as he squeezed her hand gently. "Tay, I understand your concern, but I've taken every precaution to ensure our privacy," he replied, his voice filled with a quiet confidence.

Leaning closer to Taylor, Elon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've carefully selected this hotel because of its unparalleled discretion. The staff here are adept at maintaining confidentiality, and everyone involved in organizing this evening has been handpicked for their loyalty and discretion. We deserve to enjoy this night without any intrusions."

Taylor searching Elon's eyes found the conviction and sincerity in his words. A wave of relief washed over her, and she felt her worries begin to melt away. Trusting in him and the measures he had taken, she allowed herself to fully embrace the magic of the moment.

As they raised their glasses for a toast, Taylor smiled, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "To us and the beautiful memories we're creating tonight," she said, her voice filled with gratitude and love.

Elon smiled warmly, clinking his glass against Taylor's, their crystal goblets making a delicate chime. "To us," he echoed, his gaze locked with hers. They shared a sip, savoring the flavors of the wine, as their souls intertwined in a moment of pure connection. The worry that once lingered in Taylor's mind began to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of trust and security.

While they delved into their exquisitely prepared meal, the flavors danced across their palates, each bite a testament to the care and attention put into every detail of the evening. The conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from lighthearted topics that elicited laughter, to more profound discussions that deepened their understanding of one another.

Elon’s eyes never left Taylor's face, captivated by her every word and gesture. Their connection bloomed further, fueled by shared dreams, plans, and the unshakable belief in their ability to conquer any challenge that lay before them.

With a mischievous smile, Elon leaned in closer to Taylor, his eyes glimmering with excitement. "There's another surprise for you, love," he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation. "Wait right here."

Taylor's curiosity piqued as Elon swiftly rose from his seat and disappeared into the other side of the room. She couldn't help but wonder what he had up his sleeve. A mixture of excitement and wonder filled her heart, causing a delighted twinkle to spark in her eyes.

Within moments, Elon returned, cradling a small bundle in his arms. As he approached the table, Taylor's breath caught in her throat, a rush of emotions flooding over her. Her eyes widened, disbelief and joy intertwining as she realized what he held.

With a joyful squeal, Taylor reached out to take the small creature from Elon's hands. It was Whisket, the precious kitten she had missed dearly during their time apart. The bundle of fur nestled against her chest, purring with contentment.

Tears of happiness welled up in Taylor's eyes as she gently stroked Whisket's soft fur. "Oh, Elon, Whisket," she whispered, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "I missed you so much. Thank you for bringing him here."

Elon beamed, his happiness mirroring Taylor's. "I knew how much you missed him, and I couldn't bear to keep you apart any longer," he explained, his voice filled with tenderness.

As Taylor and Elon relished the remaining moments of their enchanting evening, a mischievous glimmer sparkled in Elon's eyes. With a subtle smile playing on his lips, he leaned in closer to Taylor, his voice laced with playful teasing.

"I seem to recall, blondie," Elon began, his tone filled with gentle amusement, "that when I asked if you would like to be my secret girlfriend, you promised to give me an answer in person."

A blush spread across Taylor's cheeks, the rosy hue reflecting her heightened emotions. Her heart raced within her chest, a melodic symphony that hinted at the depth of her feelings for Elon. She playfully averted her gaze, attempting to suppress the fluttering butterflies that danced within her.

With an irresistible charm that was uniquely his own, Elon reached out to gently tilt Taylor's chin upward, his touch eliciting a shiver that cascaded down her spine. His voice, now softer and filled with tender affection, caressed her ears. "So, my dear Taylor, what is your answer?"

Taylor's eyes met Elon's, their connection igniting a fire that consumed her doubts and fears. In this private moment, their souls intertwined, she allowed herself to fully embrace their budding bond. A smile, radiant and brimming with affection, graced her delicate features as she summoned the courage to respond.

[mangodestroyer]

I would like to have some irl friends. Unfortunately, I live in a small town. I can't think of where I can meet people, unless I do volunteer, find an lgbtq+ group, or some other thing that I apparently wasn't in the know about. It's been four years since I've had any kind of relationship with another person that was irl and healthy. I've grown distant with some friends, and my best friend has moved away four years ago and the connection just isn't feeling all that strong anymore.

I have a lot of anxieties holding me back. I constantly think about how bad things were with my ex roommate, for one. Of all the roommates I could have had, I ended up with one who was annoying, arrogant, and rude (but not what I'd consider toxic), and another who was boundary pushing, emotionally abusive, manipulative, and a pathological liar. My ex gf was also toxic, just in a different way. And with both of these people, I ignored some serious redflags, my gut feeling, and their odd behaviors and concerning patterns. I've done much to try and heal, fix my own bad behaviors (I admit, I wasn't perfect, maybe I was toxic too and that's why I attracted toxic people), and learn what to look out for in potential friendships and partners. A part of me feels like I've grown and learned my lesson. That I'm ready to start meeting new people and they will be healthy. Another part of me worries that I might let it happen again.

Work is an obvious no-go. I wish work could be like school, where you could actually be authentic with people and not worry about losing your job over backstabbing co-workers. I used to be myself a lot more when I was at work. Now I've learned to develop a work personality because my autistic self wasn't doing it. Not that I see a problem with keeping things shallow as you get to know people. I used to not understand small talk and fake work personalities. Now I realize that they're tools to help you analyze others while protecting the vulnerable parts of yourself. I'm not saying I'd act so fake on a first date. I'd approach that differently. I've started asking other people more questions about themselves because I think I didn't used to do that nearly as much as I should have. And I'm doing much better to keep certain information to myself until an actual connection is formed (a new friend or partner doesn't need to know my deepest, darkest secrets, or even if I suffer from anxiety or whatever).

Maybe it's also just fears of compatibility. Getting discouraged if it turns out I just don't click with a lot of people. It used to be easier, when I was in high school (but even then, I look back and realize that outside of a couple people, maybe some people were just being polite around me). Now, my standards are higher, and I feel like my interests are too weird and specific. Also, neurodiversity ruins my communication style and I think many people, the older they get, just get turned off by that. Which may be another part of why I get left with desperate and/or toxic individuals.

Could it just be bad luck? Maybe. But at this point, I know with 90% certainty that it's probably me. Idk if things will change now that I've changed some things about myself, and my approach, but my expectations are low. My self-esteem tends to fluctuate. Like, I know I deserved better than the way I was treated, but at the same time, the way I was treated is the reason I sometimes lack confidence. And I'm still heartbroken over the fact that I thought someone actually appreciated and loved me so deeply, for one and a half years, only to realize that, no, they probably didn't and were making the whole thing up. It only feels like a confirmation of the things my brother would tell me growing up. Same with the way my roommate treated me. It's exactly how my brother told me people felt about me.

Again, it's because of those experiences that I just want to keep things shallow at first, and take it very slowly. But it's also why I have all these anxieties now. And resentment. I know that's likely not doing anything to help, but it's hard not to be resentful at times. Even if you're happy for other people's successes, it's hard not to get frustrated that things won't work out for yourself. And I know that I'm not entitled to a healthy, loving relationship with someone, but it's still hard not to harbor resentment when you either get rejected or end up with people who are unhealthy. And also, I loath jealousy and think it's an ugly quality to have, when expressed so openly and viciously. And that's why I hate it so much when I start to get jealous. I try hard not to be open about it, but sometimes, I just want people to stop talking when they keep going on and on about how pretty, cool, intelligent, etc. this one particular person is. Like goodness, shouldn't people be allowed to have something going for them? It's great that they have those things, on top of people who clearly want to be around them. I know what it's like to have someone shit on your parade when something goes well for you. It's not fun.

I wish this wasn't a big deal for me. I do have other things going on. Things are looking up. I have a shot to make my life better. But why do I have to be such a loser when it comes to interpersonal relationships? Not even the worst people I know mess it up this bad.

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 1: Who is She?

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 Here

I guess this is a Switch!Spencer (mainly Sub! Spencer)X reader fan fiction this is my first fan fiction I’ve written since middle school so bare with me and feel free to message me constructive criticism. This will probs be multiple chapters but I just couldn’t get this idea off of my mind so here we go! And yes this season 1/2 Spencer because he is just the cutest!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Plot: Doctor Spencer Reid has heard of little black books, but that pales in comparison to what he has just found in the BAU’s elevator. A sweetly scented notebook filled with salacious journal entries illustrating the writer's sexual fantasies. He doesn’t know what it is about this book but all he can think of is finding its owner.

TLDR: Spencer finds your kinky notebook and uses super sleuth skills to find you.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: Cumming in pants, Hinting at sex, exhibitionism, no panties, Language, General 18+, Hinting at future kinks

Word Count: 2,439 (gah damn)

𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝑀 𝐼𝒯 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒞𝐸𝑅𝒩𝒮:

𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

As Spencer read these sentences, he paused. Not for the warning of so-called curses, there was no scientific evidence for such things and Spencer knew magic was just science with a trick of the eye, but for the vehement warning making him feel intruding on whoever had left their journal in the elevator.

It had caught his eye as he stepped into the elevator on his way out of the office. As someone who had lost plenty of books in his days roaming the halls of the BAU, he knew how frustrating it was to not know what happened at the end. As he picked it up, he noticed the cover. It was old, bound in aged cherry red leather, yet too small to be more than a pocketbook. He had found your message while searching for a name to return the book to, and simply reading the first page already felt prying.

Alas, one sentence enticed him “If it comes into the right hands, You can find me.” Where his hands the right ones to come into? The probability of that could be found easily by calculating how many people got on and off of this specific elevator that day, no, in the past hour, with the hustle and bustle of people leaving for the day. Spencer could and he would calculate it he wasn’t so distracted by the message and his voracity to solve this mystery.

Tentatively, he flipped the page, finding a handwritten table of contents. This book had obviously been very important to the reader if they had taken the time to write in page numbers, detailed headings, and chapters. The table was nearly full of chapter titles in scrawled cursive lettering. His eyes stopped on the first chapter title. “Male Needs” with shakey lettering. He could tell by your handwriting that you grew more confident in your journaling as the chapters progressed, the hesitations in your strokes growing few and far between.

As he flipped the page once more he had reached the next floor and a large group of people bustled into the elevator. Spencer shied away from them, not just because he had an aversion to contact with strangers and their germs, but because of the sentences, he had read underneath that first chapter “I do not need a man, a man needs me. Yet, when I am with a man, I have needs. Needs that most men can’t fulfill. I need a man that eats pussy like it’s the only way to quench his thirst-“ and with that Spencer slammed the book shut, earning some confused looks from the others on the elevator. He should have heeded the warning because now all he could think about was the fact that this was your nervous entry and as your confidence grew, it was bound to escalate from there. He wasn’t sure if it was his flustered mind or the heat growing deep from inside him that made him feel dirty; not because it scandalized him, but because these were someone’s fantasies and he had intruded in their secrets and soiled them with his mind.

Ding! He had reached the ground floor and that was when he decided to leave it alone. He couldn’t bring it to the lost and found as it would be more likely to end up in the wrong hands there and your secrets would be for someone else to find, not that he even knew who you were.

On his drive home, he tried to think of anything else besides the book. His lunch, Garcia’s new item she added to her collection, how to get back at Derek for putting salt in the sugar container, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help that the notebook sat tauntingly on top of his satchel as if saying “Open me, you know you want to. You want to know who I am. You can find me.” There was no way that it had been there for that long as the janitor was on duty today and he had been on the elevator two hours ago on his way to clean the top floor. Since Spencer had left a little later than most people that meant there were multiple elevators full of people who would have noticed. He knew it wasn’t so but part of him felt as if you had left it there specifically for him to find. Like it was made for him. He quickly shook off the thought and went back to who it could be. He wanted to return it without reading any more. You clearly would miss it but he couldn’t imagine you wanted others to know about what lay in those folded corners of your book and your mind.

As he walked up the steps of his complex, he clutched onto the notebook with all of his strength, he feared that he would look down and it would have disappeared, he wanted to keep your deepest secrets safe as if they were his own. He was only able to relinquish his grip when he shut and locked the door to his apartment. He set it on the table as he got prepared for the night. By now he had limited his pool to 54 women who were regularly in and out of the elevator at that time of day which was a cut down in comparison to the 860 roughly women in that building on any given day. But that number still wasn’t small enough. He had to minimize the sample size even further. That was the only reason he reopened to the table of contents, right? Not because of his own morbid curiosity and definitely not because of the heat burning in his stomach.

He looked down at the page numbers, still too nervous to look at the titles, and saw that each entry was a page long consisting of 23 entries and one with a title but no page numbers. Not chapters as he previously thought but entries giving lascivious details into what he had not yet mustered up the courage to read. He was still unable to look at the titles in fear of what he might find. If graphic depictions of female oral sex were displayed under “Male Needs”, what possibly could lie ahead.

For now, he studied the handwriting. Cursive, not often used by many younger women, was often associated with antiquities and traditional values but he noticed something off. There was a very specific curl to certain numbers. Every even number had a specific extra curl or flourish to it and the zeros had a line through it like a “do not enter” sign. This went directly against the hypothesis that you were an older woman that the cursive provided; as many older women who wrote in cursive stuck to the rules even when it came to numbers. She wasn’t old enough to even be Hotch’s age but she appreciated the charm of the past. 'Who is this girl?' Spencer wondered. He was able to narrow it down to about half of his previous lot, excluding the women on his team. He had seen them write enough to know their handwriting inside and out. And while Garcia’s had similar flourishes to yours, she never crossed her zeros.

Spencer knew that he would have to read at least the chapter titles to grasp a better understanding of your handwriting and who you could possibly and as his eyes scanned the page, for the first time in a while he was actually reading slowly; putting all of his focus into each word and what order they were in. Unfortunately, his focus was his downfall. His face became so hot that he felt as if you could see steam coming off of it.

Table of contents:

Male Needs

Praise

Degradation

Mommy

Daddy

Work

Exhibition

Choking

Collars

Breeding

And that was all he could take. Ha couldn’t look at the thirteen and a half more entries, even this much knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t have much experience with women and certainly not enough to understand what all of those words necessarily entailed but he knew that whatever it was keeping his internal fire roaring with heat.

While he hated snooping, he knew he would need more information. He chose the chapter that sounded the most mundane out of all of them, "Work." ‘What was more normal than work.’ he thought, but he was so sorely mistaken.

"Work:

"Before I move on to exhibitionism, I have to talk about work. Yes, I would love to have sex at work where I and my partner are one step away from getting caught, I haven’t done that yet. I want to tell you what I have done. Almost every day I go to work wondering if the others can tell that I’m not wearing underwear.”

His heat spread from his face down until it pooled in his loins and his cock became hard imagining this mystery girl walking the halls of the BAU with a breeze in her skirt, nearly exposing the secret that lied beneath. Had he sat next to you when you were partaking in this activity? What would he have done if your skirt bunched up your thigh as you sat, exposing the tan lines where your underwear should be. Would he be able to see you in your tight work pants with no pantie lines and be the only one who truly knows your secret?

“I kinda want to be caught someday by Him. I wonder what he would do. Would he tell me off for being unprofessional? Would he take me to that storage closet 3 doors past Garcia’s office, just far enough away that he could teach me a lesson for being naughty at work?”

He felt so dirty, inserting himself into the fantasies of a girl which he did not even know that he almost glanced across the use of Him, capital H.i.m. He wanted to indulge in his imagination that in some way or another that the “Him” in question was in fact the man reading this with trembling hands and an impossibly hard cock. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining situations in the storage closet that he regularly used as a reading nook when he needed time away from the others.

He rested his head on the pages of the book, hoping somehow that his dirty thoughts would be transplanted from his head and back into the pages so that he could stop thinking about you. His efforts were thwarted as this action meant that he could spoil himself in your scent that enveloped the book. As if you had wrapped it in the deepest most vulnerable part of you to hide it away from others. You smelled of bergamot, patchouli, and musk but deeper than that, you smelled like sweet, tart berries and honeysuckle in summer. There was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on at first but it was intoxicating all of his senses. It was saccharine, heat, and sex all combined in one. When it clicked, it no longer felt as if his head was pressed against a book but as if his he sat kneeling on the ground with his cheek resting in your inner thigh, your hot sex waiting for his indulgence, “like it's the only way to quench his thirst” echoed in his brain. The scent was your natural pheromones beckoning him closer with the promise of a treat.

And that was it. That was what sent him over the edge. The purest embodiment of your scent had him cumming, hot in his pants.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat down at the edge of your bed after a long day at work; shucking off your work clothes to get as comfy as you could in your PJs as a way to unwind from the day. You went to grab your lip balm from your bag and noticed that the front pocket of your bag had been left open. You instantly panicked, searching everywhere for your little red book. The one that kept the key to your deepest secrets and darkest fantasies. You tore your bag apart, knowing that you had it at the end of your workday because you took it out of your desk drawer and tucked it back into its home in your bag. You cursed your carelessness for not double-checking that you zipped your bag before leaving. With your forgetfulness, you knew it would happen one day but you didn't realize it would be this soon.

There was an odd mix in your heart and your stomach. Part of you felt your heart drop through your ass thinking that it had ended up in the wrong hands, part of you had butterflies thinking about someone knowing the deepest parts of you, intimately in your own words. You had the assurance that your name was nowhere to be seen in the book but you also knew that you worked with people who analyzed people's dark desires for a living. While none of your fantasies involved murder, they were like precious gems that you kept locked away in your heart. You couldn't dare imagine what would happen if it came into His hands. While you were the youngest at the BAU, only by a few months and you weren't even part of the group because you were still tentative, you couldn't put your dirty thoughts into the innocent head of the pretty boy genius. It was almost more worrisome than if SSA Hotchner or Gideon found it and you were fired. The idea of tainting someone so pure...

You had to literally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Imagining His face tinged red in innocence reading through your lewd writing had your head in a tizzy. Imagining Doctor Spencer Reid sifting through the pages with lightning-fast fingers, stroking down the pages of smut as you had imagined him stroking down your thighs so many times before. You decided to bury your head in your pillow, hoping that would calm your mind enough to slip into slumber.

Unfortunately for you both, your efforts would be fruitless and you would both go to sleep unknowingly thinking of each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 here

And that's Chapter one. Hope y'all like it. LMK in my messages and all that <3 have a great week!

[hailey-jean]

Dandelions

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Hardcore crushing

Summary: Y/N wishing and dreaming about the love of their life. Based on Dandelions by Ruth B.

Word Count:

Italicized lines are the lyrics

"Maybe it's the way you say my name."

"Y/N" Your head searched out for the all too familiar voice calling your name. Almost instantly, you spotted your best friend racing towards you with arms wide and a grin covering his whole face.

You willingly opened your arms and braced for impact. Before you knew it, his arms braced your frame. The warmth of his hug makes you melt inside.

"Maybe it's the way you play your game." "What's wrong, Y/N? You were just so confident." Geroge said as he poked at your sides, making you squirm in front of him. You knew he was smirking just by the way he was talking. You quickly turned up to try and push him away. As soon as your hands were moving to his chest, his were already on your wrists, stopping you. The heat crawling onto your cheeks was immediate. A small chuckle left his lips as he dropped your hands and walked away before you could do anything else.

"But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you."

George was your best friend. The one that knew everything about you. The one that held all your deepest secrets. There was nothing you wouldn't do to make him your forever. You loved him, and you were so scared to say anything in fear of losing the one person you have ever felt this way about. You were fine collecting the dreams you had about him while you slept.

"Cause I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on everyone that you'll be mine, mine."

You had wished on every star and dandelion you had come across, the wish varying every time.

"I wish he would notice my feelings."

"I wish I could tell him."

"I wish he felt the same."

"I wish he was mine."

"And I see forever in your eyes I feel okay when I see you smile, smile."

"Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?" George's voice brought you out of your trance. Did you really just get lost in his eyes?

"What?" You sheepishly ask.

"Did you really just zone out while I was telling you a story?" He laughed. You smiled at him. His laugh calmed into a grin, making your stomach flip.

"I think that you are the one for me 'Cause it gets so hard to breathe When you're looking at me I've never felt so alive and free When you're looking at me I've never felt so happy

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine."

You felt like you could easily spend the rest of your life with George. It was easy with him. You were comfortable with him. He took your breath away with a simple glance. You were sure that you felt the most alive when you were together. Free to be yourself. Free to be loved. Free to be happy.

You weren't sure if you could love anyone the way you loved George. Though he may not know it, he was the one and only love of your life.

"Dandelion, into the wind you go Won't you let my darling know?"

You paced around your flat, waiting for a knock on the door. Impulsively you texted George, saying you needed to tell him something. Now you felt nauseous as you waited for him. You were lost in thought until three simple taps on the door made you snap your head in that direction. You nervously walked to the door and took a deep breath before swinging it open and giving him a small smile.

"Are you okay?" He scanned you trying to see if he could find something wrong.

"I'm fine." You step out of the way, and he walks in. You could tell he was nervous as he sat on the couch near the door.

"Okay, then what's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong. I just need to get something off my chest..." You took another deep breath as you sat across from him on the couch. He watched your every move. "There's been something I've been wanting to tell you for... a while now. I was never sure how to bring it up or what to even say. "

He took your hands in his. "You can tell me anything, Y/N."

"Here goes nothing then. I like you, George. Like, really like you." You look at your lap, waiting for the worst.

"I knew it! I always knew something was going on!" Your head shot up to look at his grin.

"Wh-what?" Your brain and heart raced as you tried to put what he just said together.

"I knew you like me, Y/N. I like you too, you know." He said cooly as if this wasn't a huge turning point in your relationship.

"You do?" You were a mess. Everything was racing. You were happy, confused, and lost all at the same time. He just nods and leans back with a proud smile.

"You've got to be kidding! Are you messing with me? Why are you so calm!? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!" He laughed at all your questions.

"I'm not messing with you. I didn't say anything because it was cute watching you get all flustered and shy."

"You're actually the worst." You huffed out and crossed your arms.

"I know. So, will you be my girlfriend?" He smirked as he looked at you.

"Are you expecting me to say no?"

[mrs-hollandstan]

hello! could you do an angsty fic based on the song yes to heaven by lana del rey where reader is pining after peter but he just doesn’t realize please?

This is actually really cute and I kinda dreaded writing it at first haha

If you dance, I'll dance

Peter was your best friend. Since kindergarten. You were there always, and you, like Ned (and now MJ) knew his deepest secret. And even though he knew you like the back of his hand, he didn't know your deepest secret. 

Tonight was Prom. The biggest night of your life, or what was supposed to be and maybe it would be, but you knew that you hadn't been asked to Prom by anyone which meant going "alone" even though you had a group of friends you'd be with, but you knew that he had asked her and that was somehow worse than not having a date yourself. 

You'd watched him go for Liz, and you supported him, and you were glad when she went away. You thought he'd remain your little, single, best friend, but then his attraction shifted to MJ and it was like a punch through your heart. You had been heart-eyes for him for so long and he never noticed and you knew that even if he did, it would never come to fruition because he was your best friend. You were his and that was a big no no. You could dream though right. 

And if you don't, I'll dance anyway

You had a beautiful dress and pretty heels and your hair and makeup were done to the best of your cousin's ability. You knew that you weren't ugly (you weren't the prettiest in school but who wants that, they're bitches anyways) and you knew that at least a few pairs of eyes would be on you. Even if those weren't Peter's, it'd be okay. You could fill that void with… Flash Thompson or something. 

You found the group near the back, Peter and MJ facing each other as they danced together, but not touching, and Ned makes a noise, drawing your eyes to him. Betty leans against him, 

"Wow Y/N, you look…"

"Killer." Betty finishes for him, admiring you just as much as her on-again, off-again boyfriend had. Damn, everyone really had someone huh?

"Oh yeah, you look nice Y/N." Peter speaks up in that overly innocent voice of his, eyes never leaving your face before he diverts his attention back to MJ who doesn't even give you a glance. When had he ever not called you by a nickname? Was that something he started doing when she showed up, calling you by your formal first name? 

Give peace a chance

You fall into the routine. Distracting yourself with the less obsessed with each other couples and the singles in your group, dancing and mingling, sipping punch and snacking on crackers and chips and dip. It was nice. For once you didn't feel like you had to distract yourself from them. It was natural. Grooving along as a few slow songs replace the upbeat ones you were grooving to and joining the loners on the benches brought back that overwhelming dull feeling you had whenever you watched Peter with his girlfriend. The way he swayed, arms wrapped around her waist, forehead pressed to hers. What it's like to be Ned and Betty, unphased by the fact that your best friend is so helplessly in love with someone else while all you can do is suffer in silence being in love with them. You swallow back the tears and the lump in your throat at the thought of Peter marrying her, having kids with her, and you being alone forever. You have to look away. Downing a few more glasses of punch, Betty and Ned strike up a conversation, letting you forget about the searing jealousy within you. And it's back to the dancing soon enough. 

Peter and MJ are comfortable enough that her back presses to his chest and he wraps his arms around her and they sway, singing together. Her smile is bright and so is his and it kills you. 

Let the fear you have fall away

She turns to him, a faint squeak sounding along the polished floor since she's worn tennis shoes and his smile widens when she says something to him. 

You've been in love with Peter since Kindergarten, you're pretty sure. He's always been adorable and of course you've always tried to chalk it down to him just being like a brother to you, but it's so much more. You've never realized how much you really do love him. He's been by your side, he's helped you through personal and work related issues, he's confided in you when it came down to Spider-Man and the emotional toll it was taking on him. He leaned on you and you let him, and you held back the tears until he couldn't hurt you or comfort you. He was oblivious and you seemed fine with it but if he knew, you knew he'd hate himself and he'd beg for your forgiveness, but he surely would never make you what she is to him. Their relationship is too powerful and he doesn't like you like that. It would never happen. Maybe it's because he's never had to save you. You've never put yourself in harm's way. 

I've got my eye on you

As you watch, with his strong arms wrapped around her, he leans in the same way she does and they kiss, so softly you can practically see how in love they are. You've never seen them kiss and you could really have gone without it. 

You glance away but the heartbreak is already setting in. Your breaths are short, chest tight, eyes stinging as you fight the tears. 

What hurts the most is that you'll never be her for him. He has someone he loves while you obsess over him. You have no one now, and he has everything he's ever wanted. Sure, you're happy for him, but it still kills you. 

Turning, Betty reaches out to hold your wrist, eyebrows knitting together at the look on your face, 

"Hey, what's the matter?" You shake your head,

"N-nothing. I need… I need fresh air." 

"I'll go with-"

"No!" The outburst draws all kinds of eyes to you including MJ's and Peter's, his eyebrows knitting together. Betty jumps as if she's been stung and her eyes widen just a little, Peter straightening up as a tear slides down the side of your nose, "I just… I need to be alone." 

I've got my eye on you

You dart away from the group, your heels clicking along the polished wood floor until you're pushing into the halls. The music is muffled behind the closed doors, allowing you to drop down to the floor and sob. The cracking in your chest is so damn painful. It feels like any moment, your heart will disconnect itself and leave your body to avoid the pain. 

The tears splash off the floor and you'd hate to see how your makeup looks but you don't think you're going back in there. You can't will yourself to convince people you're fine. Especially not your group of friends. As you're picking yourself up from the floor, the doors behind you burst open and Peter emerges, reaching out for your arm. He doesn't realize it when you pull it out of his reach, 

"What happened? Are you hurt?" You shake your head, brushing your tears from under your eyes, 

"I'm fine." 

"You don't really expect me to believe that do you? You're crying at prom, in the middle of the hallway." He states like its the most obvious thing. You swallow, 

"I just need air." 

"Okay… I'll go with you." 

"No, I need to be alone." 

"I've known you my whole life and I know you hate being alone." If he thinks he knows you so well, why doesn't he realize he's the one causing you so much pain? 

"There's a lot I don't like Peter." 

"What do you mean? Y/N, what's going on with you?" He asks. 

Say yes to heaven

Turning to him, you stare into those cool brown eyes, eyes that have always calmed you and you can't help it. Your lip quivers, 

"You don't always have to understand what's going on with Peter. I can handle myself." 

"You know I believe you, but you don't have to hide it. You can tell me anything. I'm your best friend and I would kill for you." If only that were true. I mean… you'd never wish death on her but… it'd be easier. It'd lessen your panic. You shake your head, 

"It's fine Peter. Just… go back inside." You turn to start away from him but he has so much that tells him your every move. Not only, as a normal human, can he read you like an open book, but with this new superhuman power thing, he senses when something is wrong. His face shows it, 

"I'm not leaving you. Especially with all that… suicide, drunk driving crazy crap going on that surrounds prom. You're storming out of there for no reason, crying and I… you shouldn't be alone." 

"Peter-" 

"No, talk to me! I'm your best friend and I am not going to let you die and have to tell your parents, your family, our friends that I didn't do anything to protect you." He yells. He really thinks this is a call for help, and it is, but not that way. You scoff, wondering how boys are so oblivious, glancing at him as you lean against the handrail behind you.

Say yes to me

"You really wanna know?" You ask him softly. He nods, moving in closer, 

"Of course. I hate seeing you in so much pain." He tells you. Your smile is sinister because he's so damn stupid. Closing your eyes and rubbing a hand across your face, you sigh, 

"I like you." Is all you state at first. He frowns, eyes glancing down at the floor. He's confused because he likes you too but he would never think you like him that way unless it was directly stated, "I've liked you since we were kids. And yeah, I'm so, so, so happy for you for having a girlfriend that loves you and you love her, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt for me. You'll never love me like that and that's fine but… I can't just watch you guys be in love. It fucking kills me." You explain to him. His mouth hangs open in shock and you cross your arms, 

"I can't pretend to be fine around you guys. You and Ned got girlfriends and all and yeah, maybe I could get a boyfriend and it would hurt less but you know I love your personality and I always have and I don't know that anyone will ever come close to that. So now I'm alone and I'm not going to take you from her to pity me so I don't really… have a best friend anymore. If I want to be around you I guess I can just come find you and be a third wheel." You tell him. 

Say yes to heaven

You watch his eyes change. He's panicking a little, 

"Are you saying… you don't wanna be friends anymore?" 

"It's not that we can't, it's that I… I don't know if I have it in me to put up this facade. I'm not telling you to give her up, I'm just saying… I think… now that we're about to split up for college… maybe it's time to start doing it now. I- it hurts too bad and I just… I can't." 

"Y/N, please don't do this. You've been my best friend for decades. Why can't we just… I mean… I can figure out how to split my time between the two of you." 

"No you can't. That's not fair to her and I'm not going to do that to you two. It's just better if I move on. I'll probably go to California for college anyways. It's for the best to separate ourselves now." You conclude. You don't know what will hurt worse, but after a while, you'll hurt less moving on without him. He takes another step forward, 

"Y/N, c'mon, you can't do this." 

"I won't ruin your life and I won't hurt myself because I have a selfish little crush on you I would've never acted on." You tell him. You stand and stare at each other before you stand and brush your tears from beneath your eyes, sighing,

"You're destined for greatness Peter Parker and it would've happened eventually. Now just gives me a reason to start." You tell him, voice shaky. His face softens, 

"I don't wanna lose you." He says, his voice just as shaky. You shrug, crossing your arms and preparing yourself to walk away from your best friend for the last time. You sigh, 

"I'm not going back in there. This is kinda… it. I have to go home."

"At least let me take you." 

Say yes to me

"No! You have a girlfriend in there and I'm not going to let you! Goddammit Peter, I have to get away from you, don't you get that? I can't be what I need to and it hurts too much. Just… fuck off." The look on his face is pure pain. He hates that you're abandoning him. And maybe you should be forced to settle as just his friend, but you can't. You can't sit back and watch them be happy together. The pain is unbearable. They're better off without you and your selfish jealousy. He's better off without you, 

"Y/N, don't do this. You're just as important as MJ, I can't go without talking to you. Please." You hold up a hand as he nears you again. You stare into each other's eyes, tears in both sets. You shake your head, 

"I'll never be more to you than her. Maybe when we were kids but… we're different now." 

"Y/N-" You shake your head again, swallowing the lump. You know he feels the same way you do. The pure dread of giving up your best friend because the love you feel for him is just too strong, "please." He whispers. It breaks your heart further as you meet his eyes again and sniffle, 

"Goodbye Peter." You say. And you turn your back, and walk away from your ex-best friend. And it stings. But hopefully it will keep your heart in your body staying away from him. God you hope so.

[lantsovsupremacist]

tiberias (cal) calore vii: illicit affairs

i’m only on the 3rd book so a) pls don’t spoil you’ll break my heart and b) my perception of the characters has only been developed to this point so if you come for me do it with the correct context lmao!!!

you knew what it was.

leaning your forehead against the cool metal post of your bed frame, a shaky exhale escaped from your lips. you wished just like that lost breath, you too could leave behind your body and with it, mind. a few minutes was all you needed, really; some semblance of relief.

even with your door shut tight with a deadbolt, the danger contaminating the palace lingered outside of it. you were not foolish enough to deny the cracks it could slip through. you would give any adversary a worthy fight, though. you could not afford not to, especially now.

for the first time in your life, you had truly encountered a problem that you could not use your abilities to maneuver out of. as much as your lungs screamed and your legs ached to run, you could not. being a swift, your first instinct was always to run. your speed always gave you the advantage in pursuit.

a familiar knock at the door broke you from your trance of pity. you stood up, sniffling as you ran the back of your hand across your nose and mouth. the action of clearing your throat sounded more like a whimper, but you managed as you gathered your skirts and headed for the door. you pushed down the nausea and wrung your hands to settle yourself.

your fingers shook on the deadlock before you pried the door open. the amount of weight on the wood, the length of the echo, and the momentary pause before the second, lighter knock gave away the identity of the person on the other side. you were in his arms before you could take another breath.

despite offering you the comfort you had craved all morning, his touch triggered the sobs caged in your chest. perhaps, it was because your heart was only safe in his hands. but, without the key to let them out, they messily tore through and paved their own path.

a year ago, your greatest worry would be the shame brought to your family on account of conceiving a child out of wedlock, let alone to the crowned prince. now, it seemed the impending war took precedence. you could have laughed; a red threatened your livelihood. a girl, really.

you were always careful, and it did not even happen very often. both you and the prince were very busy people, after all. send offs and reunions.

“we can fix this,” cal murmured into your hair.

“no, you don’t get it,” you broke out with a defiant shake of your head, “there’s nothing to fix.”

he pulled back, stroking your hair and pushing it behind your ears. your golden strategist was at a loss. your heart fell further into the pit of your stomach. you chewed on the inside of your lip, desperate to look anywhere but his eyes. yet, in the space of the same moment, you never wanted your gaze to leave his.

“i won’t leave you,” his warm hands ran up your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, “and i won’t let my father have a say in any of it.”

“it’s not the king i am frightened of,” you admitted with a sour taste in your mouth.

cal nodded with a grimace, “then i’ll be sure she is controlled until the end of the month.”

but who could control the queen who could twist minds? you chewed on the thought to avoid choking on it, forcing it down in distaste. both cal and yourself needed time neither of you had the privilege to claim.

cal communicated the importance of waiting until the traditional queenstrial to propose publicly. while the larger part of you agreed with this position, a small piece of your heart reserved for crippling doubt and senseless paranoia wondered if he was stalling for a different reason. if you could at any time expect desertion, it would be now but true to his word, cal had done no such thing—a loyal soldier until the end.

“and if they don’t chose me?” the secret fear you had harbored far before you had even become aware of your current condition felt a traitor to expose to the boy who had given you everything, kept every promise he could.

he studied your face carefully to ensure he held your full attention (though he was foolish to ever think otherwise), “make them, my dear.”

despite the event’s purpose of selecting a bride for the princes themselves, all of the noble houses knew the eldest had little choice in the matter. while your relationship with cal was not overt due to the inherently illicit nature of the affair, servants were known to talk. even in your deepest frustrations, you could not necessarily blame them.

his confidence in you was endearing but what other choice did you truly have?

you pulled away from his arms and lingering stare, wrapping your arms around your middle. pacing the length of the room, you suppressed a bitter laugh, “and then what? when a baby is born after less than eight months? and that’s to say we can persuade your father to rush a royal marriage.”

“let them talk,” his fingers twitched at his sides and you caught the scent of smoke, “nobody will be able to do anything.”

he thought he could protect from anything. sure, there would be little opportunity for any political action after a marriage was solidified but rumors would swirl. born into the pressures of eyes always watching you, they did not cut deep, but a queen needed a reputation demanding of respect. you did not want to be cruel but you decided that if need be, you could.

you wanted so terribly not to cry but willing it away only drew your focus to it more. you did not think the act made you weak but you would rather avoid the complete exhaustion it often caused. you were already so tired. but, some things were inevitable.

cal caught on before you did, “baby,” his voice was croaky, maybe laced his emotion of his own, “please don’t cry.”

you giggled at the irony. it was watery and your voice was nearly gone but it was there. confusion spread across cal’s features. you studied his face as he began to understand. a slow, crooked smile spread across his freckles and indicated the transition.

“suppose i could have chosen better words.”

“mhm.”

you had not noticed he was slowly rocking you in his arms. calm rushed into your senses. cal radiated your favorite kind of warmth. he monitored his body temperature around you, never too hot but always comfortable. it reminded you of home. he was your home. he smelled of pine and dying embers.

now nearing nineteen, you met the prince at fourteen. your elder sister married sooner than your parents expected, hastening your introduction into political meetings as a representative of the swift house of nornus.

who could blame a young and inexperienced teenage girl for falling in with a powerful, older boy who dared throw her an extra glance. what began as a benefit to palace life at fifteen soon turned into a vice. it was easy to tell yourself that you could stop any time you desired but you were addicted to the way he touched you, the way he tasted, the way he spoke your name.

for a while, you were foolish enough to believe he maybe even loved you. when you turned sixteen, you understood you were a pastime for the prince. so when at seventeen he told you he loved you, you did not believe him. he was gone for service quite a bit and your training schedule stole away any time for secret meetings when he was home. you began to purposefully avoid him but the withdrawal from the high that was cal left you dizzy.

when he did not make a move to find you, you tried even harder to move on. you had both made a mess of your hearts, left bleeding and shattered on the floors of the palace. you watched him escape the palace more often, always finding another place to be. one night, however, you followed him. you told yourself it was curiosity that caused you to slip out of your covers and into a warm coat, a coat you would not have needed if you left with him.

you caught up easily with your inhuman perception and speed and yet, he still saw you coming. he always did. that night, you wandered through a village and blended in. that night, you could be normal. he helped you clean up the mess between the two of you and things were different but the same again. they were better. you still took the long way to his room and pulled him into hidden corridors but the longing stares across meetings reignited.

you cleared your throat, “when you returned from delphie.” you tone held the pace of a simple comment, not the answer to the unspoken question pressing down on both of your minds.

cal turned his lips into his mouth and nodded, taking a deep breath, “i remember.”

it was a good memory, a good time. slow and gentle and loving. rane had worn you ragged sparring evangeline from sun up to sun down. you enjoyed the younger classes attending for the exposition but your muscles felt like weights lodged into your body and your breath had not yet fully returned after running circles around evangeline.

usually when one of you returned from an excursion outside of the palace, you wasted little time in attaching to every piece of each other. but, you were both exhausted—exhausted but greedy for the attention of the other. it had been a month ago, nearly to the day.

you and cal never discussed the prospect of children. even if one of you did not favor the idea, there was no choice in the matter. cal, as a future king, needed heirs, and if you wanted to be queen, you would have to bear them. but, you did want them and secretly, you knew cal did, too. it was more than a superficial requirement.

cal always looked at you, found you in a crowd, so it was hard to study him in secret. when he was with children, however, all attention transferred to those at his feet. it was then you saw him fully relax, the weight of his crown falling off his back. he loved them. you loved him more for it.

“and i don’t regret it,” he continued, dipping his head to place it gently on your shoulder. he kissed you neck once, twice, and then dropped his head back down.

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Always There (Faramir x Gender Neutral!reader)

Request: I'd like to send a Faramir request! And I thought maybe just some fluff, confessing their love to each other? ~ @midearthwritings

Word count: 2249 (sorry I got carried away, it was fun lol)

Warnings: The teensiest bit of angst, fluff, and kissing?

A/N Alright, I thoroughly enjoyed making this one, I always love me some Faramir! Just for reference, I have not gotten to Return of the King yet, I have only watched the movie, so if something seems to be incorrect, my deepest apologies. And yes, I bent the story to match my thoughts. It’s fine. Thank you so much to @guardianofrivendell for helping me with some scenes! Also, a Quisby is a lazy-ass and a yaldson is the son of a prostitute. I looked up medieval insults and thought they were pretty funny. May or may not be using them on my friends...

Denethor was a quisby, a yaldson. You clenched your jaw, seething with anger. You couldn’t say much, for fear of upsetting the king, no, the Steward. But he was sending his only son left to battle. A battle that he could not win. No one would survive. Wasteful. And he sent the love of your life.

Faramir had always been special to you. When you were younger you were closer with Boromir, but as you all grew up, fitting the molds made for you, things changed. Boromir was always learning policy and diplomacy as his father’s right hand. Faramir was left behind with the lesser jobs, that most would consider unpleasant for someone used to a grandeur life. You bonded quickly, soon knowing even the most minuscule details about each other. And all was well. Until Osgiliath was taken again. With Boromir’s success came more criticism of Faramir. This also led to Boromir sent to a secret council regarding a weapon that could change the war. But Boromir never returned from the mission. He never made it back home. To Faramir and you. 

Denethor took the news horribly, but nothing compared to Faramir. He was distraught, hiding the most of his pain. He only confided in you, how lost and unappreciated he felt. He didn’t understand how those words also hurt you, carving deeper into the fresh wound of grief. He didn’t realize how much you appreciated him, how blind he was to your love. It was all you could do to not unravel then and there, piece by piece. But you held strong, for his sake. He had no one left but you. His father did not care for him. His brother who showered him with affection and praise was gone. It was just you two. 

And now he was gone, sent on a death mission, little chance of making it back. You found yourself in your room, not remembering how you got there. Tears were streaming down your face, slowing down to your chin. You went onto the balcony, luckily one that did not face the battle. It would be unbearable to see it. You curled up, your back pressed against the cool stone. You wished you had told him. Told him how you had felt. You relished the memories you shared with him. Even though he only saw you as a friend, no more. The day passed quickly, but you stayed where you were, hidden. And then, a horn sounded. They were back. At least whoever was left. But there were worse things heading towards the gates. Gondor was under attack.

You rushed to the gates, your thoughts clouded with panic. Only one thought was constant. Where was Faramir? You reached the guards at the front. 

“What happened? Who made it back?” You said hurriedly, seeing no signs of injury in the guards nearby. 

“Only the Captain of Gondor made it back ma’am, he was injured horribly. Taken back to the citadel is what I heard. Hardly going to last the night.” The guard looked at you, concerned. “Are you the one Faramir talked about? I was by his side all through Osgiliath. Pardon me if I’m mistaken, but you like precisely like what he described.”

You bowed your head, cheeks a hint darker than normal. It didn’t matter, he only talked about you as a friend. And besides, he was horribly injured. This should be the last thing on your mind. “Aye, that would be me. But excuse me, I must be on my way. I need to find him.” 

You turned from the slightly bemused guard and walked as quickly as you could without causing alarm. Although at this point, everybody had to have known about Faramir. Everyone except you. You turned a corner, quite distracted, and slammed into someone. 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry I- what on Middle Earth?” You stuttered. A child looked up at you, no, not a child, but he was small enough to be a child. Not a dwarf though. Something completely different. 

“Oh hello there! I’m guessing you have never seen a hobbit before! My name is Pippin, and don’t worry about accidentally running into me, it happens a lot. You look very in distress. What is wrong? Also, I am looking for a friend, so if you happen to see him please let me know.” The hobbit, Pippin babbled. You were a bit overwhelmed from everything you were going through but luckily found the patience to deal with this energetic hobbit. 

“Oh, I am looking for a friend as well, his name is Faramir if you manage to find him. And don’t worry little one, I am just worried for his sake.” You responded back quickly, hoping to move on your way. 

Unfortunately for you, the hobbit had different plans. “Oh yes, I am also looking for Faramir, as well as Gandalf. I saw him being led away, and I heard a mutter about the Steward going insane. I am trying to find him to help. But the trouble is brewing, and the fighting will start soon. I am worried, very worried.” Pippin babbled on as you searched the streets for this Gandalf. 

After a little while, he finally saw who he was looking for. He explained quickly what was going on and why he needed to check on Faramir. 

“Faramir is alive but Denethor wants to burn him. He thinks he's dead. ” Pippin spoke hurriedly, already rushing Gandalf along. 

You gasped. “You did not tell me that Denethor was trying to burn him! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pippin looked confused. “I didn’t tell you? I could have sworn I did.”

You shook your head, your heart racing even faster than it had been before. To make things even worse, you could hear the sounds of battle. The city had finally been breached. Luckily you were far up enough that the orcs hadn’t reached you...yet. Gandalf was farther ahead of you, and you quickened your strides to match his. He turned and looked at you, his eyes piercing yours. You had the strangest feeling that your mind was being invaded. 

“Patience child. We will stop that lunatic before anything happens. He will be alright.” He turned away again as if he hadn’t said a word. You gaped, it was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. He seemed familiar, but you didn’t know why. But alas, it did not matter at this moment, and you refocused your mind back on who you were trying to save. Faramir. 

As you hurried along, you tried your hardest to remember. His smile. The dimples on his cheeks. How much fun you two had together. Running through the markets when you were younger, causing trouble, but laughing all the way. How he would be publicly humiliated by his father. How you would be there for him, comfort him, make him happier. The hidden smiles in the throne room, the silent laughter, and inside jokes.

You were quickly brought back to the present as some stone shattered right behind you, showering big chunks of rock. You ducked quickly and grabbed the hobbit, making him run faster. You had to get out of there. Gandalf showed you two through a small alley, and all too soon you had arrived at the top. But Faramir and Denethor were nowhere to be seen. Somehow, Gandalf knew exactly where they were, and took you to a smaller room, that was barricaded. He slammed open the doors as if it were nothing, and you ran right into a horrifying scene. 

Denethor was standing on top of a pile of wood, and Faramir lay at his feet, both drenched in oil. Some soldiers had torches in their hands, and some looked hesitant. Everything drained away, all sound was muffled. All you could see was Faramir, and it was as if he knew you there. He rustled slightly and looked straight at you. His lips moved wordlessly, and you couldn’t move, an invisible force stopping you. 

A scream and then fire engulfed the wood, Faramir was taken from your view. Your feet finally decided to start moving, and both you and Pippin ran towards the pyre, grabbing Faramir before the flames could engulf him. Another screech and then you realized that Denethor had been taken by the flames. He ran off to who knows where, and the guards left quickly, helping to aid in the battle. 

It was soon just you, Faramir, Pippin, and Gandalf. Faramir’s eyes were closed, but his heart was still beating. You cradled his head in your lap, softly brushing his hair out of his face. 

“Gandalf, will he be alright?” You asked tentatively, not daring to even look away from Faramir. 

Gandalf sighed. “With time he will heal. But whether he will heal from the pain in his heart is unclear to me. He has been through far too much, as most have in such times, and for your sake, I hope he perseveres.”

You and Gandalf helped Faramir up, who at this point was able to open his eyes slightly. You both brought him to his room, as the medical wing was a greater distance. Pippin trailed behind like a lost puppy. The poor hobbit had probably never seen such violence in his life. You laid him in his bed, and Gandalf bid a quick goodbye, herding Pippin out. 

It was just you and Faramir. You knelt at his bedside and grasped his hand, waiting, hoping, for anything. More memories ran through your mind. He taught you how to use a sword, to protect yourself if need be. And then on your birthday, he had gotten you a sword of your own, beautifully crafted, and balanced perfectly. It was quite a gift to receive, and you protested, but to no avail. It was in your room, hidden so that no one could take it. You remembered how your hands tingled when he gave it to you, just the slightest brush of fingers. But you were young and naive. 

He stirred, and his eyes opened, looking at the ceiling. Then he tilted his head towards you and looked down at your intertwined hands. You stopped breathing for a second, nervous that you might have overstepped your bounds. 

“I am still alive. What happened with my father? I remember the smell of smoke.” Faramir’s voice was raspy still, and quiet.

You looked away, trying to figure out what to tell him. You were the bearer of bad news this time it seemed. “Your father thought you dead and was going to have you burned. I showed up with Gandalf and Pippin only moments before it was to happen. ”

He groaned and turned away. But he held on tighter to your hand, as if you were his lifeline, the one last thing keeping him there with you. “Faramir,” you said hesitantly, “I-I was so afraid of losing you. I never want to lose you again. I-” You broke off, too afraid to say what was on your mind. He was looking right at you, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Continue, please,” he said. He reached his other hand across his body, softly grazing your arm. 

You smiled slightly, taking in a shaky breath. “I love you Faramir. And I have for a long time. I am not creative enough to give a whole speech about my love for you, but my love for you is worthy of a speech if needed.”

Faramir smiled, the brightest you had ever seen it. “I love you too my dear, more than anything, and I am so sorry I never said anything before. Please forgive me.”

Then he slowly reached his hand up to your face, and you leaned towards him. But you went a bit too fast, and accidentally slammed your nose onto his, causing you both to cry out in pain. You felt like you were going to cry, you ruined the special moment. But then he smiled and started laughing so hard. You were so embarrassed, but you also started chuckling. 

In between breaths, Faramir choked out, “Clearly, neither of us have done this.”

You nodded, keeping back a grin.

He cracked a smile, trying to hold in his laughter. But then he sobered up. “Well, I think we should try that again. Help me sit up?”

You felt even more butterflies in your stomach as you propped up a pillow for him and helped him up. You leaned back to make sure he was comfortable, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You laughed again, and he smiled. He traced a finger up your arm and all the way up to the back of your neck. He leaned in first, making an emphasis on how slow he was moving, but you were too nervous to laugh. Softly, he pressed his lips against yours. You barely moved, not daring to. But you slowly melted as he moved his other hand to the small of your back. You moved your hands, knotting them in his hair, pulling you even closer together. His lips molded against yours, slightly chapped, making you shiver. Ever so slowly, he began to pull away, much to your dismay. But he still held you in arms. 

Slowly, you whispered, “We should have done that sooner.” 

Faramir nodded and pulled you closer. “Thank you,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.